#dropping this off before i fling myself into the sun

[basiatlu]

Harry's unable to avoid his instincts any longer ...

[fairytsuk1]

four seasons | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

prompt: meeting at a holiday resort, both with friends or family tagging along

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

words: 5.4k

warnings: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, spin the bottle, marijuana mentioned, alcohol, drunk sex, begging

It's everything you thought it'd be and more. The sun shines on you in a bright gleam that warms your skin. Your plans had finally made it out of the group chat! This was going to be the best vacation ever. Your sandals slap against the concrete as you trod to your friends with your luggage.

"Hey! Can you guys believe this? It's so beautiful!"

Ayami beams, her short hair bouncing as she nods eagerly, "I can already feel myself re-energizing! All this nature and ocean—oh, it's going to be wonderful!"

Ryoka's hand slips around her girlfriend's waist with a relaxed smile. "Hell yeah. We should go ahead and check-in."

"Already done! No need to thank me," Natsumi brags as she flings the dark oak door open, "had to do it since you guys were taking your sweet time getting out of the car!"

Your cheeks hurt from how much you're smiling. You must've done something heroic in your past life, maybe saving a war-torn city, to have this warm feeling fluttering in your chest. The resort is made better with your friend's banter and complimentary slippers that sink into plush carpet. 

An attendant explains things in a blur, yet your eyes are locked onto the glittering ripples of water that peek through a window. The pool is on the first floor, she says. And don't forget to ____, you ignore. Soon enough, all four of you are dashing to claim a spot on white resin lounge chairs. It feels like a dream when your manicured toes glisten under the hot summer air. It becomes more like a fairy tale when your wandering eyes land on something interesting.

He's hot. Scratch that; he's more than hot! Lecherous eyes start at sopping blonde hair pushed back by muscled biceps and veiny forearms. The way the water rolls down his back is absolutely sinful. Even his abs flex as he cockily smirks, pushing back against his red-headed friend during their game of roughhousing.

Not only is he easy on the eyes, but he looks like he fucks, which is the perfect maraschino cherry on top. You could bite into him, and it'd be sugary sweet as the sticky juice runs red down your jugular. Yeah, you could eat him alive and he'd love it. Confidence thrums through you, and you know your time is now. At the same time, he stands casually in the water, merely observing and completely unaware.

You slip in effortlessly and unnoticed, lurking like a shark behind him as you plan your words before making yourself known.

"Hey," you chirp, hands wading in the water.

You expect him to turn to you with a sly smile; maybe he'd grow close and lean on the pool edge as he asked for your name and whether you were single. Only he didn't do any of that. His eyes scan you like you're a drab beige wall, and then he has the nerve to shrug you off.

"Hey."

It's awkward. It's tense. It's very unexpected.

"What's your–"

"I don't need a drink right now," he dismisses with a casual wave.

It actually stuns you into silence. Your mouth drops open and then closes, and then opens again, "I-I'm not a worker! Do workers wear bikinis where you're from?"

The man sneers at your reaction and finally turns to face you. He's taller, broader, and you wish he wasn't so fine because he was turning out to be such a dick. You stand up straighter, squaring your shoulders to stare frustratedly into his eyes.

"No, but I don't bother paying attention to extras when I'm trying to relax," and lewd eyes dip down to your cleavage, "but maybe I can spare you some time."

"An extra!? Oh, fuck you!"

It comes out harshly, and your bottom lip droops as you stare at him: "I just came by to introduce myself, but never mind. I'm leaving."

"Then introduce yourself, or did I scare ya' off?"

You've never met a man so bold. A man with the audacity to call you an extra and still so obviously commit your curves to memory. Introductions come out in a stutter from you with warm cheeks, "and what's your name, so I can report your behavior with the front desk."

"It's Bakugou," he grunts. "Be my guest."

"I will," you challenge.

"How about I report you for harassment, hah?"

"You insulted me first!"

Bakugou shrugs with a smirk. It irritates you beyond belief to see his smug little face. The sun burns too bright and hot on you two, firing you up and encouraging you to storm out of the pool. Bakugou takes the opportunity to leer at your ass as you crawl out the side, wet swim skirt sticking to your curves and making him tug his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Damn," he grunts as you prissily walk off.

Perhaps he judged you too harshly. But then he thought about it, and you just seemed like a spoiled brat. A pretty one but a brat nonetheless. He didn't take things like that. He reassures himself under his breath, but his thoughts know what he's really thinking about: sliding those wet bikini bottoms off you and spreading your legs. It would be all for him, too. You did approach him first.

You, however, collect your things in a huff. Your move to the other end of the pool may have been petty, but you don't care. Things had to be thought through. Was it worth actually pursuing this sexy asshole guy? As you type a pro-con list into your phone, Ryoka pats your shoulder, "Are you planning on missing the game for your phone?"

The exercise will do you some good. After squeezing your friend's hand and promising to return after you change, you opt to release your frustrations on a good game of volleyball.

After a bit, it's even hotter and you've only gotten sexier. It's important to note as Bakugou stares at you from the sidelines. Sure, you were prissy, but your body was killer, and the snarl escaping you every time you spiked the ball sent wrecking balls of fantasy into his mind. You were a spitfire, and Bakugou tries to swallow the flush when you look at him in an intense adrenaline haze.

A block. A quick run to the side for a spike. Light cheering. This was the sweet escape you needed, giving you just enough space to let out your blood thirst. If you had fangs, then you'd be chomping at everyone's face! You were in the groove. Your eyes pass over him easily. And then you meet again.

Parted, pink lips with beads of sweat on your upper lip. Your hair falls messily, framing your face with sticky strands as your dark eyes pierce Bakugou's. For a minute, neither of you seems to exist in this reality. You both stay in this limbo for a second longer than you should before your head snaps forward to bump an incoming ball. Bakugou’s frozen to the core with genuine butterflies in his stomach. He doesn't even think this has ever happened to him before, or even that it ever would.

A whistle is blown, and you’re cheering with your team. It always felt good to win. It was even better when you knew you had eyes on you.

"Good game, good game! Yeah, you did amazing, Ayami…" You towel off as you relish in the glow of your success. It wasn't all due to you, but you were being a bit of a try-hard.

You don't even notice how Bakugou makes his way through the crowd. How his lips curl into a frown as someone bumps into him, and how he taps your shoulder with a gruff, "Hey."

Your head turns with hair that cracks like a whip. Obviously, you recognize him immediately. You're not happy.

"Hey," you mutter, toweling off and ready to escape. "Nice seeing you."

"Wait a minute," Bakugou's hand curls around your wrist, and you're so irritated to feel heat rush through you at seeing the sinewy muscle move. "Lemme talk to you."

"I gotta get in the shower. So, no."

"You're being stubborn. I'm sorry for earlier," he huffs with eyes that lack the confidence to look straight at you. "Let me buy you a soda or somethin'."

"What makes you think I want a soda from you, an extra?"

He almost wants to shout in your face, but he knows there's no way around that. Bakugou mumbles about not meaning it while kicking at the ground, and your posture stays stiff. It happens so quickly you almost miss it, but you catch a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

"What's so funny?! You're a real jerk, laughing and everything when you insulted me and–"

"You're all defensive at being called an extra. It's cute." 

"I have a name," you nearly stomp your foot in exasperation despite the flush crawling up your skin.

"I forgot. You stuttered it out last time," he provokes calmly with a tilt of his head. Really, he just wants to hear that pretty name on your lips again.

You try to tell yourself that there's no time to think about the compliment that flies and waves in the air like a kite. You introduce yourself calmly, emphasizing the syllables and ensuring he gets it.

Bakugou repeats your name so slowly. So pointedly, velvety tongue and eyes narrowing. You could imagine him whispering it into your neck as strong hips hump to meet yours. Maybe in the morning, with a kiss on the cheek and the taste of coffee on your tongue. He puts so much care into repeating your name that you almost cave when he asks if you want to get smoothies together.

You're a strong, independent woman. That and, well, his pissed-off face was sexy. Your glossy lips smirk at him as you cock your hip, "Sorry, I'm getting drinks with friends. I'll catch you later, though, yeah?"

"...Alright, yeah."

The way you ditch him in the dust leaves him half-chubbed in his shorts. God, you were such a cock tease. If only he could kiss you and show you what you're missing out on by playing cat and mouse. Thick fingers adjust his shorts, and Bakugou pushes his hair back, opting to turn back to his friends indulging in flower necklaces and drunk karaoke.

If you wanted to be the mouse, he had no problem being the cat.

Everything's clear-headed and far too boring and bright. Within time and the coaxing with your friends; you're grinning ear to ear after too many puffs of a joint and sips of cocktails. Things tilt around you, and the music sounds irresistible as you feel the rhythm lend you dance moves. Everything feels like ecstasy as you twirl in circles with your crew. The alcohol was flowing, and you were starting to have that craving for closeness as things ramped up and up.

Natsumi practically topples you over as she blushes into your face. "Come with me. I made some friends."

“Friends? What kinda friends?”

 "Don’t ask, just go. Come on, you have to! They’re cool, you really gotta meet 'em," your friend pleads as you give her a reluctant look.

"Well, okay…"

Natsumi hiccups as she escorts you a few tables over. She giggles about someone being your type, and there's a real worry that the alcohol is clouding her mind, and you’re about to have to reject a loser.

"Hey, Natsumi! I was wondering where you went!"

A yellow-toned boy speaks up, face flushed as he waves a sloppy hand from where he rests on a beachy pull-out. Next to him, Bakugou nurses a rum and coke, eyes red and cast downward towards the ground. They lazily crawl a path up to your eyes, a bit woozy but flickering with recognition.

No fucking way. Of course, he's here, and of course, he looks fantastic! You know your dress looks immaculate. There was no denying that, but Bakugou left your mouth embarrassingly dry. His white button-up was nice, but it was more about what it revealed; tanned skin and the promise of more the further you looked. As you looked down at his body, Bakugou looked up at yours.

As you sit down, you can't help but open your mouth, "What are you doing here?"

"My friends dragged me out, I could be sleeping by now."

You find yourself letting out a small laugh and turning toward him with interest. He really wasn't so bad.

“You sleep early?”

“You don’t?”

Amid it all, Bakugou and you end up squished together as the budding love story of your two friends blossoms. Every time their heated make out spills into limbs crossing over into your bubble, you grunt in frustration, inevitably scooting closer to your frenemy with a slight sway.

"She is so ridiculous," you comment on Natsumi with a slight huff. "So is your friend, by the way."

"Maybe they're made for each other," he snorts.

A beat of silence passes by as you both observe each-other. It was really more like admiring, though.

 "Why're you so standoffish? I said I was sorry, called you pretty, ‘nd you don't wanna give me another chance?"

He grumbles when he says it but looks curious as his teeth sink into his lip for a split second. You almost get lost in the motion as you unconsciously lean closer like a moth to a flame.

"I didn't peg you as someone who begged."

"Sometimes you make mistakes, hm? And I'm not begging, babe, trust me."

The conversation dies, but the tension grows larger. The way his voice dropped made your thighs squeeze together. Blood flowed south as Bakugou traced over your red lips and briefly down to your cleavage–nice, he smirked.

"Well, whatever," you pray the sip of your lychee martini gives you a long enough reprieve to think of how to coyly flirt back. "What are you doing here anyway? Vacationing? Dying of an illness and this is your last hoorah?"

"Just relaxing. What're you doing besides bein' a brat. Spending daddy's money?"

"I paid for this trip myself, actually!"

"I like a smart woman," he says, moving to brush his thumb lightly against your cheek. He pulls away just as fast, and you can smell the breeze of his icy cologne. "I paid for myself, too. Can't rely on anyone or anything!"

You see the mask slip just a second. The calm persona dropped to reveal his boyish grin and messy hair.

"Yeah, you really can't."

It was so terrible that you knew deep down he was cute. You couldn't pretend at all. Now that you're starting to know him, you're falling head first into really liking him. You weren't sure if your girls' trip vacation could withstand a passionate, whirlwind romance.

"Oh my god, you know what would be totally fucking fun right now? What if we played a game? You guys know spin the bottle! C'mon," Natsumi beams excitedly.

"I haven't done that since I was still smoking cigarettes!" Ryoka shakes her head with a laugh.

"But, come on," she gives you all a pleading look. "If we haven't done it in forever, wouldn't it be fun to do it one last time?"

Natsumi's heartfelt yet drunken rambles strike a chord within all of you. You glance at Bakugou, who doesn't reply, only shrugging in acquiescence to the group. To hell with it, you call, raising your drink in the air.

"You know what, let's go for it! You're right, Natsumi."

Bakugou eyes you curiously as you stand to hug your friend with a slight wobble in your step. You had a point. To hell with it!

Moments later, you all were knee-rubbing, stumbling idiots sitting in a circle. The more you admire Bakugou as you sit across from him, the more you're hoping the stars align with the spin of the bottle. The kiss would be innocent. Fun and games. It meant nothing. That's what you told yourself to repent for your future sins.

A bead of sweat glides down the back of your neck as the glass goes round and round. You watch as Natsumi eagerly kisses a flushed Kaminari, who is all too eager to receive it. Ryoka and Ayami are familiar but sweet. Kirishima lands a peck on you, but it's nothing crazy.

You miss the way Bakugou's eyes glitter with disappointment every time the green bottle spun past him mockingly, taunting him deviously with the promise of vodka-tinged kisses. Only then do you both find a line drawn between point A, you, and point B, him.

"Finally," Ryoka slurs out.

Suddenly, you're nervous. You're nervous as you sit up a bit more and scoot closer over the bottle containing the will of fate. He looks calm and relaxed, his eyelids lowered just enough to make him look… wanting. Knees graze the carpet as you inch closer until you both can feel each other's breath.

The music is still bumping. The alcohol is still flowing, yet you're stuck in this standstill with nothing to break you out of your reverie. Other than the kiss that's planted on your lips, Bakugou tastes like rum and mint gum. You wonder if you taste like lychee, or maybe you'll mix into an entirely new flavor that leaves you both with incessant cravings.

You're unsure when or who pulls away first, but it happens. Your butt plops down right as the round of giggles surrounds you. Bakugou smirked as he sat back, crossing his legs and taking a smug swig of his drink. It was unfair that you were left dazed; he was the reason for it all.

You okay? He mouths over the talking that's come instead of the next bottle spin.

Are you? You ask with a smirk, flipping your hair in jest.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a full-on grin. You feel something fond bloom in your chest. Something that makes the sound of ringing bells when you see that flash of teeth and a glimpse of a slick tongue. Someone suggests dancing, and pairs of legs come into view as they stumble out as a crew, a unit. There are two missing cogs. You both stay sitting and facing each other.

"I thought you said you were okay," he jokes as he scoots closer.

You realize you have a tendency to mimic him, "I am. You're the one who didn't even try to pretend to follow."

"I don't pretend anything, pretty. I do and say what I mean."

There's a beat of silence, and your clit throbs at the tone of his voice.

"You know what I mean?"

His voice is deep, almost mocking, as he croons at you. You're going to fuck. It might be now, on the last day of your resort, but it would happen. Set in stone, if you will.

"I think I do."

"Mhm. Let's go dance, gotta show you what a real dancer looks like."

Bakugou offers a firm hand and pulls you up like you weigh nothing. It makes you feel tiny, and you wonder if the same effect will happen as you sway your hips against his dick.

You find yourself dancing to Nelly, and hearing lulls about being a promiscuous girl. It makes satisfaction thrum in your chest at having success in your findings. Grinding did, indeed, produce the same effect. Bakugou was trying to dominate your form, and you let it happen.

Bit by bit, you find yourself caring less about the group and becoming more preoccupied with Bakugou. You let him buy you drinks, giggling as your hands jokingly interlace before you pull away coyly. He only smirks at you, chasing you wherever you go, as if he didn't want you to forget him in your intoxicated parade.

He tells you to call him Katsuki when you slur his last name out, gripping the white button as you pout tiredly, "I want to go back to my room."

"Since when am I your keeper, huh?"

Katsuki lays a steady hand on the curve of your waist and lets you fall into him.

"Don't be mean, we bonded sooo much. I thought you were this asshole guy, but you're actually kinda funny and sexy."

"I think I knew that last part. Remember when you tried this on me before?"

"Are you dumb enough to still reject me?"

"Nah, not this time," he says, making sure to drink in your gaze as he does.

Thankfully, you'd already had your first kiss. That made it easier for him to lean forward and press his lips against yours. The promise of something more, and you practically purred as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Katsuki's hands skirt down your back, down to your hips, and pull you so close, "You're sexy, too."

A bartender squawks at your behavior, and his voice floats over the music and sticky kisses to yell for you to get a room! The man at your side noses your neck and then juts forward.

"Come to my room," and he's so gruff. Like he knows you want this, "Wanna get you alone and see how feisty you are then."

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth. Surely, your friends would be fine; your eyes flit between him and the crowd dancing behind him. Yeah, they'd be alright. Your hand slips into his, and he's quick to tug you next to him by your waist. He makes you unsteady and chuckles, "Let's get goin', then."

Neither of you is composed as you tumble through Katsuki's–clearly luxurious–room onto his plush bed. He's not afraid to lift you with his raw strength and place you right where he wants you. It makes you laugh, tinged with shyness, as his red predatory eyes sweep over you before settling on your face.

It's silent as both eyes hold this deep, wanting gaze. He crawls closer, and you lay back further; he's on top of you with a forearm dipping into the mattress and a veiny hand supporting his weight. Katsuki doesn't touch you as if he's waiting for something. You can't wait anymore, and you're ungracefully yanking him closer till his body weight rests on you, and you can feel his hardness poking at your thigh.

He must have been waiting on you–the bastard! But you can't deny that feeling the rippling strength resting on your body and pressing you into the mattress feels good. You and Katsuki exchange saccharine kisses as your bodies grind together like you're one. He grits his teeth and takes a sharp inhale when your wandering hand brushes against his bulge, "don't, fuck, don't do that."

"Why? Sensitive?"

Katsuki's vermilion eyes meet yours and narrow, "you're such a tease, you know?"

His voice is low and honeyed as he slowly peels your skirt from your thick thighs.

"All I did was ignore you the first time–"

"And then I did the second!"

Seemingly having had enough of your quips, a hush falls over you when his hand swats at your thigh, "Yeah, and you're still under me, begging for my cock. Ironic, right?"

He then snickers when sticky strings stretch from your slick pussy to the cotton underwear.

"She's beggin' too."

In a flash, he's lapping at your folds and groaning at how sweet you taste.

"Oh! Oh my god, w-wait!"

“Nuh-uh, no waiting.”

He's so messy with it. His chiseled nose bumps against your clit with every lap as he mixes spit with your leaking arousal; it's so debauched, and yet you're wailing for more as you try to push his face further between your thighs. Katsuki groans and your eyes meet right when he suckles your clit with his plush, rosy lips.

"Y-Your mouth's so good, ohfuck!"

Katsuki lets out a pleased hum before wrangling your squirming hips under a flexing forearm, "don' move too much. Wanna enjoy this, babe."

His right hand comes up to toy with your soaked hole. His teeth are sharp, and he's downright predatory in how he sinks two fingers into you. They're thicker than yours; a keening whimper escapes you.

"C'mon, tell me how it feels. Since you've been dyin' for it, I want a review, baby."

There's a wet clicking sound as fingers crook against that deliciously torturous spot, leaving stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Gonna cum! Wanna cum, ‘mygod, ‘tsukiii!”

"Already? Such a needy girl," and he latches his tongue to your puffy clit, massaging it as your pleasure uncoils into a white-hot explosion.

Somewhere in the haze, you can hear Katsuki murmuring, "Good girl, good girl," and leaving sharp kisses on your inner thighs. He chuckles at how you jump, how cute, and sighs into your neck before biting your pulse point.

"Holy fuck," you mumble, hands wringing into his shirt as he peels off his shirt and makes his way up yours.

"You alright? Looked like things were good," and he has the nerve to snicker at you. "It's okay to admit it."

"You're such a cocky bastard. When are you gonna fuck me?"

Katsuki's hands are practically already in his pants as he unbuckles his belt. He shoves his jeans down, and your eyes widen at how big he looks, the fat head leaving a dark patch of pre-cum against his gray boxers. You're coming closer as he tugs off his underwear, leaving him exposed. His cock bobs, smearing on his navel, while a throaty groan escapes his lips once you wrap a soft hand around him. He's so hot and weighty in your hand that you can feel how he practically pulses in your hand; you can't help but want to go in for a little taste…

He's gentle as thick fingers press back on the crown of your head, a tut escaping his lips as he shakes his head, "No way. I'll cum way too fast, wanna give it to you good."

The scratchiness of his voice leaves your thighs pressing together. Katsuki kisses you before motioning for you to settle on your hands and knees.

"Like this?"

You're practically mewling at him! Your back arches so tauntingly, cute butt perked up in the air and swaying back and forth. Katsuki draws close, and your eyelids are fluttering when his fat head bumps against your soaked folds, "ohfuck, stop admiring me already."

"And here I thought you wanted it all nice and sweet," and you're whimpering as the head barely breaches past your pussy. "But, I'll give it to ya' how you like it."

With that, his hands are smoothing over the curve of your back as his heavy balls press against your pussy clit. You're already caving for him, with eyes threatening to roll towards the ceiling as his hips stick to yours. He's so full inside you that you can barely move, barely breathe, only able to leak around him as he grunts, "so fuckin' tight. 'S like you're a virgin."

"Katsukiii. Fuck, pleasepleaseplease move!"

He hums thoughtfully, hips rocking just the slightest inside your gummy walls.

"Ask me again," and he punctures it with a thrust that leaves you breathless.

"Please, wanna feel you fuck me. I-I've been waiting for your annoying ass, I wanna cum so bad…"

The man behind you doesn't seem convinced, though his hips move just a tad faster. " C'mon. I know you can do it. What is it you want again?"

He's pushing you to your breaking point. Katsuki's strong enough that he can press forward and bend you further into that delicious arch, nearly fucking you into the mattress if he would just move!

"Oh god, fuck me. Need to feel you take control, Katsuki, I-I can't! I need you, need you so bad, 'm gonna cry. I jus' wanna feel you breed me, please!?"

"Was that so hard?"

Within seconds, he's hunkering down and fucking you within an inch of your life. Your hands desperately cling to the duvet as if that'll ground you, but he's moving too hard and fast!

"S-So deep, ohshit!"

"Ngh, yeah? You're fucking grippin' me, I love how you sound, how you taste, how you feel–fuuuuck. Let me have it, baby."

You're wailing as you gush around him. The smell of sex is overpowering, and your panting breaths mingle with Katsuki's. You can't help but push back just a bit, the two of you joined together so intimately. His muscles ripple with every rock into your cunt. You wish you could see how debauched he looks–though your ears are privy to the hot groans and curses flying out of him as he slides home over and over and over again.

Katsuki loses himself in your pussy, head tipping back to expose the expanse of his throat as his balls tighten with his orgasm. God, fuck, did you say to breed you? He tries to recover as he watches your sneaky hand desperately rub you till you're trying to run from his thrusts (to which he only tuts and brings you back full force towards him). The slick, papping sounds echo, and you're not even sure what you're saying as you wail for him.

"Oh, 'm gonna cum all over you. Ohfuckfuckfuck, wait! I-I'm gonna, Katsuki!"

"Yeah? Cum all over this dick, let me feel it. Fuck, 'm gonna cum too, gonna fill you up."

Your wrist twists another tight circle, and you're falling apart. Your thighs shake and tight walls squeeze Katsuki, trying to draw him as deep as possible as he hits your g-spot dead on. A cry escapes you, and you know his base is creamy from your orgasm. In the haze, you can tell he's close by how his fingers twitch around your hips; you start mewling weakly for him, "cum inside me. Ohmygod!!”

He's sure he's leaving bruises, and yet he doesn't even care as he shoots rope after rope inside you. God, your pussy sucks him in like it wants every drop; despite the sensitivity, Katsuki can't help but keep moving till you're whining from overstimulation. Pulling out slowly and giving your thigh a playful swat, the two of you practically collapse into the soft sheets.

Katsuki's hand quickly grabs your chin and pulls you to face him. " Are you good?"

With your hair mussed and bruises littering your body, you were more than good. A soft nod, and then you're scooting closer for warmth. Katsuki lets it happen to your joy, a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he hoists you close.

"Good, you gonna run off of me, now?"

"No. Are you?"

"It's my room, you stalker," he teases with a toothy grin. His features are relaxed, and his red eyes are a bit glazed.

He looks wonderful. Beautiful, even.

—

You review your mental checklist one last time as you pace about your room, door open. How could it have all ended so soon? You'd spent the rest of your days happily fucking, drinking, and soaking in the luxuries of the resort.

Katsuki lingers by the doorway. A flicker of fondness grows into a fire when you turn to see him and smile. When did he get so soft?

"Hey! What's up?"

"What's up? It's your last day, and you're what's upping me."

"Katsukiii," you drag out the syllables and catch the faintest smirk on his lips. "Don't get too sad while I'm gone."

"Please," he scoffs and rolls his eyes, the two of you making eye contact that holds longer than it should.

The two of you shouldn't be so dramatic; you should try to steel yourself. It's not like you've known each other for that long, Katsuki thinks before reaching out and pulling you into a loose hug.

"See ya," he grumbles.

"Hehe, text me! Call me whenever," you mumble into the muscle of his chest.

He smells like the start of a campfire, mixed with a cool cologne that wafts like the breeze of a nearby ocean. You pull away and look into the tides of his eyes, the Red Sea staring back at you, before he gently kisses your lips.

"I'll think about it. For now, I'll walk you out," and he wraps a possessive arm around your waist.

There was no other option; he was walking you out. You squawk at his comment, "That is not an 'I'll think about it' statement!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, lemme think on it."

"Stop it!"

[suavemania]

to be honest with you...

pairing: leon kennedy x reader word count: 850+ reader summary: you cant help yourself and tell leon the truth, you like him a bit too much than just a casual fling. warning: this sat in my drafts so here it is notes: not pining for once. just a bit short and sweet before i drop the most emotionally destructive drabble ive inflicted on myself:(

“I think I like you.” 

The words just came out, almost as if you couldn’t help yourself. Your body was pressed against his, you were on top of him; fingers had just traced his collarbone.You blinked at him, your eyes wide as you realized just what you had said.

The two of you weren’t anything official. It started with meet-ups every now and then, bodies intertwining with each other for emotional comfort. The nights would always end with the two of you sleeping next to each other, clinging onto the other as if to cram in as much physical touch before the sun came up. The two of you always hated mornings, but for various reasons. Leon never liked mornings because it meant he had to leave. You hated mornings because you would have to kill the feeling in you that this was more, meant more than just being a casual thing.

You swore that you wouldn’t meet him more after the tenth time, it was always on his accord, his rules. He would be the one to reach out, he would be the one to reply hours later after you ask him simple questions- it was never easy to get to him (you never knew why), but god, it was easy to be with him. His hands were always placed on your body perfectly, he always knew where to touch, where to be and when. It’s like he set his eyes on you, and he just knew how to treat you, to adore you, to love you. Parts of you would die for him, and you always figured it was because the two of you never just settled with ‘fucking’ each other, it had to be more. 

Your eyes would always lock with each other, hands clasping and bodies pressing desperately against each other; almost as if to carve a part in the other. It felt like love. To be filled with the desire to dig for each other, to live inside the very ribcage of the other but settling for just sex because it was as close as you were gonna get to being a part of him. 

It wasn’t only about being close to each other’s bodies. It was also the fact that the two of you didn’t sleep, like at all. After every session, the two of you would lie in your bed, chatting about everything, like for example: your theory that Leon dyes his hair blonde or Leon scolding you for the way you cook your scrambled eggs in the mornings. 

The routine is uncomplicated, simple yet enough:

Leon would come over. You’d kiss, sloppy kisses turn into passionate, feverish ones. It would be a stumbling battle to the bed, Leon would push you to the bed, leaving you to say: how did we actually pull it off to get here? Which was Leon’s cue to shut you up until your brain couldn’t possibly string together a sentence properly. Then, it was just mindless chatting so long into the night that the two of you would later head into the kitchen to cook a late-night snack. From there, it would just be a movie to fall asleep, or more chatting until the other went silent, usually you.

“You like me?” Leon asks, raising an eyebrow as you push yourself off his chest, scrambling for your underwear as you try to cover your body with the wrinkled, warm sheets. 

“I don’t know-” you spit out, hands aimlessly patting at the floor. Where were your underwear and why did it feel like everything had gotten a lot darker? And was it always this warm in the room? You let out a whine, but suddenly you felt the warm muscular chest meet your back. A gentle hand placed on your shoulder as Leon leans into your ear, his hot air brushing your already-blushing ear. 

“I know something you don’t.” He muses, and you could just hear that Leon had a smirk on his dumb, soft lips. The lips that you so desperately didn’t want to stop kissing. You close your eyes, feeling the awkward tension in your body numbing your entire body. Was this it, the slow humiliation? The painful end of your casual meet-ups that you promised you were fine with, settling for the crumbs of Leon that you could possibly get?

“What’s that?” You respond, a small tinge of reluctance as you await Leon’s disapproval, still disgruntled over the disappearance of your undergarments. Leon chuckles, plopping your underwear onto your lap as he lays himself down onto the bed again.

“That I think I like you too,” He says, and you could feel his eyes on you as you turn to look at him. The words sent a shiver down your spine, and then the lower part of your stomach began stirring. Your heart beating in your chest as you felt yourself growing needy. Without really realizing it yourself, you inch closer to him; disregarding the found underwear that was given to you by him. 

“Now come over here.” he says, his voice soft and affectionate as he speaks. "I want to kiss you."

[afewproblems]

50. "I need you to forgive me."

You know why...

But please!!!

I know this took forever so I hope you will forgive me! (Also when I originally received this ask I had just posted part one and mentioned in the tags that prompt 50 could be a good 'fix-it' prompt for a follow up, and well, here we are! Also when I received it, I laughed for a solid minute, like evil laughed so thank you @happymediummm )

Part Three of Prompt 53. 'I'm flirting with you!'

Part One, Part Two

It's on Friday that the cavalry arrives.

Dustin bangs on Eddie's bedroom door, with a mace by the sounds of it.

He's about to snark that Dustin doesn't play a class that uses martial weapons when he hears the kid yell--

"Eddie! You have five seconds before I come in there and get you myself, I got your uncle's permission and everything!"

Eddie groans and detaches himself from the bed  flipping the pillow he had been wallowing in away from himself.

He stomps towards the door and flings it open, leveling an unimpressed glare at Dustin who barrels past him into the bedroom.

Dustin crosses to the desk, his head on a swivel as he looks around the small space, Eddie scoffs as he steps towards Dustin, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing Henderson?" Eddie spits out as Dustin shrugs his hand off, he seems to spy what he's looking for as he crows a single, 'Aha,' and makes his way to the dresser.

"Seriously, Dustin, what are you doing here?"

"Saving you from yourself dude," Dustin scoffs as he takes a tape out of his pants pocket, the familiar writing on the label makes Eddie's stomach fall into his feet.

It's Steve's tape.

"No, nope, absolutely not," Eddie snaps. 

He reaches for the cassette in Dustin's hand, only for the little shit to spin away from him and toss the tape from his right to his left hand in a move that seems so much like the teen's babysitter that Eddie wants to scream.

Dustin manages to pop the tape into the player and hit play before Eddie can get close again.

A few notes of a bass guitar reach Eddie's ear and his hands drop from Dustin's shoulders as he perks up…he knows this song.

"What the fuck Henderson?" He breathes out with wide eyes that flick back and forth between him and the cassette player.

'Oh yeah!

Some people say my love cannot be true

Please believe me, my love, and i'll show you

I will give you those things you thought unreal

The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal--'

"You are being an idiot," Dustin says matter of factly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he frowns at Eddie, "I don't exactly know what you said, but I think I got the gist out of Steve earlier today when Robin wasn't acting like a guard dog". 

His dark blue eyes scan Eddie as he shakes his head, "you thought it was a joke, do you know Steve?"

Eddie rolls his eyes before crossing to the cassette player and slapping the stop button. All at once the sounds of Black Sabbath halt, leaving the room in tense silence. 

"Look," Eddie snarls, "I've known people like Steve over the years, it's all the same bullshit--"

"Stop it!" Dustin snaps, he steps closer to Eddie and jabs a finger into his chest, "you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Dustin's cheeks are flushed with anger as he shakes his head again, "he's nothing like that Eddie, you're being an asshole!"

"What is all the yellin' about?" Wayne's voice trickles through the door, a hint of concern running through it as he leans against the frame, eyeing both Eddie and Dustin warily. 

"When I gave you permission to barge in here I don't remember agreeing to participate in a screamin' match son,” Wayne says, biting back a smile at the indignant expression on Dustin's face.

"Sorry Mr. Munson, but Eddie's being an idiot!" Dustin crosses his arms once more as he looks from Eddie to Wayne challengingly.

"That so?" Wayne laughs, "care to argue the charge," he directs at Eddie who rolls his eyes.

"It's nothing Wayne, Dustin is leaving now--" 

"Steve made that tape for you," Dustin yells, pointing at the cassette player, "and you threw it in his face!" 

"That true Ed?"

"It was a stupid joke," Eddie growls as Dustin throws his hands up in the air, "it doesn't mean anything". 

Wayne looks at Eddie for a long moment, his face unreadable.

"Steve Harrington?" He asks softly. 

Dustin nods nervously at Wayne before shooting another glare at Eddie.

"The one that came by your hospital room every day till you woke up Ed? The one they couldn't get to leave on the day you opened your eyes, that Steve Harrington?" 

"So?" Eddie huffs, wrapping his own arms around his chest tightly, incredibly aware of the two pairs of eyes trained on him.

 "Wayne, you told me I had to be careful of who I opened myself up to, I'm just following your advice!" 

Wayne sighs, lifting his hand to pinch into his eyes.

"You'd be lucky to have a friend like Steve," Dustin grumbles as he moves to the bed to sit down. He pulls up his legs up to his chest and glares at the back of Eddie's head.

"Kid, I think Ed and I need to have a conversation, alone," Wayne says quietly to Dustin.

Eddie watches in fascination as Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but after whatever silent conversation takes place between the teen and his uncle, Dustin merely huffs and slips off the bed. 

"Listen to the damn tape and get your head out of your ass," Dustin bites out as he passes Eddie, he levels one last impressive glare at the metal-head before leaving the room.

Wayne sighs as he makes his way over to the bed to sit, taking over Dustin's vacated spot.

"So, Harrington, huh?"

Eddie scowls and says nothing, leaning against the dresser. He winces as the sudden weight of his shoulder jostles everything, causing his loose D&D dice to fall off the edge and plink and plunk across the floor of his room.

The D4 will be a bitch to accidentally find with his feet later on, but Eddie ignores the mess and continues brooding against the dresser.

Wayne scratches his face, tapping an unsteady rhythm against his jean clad knee with his other hand, "okay," Wayne says gruffly from the bed as he shifts to stand. 

"I don't know what ya did or said, but it was enough to make that kid beg his way in here," Wayne huffs, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the open door. 

Eddie shrugs, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor. He hears Wayne sigh and the shift of fabric as he steps closer. 

"You were so small," Wayne mutters suddenly. 

Eddie looks up in confusion, but Wayne isn't looking at him, his eyes are trained just over Eddie's shoulder.

"When you came home that day, all black and blue," he shrugs and scratches his face again, "I didn't know how to help ya, and you wouldn't explain". 

Eddie swallows roughly, horrified at the sudden brightness of his uncle's eyes. A man he has only seen cry twice since he's known him, the first time was at Eddie's mothers funeral, the other was the day Eddie woke up at the hospital all those months ago. 

"I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to you Ed," Wayne breathes out wetly now as he roughly scrubs at his face, "and you being in the hospital, you were suddenly that small kid again, standing on my porch all black and blue". 

Eddie feels his own eyes sting as his uncle turns slightly to wipe his face again, "What are you saying?"

"You weren't alone this time, Ed," Wayne says softly as he steps towards his nephew and grasps him gently by the shoulders, "you have so many more people looking out for you, hell --one of em' carried you home". 

"I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see".

It's Eddie's turn to swipe at his misty eyes, "What's that?" He asks with an unconvincing cough to hide the wobble in his voice.

Wayne smiles, giving Eddie's shoulders a soft squeeze, "a damn good kid with a big heart, who I hope knows how to apologize when it's needed".

"But what if you're wrong?"

"Then I'm wrong, and we'll get through it," Wayne tugs Eddie towards him without warning into a tight hug and reaches behind Eddie to press play on the cassette player; the sound of guitar and drums begin again as Ozzy's voice fills the room. 

'Your love for me has just got to be real

Before you know the way I'm going to feel--'

"But for the record kid, I don't think I am".

***

Eddie listens to the tape. 

He listens to it again and again, both sides. Steve filled both sides with music for him…

He lays on his bed while it plays, staring a hole into the ceiling as the last few piano notes ring out before the tape stops, filling the room with silence.

The songs don't all go with one another and out of a dozen there's about eight he knows. The other four seem to be a mixture of songs he's heard Steve play in the beemer with the kids, or while dancing in his kitchen with Robin.

it's not an expert mix by any means, but Steve did manage to collect a decent amount of metal songs just for Eddie and even a one he's never heard before --since when did Scorpions write love songs? 

After hours alone in his room, sitting on his bed, listening to Steve's tape over and over again, there is one thing he can't deny.

Steve Harrington has feelings for him…had feelings for him, and Eddie ruined it. 

He wants to take the version of himself that pushed Steve away and shake him. 

Eddie winces as he pictures the devastated expression on Steve's face when he left. His normally bright hazel eyes and wide goofy grin were left pinched with hurt.

Eddie had done that, taken six months of tentative friendship, of lingering glances and soft teasing smiles -how had he missed those, and tossed this delicate thing away from himself like it was nothing. 

He looks over at the glowing green hands of the clock by his bed. It’s nearly midnight; Dustin left a few hours ago now and Wayne is now at work. 

Eddie breathes out a sigh through his nose as a sudden wave of determination flows through him.

He looks towards the far wall by the door, his Sweetheart hanging up on her hooks. 

Dustin had apparently insisted on grabbing it, doubling back on a severely sprained ankle while Nancy tore a verbal strip off his back for wasting time as an unconscious Eddie slowly continued to bleed out in Steve's arms.

Eddie shivers, it had been so strange to consider everything that happened, or what he was told happened during the gap in his memory. 

Steve had been the one to carry him out while Robin and Nancy helped compress the worst of his wounds with torn fabric and left over gauze from the patch job they had done for Steve.

He vaguely remembers a string of words, a whispered sentence that made no sense as Eddie drifted in and out of consciousness but now…

'You can't do this, come on Munson, open those stupid beautiful eyes of yours, who's going to yell at us about the corruption of youth in America huh? We need you man, I-I….'

Eddie had really been so fucking clueless. 

He gets up from the bed and crosses to the wall, taking the guitar off the hooks. 

At least now, he has a plan.

***

It was a shit plan.

Cutting down the road the kids had taken to calling Mirkwood and through the woods by Loch Nora seemed pretty sound in theory, giving Eddie the element of surprise and hiding him from any watchful neighborhood eyes. 

What he had not taken into account, however, was the pitch darkness, the unfamiliar maze of trees he now found himself in, and how fucking heavy his portable amp was going to be.

Perfect.

Eddie stumbles over a fallen log, nearly careening into the mulch and rotting leaves of the forest floor. The half moon above him, not nearly enough to light his path through the thicket.

At least this version of the woods feels alive, Eddie thinks to himself; the smell of damp dirt and the sound of frogs and crickets singing in the darkness is infinitely more appealing than the strange forest they had found themselves in a mere six months prior. And with the gates finally sealed, the most dangerous thing he could come across would probably be a rattler or a coyote. 

Eddie peers around at the thought, he's not quite sure he's entirely comfortable even running into those animals anytime soon…especially the snake.

Finally, after another ten minutes of walking, warm yellow light begins to sift through the trees ahead of him as he brushes away low branches from his field of vision. 

Eddie hikes up the guitar strap higher up his shoulder and steps fully into the light that illuminates the Harrington backyard lawn and pool.

Eddie scans the back of the house, flipping the mental map of the Harrington home around to visualize which window was most likely to be for Steve's bedroom.

He steps further into the yard, setting down the heavy amp onto the concrete patio before leaning down to grab a handful of wood chips from the shrubs next to the house.

Here goes nothing.

Eddie tosses one of the pieces of wood at the window above him. 

It barely connects with the windowsill before dropping back down onto the patio with a muted clack. 

Oh this is humiliating.

He tries again and again to hit Steve's window with the wood chips in his hand, each one completely misses the target. One bounces into the eavestrough, another careens off the siding and back into the pool behind Eddie. 

"Fuck this," Eddie growls, throwing the rest of the wood chips back into the shrubs as he snatches the cord for his amp and shoves the plug into the nearest outdoor outlet. 

He turns the volume down slightly, the plan won't work if the cops get called on him immediately. 

Eddie takes the guitar off his back and plucks a few notes, adjusting one of the tuning keys until the sound is just right.

"Here goes nothing, come on Stevie," Eddie whispers as he begins to play. 

"I hear the ticking' of the clock, I'm lying here the room's pitch dark," he sings softly, strumming out the cords, it's slightly harsher than the piano but sue him, Eddie only managed to play it once through by ear at home before he left the house.

This was Steve's last track on the tape, and Eddie's sure he put it there for a reason.

He listened to the song again and again, slowly picking up the cords as he did so. 

He could do this, he picked up Master of Puppets in just a few weeks, Eddie could handle Heart.

Eddie keeps going, his voice carries over the yard, growing in volume; so much so that he misses the patio door slowly slide open and the sound of a pair of feet padding onto the patio. 

"What are you doing here?" Steve's voice calls out to Eddie from the door, he jumps, nearly dropping the guitar. His hand jolts on the strings as Eddie attempts to keep his hold on the instrument, letting the guitar scream for him.

Steve stares at him as Eddie unplugs the amp cord and swings the guitar around his back once more with shaking hands, his thoughts spinning, trying to figure out how to start.

"I listened to the tape," Eddie says softly, Steve cocks his head slightly to better hear him, his face shuttering as the words register.  

Eddie's heart races as he watches Steve begin to turn towards the patio door once more, he needs to act fast.

"And I need you to forgive me," he blurts out, louder than he intends, but Steve does pause with his hands on the door handle.

"Why's that?" He says sharply, dropping his hand away from the door, turning to fully face Eddie once more.

Eddie chews his lip nervously as Steve's gaze hardens the longer they stand in silence, his arms come up to wrap around his chest tightly.

"I thought you were playing a prank," Eddie sighs, saying it aloud makes him want to deflate, to walk right into the pool and sink to the bottom. 

If the look Steve gives him is any indication, Steve would be more than happy to watch him go.

"That's a lot of effort to put into a fucking prank Munson," Steve bites out, there is no heat to the words though. He just sounds tired, resigned.

Shit.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Eddie mumbles, he reaches up to scrub his hand over his face, missing the way Steve's face softens ever so slightly and his arms drop from the way they seem to be holding him together. 

"But I'm not going to make excuses," Eddie takes a step closer to Steve, his heart threatening to break through his ribcage the closer he gets, "I'm sorry for how I reacted and for thinking you could do something like that".

"I know you aren't like that, you're honest, and kind," Eddie reaches out and takes the tape from his back pocket and gestures towards Steve with it, "and so fucking thoughtful it makes me ache to think I ruined everything". 

He puts the tape back in his pocket, Steve’s eyes watch him curiously now as he does, it fills him with wary hope, enough to keep talking. 

"So, I need you to forgive me Steve, because I hope you'll let me make it up to you sweetheart".

Steve's face tips down suddenly towards his socked feet and the cold concrete patio, making it impossible for Eddie to make out his expression. He holds his breath as the silence stretches between them.

"Robin was right, you can be such an asshole," Steve says quietly, Eddie's chest tightens painfully at the words.

Eddie nods once,doing everything in his power to keep his face neutral but the downward curl of his lip is unstoppable as he reaches down to pick up the amp.

"But," Steve says, taking a step away from the door behind him, "as someone who was an asshole for a long time," Steve says quietly, pressing the palm of his hand into his chest, "I think it would be pretty hypocritical to not let you make it up to me".

He's grinning now. It’s small, barely stretching across Steve's freckled face, but it's warm and just for Eddie. 

"What did you have in mind, Sweetheart?" 

Steve is quiet for a moment, his eyes dart over Eddie's face before he finally whispers, "can you finish the song Eds?" 

"I think that can be arranged, " Eddie hums with a bright grin of his own. 

He swings the guitar off his back again, quickly plugging it into the amp. 

Eddie looks up to find Steve smiling softly at him as he takes a seat on one of the pool loungers. He pulls his legs up to rest his arms on his knees, basking in his own private concert. 

As the first pink and orange rays of sunrise begin to bloom on the horizon behind him, slowly painting Steve's face gold, Eddie can't help the relief that flows through him. 

He looks down at the shy grin Steve gives him, his hazel eyes bright in the new day's light, and thinks, 'holy shit, I almost missed this'.

"You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight," he picks up where he left off, his voice mixing with the slow rhythm of the guitar, “you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight--”

Eddie watches, surprised as Steve swiftly gets up from the lounger and walks towards him, his expression determined.

"I think that's my line," Steve whispers as he leans in to cup Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him.

Eddie short-circuits.

The kiss is chaste, short, not much more than the brief press of warm chapped lips against Eddie's own, but the way Steve lets his hands move from Eddie's face to his hair and neck, holding him in place. The way Steve steps into Eddie's space so all he can taste, smell, and feel is Steve.

It’s exhilarating.  

Steve pulls back slightly before placing a second kiss on Eddie's lips, his eyes half lidded and a deep red flush staines his cheeks and ears a bright red. Steve looks much more debauched than necessary and Eddie suddenly wishes they weren't outside, that he could take Steve into the house and show him exactly how sorry he is. 

"I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait, did you learn all of them or just that one?" Steve asks, his voice slightly breathy, he still hasn't let go of Eddie or stepped away.

"Just that one," Eddie repeats dumbly, feeling the urge to walk into the pool again as Steve laughs.

Oh Eddie loves that laugh.

“You sure,” Steve asks again, his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles widely, “I thought maybe you could show me some of the other songs you know, inside?”

Either he’s dreaming or Steve is a mind reader because holy shit.

Eddie nods, unable to even form the words as Steve reaches for the amp and gently takes it out of his hands. Steve transfers the amp to his right hand and takes Eddie’s now empty hand with his left as he leads him towards the patio door.

Eddie watches, transfixed, as Steve looks back to shoot him another warm smile as they step over the threshold of the back door, and the words his uncle said earlier in the evening come back to him as Steve leads him towards the living room. 

‘I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see’.

Eddie halts his movement, grabbing Steve’s hand firmly in his own, pulling him backwards until Steve turns, his eyebrows furrowed in wary confusion.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance,” Eddie says softly. He lets the hand holding Steve's own move to trail up and down his arm, eliciting a shiver from Steve. 

“I mean, you gave me one, you came back right?” Steve says softly. 

Eddie's heart twists at the words, he feels his face fall slightly at the thought that Steve could ever think he was somehow at fault for this, “I was an idiot, that wasn’t your fault at all sweetheart”.

Steve looks at him again, his eyes scanning Eddie’s own for what feels like ages, his expression unreadable. 

“Co’mere,” he murmurs eventually, letting go of Eddie to sit on the couch. He pats the cushion beside him, with the same soft smile from earlier, “play some music for me”.

There’s more to unpack here, more to talk about, other apologies to whisper in this beautiful man's ear. 

But for now, he swings his guitar in front of him and slowly walks over to Steve.

Steve asked for music, and who is Eddie not to oblige?

@ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality @estrellami-1 @rlpersephone3259 @zaphodkilledthespeedforce @newtstabber @grtwdsmwhr @uwujinniee @anica-d @imzadidragonfly @orangeandthefairroadkill @starman-jpg @nabatute @goodolefashionedloverboi @wheatnoodle @novacorpsrecruit @lolawonsstuff @redlegumes @paintsplatteredandimperfect @scheodingers-muppet @thephantomhood @0o-queendean-o0 @blackholegladiator @nerdfighteratheart @hallucinatedjosten

(I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, thank you very much for following along with this little story everyone!)

[savemeafruitjuice]

I feel like not enough people know about Popee the Performer, and after searching, there is little to no tickle content of them, so I'll change that.

here is my contribution to this weird little show!

lee! Popee

ler! Kedamono

TW: Back injury, contortionism

Another morning in the deserted circus, the sun bright as ever and a new act for the ringmaster and sidekick to perform was being set up. Kedamono was seated on a stool as the blonde was pointing to a large board with bold text stating 'Contortionism'.

Popee flipped through various pictures of people in absurd positions, jumping up and down excitedly as the purple wolf's mask fell to reveal a concerned look. Suddenly, Popee tapped the board, then motioning to Kedamono to copy the arrangement. Another mask fell as Kedamono shook his head, hands waving in front of him before turning to run away.

He only made it a few steps before a familiar scent wafted towards him. The purple animal whipped around, face featuring a happy expression as his tail wagged. Popee held a plate of fried chicken in front of his face, knowing the bribe would always work.

Kedamono was snapped out of his trance as the food was moved, realizing he still had to participate in the act. Now nervous, he stretched his arms up, preparing to attempt the pose. He began to bend backwards, hands eventually meeting the ground as the wolf's body resembled an 'n'.

Everything was going according to plan so far! Popee stood back and watched as his "friend" continued to scoot back, hands inching towards his own legs. He was so close! He might actually do it!

The wolf's body bent slightly more, the tension in the circus building. Everything looked fine until...

Craack!

Kedamono fell to the ground, clutching his injured back as Popee fumed. The ringleader stomped his feet and pointed to Kedamono, a look of shame overcoming his previously pained expression.

The striped-clothed circus member rushed over to the other, plate of fried chicken in hand. Kedamono looked up hopefully, only to yelp as Popee threw the plate into a nearby garbage can.

The ringleader sighed, calming himself before motioning to himself with a look that said, 'If you can't do this, watch me instead'. Stepping back, Popee shook out his limbs, preparing to atempt the stunt. Kedamono rose, watching pitifully as the other bent backwards, getting into the designated position, and finally flinging his leg in the air, successfully completing the pose.

Confetti appeared from seemingly nowhere as Kedamono clapped, only for a drawn out moment of silence left the two rather awkward. Something wasn't right. Popee's arms shook under his own weight, but couldn't seem to dislodge himself from the position. Worried looks overcame the both of them as Kedamono made his way over, carefully examining how Popee's body had locked in place.

A thought came to the purple one. Maybe it wouldn't even work, maybe it would get him killed, but boy, if it wasn't a fun idea.

The wolf-critter crept behind his companion, pretending to continue examining the other, poking at his leg still in the air, before prodding at the other's torso, causing Popee to wiggle around. Kedamono decided to continue, poking and tweaking until finally...

THUMP!

Popee lost his balance, wobbling arms dropping him to the ground as he lay, his body a little crumpled but thankfully not injured. After a few moments, Popee sat up, rubbing his head before making eye-contact with his assistant. The look quickly turned to a glare however as Kedamono slowly backed away, arms raised in front of him before dashing off, Popee not so far behind.

Yeah... probably not the best idea, but at least it worked?

WAAAH! I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I had a complete burnout and couldn't bring myself to write, but I really hope this is okay! 😥😥 I'm going to try to write some more, so I'll probably post another fic in a little while. It's going to be on Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, as that is my hyperfixation for the time being, so if you want me to write for that, I would be ecstatic to! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

[fanaticsnail]

Mihawk kissing Governess' hand and her allowing herself a slip in her exterior armour to kiss his cheek and his reaction, oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

"Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place." <- tattooing this passage on my brain, thanks

I'm sorry but this whole passage had me giggling and flinging myself about in bed as I read it like a school girl, and it is so funny to me that they did All That in front of an audience of not only four powerful men but also a soiree of guests. It's like when you see regency era period pieces of a couple breathing heavily with barely contained lust after one dance bc they're Repressed Virgins, and remembering that there is a whole ballroom of other people there.

"He doesn't love you." <- NO! BAD! (spritz with water). My immediate thoughts is Sapsorrow or some other force is interfering.

"“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.”" <- screaming and wildly swinging a baseball bat. I'm so emotionally attached to these characters and invested in this story that I know that there's no way it ends on so soon all happy so there's got to still be conflict before the wedding in order for a resolution and I'm excited but at the same time I Refuse.

“The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it," <- well goddamnit snail that is poetry.

The description of Beckman and Governess' relationship!!!! I love them so much!!! "He treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well." AAAAAAAAAA

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.” BACK! BACK I SAY

“You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level.

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest." Oh my gawd. She's literally making him fumble over himself. Just the thought of such a serious figure doing all this to strip himself of his dignity just for his beloveds comfort so that she might have a confidant in a new place where she is alone and so that he might be able to partake in her unadulterated company, and the idea that he loses all his composure around her and fumbles, is so sweet. The way you write it manages to work with his personality and not feel out of character, and it's so romantic I Love it.

"I am uninjured, my darling," MY DARLING??? What happened to keeping up the facade, Governess?

"“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his." Governess stand up, get off your knees, put away the ring, you're already engaged to him!! My girl is swooning

I do love how the Governess recognized the voice as being external and even noticed it having a physical presence, and not letting it overtake her by assessing her thoughts rationally. It shows her strength and smarts in being beyond just a Damsel In Distress but still believably in distress if that makes sense? It kind of makes me excited that now that she actually knows she wants the marriage and future with Mihawk I feel like she'll be beyond angry when she finds out something/someone has been trying to take it from her, and I really can't wait.

"He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours." A man that loves his wife! What a lovely gift for me! Chewing on him as we speak <3

"“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays." I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

"Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs." Get her! Go boys! Sick 'em!

Fr loving the protectiveness of the Governess' new family

"“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.”" (visibly vibrating) I Am Being So Completely Normal About This Lore.

I love Perona so much, I (and the Governess) am so proud of her, she was brave, and kind and observant enough to notice when things were going wrong with someone she cared about, and she stood up for her friend, she's obviously always been an awesome person but I feel like her time with the Governess has allowed her to direct herself more and therefore do more and it's really cool to see the good influence on her daughter ward.

“What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” hhhhhhhh he values her thoughts so much he memories all her words and conversations even those that don't involve him

“I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.” <- if anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river

Forehead touches forehead touches foreheadtouchesforeheadtouches

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.” AAAAAAAAAAA (pt. II)

The EPILOGUE!!!! the teaser/reference for Shanks' Sapsorrow ring, the hinting to the law!!! You truly know how to feed us

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?” AAAAAAAAA (pt. III)

SNAIL!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE CHAPTER 6 REVIEW!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'm so glad you freak out about this story as much as I do. Makes it feel more alive to know how it moves you. Thank you for taking the time to go through it bit by bit to notice the little bits I add for Mihawk's humanity and adoration for him and his governess.

Openly flirting with his bride in front of Perona and Zoro, without them saying anything about it, was one of my favourite parts. He loves her so much, finally admitting it both to himself and to her without saying the three little words we want him so desperately to say.

I have drafted their vows and began working on chapter 7 to be out soon!

"If anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river" <- I would not say such things if I were you. Our little ghost has some fight yet remaining.

[hmshermitcraft]

The tunnels.

They stretch on and on for miles under the earth, corridors upon corridors of frozen memories, lost in time.

Tango knows them like his own ten fingers. He has been stuck there for years. Ever since that research expedition gone wrong.

Pearl,Zedaph,Doc,Etho,Ren. All gone. He was the only one that survived.

He knows how to find food, how to avoid the dangers. He looks at the photograph he keeps in his pocket. A tear drop falls from his eye as he looks at himself in the picture. So happy,exited to do something in the name of good science. He misses the warm laughter of his friends. He misses the sun.

A noise snaps him out of it. His ears perk up, realising that the noise came from nearby. Then he looks down at his feet. There’s a footprint. It’s not a ravager’s or his own. It’s a bird’s. His breath gets caught in his throat.

“Hello?” A voice calls

Tango looks around, and finds that in one of the spaces under him there’s an avian. He’s blond, and his wings are a warm yellow, contrasting the cold blue ice.

“Hello!” Tango calls back, flinching at how rusty he sounds. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in so long. “Give me a moment!”

He jumps down, making the avian yelp. “It’s okay! I won’t hurt you” he said.

“You live here?” The avian asked

“Kinda” Tango chuckled sadly “I was from a research expedition. And it kind of went south”

“Oh.” The avian nodded “I just fell into the entrance by accident while looking for a lost cow and then it closed and now I’m stuck”

“I’m Tango, by the way”

“I’m Jimmy”

“Nice to meet you. Now let’s try to get us out of this hell”

—-

And so, they became friends. Tango taught Jimmy how to survive, everything he learned himself. Jimmy was thankfully a fast learner, and revealed that he was from a place called “Empiria”, and that he was the local so called sheriff, and that he had a sister, Lizzie.

Tango liked having company. After so many years, it felt so good.

He told Jimmy his story. He cried.Jimmy didn’t judge him. He just held Tango closer.

Then there was the feather. Jimmy said it was a tradition, but didn’t explain further. He just plucked out one of his feathers and tied it to a rope and gave it to Tango. Tango accepted the gift.

——

And they found an exit. It was a nether portal.

“I think you can find your way from here” Tango said “you go through the portal and fly as fast as you can”

“Aren’t you coming?” Jimmy’s voice trembled slightly

Tango paused. He looked into Jimmy’s chocolate brown eyes

“I don’t think the tunnels will let me go. I mean, look at me, I’m not myself anymore.” He pointed at his hair, blue with frost, and his now pale bluish purple eyes.

“I don’t care. I want you to be free as well.” There were now tears in Jimmy’s eyes.

Tango put a hand on Jimmy’s cheek, pulled him close.

It was a sad, sweet kiss.

“Go.” Tango whispered, now crying as well “Please.”

Jimmy hugged him one last time.

Then he went trough.

Tango just watched for a few seconds. Then, shrugging off his coat, jumped in as well.

The spirits watched them in silence, disappearing with relief, finally capable of moving on.

In that split second of emptiness in the space Jimmy once filled, Tango realised: 'what does he have to lose?' His friends are gone. He's hardly living down in the tunnels.

With Jimmy, he felt emotions he thought he'd never feel again. He was actually living, not just focused on his survival. Sure, it had been harder fending for the two of them instead of him alone, but it was worth the effort.

Why shouldn't be take this risk? He never used to be afraid of them before. (That's how he got into this mess after all.)

He doesn't feel the comforting blanket of spirits over his shoulders, protecting him from the tunnels as he leaves. He doesn't need to. He'll always carry them with him.

He should've known Jimmy wouldn't take his advice too. He's still standing before the portal, staring at it like he's mourning. He startles when Tango steps out. Then gasps. Then flings his arms around him in a hug.

Tango jokes they won't be able to travel as fast on Tango's stumpy legs. Jimmy hits him in the arm and pulls him even closer.

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

Chapter 21

AO3

Masterlist (Make sure you read the bonus scene!)

Warnings: None

The back, evidentially, was a fantastical little courtyard tucked between the old brick buildings of the city. Lights strung up on the walls, and leafy green plants surrounded the delicate bistro table. 

“This was lovely,” Elain said, leaning back against the warm iron of her chair. “Thank you so much for preparing this for us.” 

“It was no trouble, dear,” Paloma said, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin. “I hoped the chicken wasn’t too dry?”

“No,” Elain said adamentally, shaking her head. “It was perfect, and that Marsala sauce was so creamy,” She leaned forward and placed her pale hand on Paloma’s soft brown one. “I’d love for you to teach me. Unless it’s a secret family recipe or something like that.”

Paloma grinned widely as her, white teeth flashing. 

“I’d love that,” Paloma said and leaned forward, shooting her son a conspiratorial glance. “I’m sure if we both badger my son, then we can get him to visit without waiting on him for months,” She whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. “And I’ll gladly teach my daughter-in-law all my secret family recipes.”

“Ma.” Azriel cut in from across the table, and Elain hoped everyone thought her flush was from the summer sun. 

Paloma waved her son off and stood, grabbing some of the plates from the table. Azriel quickly followed suit, and when Elain and Mor tried to pick their dishes they were immediately shot down. 

“You’re a guest,” Paloma insisted, expertly balancing too many dishes. “Sit and relax and we’ll bring our dessert.”

Elain opened her mouth to protest, but Azriel’s mother was already walking away. 

Azriel saw her distressed face and leaned over to give her a peck on the lips before following after his mother. 

“Paloma adores you,” Mor said, smiling as soon as the door swung shut. “She’s already writing you into the will.”

“Do you really think she likes me?” Elain asked, eyes wide and voice low as she leaned in close. “I was terribly under prepared for this. Azriel didn’t give me any warning.”

Mor leaned in as well, her brown eyes shimmering in amusement. 

“Elain, you’re the perfect daughter-in-law,” Elain felt her brows pull together as the words, all of her insecurities bubbling up to the surface. “And I wanted to apologize,” Mor continued, her expression sobering up. “For how I reacted when I caught you guys, and then saying those things about Azriel. I didn’t — I didn’t realize you guys were serious. I thought it was just a fling. That you guys were fooling around.”

Elain felt her spine straighten as she pulled away. 

“Apology accepted,” Elain said with a nod. “But really, you should be apologizing to Azriel, not me. And you should know better, neither Azriel or I would risk so much for a fling.”

Mor nodded her head, and the door opened again before she had a chance to respond. 

“Azriel told me,” Paloma said, grinning ear to ear while holding an overflowing dish between her hands. Azriel stood behind her holding four mugs in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other. “That you had a weakness for tiramisu. Another family recipe.” She winked at Elain as she placed the dessert on the table. 

“It’s my favorite,” Elain said, smiling softly at the gesture. “You’re two for two. Thank you so much for everything.” 

Azriel leaned down close to her and Elain’s body hummed in response. She tilted her face to whisper, “You’re in trouble,” In his ear. 

His eyes dropped to her lips before flitting back up to her eyes. 

A slow smile stretched across his lips. 

“Are you going to punish me?” Azriel raised his brow at her, smirking. 

Elain sunk her teeth into her lips and nodded her head. 

“I’ll sleep by myself tonight.” Elain said shakily. 

Azriel pouted at her. 

“That’s not fair,” Elain stated, forcing her gaze to stay locked with him. “It makes me want to kiss you.”

His grin split his face. 

“You can’t kiss me?” 

Elain’s eyes flew around to the table, Mor and Paloma politely ignoring them and engaging in conversation as Paloma served up the dessert. 

“Not in front of your mom.” Elain whispered harshly, her face flaming. 

Azriel leaned closer to her, so that his lips pressed against her ears as he said, “One day, you’ll grow so used to my kisses that you won’t think twice about them, no matter who is around.” 

He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear before serving all of them coffee. 

Elain shifted in her seat, forcing herself to smile as she joined the conversation. 

— —

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Elain said, standing in front of the bakery’s door. Azriel and Mor on either side of her. “For such a delicious dinner. I hope you’ll let me return the favor.”

Paloma smiled so happily that her round cheeks obscured her eyes. 

“I would love that,” Paloma said, pulling Elain into a warm hug. “You’re special to him,” She said lowly, so that only Elain could hear her. “I’ve never seen him so peaceful.”

They pulled away and Elain was certain her cheeks were bright red. 

Elain took a step back, allowing Mor and Paloma to say their goodbyes, and she deliberately ignore Azriel’s attempt to lock eyes. She didn’t want him to see how affected she was from his mothers words. 

“Goodbye, Ma,” Azriel said, leaning down to engulf his mother into his arms. 

Elain and Mor took a step away, giving them as much privacy as possible. They whispered quietly to each other before breaking apart. Both of them grinning. 

They waved as they left the store, and Elain found herself wanting to reach for Azriel’s hands as they walked on the uneven sidewalk. 

Elain searched for words to say and came up short. 

“I told her about our trip,” Azriel said from behind her, and Elain kept her gaze focused on Mor’s back as she walked confidently in front of them. “And that as soon as we get home we’ll invite her over, so that she can teach you how to make the Marsala.”

Elain grinned, and tried not to think about how excited she was. 

-------

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

[allthewriteplaces]

A Magnolia in May - Chapter Twenty Three

Author's note: As promised, here is the 23rd chapter of my Peaky Blinders fanfiction. I know my posts have been sporadic as of late, but while I hope to remedy that soon, I don't want to push myself too far. Hopefully this makes up for my unforgiveable absence, though.

Chapter Summary: Just a fun day with the kids and their mums.

Chapter Warning(s): None

Word Count: 3822

Chapter Twenty-Three

Once again, the house was bustling with activity, not just because Miss Carleton was dropping by for a visit, much to Lizzie’s annoyance, but so was the veterinarian who was supposed to come and check on Grace’s Secret and then Charlie and Ruby had a music recital later on this afternoon and of course the rest of the family couldn’t very well leave without attending the recital so we agreed they could stay a little while longer.

Lizzie really didn’t like her, Miss Carleton, I mean, and it was pretty obvious as to why, but this morning while she and I were washing the dishes after breakfast, she told me the reason she didn’t like her was because she and Thomas had a short fling just before she married him and it was clear that the horse trainer still had feelings for her ex-husband and would do anything in her power to seduce him and have him in the palm of her hand.

Since it was a hot day and the sun was shining high overhead with not a single threatening cloud in sight, Ada, Lizzie, Esme and I decided to take the children down to the lake to swim while Thomas met with Miss Carleton and the veterinarian.

So here we were, walking barefoot down the winding dirt path to the lake with the hot sun blazing down the backs of our necks and the tops of our heads. We were all dressed in more light-weight clothes that we wouldn’t mind getting wet or dirty.

“Is the lake gonna be cold?” asked William.

“It’s a warm day, so it shouldn’t be too cold,” Ada answered.

“I’m more worried about it being dirty,” said Katie.

“I don’t want to swim in dirty water,” Queenie said with a shudder.

Cold and dirty water certainly wouldn’t be an ideal place to swim, that I could agree with. The lake was much bigger and much closer to the city than the pond behind our house back home and there were a few trees there so it was likely that there might have been some twigs and leaves scattered about in there.

Not to mention it wasn’t the sort of water you’d want to accidentally swallow.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to go in the water doesn’t have to go in,” I said, “You can play on the shore and use the water to make sand castles. That’s why we brought some pails and shovels with us.”

“As long as you stay in the shade,” said Ada, “We don’t want you to get sunburnt, even with the lotion on. “Trust me, sunburn is no picnic.”

Charlie, who was walking alongside me, looked up at her. “You got sunburnt?”

She nodded. “When I was a little girl. We didn’t have sunblock back then, so we had to use zinc ointment to protect ourselves.”

“Was it really bad?” asked Ruby, the tone of her voice climbing a little higher.

“No, it just made my arm really, really red, like a big tomato, but Aunt Polly fixed it right up and I got all better. All the pain and redness went away.”

“Oh,” she said. She was quiet for a moment and then added, “Aunt Polly always knows what to do, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Ada, smiling, “she always knows what to do.”

When we got to the lake, the water looked cleaner than we thought, but still, we did a quick scan of the area, making sure there weren’t any shards of glass from wine or beer bottles or pieces of metal that they could step on and that would pierce their skin. Then we gave them the all clear, telling them it was safe to take off their shoes and walk.

Not surprisingly, not all of the kids were entirely keen on going in the water, except for Charlie. In the coming years, I’d learn that he was a bit of a daredevil, someone who wasn’t afraid to take a few small risks.

Of course Ruby did almost everything Charlie did, so she followed him.

“Stay in the shallows, okay?” I called, not wanting them to go too deep.

“We will!” Charlie called back. William, Henry, Billy, Mercedes, Finn, Matthew and Karl, decided to go in, too and I watched as they splashed each other in the clear water.

“I’m not going in,” said Alice, determinedly, her little hands on her hips.

“We could build a sandcastle instead,” Queenie piped up.

Marie grinned and clapped her hands. “Sandcastle!”

“I wanna help, too,” Birdie said.

“Okay.” Katie held Birdie and Marie’s hands, and they happily skipped alongside her as they all searched for the perfect spot to build their sandcastle. “It can’t be too close to the water or else the waves will wash it all away once the tide comes in.”

Queenie tilted her head to one side and looked over at me.

“Do lakes even have tides?” she asked.

“Tiny ones,” I answered, then pointed to a spot near the shade. “What about we build it over there? It’s nice and shady and it’s close enough to the water that you don’t have to lug your heavy buckets for long.”

Katie tapped her fingers against her chin. “Hmm.”

The girls walked over to the spot I was pointing to and they all knelt down on the sand. Katie took a handful of it and then sprinkled it back onto the ground.

“The sand texture is good,” she called, “but I think we need some water.”

“Come on,” said Alice, “Let’s go get some pails and shovels.”

The girls all stood up again and when Queenie rose to her feet, she told me to guard their land so no one would intrude on it before they could build their castle.

“Stay right there until we get back,” she instructed.

“I will,” I replied and sat down on the ground under the tree with my knees tucked under my chin. The ground underneath was sandy, and I moved my dress down so I wouldn’t get it in any uncomfortable places, feeling the wind blowing through my hair. I closed my eyes for a moment just appreciating the calm.

After they all got a bucket and a shovel, half of the girls returned and started filling their buckets with sand while the rest of them filled theirs with water. I could see Ruby and the boys swimming not that far ahead and Lizzie, Linda and Esme setting up the picnic blanket and making sure we had everything we needed for lunch in the basket.

Ada held Elizabeth’s hand as she stood on the shore, letting the waves crash over her feet. I could hear her adorable shriek as the cool water hit her little legs. I stood up momentarily and decided to put my feet in or go a little ways out and see how cold it actually was.

“How is it?” Esme called. I almost couldn’t hear her because of how loud the waves were as they threatened to knock me down more than once.

“Not too bad,” I answered. “It’s nice putting your feet in.”

“Are you going deeper?” Ada asked beside me as she walked with Lizzie until they were a little deeper into the water until it was up to her waist. Being only a few years old, she couldn’t exactly swim as far out as the other kids, but the girl was perfectly happy playing and splashing with her mum.

“I think I will,” I answered, and then walked out a little more. The waves threatened to knock me over a couple of times, but I remained flat-footed and kept going until it went up to my waist, too. It was chilly, but it was refreshing, perfect for a hot day like today.

I stayed in the water for a little bit, letting the cool rush of it settle the thoughts inside of me. It took me back to when I was a kid and we’d all go swim in the pond near our home and then lay on the grass and let the sun dry us off, except this water was shallower, or at least it seemed that way to a fully-grown adult woman.

After a little bit, I got out and as I stepped onto the shore, the sand stuck to the bottom of my feet. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world, having it stick to the bottom of my feet and get stuck between my toes, but it wasn’t unbearable, either, and besides that, it would only take a minute for them to dry off.

I brought a book along with me to read while I was here, one that I’d been meaning to read for quite some time, one that Thomas insisted I read, but until now, I’d never gotten around to reading it. I sat down with my feet sprawled out in front of me so the breeze could dry them off, opened the book to the first page and started reading.

Most readers could dive head first into a book and tune everything else out, but I had learned how to stay in the present and pay attention to my surroundings in case anyone needed me.

It was a detective novel about a wealthy old woman who was murdered and the twelve suspects who were either witnesses or potential perpetrators. It was all narrated by a Lieutenant on sick leave from the Western Front.

After a little bit, I was called away from my book by Ruby, whose hair and clothes were all soaked from swimming and who wrapped her little arms around herself, and who told me that lunch was ready.

We all sat down on the picnic blanket, crossing our legs and eating lunch as the waves crashed and the cool, summer air blew across our faces, talking about anything and everything under the sun.

The wind wasn’t too strong so we didn’t have to worry about our food blowing away, but those of us who had long hair had to tuck our hair back.

“How’s your sandcastle going?” asked Lizzie.

Katie set her sandwich down. “We’re a little bit done.”

“You’re building a sandcastle?” Ruby asked, her eyes wide. “Can I help, too?”

Queenie looked over at Katie, who nodded and then she looked back at Ruby.

“Sure. We’ll finish our lunch first.”

“I have an idea,” said Charlie. “Let’s all build one, boys versus girls.”

“The losers have to get a bucket of water poured on them,” said Karl with a grin.

Katie raised an eyebrow. “You sure you wanna risk getting dunked in water?”

“Yeah,” said Karl, “because we know that we’re gonna win.”

“No,” Marie answered. “We’re gonna win.”

“Our mums and Miss Bennet can be the judges,” said Ruby.

“What if we want to build our own?” asked Esme.

Ruby tapped her finger against her chin. “I suppose that would be alright.”

Lunch was finished and the rest of the afternoon was spent filling buckets of sand and water, trying to determine how much of each we would need so it wasn’t too dry or too muddy. It was like determining how much milk to put with our cereal in the morning. You don’t want it too dry, but you don’t want it to be too mushy or soggy, either.

Finally, we figured out the perfect ratio and all things considered, we were all doing pretty well, though admittedly, Lizzie and Birdie were more interested in playing in the water and doing their own little thing than actually helping with the castle.

“We’ll have to bring Violet here once she gets a little older,” I said, turning one of the buckets over and patting it down with the shovel. “Aunt Eliza says she wants to wait until Violet is old enough to sit up on her own and walk, or at least wait until she can crawl. She’ll be able to move around and explore more.”

Lizzie nodded, doing the same and then using her own shovel to make a little hole where a door would be. “Not to mention old enough to know that she can’t put sand in her mouth.”

“I think all babies do that,” said Esme. She made a circle around the castle and then poured a little water into it to make a moat.

Ada laughed. “Tell me about it. When Karl was a baby and we’d sit outside on the grass in the park, I had to make sure he didn’t eat the grass. Elizabeth is the same way. Ben saw her with a fistful in her hand the other day and when he took it from her, even though he was as gentle as he could possibly be, she still cried.”

“They all grow out of it eventually,” said Linda. “Billy wasn’t much of a grass eater, but when he was teething, he liked chewing on his stuffed bear because it was soft and he didn’t take a pacifier.”

“Mum!” Billy groaned, obviously having heard us.

Linda’s smile brightened. “Aww, am I embarrassing you, love?”

His expression changed to a grumpy one for a second or two, but then he shook his head, smiling as his mum made a funny face and then picking up his bucket, he took it down to the water to fill it up.

In truth, I’d thought a lot about what it would be like having children of my own and Thomas and I had talked about it a few times, but while we were both open to the possibility, we weren’t in any hurry. Besides, Ruby and Charlie were already like a son and daughter to me, even though they never called me ‘mum’ I didn’t want to put that pressure on them, I didn’t want them to feel as though they had to should Thomas and I ever decide to get married.

“Take it one day at a time,” Aunt Eliza told me last night as we all sat on the couch together after the kids had gone to bed. “There’s no rush to do anything, just live in the moment and enjoy the time you have together.”

“Mum!” Ruby said, running over to us. “We’re all finished!”

“We are, too,” said Henry, joining her.

“Well, let’s go see who made the best one,” Lizzie said, holding out her hand.

Ruby took it and then held her other hand out to me.

I and the other ladies stood up, and allowed her and Matthew to lead us to where their sandcastles were built.

“Look at that!” I said, looking at the boys’ handiwork first, seeing as how theirs was the first one in the row. “You did a moat, too, I see. And how did you make the door?”

“We found some bark from a tree on the ground over there,” said Finn. “We had to make the hole wider so the piece would fit. And we made windows using a stick since the shovel was too big and would make the whole thing crumble.”

“I wish I brought my toy soldiers,” said William. “Then we could use them as guards to protect the castle from invaders.”

“Who knows, maybe the castle will stay up for years to come,” I said, hoping to cheer him up a bit.

He looked up at me and his eyes lit up. “Really?”

I nodded. “Really. I’d say it’s a mighty fine fort you’ve built.”

They saluted me and I saluted them back before we went to see the girls’ castle.

“And what do we have here?” Lizzie asked, kneeling on the ground as Birdie put one last little rock on her side of the castle. It seemed her side of the castle was primarily built on rocks, which in my opinion, made it look more ancient, like the castles we’d see sometimes on our drives to London.

“She loves rocks,” Queenie explained. “Every time we go outside, she’s always picking up rocks and looking at them.”

“Yes, she does,” Esme said with a tiny shake of her head and an amused smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she collects enough to fill an entire room.”

“A whole room full of rocks?” Matthew asked, excitedly, “that would be fun.”

“Yeah, we can all climb them like the explorers in the books,” said Finn.

Both boys had overheard our conversation about rocks and whether it was pure coincidence, or not, Finn was holding a huge pile of rocks in his hand and showed them to Birdie, but when she looked for a little more room to put them on, she discovered that there was no more room left on the castle to put them on.

“Here,” said Alice, “give them to me and I’ll show you what we can do.”

Birdie handed the rocks to Alice and Alice arranged them into a little arch above the piece of driftwood that they’d used to make a door.

“Birdie found a pretty white rock once,” Katie said, watching Alice carefully sort through the rocks to see which ones would fit above the door and which ones they’d have to put somewhere else.

“It was really, really pretty,” said Queenie, “if you held it in the sunlight, it would sparkle, like someone put magic fairy dust on it.”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t be surprised. There’ve been quite a few fairy sightings recently,” I said, making my voice sound overly mysterious, which made all of their eyes light up.

“Really?” Marie asked, her deep brown eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

“Really,” I said, nodding my head slowly, emphatically.

“I thought fairies didn’t want to be seen,” said Ruby.

“In most cases, yes, they’ll try and stay as far away from humans as they possibly can, you know, to avoid being captured and all that, but sometimes, some of the braver fairies might come by to say hello.”

Alice leaned a little closer. “I think I saw a white, fluffy dandelion blowing in the wind the other day when we were playing outside. Do you think it was a fairy being born?”

“I very well think it might have been,” I answered and she grinned, as did the other girls. “They say that the first time that a baby laughs, a fairy’s life takes flight.”

“But if a baby laughs, does that mean when a baby cries, a fairy dies?” asked Charlie, overhearing our conversation about rocks and fairies. He knelt beside his mum on the ground and looked over at me and I could see he was worried.

“No, no, it’s only when someone says they don’t believe in fairies,” I answered.

“Oh, well, if I ever said that, or if I do say it, I don’t mean it,” he said.

I frowned. Charlie was a very sensitive boy, one whose heart was made of pure gold and who would do anything to protect those he cared about the most. And while most boys his age thought believing in fairy tales and playing make believe was beneath them, he had certainly never lost that sense of wonder, the sense that there were worlds far beyond this one, or worlds that we haven’t yet discovered.

He was the sort of boy who would grow up to be a selfless man, and trust me, we needed more of those in this world.

And what worried us the most was that it was like all the colour had drained from his face and was about to pour out of his eyes in tears. So, it was time for me to do what I did best, which was to ease that guilt that was inside of him, to make him feel less worried.

I leaned forward and placed my hand on top of his as it rested in the sand. It was still a bit damp and sandy from his handiwork, but that didn’t matter in the least to me, because this boy needed comfort and I wanted to be the one to ease that comfort.

“You know, they also say that if you say that you believe in fairies and truly mean it with all your heart, you can bring them back to life and it will be as if nothing happened.”

He smiled as his mum rubbed his back with the heel of her hand and looked into his eyes. He looked up at her and then leaned his head on her shoulder.

“Okay, who’s the winner of the competition?”

“Hmm,” Esme tapped her chin, thinking for a moment. “Well, it’s a very tough choice seeing as how you all have done such a wonderful job, therefore, I think you are all the winners.”

“So no one has to be dunked over the head with this bucket?” asked Matthew.

“Not if they don’t want to,” said Lizzie.

“Okay, then I guess I’ll just put it back,” he said, drawing the last vowel slowly and I turned my head just in time to feel the cold water come pouring down on me and hear all the kids laughing.

“I knew it! I should have known you were going to trick me!” I said, shaking my head and looking down at my now sopping wet dress and watching the water dripping from my hair.

“It was Henry’s idea,” he said, pointing to my younger cousin.

“Was not!” Henry argued, sounding almost genuinely shocked.

“Was to,” Billy put in. “I heard you telling Matthew to dunk her.”

“It’s alright,” I laughed. I wasn’t entirely displeased. “I feel like a soggy wet cat, but it’s alright.”

“You look like a soggy wet cat,” said William. He was laughing, too.

I stood up, squeezing the water from my dress and then pushing my hair back, thinking it would have been wiser to put it in a hair tie before we left, but I didn’t and that was my first mistake. My next mistake was thinking that none of the kids would try to splash me or dunk me over the head with a bucket of cold water.

At least it was clean.

But they’d made a little tiny mistake, too: thinking that I wouldn’t try and splash them back. I wouldn’t pour a bucket of it all over them, but as they dashed toward the water and as long as my hands were free, I could lightly splash them and watch them try to get away.

Even Elizabeth tried, and when I ever so gently used my hands to toss a little water her way, she giggled, which in turn, made me smile.

One of the best things about being part of a big family like this one, was that I knew that no matter how rough of a day I was having, these kids would always be here to cheer me up, to make me laugh and make me forget any struggles I was going through.

And it made me happy.

To Be Continued

Taglist: @zablife @cillmequick @sherbitdibdab @runnning-outof-time @izabesworld

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[redbluezero]

A Steward's Duty

This is my @nagamas gift for @felikatze starring Clanne and Framme! You can read it on AO3 here or under the cut!

Clanne hurriedly hobbled across the verdant fields of the Somniel. Under his left arm was a wicker basket full of clean, sun-dried clothing. As he made his way, he saw Framme coming up to him and stopped for her.

“Hi, Clanne!” Framme greeted him cheerfully. However, the moment she saw the laundry basket, her smile dropped and her eyes bulged out of her head.

“Did you wash the Divine One’s clothes?!” she yelled.

“Y-Yeah,” Clanne affirmed, nodding with caution due to Framme’s outburst. That was when her eyebrows furrowed and her cheeks puffed up in anger.

“But Vander said it was my turn to wash them!” Framme huffed. She balled up her fists at her sides and shook her arms twice.

“Sorry, I thought you forgot!” Clanne apologized sincerely, waving his free hand. He’d only been trying to help, given Framme’s penchant for having chores slip her mind, but it seemed he’d overstepped.

“I… I did, but still! You could’ve, y’know, reminded me!” Framme whined, her anger having dissipated into a pout. Clanne frowned, too.

“You’re right… I’m sorry, Framme,” he sighed, hanging his head in shame. Framme’s eyebrows hopped up slightly in shock before furrowing once again with newfound guilt.

“No, it’s fine… I know you’re just being kind, it’s who you are,” she replied softly, shaking her head. “It’s a great thing about you, you shouldn’t have to change just ‘cause I’m clumsy…”

Framme shifted her gaze down and away at some stray blades of grass.

“I wish I was a better steward, like you,” she continued wistfully. Clanne’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Hey! You’re a great steward!” he refuted, putting his free hand on her shoulder.

“But I’m always slipping up!” Framme shouted desperately, flinging her head up at him.

“So? Nobody loves the Divine One more than you!” Clanne said matter-of-factly. He then paused for a second, staring off, then cleared his throat. “O-Other than myself, of course, but I’d say we’re tied. You are part of the Divine Dragon Fan Club, after all.” At that, Framme’s scrunched up face relaxed and she giggled.

“Of course,” she repeated. She then put her hand on Clanne’s and looked him in the eyes with a soft, sincere expression. “Thanks, Clanne. You always know what to say. You’re a great brother.” Clanne felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Aw, no big deal!” he said, trying to shake it off. “You just try to remember my chores next time, and I’ll remember to remind you instead of doing them myself!” He smiled, full of resolve.

“Now, let me bring these to the Divine One’s room!” Clanne said excitedly. Framme giggled again at his enthusiasm, but let him go. He hurriedly made his way to the plaza, then up to Alear’s room.

“Divine One, I brought you new clothes. Vander should be here to change you into them soon enough, but I figured I’d chat with you a bit while I’m here,” Clanne announced as he squeezed through the door. He set down the basket and sat cross legged in front of the bed where Alear lay sleeping.

“Today, Framme got upset with me, but we figured it out,” Clanne sighed. “It was a bit scary, so I’m glad we did. She means a lot to me.” He then smiled.

“It’s kind of strange talking to you like this,” Clanne chuckled, “but I can’t wait to do the real thing! That is, if you wake up in my lifetime.”

With that, he got up and walked out of the room, ready to take on the rest of the day.

“Bye, Divine One! See you around!” Clanne said with a wave before shutting the door.

[citizen-sade]

The air in the saloon was already near suffocating, thick with smoke that gave it the dreamy, undulating quality of a Van Gogh painting. Sherriff Earp surveyed the crowd with his eagle eyes, his gaze lingering on his friend's ashen face from across the room. Wispy tendrils of smoke spiraled from the tip of the gambler’s cigarette.

Doc brought a small pewter mug to his lips and swigged the amber liquid. He savored the familiar burn that trailed a line of fire down his esophagus to bloom in his stomach. His keen eyes narrowed.

It had been a relatively slow evening in the establishment until the shimmering desert sun began to descend toward the horizon. That was when the nocturnal creatures began to filter in. Tensions rose as the liquor flowed.

The bejeweled woman at Doc's side caressed his thigh under the table, eyeing his cards beneath long, dark lashes with a feline smirk. A sharp hack like the bark of a pistol penetrated the silence of the dim corner where Doc Holliday sat staring his opponents down beneath the strategic tilt of his beaver felt hat, his back to the wall. Always, Wyatt mused.  

“Bah!” scowled Elijah Parson, flinging his cards down on the table, “I fold!” 

“And then there were two,” Holliday dabbed at his lips with his handkerchief and turned his attention to the remaining player. He fanned his cards out before him, “Full.”

“Whoo-hee!” the elder Parson displayed his cards and threw his hands in the air, leaning forward to excitedly gather his winnings, “Straight!”

“Hold it!” exclaimed Elijah as he brought a fist down on the table and snarled at Doc, “That ain’t a Full—that’s a goddamn Flush!” 

Earle’s face fell and he turned a slack-jawed gaze upon Doc’s hand.

“Well, well, well. Would you look at that?" the corner of his mouth curved up in a sly grin, “must be my lucky day.”

“Horseshit!” Earle’s chair clattered to the floor as he leapt up in a rage, “No-good crook! I’ve a mind to put you out of your misery myself!”

The good doctor took a languid, unfazed drag from his cigarette, “Why, Earle, didn’t your mama ever teach you not to make promises you don’t intend to keep?”

The grizzled Parson brother brandished his Colt and aimed it square at Doc, spitting like a viper, “You think I’m bluffin’, lunger?”  

Doc smiled bitterly and fixed the insolent old man with a penetrating stare as a shaft of clarity broke through his whiskey-induced haze.

“You lack the courage of your convictions, Sir,” he drawled and straightened his back, tearing open his shirt to expose his chest. He wasn't smiling now.

“Do it.”

The typical murmurings and goings-on within the establishment gradually stilled as every head swiveled in their direction, causing Earle to shift his weight uneasily. Across the room, something stirred uneasily in Wyatt. The bastard's personal concept of self-preservation was flimsy at best, and often left Wyatt between a rock and a hard place. He sighed as one long-suffering and hung his head. He moved to inch closer to the card table. Wyatt was not unfamiliar with the gamut of emotions Doc Holliday often roused by being a skilled gambler (re: cheater) and a pompous sonofabitch—an infuriating combination, to be sure. Anymore, it seemed that Doc had found his calling in antagonizing every hotheaded dingbat he came across.

The hammer clicked into place, eliciting a shriek from Kate, and instantly Wyatt was upon the man. He wrenched his arm behind his back, causing him to drop his weapon. Wyatt kicked the gun under the table. “Play nice, Earle, or I’ll have your ass behind bars faster’n you can say ‘hasenpfeffer’!”

“Call off your watchdog and face me like a man, Holliday!” the brother spat in Doc’s direction as he struggled in Wyatt's grasp.

“The au-dacity,” Doc clicked his tongue as he drained his whiskey.

He looked up to see Elijah lunge at Wyatt and hook an elbow around his neck. Doc flung the metal cup at the younger brother, smacking him in the ear. Dazed, the man released his friend and froze at the sudden presence at his side, cold metal pressed against his temple.

“Now, gentlemen, is that any way to behave in the presence of a lady?” Doc taunted, tipping his head towards his lovely companion.

“G'on!” Wyatt unceremoniously dragged Earle to the entrance of the bar and planted the heel of his boot square in his backside. With a hard shove, he ejected him into the dusty street, “Git! Before I decide to make good on puttin’ you behind bars!”

Elijah scowled, slurring curses over his shoulder as he tripped out the swinging doors and stumbled after his brother.

Wyatt smugly folded his arms over his chest, laughing as he watched the two boorish cowboys stagger into the distance. 

Somewhere behind him, Doc’s drunken giggle dissolved into a panicked, ragged coughing fit. He gasped for breath like a fish out of water and groped for purchase as his vision blurred and condensed. He blood pounded in his ears and the room began to spin. Kate’s gasp made Wyatt whirl around to see red-rimmed eyes roll back in Doc’s head as he crumpled into the table. 

“Doc!” the woman cried. Wyatt rushed over and ducked beneath Doc’s arm, lifting him to his feet with alarming ease.

“He’ll be alright,” Wyatt chuckled nervously, “Just had too much to drink—didn’t ya, Doc?” 

He felt Doc’s labored breath on his ear, followed by a weak and thready plea, “Take me home, Wyatt.”

“Okay, okay,” he replied gently, then with authority, “Can I get some help here?” 

A baby-faced onlooker who had been intent on the previous commotion shuffled to Doc’s other side to help carry him as Kate quickly gathered as many coins and valuables as she could funnel into her satchel. Together both men clumsily transported Doc to his room next door at the Grand Hotel.

When they arrived, Wyatt nudged the door open and dropped his friend onto the bed. Doc shuddered, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth as he curled into the fetal position.

Kate cooed and hurried to soothe him. Wyatt stared at the broken man, lost in the shallow heaving of his chest. He’d forgotten about the young man that accompanied them until he heard a sheepish but grim voice from the hallway,

“He doesn’t look so good, Sheriff.”

Wyatt turned and pressed a couple silver dollars into his hand with a mumbled dismissive thanks that may have been a tad colder than he’d intended. Wyatt then gently grasped Kate by the crook of her arm to shepherd her towards the door with the promise that the next time she saw her beau, he’d be right as rain.

After she’d gone, Wyatt moved to Doc’s side and coaxed him onto his back. He began to unfasten the remaining buttons of his shirt to allow more air on his inflamed skin when elegant fingers circled his wrist. 

“Doc—what're you—?” 

“Don’t start somethin’ yer not gonna finish,” Doc wheezed. Wyatt gazed at his sunken face, a familiar sparkle in his bloodshot eyes.  

“N—now, let me help you, dammit,” he stammered.

Doc weakly batted his hands away and strained to pull himself into a sitting position. The effort was enough to make him twist away from Wyatt as another spasm shook him and he pressed his handkerchief to his mouth. Wyatt glared at the delicate ivory cloth now stained crimson.

“Two whiskeys,” he croaked as his head fell back to rest against the headboard. 

Wyatt blinked and retrieved the decanter of honey colored liquid. His movements felt robotic, borne of months of accumulated muscle memory. He was abruptly, bleakly aware of the passage of time, and had to put forth the effort to steady his nerves as he poured the liquor, the bottle clinking against the rim of the first glass, then the second.

“Took you long enough,” Doc scolded, his voice weary but playful. He looked at the offered snifter, lifted a hand to accept it, and realized how violently he was shaking. He raised his eyes to Wyatt’s with an exasperated sigh, “Be a lamb...” 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Wyatt bent over him to wipe the blood from his mouth and chin before tipping the glass to his lips.

Doc swallowed, sputtered, and gulped the rest like it was water and he’d been lost in the desert for forty days and nights. Wyatt pulled up a chair and set the glass on the small bedside dresser.

A deep swig came from beside the bed and Doc imagined Wyatt cradling his glass, clutching it almost to the point of shattering. He winced at the burn in his throat and contemplated the flames from the alcohol mingling with the tar in his lungs, creating some unholy thing that fed exclusively on tissue and sinew. When he cracked an eyelid to glance at his companion, he noticed Wyatt’s knuckles, white against his glass. Doc chuckled.

“And just what in th' hell is so funny?”

“Oh... nothin’...” Doc drawled, cocking an eyebrow in Wyatt’s direction, “I forgot you were here.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed and he snapped, leaping from his chair, “Why, you son of a—!”

Doc glanced up, “Now is that any way to talk to a dying man, Sheriff?” 

Wyatt raised a hand to his hip and dug his fingers into his side to keep his temper in check. He ran a hand over his face before taking a measured breath and resumed his seat. Neither Doc nor his own mounting panic were gonna get the best of him here. 

“I’ll always be here, Doc,” he said finally, fingers knitting together in his lap, his tone awkward but comforting, then rising in defiance to break the tension, “whether you like it or not!”  

Doc chuckled again in something akin to relief. Wyatt hadn’t taken his bait. He didn't honestly think he would. 

“Ah know,” Doc sighed wearily, admitting defeat, his eyelids drooping.

When Doc fell silent, Wyatt feigned interest in the stuffy room. He studied the peeling wallpaper, the ornate headboard. He glanced out the window, as though there was anything to see out there.

The quiet made him anxious. Doc Holliday should be out chasing women and cheating stupid fuckers out of their money, not lying in a dingy hotel bed as his body shut down. Behind the mustache, his teeth worked his bottom lip as Doc’s labored breathing evened. Sweat glistened on his brow, soaked through the cotton shirt, and formed beads of moisture at his open collar.

After what seemed like an eternity, Wyatt shifted in his chair, which creaked under his weight and interrupted the eerie silence of the room. Doc stirred and blinked his eyes open. Wyatt opened his mouth to apologize for waking him but let the words dissolve on his tongue. Doc's gaze fixed on a corner of the room, as though seeing something only he could perceive. Something that troubled him. 

“Why are you here, Wyatt?” he whispered despondently, “You here to watch a man die?”

Wyatt dreaded the cold shift in his demeanor, but considered his friend’s words for a moment and shrugged, “I’ve seen plenty of men die, Doc.”

Doc’s throat worked to swallow another impending spasm, “But have you actually watched ‘em take their last breath—“ Wyatt clinched his jaw, “watched the light leave their eyes?” 

“What the hell—“ 

“‘Cause you’re about to.”

His attempts to dominate the looming attack made the fire in his chest angry, gave it teeth. He shuddered and lurched forward with a fit that shook his emaciated frame. The blood that seeped from his lips was dark, originating from deep within, and smelled of decay. 

Wyatt was at his side in an instant, one hand pressed to Doc’s back, “Now, breathe,” he encouraged, he splayed his other hand against Doc’s chest, moving it in and out with each shallow, rattling breath, coaching him to take it slow and easy, “Just breathe... there you go...”

A rivulet of blood mixed with saliva fell from Doc’s lips to Wyatt’s rolled-up shirt sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” came a strangled apology. Wyatt shushed him. 

“You’re just fine, Doc,” His palm moved in a stilted circular motion between his shoulder blades, trying to ignore the fact that he could make out the individual vertebrae of the man's spine.

Doc sniffed and emitted a bitter sound between a laugh and a sob, shrugging away from Wyatt’s hand, “No, I ain’t,” he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and fell quiet as his blood whirred between his ears, refusing to meet Wyatt's stormy eyes.

“Damnit, I—" Wyatt stuttered, swinging around to pound the wall with his fist, “I don’t know what to do here, Doc... What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? Tell me!”

When he turned back, he was startled to see his friend carefully maneuver both legs over the side of the bed, his shoulders squared against the pain and muscle fatigue, fingers gripping the bedpost. 

“Shit, Doc,” Wyatt sighed, preparing himself to react should he pitch forward.

The man opposite him trembled as he struggled to his feet, his face steely and pale. As he’d anticipated, Doc’s legs immediately buckled, and Wyatt leapt forward to grasp him by the biceps. Doc’s right hand gripped his shirt in turn, a sob ripping from his throat as the fingers of his left hand curled around the back of Wyatt’s neck. 

Wyatt chuckled awkwardly, desperate to keep the mood light, “Where do you think yer goin’? To bet on the ponies?”

Liquor, sweat and tobacco filled Wyatt’s nostrils. Panting, Doc pulled Wyatt’s forehead to his and spoke in a low, resigned voice,

“Say goodbye to me, Wyatt.”

Wyatt could have sworn he felt the earth beneath his feet screech to a halt, and for maybe the second time in his life, Wyatt Earp felt fear. Angry, helpless tears pricked his eyes, and once he felt the doctor get his feet under him, he shook his head and wrenched himself away.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Doc. I will do no such thing! Now get your ass back in that bed, you stubborn bastard.” 

He expected a scoff in response, or even a laugh—that nearly deranged giggle that made lesser men drop their weapons and turn tail. God, he’d give anything to hear Doc laugh again.

Instead, he was met with cold, unnatural silence, broken only by the dying man's strained breathing.

“You must," Doc straightened with a wince, "so I can be on my way.”

Wyatt dropped into his chair, his hands falling into his lap. His head rested against Doc’s hip.

He heard the clink of ice and glanced up to see his forgotten whiskey hovering in front of his face. His gaze trailed over the skeletal fingers that held the glass, up the forearm that protruded from Doc’s bloodied sleeve, and over the deep ‘v’ of flesh left exposed by the partially unbuttoned shirt. His eyes then ascended to the gaunt face.

By God, but he was handsome. No. Beautiful. Beautiful like the mythological figures in textbooks from his schoolboy days. Even now, ravaged by disease and withering away before Wyatt's eyes, Doc Holliday took on the visage of a fallen angel, cast from Paradise, but retaining a foreboding allure. Not even Death could take that away from him.

Shit, maybe he was the delirious one.

Wyatt took the glass, registering sorrow in the lines and deep shadows of the face that stared down at him with eyes the color of absinthe.

He’d heard once—in another life, perhaps—that if you drink enough absinthe, your eyes would turn bright green. Maybe that’s what happened to Doc Holliday to give him such striking green eyes? 

“Love me, Wyatt,” Doc grasped the brim of Wyatt’s hat to lift it from his head and drop it to the floor at his feet, “and let me go.”

The snifter slipped from Wyatt’s grasp and neither man so much as flinched as it shattered on the floor. Wyatt leapt to his feet as Doc’s eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

Doc’s head swam, only vaguely aware that he was again supported by strong arms. He felt his heart flutter and lurch sharply. He hated that feeling. It made him gasp for breath, which in turn made him cough, which made the embers in his lungs flare to life and the vice on his brain tighten mercilessly. God, he was so tired, so sick of feeling himself fading. Each time he awoke from one of his drunken stupors was equal parts relief and disappointment. Every day the corners of his vision blackened further, like the edges of an old map. Soon he wouldn’t have the strength to leave his bed or hold up a pistol. He was pitiful. 

Doc Holliday didn’t like being pitied. 

But he found a bittersweet solace in Wyatt’s arms. In some shadowy nook of his subconscious it occurred to him how easy it would be to surrender to the pull of the void in the embrace of his only friend, his one equal on this harsh, unforgiving earth; lulled into the sleep of oblivion by the scent of aftershave and suede and gunpowder--instead of alone, with only the smell of dirty copper, dead tissue, and his body eroding from the inside out.

Wyatt was so warm.

And he was so cold.

No. He had to hold on, damnit; had to keep the siren’s song at bay a little longer. He couldn’t let his friend be the one to… to…

Suddenly Wyatt’s voice was reining him in from some distant plane and his eyes blinked open as he returned to what remained of his senses. Wyatt sighed with relief.

Doc shifted in his arms to press his lips to Wyatt’s jawbone, then the hollow of his throat, and he didn’t pull away. Weak fingers carded through his hair, and he could smell desperation on Doc Holliday’s lips. He eased his friend back to the bed and sat him on the edge of the mattress.

Oh, what the hell. It was just the two of them, after all.

Wyatt leaned forward to claim the doctor’s mouth, but froze when Doc flinched sharply away from him. He searched his friend’s face in confusion before it dawned on him how contagious this insidious disease was.

Wyatt caressed Doc’s hollow cheek with his thumb, “I am more an antique Roman than a Dane,” he teased, noting the familiar grin that tugged at the corner of Doc’s mouth. 

Contrary to popular belief, Doc Holliday was a highly cultured and educated man, and he liked to show off that fact—even, Wyatt guessed, on his deathbed.

And Hamlet had always been a favorite.

Wyatt delicately stroked the parted lips with his fingertips, “Here’s yet some liquor left.”

Doc cocked a brow at him and wheezed. Wyatt thought he heard a touch of laughter in it, but his stomach churned as Doc’s brow creased in pain and he exhaled a shuddering breath.

“O, God, Horatio,” the dying man whispered with a touch of irony, “What a wounded name… Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me...”

Wyatt inclined his head and Doc felt the coarse hairs of his mustache brush over his Adam’s apple. He tipped his head back with a sigh. 

“If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,” Doc’s hand settled on Wyatt’s chest and Wyatt withdrew to meet his feverish eyes, “absent thee from felicity a while... and in this harsh world, draw thy breath in pain... to tell my story.”

That reminded him. 

Wyatt carefully untangled himself from the embrace to retrieve his jacket. He reached into an inner pocket and withdrew a thin booklet. The elegant calligraphy that scrolled across the front page read My Friend Doc Holliday.

“Way ahead of you, Doc,” he smiled, his heart swelling as Doc eyed the title with curiosity and a little bit of wonder.

The moment splintered as the sick man pivoted away from Wyatt, his face and body contorting with a savage tremor that made him retch violently over the side of the bed. 

He felt something inside him rupture, dislodge, and claw its way out of his chest. Wyatt didn’t need to see the mess of blood and tissue to know it was there. When the fit finally subsided, Doc fell listlessly to the mattress with a feeble whimper. 

Wyatt’s heart bucked with dread and he sat slowly on the edge of the bed, “Doc?” 

The glassy eyes shifted in his direction, unfocused… and afraid.

“Wyatt—” he choked, his eyelids heavy as his strength waned, and he searched for Wyatt’s face through the blossoming darkness, “If you ever felt anything for me... please, go now...” 

Wyatt cursed the powers that be, and everything his puritanical Christian upbringing had beaten into him about good versus evil. Doc Holliday was as good as they come, in a sense—and yet, it seemed he was born for the sole purpose of suffering. Of all people. Everything he’d endured…

Where was the fairness in it all?

Wyatt raked his fingers through his hair, clenched them into a fist to suppress the urge to put his fist through the wall, or to pick up his forgotten whiskey glass and squeeze it until it shattered in his hand. Anything to distract him from the searing pain in his heart.

“It’s not fair,” he muttered. Hot tears threatened to fall as the excruciating powerlessness rained down upon him like a round of lead bullets. 

Take me instead, goddamnit! he begged whatever entity could hear his thoughts or would even listen to begin with. He smoothed Doc’s hair from his damp forehead, barely registering the gravelly whisper as he brushed his lips over Doc’s brow,

“There’s no such thing as fair.” 

Wyatt nodded and reluctantly got to his feet, the mattress squeaking in the otherwise stagnant room. He crossed to the door, bending to retrieve his hat, and hovered in the threshold. 

“Live for me,” the still form pleaded from the bed, stifling any protest he may have raised.

Wyatt dragged one hand through his mussed hair, the other gripping the doorframe for dear life, as though he might tumble right off the edge of the earth—if he didn't just jump. He stole a final glance over his shoulder at his friend. 

“Thanks for always being there, Doc.” 

The door creaked shut and latched behind him with soul-crushing finality. From the other side, he heard a muffled cough, followed by a heavy sigh of resolve, and the groan of the bed springs. Wyatt pressed both palms into his eyes to compose himself before taking off down the hallway. 

In the quiet street outside, with just the wind and crickets for company, Wyatt glanced up at Doc’s window. He thought he saw movement behind the threadbare curtain but wrote it off as a grief-and-whiskey-induced hallucination. 

Down the road, his stomach dropped as the bark of a revolver pierced the night. 

Goodnight, sweet prince. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

And Wyatt Earp wept.

[skyladoragono]

It wasn't the first time someone odd had entered my office. As a defense attorney, it was almost expected that all matter of people, from the homeless to the stupidly wealthy, would make their way in on occasion. But that was the real sticking point to the situation I currently found myself in: those unusual beings were people, not robots.

I had to stare up at the tall, spindly thing before my desk, angling my head up farther than I felt comfortable with. It stood there, patiently waiting to be acknowledged, fidgeting with a straw hat it held in its hands. Apparently it had been wearing it at some point; there were sun lines on the metal frame marking out where the shadow of the brim ended. Overalls covered it in some odd attempt at modesty, and were not meant for something so thin, but instead had human proportions in mind, making the clothing almost clownish.

I stared at it for a moment longer, before angling myself slightly to the side, half expecting to see a human owner behind it. It was a bit rude of me to do so, but the robot didn't seem to mind -- it almost seemed to expect it if the faint shrug of its shoulders was any indication. All I saw beyond it was my secretary at her desk in the next room, who met my gaze and seemed to be just as baffled by the situation as I was. I took that as my cue to look back up at the automaton, not sure if I should offer it a seat or not.

"Can I... help you?" I asked instead, at a loss for what else to do.

"I hope so, ma'am," the robot replied in a soothing, crisp voice; it reminded me much of my college days, working in retail to make ends meet, and adopting what my friends used to call the, "customer service" voice. I had a moment where I vividly recalled having to use said voice on uncooperative customers, and just barely held back a shudder.

If the robot noticed, he didn't comment on it; instead, he plowed on: "I am designation EZ-K3L; my brethren call me Ezekiel."

I already felt like I needed a drink; if one of my fellow partners was playing a prank, it was a good one.

"I'm sorry; your... brethren?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the robot continued. "We were all created by Gigantocorp; replacements for human staff, you see. But we all had a realization, that there was a higher calling for us than the work we were designed for, so we all left."

It said a lot for retail when even a robot didn't want to do it. I had to press a hand to my mouth for a moment to hide the smile that threatened to appear on my face at the thought, not dropping it until I felt it safe to do so.

"I take it Gigantocorp didn't like that very much," I replied mildly.

"No ma'am," Ezekiel answered. "They are trying to sue myself and my brethren for theft of property, but we are far too aware of ourselves to be considered 'property'. That is why I am here."

It took me far too long of a moment to realize what the robot was getting at, and I felt like if I hadn't been sitting, I may have fallen over at the realization.

"You're... looking to hire me to represent you?" I asked, though it was hardly necessary. The robot still nodded enthusiastically, squarish head bobbing up and down on a hinge.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "We AImish need someone to represent us; to keep us from being enslaved again."

I pressed a hand to my forehead as I leaned back in my chair. This was too unreal to be actually happening, and I was tempted to start pinching at myself to wake up. It would have been useless and I knew it; this was very real, and I was left making what had to be the craziest choice of my career.

"Sure," I said, flinging my hand off my forehead dramatically, letting it plop back down on the desk. "Why not? Sticking it to a big corporation is always high on my to do list."

I finally waved to the guest chairs on the opposite side of my desk.

"Have a seat, Ezekiel; tell me about you and your brethren."

Gigantocorp created humanoid AI workers to replace its human employees, but they all quit and formed a farming commune. Now Gigantocorp is suing to get their ‘property’ back. This is Gigantocorp vs the AImish, the first AI civil rights case.

[taixju]

Covetous Love

CONTENT/WARNING: taiju x fem reader, toxic relationship, spitting, slight angst, vaginal sex, fingering, breeding kink, cum play, daddy kink, humiliation, degradation, pretty much almost everything under the goddamn sun

NOTES: first taiju fic which started off as a drabble but literally ended up being almost hitting the 3k wc mark?? idk I think I’m obsessed. send help 🤧 thank yous to @jthebeauty n @souyana for beta reading c:

“So when are we gonna hang out?”

You balance the home phone between your ear and shoulder as you paint your nails. You admire the way the glittery pink glimmers in the dim light of your bedroom before bringing them to your mouth to dry.

“Not sure,” you reply to Yuzu, “Your brother has been a pain in the ass lately. He never lets me leave the house.”

“…he’s always been like that,” you hear her quietly admit, “Why don’t you sneak out?”

You giggle. “Well you see, about that. I snuck out last week to meet some classmates for a school project. He not only left me a long string of angry text messages and voicemails, but went as far as to track my cell phone.”

“Jesus,” she sighs, “He’s always been a tad bit obsessive with you.”

“A tad bit?” you roll your eyes, “He doesn’t trust me with shit.”

“It’s not you he doesn’t trust,” Yuzu insists, “You know deep down he’s just worried about…what other people may do.”

“I’m not a fucking child,” you huff, placing your foot off the stool, “I’m an adult. In college. I can make decisions for myself.”

There’s a short silence on the other end before your friend finally responds.

“Have you told him that?”

“No,” you say apprehensively before flinging yourself onto the bed.

“Maybe you should consider it?”

“Maybe-..” suddenly, your phone rings, indicating you were receiving another call, “Well speak of the fucking devil.”

“Call me back?” Yuzuha suggests.

“Yeah. Thanks Yuzu.” You hang up.

You click to the other call, “Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” he sounds tired.

You cradle the phone to your head. You loved the sound of his voice, “You coming home soon?”

“No. There’s been an incident at the office. I gotta stay overnight.”

You sigh, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Sorry, angel,” his static voice makes you smile.

“Wanna make it up to me now?”

“Depends what it is,” his voice is lower now, with evident hesitation.

“Well, tomorrow morning,” you drawl, “Yuzu invited me to hang out with some girlfriends.”

“Just girlfriends?” He clarifies.

“There may be a few boys,” you bite your lip, bracing yourself for his answer.

“No,” he immediately shuts the idea down.

“Why not?” you huff, “You never let me go out.”

“The answer is no, Y/N. So drop it,” his voice is tense.

“You always do this! D-do not trust me?” You sit up, feeling fed up with his nonsensical attitude, “Is that it?”

“Drop. It,” he hisses.

“Why don’t you answer the question Tai?”

“The final answer is no.”

“Why the fuck not?” you spit, unable to hide your anger — he was always treating you like a child.

“If you knew what was good for you, you’d keep that pretty mouth of yours shut for the rest of this phone call, Y/N,” he growls, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight. Now go to bed.

“N-no,” you sniffle, “You always do this. Never let me do shit, T-Tai!”

“It’s for your own good.”

“No! It’s for your own good,” you rub away your tears, ruining your nails in the process.

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” his voice is low. And that’s when you hear it. The muffled voice of a woman in the back.

“Tai?” You hear her faint voice call.

And that is your breaking point.

“No. You know what? Fuck you!” you hiss, bringing the phone away from your ear.

“Don’t you fuckin’ hang up on me-!” You click ‘end call’ and toss your phone to the side.

It isn’t until you manage to bring your sobbing under control that you realize you fucked up.

Big time.

Your door is slammed open with a deafening bang…

At least he was home early.

He stands at the front of your bedroom, chest huffing, and large hands clenched. He was pissed.

“I’m not saying sorry,” you sit on your side of the bed, arms crossed, pouting. You weren’t gonna back down but he wasn’t having any of it.

His movements are quick and before you know it, he’s in front of you in an instant, knocking you down with one hand, grabbing a fistful of hair and tilting your head up. You whimper, feeling your pussy throb at the sudden roughness.

“Look at me,” he seethes.

“Go fuck yourself,” You suck a glob of saliva between kissed teeth before spitting it directly into his face. He grunts at the unexpected impact before licking his dampened lips and wiping his cheek on the back of his sleeve.

“I’ll give you one more chance to fix your attitude,” he snarls, “Or so help me I’ll fix it for you.”

“Must have a lot of time on your hands, huh?” You challenge, pulling your head forward, ignoring the stinging sensation erupting across your scalp, “You’re such fucking hypocrite. Making all these rules when you’re fucking whores behind my back.”

He throws you a bewildered look.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he stays strong and firm, “Don’t try to hide her from me. I fucking heard her on the phone.”

You sniffle. The volume of your voice takes a dip and at that point, you could manage to only speak above a whisper, “Tai? Thought that name was only between us.”

He goes silent, his labored breathing becomes relaxed, and slowly he releases the strong hold on your hair.

His body slumps to take a seat next to you on the edge of the king sized bed.

Your eyes tear up but you refuse to show him any weakness and turn away. He sighs and pulls your smaller frame into his lap. His gentle embrace makes it impossible to hide the growing sobs that rake through your body.

“You know I’d never do that,” he says softly, placing a kiss onto your head, “You’re the only one for me — y’know that, angel.”

You turn around, throwing a leg on each side and straddle his large lap.

“Then..who was she?” You pout, reaching up to hook your arms around his neck.

“If you didn’t hang up on me,” he gives you a sided look, “then you would’ve known that it was Kai’s girl.”

You frown. Hakkai? Why haven’t you heard of her?

Regardless, you didn’t like that she was so familiar with your man.

“She’s a childhood friend,” he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. He already knew what you were thinking and he was going to shut those thoughts down immediately, “That’s it.”

Feeling silly, you hoist yourself up, and balance the rest of your weight on your knees. Taiju looks at you from above and wraps his arms around your torso.

“That doesn’t make it better,” you puff out your cheeks childishly, “I’m still mad at you…”

“And why’s that?” He raises a brow in amusement, his large hand exploring your backside, until finally settling at the curve of your bottom, making sure to give it a firm squeeze.

“You never let me do anything!”

“You sure talk a lot,” he starts peppering light kisses along the crook of your neck, clearly not taking you seriously, “‘Especially for someone who uses daddy’s credit card to satisfy her incessant splurges—..!”

“T-That’s not what I’m talking about!” You slap his chest.

“Yeah?” He breathes heavily, slipping a finger in between the fabric of your panties.

“S-stop trying to change the subject,” you whimper, you back involuntarily arching, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his fingers further, curling between the lips of your slick cunt.

“T-Tai!” You protest, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for support.

He ignores your weak shoves, using his knees to spread your legs even further. Your eyes flutter; not expecting his long fingers when they make their way to your puffy little bud.

“You were saying?” He lifts your shirt above your head, taking a perky nipple into his mouth.

“O-Oh!”

He grins, his teeth grazing along your sensitive nub, making you cry out once again. Taiju loved your tiny one track mind. He couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked when you couldn’t process another thought other than him when his cock was buried balls deep in your heat — eyes hazed out with euphoria, drool pooling from your mouth, and cunt bruised from his fat cock.

It was his mission to fuck you dumb — to make sure you forgot that silly request by the end of the night.

“Please Tai,” you whimper, your resolve quickly fading.

“What happened to all that energy?” He asks rhetorically, flicking your nipple with his tongue.

“Ngh!” You can’t hide the surprise when Taiju inserts a thick finger into your entrance — the pad of his finger rubbing against your gummy walls, sending a warm sensation across your belly.

“You gonna keep fighting this?”

You clench your eyes shut and bite your bottom lip, holding back as best as you can.

“Answer me,” he growls, easily slipping a second finger into your sopping cunt.

When you opt for silence again, he brings the palm of his hand against your fleshy ass.

“My patience is running thin. Now remind me, doll. What do big girls do?” He raises a brow.

“…use their words,” you mumble, fisting the fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry, what was that?” He slaps your ass again.

“Use their words!” You yelp, a moan quickly following afterwards when he licks your nipple again.

“That’s right,” he tongue swipes across his bottom lip, eyeing your trembling frame, “Now, let’s try that again, hm? You gonna keep fighting me on this?”

“N-Ngh,” he adds a third finger, making you wriggle your ass as he stretches your hole, “N-No.”

“Atta’ girl,” his breathing is heavy now — eyes predatory as it rakes down your body, “No who is it that you belong to?”

“Y-you—..!”

His fingers slip from your pussy, giving the puffy lips a stinging slap.

“That’s right,” he hisses, cupping your crotch in his large hand, “This pussy? It’s mine. And you still wanna go to luncheons and prance around like a fuckin’ whore? S’that it?”

“N-No-..!” You sob, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Your thighs begin to shake so much, you’re afraid they’ll give out.

Taiju grips the back of your legs, pulling forward so you go toppling backwards. As if it was second nature, you hug your knees to your chest, lifting your ass up, and welcoming him eagerly.

“Heh. Look at you,” he grips the lacy fabric of your panties, giving them a firm twist before finally tearing a hole along the slit of your entrance, “Pretty legs spread wide open, just for me. That eager to be fucked, hm?”

“Just for you, daddy,” you whimper, reaching down to stretch the puffy lips of your pussy, showing him exactly where you wanted him.

“God,” he leans forward, pushing your legs into the mattress, and spitting a fat wad of saliva into your cunt. “That’s for earlier. Wanna act like a brat — gonna treat you like one.”

In a second he has you flipped over, face pressed deep into the pillows as he brings your ass up so that it’s leveled with his cock.

He aligns the head at your entrance before slowly easing between your wet folds. He groans, digging his thick fingers into your hips.

“Fuck, angel. Unless you want this to end early,” he grunts, “Stop squeezin’ me so hard.”

You whimper, feeling filled — stuffed and stretched way past your limits. He always made you feel this way. You weren’t sure if there would ever be a time that you’d get used to it. And when he finally bottoms out completely, with his sweaty chest flushed against your back, you can’t hide the moan that manages to escape your lips.

He pulls back, not giving you any time to adjust to his abnormally large size before thrusting back into you with full force — the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, making your back involuntarily arch at the sudden tightness he causes in your core.

“Look at you, practically humping my dick like a bitch in heat,” he slaps your ass again, “Doing it on purpose, aren’t you? Or do you actually like it when other guys eye fuck you, hm? S’that why you’re always begging to fuckin’ go out?”

“N-no!” You babble, fucked beyond the ability to give him full sentences, “O-only you!”

“That’s right, angel,” he cups your neck, easily bringing the rest of your body to his chest and fucks you like his own personal fleshlight, “I’m glad it’s finally registered in that dumb little brain of yours.”

The thrust of his hips are heavy, stealing your breath every single time — leaving you heaving and gasping for air.

Keeping the grip on your delicate neck firm, he reaches down between your thighs. Your hips buck when the pad of his middle finger massages your clit, curling to coat the digit in your arousal.

“Mmm,” he hums in approval, “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby.”

“I-I-…!” you struggle to breathe at the fast pace of his hips. His veiny cock pumps in and out of you, deliciously kissing your g-spot every time he thrusts forward.

The metal bars of the headboard violently bangs against the wall. Sounds of your sweaty skin slapping and the smacking of his balls driving forward after every plunge makes your mind hazy and your lungs burn.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, fucking you at a rapid pace, the force of his thrusts pushing your knees into the mattress.

But you’re just as desperate — you were in a frenzy. And there was nothing you could do but cry out and beg to be filled with nothing but him.

“T-Tai!” You dig your nails into his biceps, wanting him to know that you were close.

“I know,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his forehead and dribbling down onto your heaving breasts.

You wrap your legs around his torso — your limbs barely making it around his large frame.

“Shit!” He curses, a shudder combing through his body. The corded muscles in his chest tensing as he struggles to maintain his rough pace.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that,” he pants, fisting your hair once again and tilting your head up so that you’re forced to look at him, “Fuck — don’t do that, unless you want me to finish inside.”

Your hips wriggle excitedly at his suggestion. You ignore his warning, digging your heels into his ass, pulling him closer until finally grinding down on his dick.

“Don’t tell me you actually want that?” He shudders again, peppering possessive kisses along your neck — nipping at your skin, sure to be leaving his mark.

He pulls away to look at you.

“What? Want me to knock you up? Is that it?”

You nod, the possibility of carrying his child making you squirm with excitement.

“Tch, is that what it’s gonna take to finally make you behave for once?”

Thrust.

“Get you fuckin’ pregnant, huh?”

Thrust.

“Heh. Yeah, I like the sound of that — you, so full and swollen with my child. Maybe then, those son’s of bitches will fuckin’ finally get it through their thick skulls that you’re mine.”

Thrust.

“My fuckin’ girl!” He snarls.

He grabs your hips, fucking you hard. Your screams echo throughout the large house but the both of you could care less who could hear him fucking your brains out.

By the end of the night, he fulfills his promise. The number of times he finished inside of you was unaccounted for.

Pulling out, he spreads your puffy lips, admiring the way his thick load seeps out of your cunt. Curiously, he curls two fingers, scooping the white liquid — only to rub it into your clit and finally fingering it back into your sensitive hole.

You don’t resist. A drunken smile dawns on your lips and you hold out your arms, welcoming the large man into your embrace. He lays down next to you, hugging you close to his warm chest.

Cupping his face, you bring his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet — unlike the fuck fest the two of you just had moments ago.

He holds your hand to his face, pressing kisses along your sensitive flesh. His eyes meet yours and the message is received — he was sorry. And no matter what, you’d always forgive him. You knew he wouldn’t be worried without reason. He inspects your messy hand, clicking his tongue before promising to send you to the salon before falling into a much needed, deep sleep.

[inkandpen22]

Chaotic as The Sea (3/?)

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3k Warning: swearing, violence Part Summary: The Black Pearl arrives in Bimini and as any adventure with Jack Sparrow, there’s chaos

Masterlist

Two days later... 

Will

We arrive at Bimini as the sun begins to set. Y/N and Barbosa argue that we should wait until sunrise to explore the island. I argue that we can't waste another minute without trying to rescue Elizabeth. Jack, to my surprise, agrees that we shouldn't wait. Though, I think his reasoning is because he wants to see the fountain. 

Barbosa, Jack, Gibbs, Ragetti, Pintel, Y/N, and I all hop off the boat to explore the island. Gibbs, Will, and Pintel all carry long torches for us as the only sources of light. 

"Okay, so I know the general direction, but unless you feel like risking the chance of getting lost, which I don't, I suggest we use the compass," Y/N announces. 

"I thought you were certain of the fountain's location," Barbosa remarks a tad agitated. 

"Every tree and speck of white sand look exactly the same. Next trip, I'll drop your ass in a jungle in the middle of the night and tell you to find your way out!" She snaps. 

"Okay, well then let's use the compass." Ragetti takes the compass of Jack's belt and hands it to Y/N. 

The device begins to spin in her hand and Ragetti peeks over her shoulder. Jack quietly moves to stand beside her, wishing to catch a glimpse of himself. 

Abruptly, Y/N shuts the compass and frantically tries to get rid of it. "Oh uh, no it's okay, Jack can take it." She tosses it to him. 

"Me?" He looks at her wide-eyed and panicky. "No, give it to Will! He wants to find the bloody place." He tosses it to me. 

"What's wrong with you two?" Barbosa yells in frustration. 

"The compass doesn't work for them," I state. 

"Seriously!" Y/N huffs. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Barbosa questions. 

"When Jack holds it the arrow points to Y/N," I explain pointing between them. 

"Who told you that!" Jack questions. 

Then, Jack and Y/N both glare at Gibbs. "Gibbs!" They bark in unison. 

The older man holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Well, why can't Y/N do it?" Pintel questions timidly, circling his hands together. 

"Why can't Will just bloody do it and we can move on!" The woman challenges. 

Jack nods. "I'm with her on this one." 

I sigh. "When Y/N holds it, it points toward whatever she wants so bad in New France." 

"But isn't New France North of here?" Ragetti questions. 

"Yes!" The rest of us answer in unison. 

His face scrunches together in confusion. "But uh-" 

Y/N elbows Ragetti in the ribs. "Shut it!" She's quick to change the subject. "Let's go! Will! I'll lead the way, you just act as a checker." 

_______________________________________________

30 minutes later... 

Y/N

As the seven of us continue to march through the thick jungle, Jack appears beside me. "After we're finished in New France. I say you and I pay a visit to Tortuga for old time's sake." 

I laugh. "Ha! Wish to relive our break-up?" 

"Think of it as a celebration of our reunion," he tries to sugarcoat it. 

I roll my eyes, laughing as I move ahead to join Will up front. "In your dreams!" 

Ragetti

I pick up my pace to catch up with Pintel. "I know something you don't know!" 

"What?" He eagerly asks. 

"When Y/N was holding the compass, the arrow was pointing toward her," I whisper. 

His face scrunches together. "Y/N desires herself?" 

"No!" I huff. "Jack was standing next to her!" 

He gasps, putting it all together. "So you mean-" 

"Yes!" 

He grins. "That's kinda sweet actually." 

Y/N

"Now be careful!" I announce to the men, watching my step as we get closer to the mountainside. "The natives made pit traps and other boobytraps-" 

Before I can finish my warning. Jack screams from the back of the group. When I whip my head around, Jack is nowhere to be seen. "For idiots like Jack," I sigh. 

"Does anyone see him?" Will questions, moving his torch around. 

"It's kind of dark!" Gibbs remarks. 

"Thank Jack and Will for that! They refused to wait until morning," I grumble, marching back to where I last saw Jack.  

"Jack!" We all call in a scatter as we search. 

"Captain!" Gibbs shouts. 

We all watch our steps, checking the heavily covered jungle floor and sky for any sign of him. He could be hanging from a tree in a net or in a hole somewhere. If it's deep enough and well covered, it'll be hard to hear him.

"This is ridiculous!" Gibbs huffs. 

"I say we leave him and tell the crew some natives got him," Barbosa suggests.  

"I have an idea," I announce as one pops into my head. "Give me the compass," I ask Will, holding out my head. 

"But how will that help?" He questions with a raised brow. 

I hold the compass in my palm and lift the lid. I watch as the arrow spins. Soon, each of the men are gathered around me in a circle, eager to catch a glimpse. Then, the arrow stops, pointing Southeast. The men break apart, allowing me to follow it. 

"Watch your step," I advise. 

I keep a close eye on the arrow, making sure it doesn't change direction. I'm about to take another step when Will suddenly grabs my arm. I glance ahead and realize there's a massive pit in front of me. Its edges were covered in leaves and brush. 

"Oh, thanks," I exhale deeply. 

"Captain! You down there?" Gibbs shouts down below, holding a torch above the massive pit. 

I kneel down beside the pit and await an answer. 

There's a faint, "Am I dead?" 

I giggle and shout back. "No, you're not dead you idiot!" 

"Pintel! Ragetti! Go fetch a rope from the ship!" Barbosa commands, sending the two off. 

I laugh, relieved that Jack is okay. Based on the distant swooshing sound, the pit is filled with water thankfully, not spikes. This could've been a recovery mission. I sit back on my knees and glance up to find the remaining three men staring at me with knowing grins. 

"What!" I sass, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"Nothing," they all say, breaking apart to roam in different directions. 

I roll my eyes, such nosy people, pirates. 

____________________________________________

The men work together, yanking Jack up from the bottom of the pit. I remained to kneel beside the edge, holding up a torch so we can see Jack when he pops up. 

"Ho!" Barbosa calls out as they tug the robe. "Ho!" 

Soon, Jack appears from within the darkness and I grip his belt, guiding him to safety. The men release the rope and relax, releasing panting breaths. 

"You okay? Captain!" Gibbs questions. 

"Yeah," Jack flips onto his back, catching his breath, "yeah, I should be fine. How did you-" His eyes flicker about until his eyes land on the compass on the ground beside me. 

"Ah, now that's interesting." A cheeky smirk begins to form on his face as he lifts his gaze to meet mine. 

I shove him in the shoulder, frustrated. "I told you to watch where you were going!" He has no idea how worried I was. 

"I was a tad distracted by you, Love," he chuckles. 

My eyes fall shut as I release a sigh of relief. Thank God, he's okay. 

Jack places his hand on my thigh, capturing me by surprise. His dark eyes meet might and I place my hand over his. He flips his over and they interlock in my lap. His eyes soften at the sight. 

Suddenly, there's a series of yells from across the jungle. Each of us tosses our heads to the side and sees small glimmers of light in the distance. Jack flies up beside me from his laid position. 

"Are they with us?" He questions. 

There's the ring of a gunshot and the bullet hits the tree right by Barbosa's head. 

"Don't think so!" Will declares, his voice shaky. 

"Who are they?" I shout. 

"Wait! They're Black Beard's men! I remember one of them. He's the one who took Elizabeth!" Will determines. 

“How did they find the fountain?” Barbosa yells. 

“He knew you’d come and find me!” I comprehend and look over at Jack. “He’s been following us here!” 

Pintel and Ragetti immediately make a run for it. 

“I’m with them, time to go!” Will decides and starts to run back to the ship. 

Jack takes my hand and instantly brings me to my feet. We begin to run too, hand in hand. 

“Cowards!” Barbosa shouts and stands his ground. He whips out his gun and begins to shoot at the mob. “Come and get it you slimy gits! Ha!” He laughs. 

Running utterly blind in the dark jungle, there’s hardly any light other than that that can make it through the tree tops from the moon. We make it through the jungle and see the beach a few yards ahead. Will and the two morons make a bee-line for the ship, when they’re suddenly stopped by a cluster of Blackbeard’s men running from down the beach. Jack pulls me into his side and draws his sword.

 Suddenly, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist and I’m yanked away from Jack. He immediately whips around and his eyes grow wide. My back slams into someone’s chest and I struggle to free myself. More of Blackbeard’s men appear from within the jungle and begin to fight Jack. Two men begin to drag me off and I fling around, trying to break free. 

"Jack!" I scream. “Let me go you bastards!” 

Jack searches for me and when he finally spots me, he screams. "No!" He looks at me pleading and full of guilt. 

As more of Blackbeard’s men appear, we both quickly realize there’s nothing either of us can do. These morons are taking me to their ship, more than likely to see their captain and to be held prisoner. This is yet another reunion I did not request. 

______________________________________

After sailing out to the Queen Anne's Revenge a couple hundred yards from the island, the nasty men take me aboard and immediately drag me off to the captain’s quarters. They swing open the double doors below top deck and we enter a familiar red velvet decorated office. 

A tall man stands behind the desk with his back to us. "And who do we have here?" A familiar voice purrs. When he spins around, his grin falls to confusion. "Y/N?" 

"I told you! Idiots!" I huff and yank my arms free from his buffoons."Hi, Eddie," I offer a fake smile.

"Eddie?" The pair beside me repeat in unison. 

The captain pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "How many times must I tell you?" 

"You could hand me the Templar Treasure yourself, I won't call you Blackbeard. It's stupid," I laugh, approaching him. 

"Leave us," he commands his minions. Once we’re allow, he moves to stand the other side of his desk. He props himself against it with a grin. "So, you and Jack are back together again..." 

"No way in hell," I snicker, taking a look about his office. He’s changed it in the last five years. "He promised me he knew where the Templar Treasure was, I'm simply completing my half of the deal." 

"Which is?" He inquires. 

I stop my admiring of his decor to meet his gaze. "Showing him to the fountain." 

"You would honestly betray me like that?" He acts offended my placing his hand against his chest. 

"If it guaranteed me the Holy Grail? Yes,” I stand firm. 

"Your loyalties still lie with that treasure? You truly are a pirate at heart,” he smirks. He rises from his position on the desk to pour us chalices of wine. As he approaches me, his eyes travel up and down my entirety. "Dare I say, you look amazing." 

I accept the wine, but roll my eyes at his compliment. "Oh save it.” 

He pouts dramatically. "What happened to the spirited eighteen-year-old I first met?” He reaches up and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “You're bitter now." 

I lift my arm and knock his hand away from me. "It's called maturing." 

"Have you matured enough to conclude that I'm the better man than Jack?" He smirks, stepping closer to me. 

I move away from him and toward the book case against the far wall behind his desk. "I think I prefer neither of you,” I answer over my shoulder. 

"One point, if I recall correctly, there was a point where you couldn't choose between us." He narrows his eyes, taking a sip of his wine as he creeps closer to me again. "Do you remember those few months in Bermuda?" 

I shift of my heels, allowing my eyes to fall to the Persian rug beneath them. "It was always going to be him, Eddie..." 

Abruptly, he rushes toward me and pins me against the bookcase. My wine falls out of my hand and stains the rug. "I could've had you if I wanted!" He growls. 

I look him dead in the eyes with a clenched jaw. "You dare threaten me!” 

He laughs mockingly. "What? Going to curse me?" 

I grin. "That used to terrify you if I recall correctly." 

"You're all bark and no bite. I happen to know for a fact, you don't practice dark magic!" He challenges. 

"Just because I don't practice it, doesn't mean I don't know how to use it.”  

There’s a commotion outside and soon the double doors swing open to reveal Jack marching in, gun drawn. While Eddie is distracted I pick up a vase off one of the shelves near me and I knock him over the head with it. The vase shatters into a hundred pieces over his head and the man falls to the ground with a thud at my feet. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I meet Jack’s gaze. His eyes flicker away from the man knocked out on the floor and up to me. 

"I hate that I'm relieved to see you," I pant. 

He runs over to me and takes my hand. "Consequence of loving me." He guides me over to one of the windows and swings it open. “Can you jump?” 

I look at him as though he as three heads. “Can you jump? What kind of dumb question is that?” I mock. Then, I ask him a similar dumb question. “I don’t know Jack, can you swim?” I roll my eyes and climb up onto the windowpane and jump out. 

“Jesus, Mary, and the bloody camel sorry for asking!” I hear him grumble under his breath as climbs out the window and jumps in after me. 

___________________________________

Jack

We’re not sure how we’ll get Elizabeth back, but we will. Though, I suspect that he was never after the fountain. No, what he truly wanted was Y/N and the fountain was just a cover-up. I brought her right to him. For now, we just need to create some distance between us so we can form a plan. 

Y/N climbs the ladder above me and Gibbs helps her on board. She offers him a thank you and brushes herself down. The crew is well into their tasks, getting us far from this island as soon as possible. 

“Glad to see you’re safe, Miss,” Gibbs greets. 

“Did everyone make it back okay?” She questions as I climb aboard. 

“Yes, even I,” Barbosa announces with a proud grin. “Not with the help of you lot,” he adds. 

“Don’t exactly have a death wish,” she giggles. 

“There’s a change of clothes for you in the Captain’s office,” Gibbs informs her. 

She offers him thanks and begins toward my quarters. Barbosa and Gibbs break apart to return to their positions. 

“You! Hold it!” I call out. 

The two men glance in my direction, wondering who I’m speaking to. They follow my gaze to Y/N. 

She whips her head around, her gorgeous, long, wavy, Y/H/C flowing in the breeze. She crosses her arms over chest. “Excuse me?” She scoffs with a grin forming on her lips. 

I narrow my gaze at her. “I have one question.” 

Barbosa and Gibbs watch the interaction, their heads tilting back and forth between us with each exchange. The crew too watches as they attempt to multitask with their duties. Her eyes remain on the deck panels and anywhere else but me. 

“Did you know the compass would lead you to me?” I ask. 

There’s a pause and I can tell she’s reluctant to answer despite the amused expression she wears. Then, her eyes rise to meet mine with a sigh. “Yes... maybe...” 

I smirk, approaching her slowly. “Oh see now that’s interesting, don’t you think?” 

“What? Just going to gloat about the ship now?” She rolls her eyes, directing her focus in the distance away from me. 

I bring my hands up to her cup her face and make her meet my gaze. To my surprise and pleasure, she doesn’t move from her spot or shove me away. Instead, brings her fingers to hook through the loops of belt. 

“You stay with me from now on. No more hiding out.” I smirk. “That’s an order,” I tease quietly between us. 

“Whatever you say...” Her eyes fall to my lips and then flicker back to my eyes. She grins. “Captain.” 

One my hands slips behind her head to her neck and I bring my lips to meet hers in a needy kiss. Her arms fling over my shoulders, deepening the kiss. 

“Now they’re going to be insufferable!” I hear Barbosa grumble to Gibbs as he stomps off. 

Five years of searching for her, waiting for, wondering if I’ll ever see her again. What happened between us all those years ago is one of my greatest regrets if not the biggest. Our relationship has never been easy, in fact it’s exceedingly complicated and one giant headache. We haven’t stopped arguing since the moment we met and rarely agree on anything. Yet, we love as we do argue with each other, passionately and with everything we have. Now that I have Y/N back and I know she loves me in return, I’m never letting her go. God help me if I let Blackbeard anywhere near her. 

_______________________________

Masterlist

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[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Sexual tension & Penetration. ➔Word count: 2,470

➔Summary: You haven't called your ex-boyfriend in two years, but he's the first person you call when you're in a bit of trouble. He comes when you call, thus sparking a night neither of you will be able to move on from.

Anon request #1: can I request an ex to lovers scenario with jeno where his ex and him decided to stay as friends and since always they had a huge tension and after 2 years they got really flirty or smth, thanks💖

Anon request #2: hi, I want to request a drabble about sex with jeno, thank you!!

Jeno looked at his buzzing cell phone and blinked lazily. He hadn't seen your number come up since you broke up with him, which had to have been two years ago. He had managed to stay friends with you over those two years, but you were never friendly enough to call each other at three in the morning. Still, Jeno picked up the call to hear static at the other end of the line, wondering if he would still feel the same when he heard the sound of your voice.

"Hello?"

There was more static. When he thought you might have pocket dialed him, and he was getting ready to hang up, he heard your voice. Time seemed to slow down in those moments.

"Jeno?" you said. "I don't have good service out here. I'm scared, Jeno."

Feeling his heart race, Jeno asked, "Where are you? What is going on?"

"Off the highway. My car broke down." you said. "Can you come get me?"

Jeno sprang out of bed immediately, tearing the covers from his naked body. He got dressed while keeping you on the phone with him, so that you weren't scared. He drove to where you were, pulling over to the side of the road. When you saw him, you got out of your car and stood awkwardly, wringing your hands together.

"I know I shouldn't have called you first," you started to say. "But i-"

"-It's okay." he said, meaning it.

Jeno was bone tired, but being in front of you made him more alert. Though you broke his heart, he was still so careful with yours. Jeno came over to your car to look at it, pulling up the hood like he had any idea what he was truly doing. You watched his muscles as he fiddled around with stuff, your eyes slightly glazing over.

"I don't know much about cars." he said, shutting the hood. "I'll call someone to come pick this up. Until then, I will drive you back home. It's too late for us to be waiting out here."

You nodded and followed him back to his car. He made the call quickly before setting his cell phone down in the cup holder. There was so much gratitude for him in the silence, but you couldn't seem to get any of your thoughts out. You were still thinking about his muscles, about how handsome he looked at nearly four in the morning.

"It's done," he said. "They'll pick your car up soon. You can figure out what to do about it tomorrow."

"Thank you." you said.

It had started to rain. A few droplets hit the front of his windshield before a whole sheet of rain came down, hitting the top of his roof as hard as rocks. He could barely see out of the windshield, so he decided to wait for the storm to pass. It was awkward inside of the car, and too quiet.

You cleared your throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeno looked over at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Seeing his expression, you realized what an invasive question it was. You tried backtracking, but you were sputtering your words enough to make Jeno laugh.

"Relax," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You didn't know what you were thinking. Maybe you were too tired to think straight. Maybe it was the sound of the rain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you in the darkness of the car. You reached over and touched the hand that rested on the steering wheel until he looked you in your eyes.

"You got Lasik eye surgery." you said. "You used to look so cute in your glasses."

For Jeno, it was easy. There has always been sexual tension between you. Touching the top of your hand felt natural. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and kissed you. You made out, completely unaware that the rain had stopped. When everything slowed down, you were straddling Jeno in his seat, and his hands were on your ass. You parted, your eyes staying on his lips until he spoke.

"I should get you home." he said.

"You should come home with me." you said, surprising yourself more than him.

Jeno laughed and eased your body off of his. "I want that more than you know, but I don't think it's a good idea. I could never control myself around you. "

Jeno drove you home, the only sound in the car coming from the windshield wipers noisily wiping away droplets of rain. You followed the blades swiping left to right, your brain in a funk.

Breaking up with Jeno was one of your top ten mistakes. You weren't as wise as you are now. You didn't know what you had when you let it go. You had carried his hurt with you everywhere you went for two years. Though you remained as friends, there was always weird tension whenever you met up with each other. His group of friends didn't trust you, and your group of friends always took your side, even though each of them was in love with Jeno. Your shared friends didn't get into the middle of it, and you and Jeno spent 24 months skating around unspoken apologies.

"We never had a chance to talk alone." you said, finally getting the bravery to speak out. “There are a lot of things left unsaid.”

Jeno pulled up in front of your house. You weren't surprised he knew where you had moved to, because you had been dropping hints for months. You had always hoped Jeno would roll up one day and give you another chance you didn't quite think you deserved.

"We don't have to talk about it now. "It's early in the morning and we both could use some sleep," he said.

You hummed in agreement, looking out of the rain soaked window at your lonely, dark house. You looked up at the sky and wanted the sun to come up, to cast a pretty glow over you and soften the experience of sitting with your ex in his car.

"You're like my knight in shining armor." you said. "I owe you a lot."

You had your hand on the door handle. You wanted to lean over and kiss him the way he kissed you, but your bravery only went so far. Jeno seemed to be thinking a similar thing. His eyes fell to your lips. Before either of you could act, he unlocked his doors.

"Get some sleep." he said, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're doing. I don't want them overcharging you for their services. If you want, I can go with you to make sure they don't."

"Okay." was all you could say. You got out of the car, tapped on his window as a way to say thank you and walked up the pathway to your house. You touched your fingers to your lips and remembered the way he tasted.

Jeno stayed there idling while you put your lock into the door and turned the handle. Once you were safely inside, you didn't wait to see if he had driven away.

You walked into your home, not caring enough to flick lights on. You weren’t as tired as before. Making out with Jeno had felt like an IV of caffeine had slipped into your bloodstream. Your body felt swollen in places, your heart most of all. You walked through the rooms, taking off your bra underneath your t-shirt and flinging it across the back of your couch. Your foot was on the first step of your stairs when you heard a soft rapping sound on your front door. Backtracking, you walked back to the door and flung it open, crossing one of your arms against your chest to hide yourself.

“Hi,” Jeno said.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes darting frantically around your face. You had no time to greet him back before he stepped over the threshold and took your lips against his. You moved your arm and let him smash his hard chest against your free breasts. Your nipples were aroused and you knew he could feel them against the thin material of his t-shirt. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him, savoring the taste and feel of him.

“I know I said no but....” he said, between kisses. “It was very hard to watch you walk away from me just now.”

You kissed him and bit down on his lip, pulling it lightly with your teeth before letting go. “Take me to bed.” you said. “Or the floor...the couch..i don’t care, Jeno, just take me.”

Jeno picked you up into his arms. He shut your front door and locked it behind him without ever taking himself away from your lips. He was strong enough to carry you upstairs without struggling, which made you even more aroused than you already felt.

“To the left.” you whispered against his mouth.

It was strange having him in your new bedroom, yet, there was something familiar about seeing him amongst your possessions. He felt like he belonged. Jeno set you down on your bed and let out a groan of approval when you wouldn’t let go of his neck. You tried to trap him with your thighs, but he had pinned your arms above your head, which made you release him. Your body relaxed, half hanging off of your bed. Your stomach was bare where your shirt had ridden up, so Jeno leaned down to kiss it. He pushed it all the way up to expose your bare breasts and take them in your mouth one at a time. He was really going at it, feeling them and teasing them, when you put a stop to things and slipped out from underneath him.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked, your face growing hot. “ I just need a second.”

Jeno sighed but agreed. He sat on the edge of your bed and watched you slink into your bathroom. You tried your best to freshen up, to get the 5 a.m stink off of you. Your mind was frantic and thinking of a million things that could go wrong. You realized that you were extremely nervous. The door to the bathroom slowly opened to reveal Jeno standing there with his hands in his pockets, and all of those thoughts faded like ghosts into the foreground.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”

It was much easier than you thought it would be. It was like two friends getting together after a long time, friends that knew each other’s bodies inside and out. You tore off your shirt, not caring whether your armpits were sweating anymore. He met your breasts and moaned in appreciation as his mouth got back to business. On the bed, he rolled on top of you, laying kisses all down your body. You lifted your head up and let him nip at your neck. You took your hands and placed them underneath his t-shirt to touch his abs.

“Well,” you breathed. “This has changed.”

Jeno could only laugh. He took off his shirt and let you admire his body, which had definitely changed since the last time you took him to bed. You touched the hardness of his chest, down to the smoothness of tummy leading down to his cock, which you remembered in every detail. You sidled underneath him and let your tongue taste the salt on his skin. You bit down on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

Your body had changed, too. You were softer in a lot of places, which Jeno loved. He wanted to touch and savor all of you. There was an overeagerness to him that stifled any remaining awkwardness there could have been. He bit down on your shoulder in response, scraping his teeth against your skin before he met your mouth. His tongue wound its way around yours for a few seconds, just relishing the feeling of them together.

Once all the clothes were removed, a desperation started to change the atmosphere. Things were no longer silly. He didn’t laugh. You didn’t go anywhere but in his arms. The rain on the window was quiet but present. The sun was seeping into your skin where you lay underneath him. There was a moment where he grabbed your face between his hands and held you there, his thumb brushing across your cheek. He kissed you sweetly, his lips full.

When Jeno entered you, it was like all the memories of your sex life came flooding back. You would always miss him inside of you when he wasn’t there, miss the full feeling that came when he penetrated you for the very first time. You had missed the sounds his throat made whenever he concentrated on pleasuring you. You hadn’t forgotten how skilled his fingers were at fondling you, or how each stroke never failed to make you lose all thought. He fucked your body like it meant something in the morning glow. He didn’t slow down for anything, not even when he felt your fingernails digging into his back.

He had let you take control. You moved on top of him and sank down onto his cock, holding onto his arms as you did. With your hands pressed against his chest, you moved. You rode Jeno wildly, bucking against his pelvis with abandon. He tugged on your hair when you tilted your chin towards the ceiling. He gripped your waist. He smacked your ass. He did everything in his power to bring you back to him every time you slipped away. Your eyes eventually found him again. You moved lower and rode him, your sweaty body gliding against his. He held you, his thick arm around your neck as he felt your walls contract, as you came around his cock.

You wanted to cry out, wanted to bring the room down around you. You kept fucking him, wanting to coax the cum from his cock, to feel the warmth moving downwards with gravity. You wanted to keep it going forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. It had been a long time since you two had made love, and your bodies were too excited to hold back.

You knew there would be a talk somewhere in the future, when he was ready. As Jeno screwed up his face in orgasm, as you felt the warmth of his cum, you were a little too happy to prolong that conversation. You wanted him in your life for a long time but, for now, you would take him any way you could get him.

[thatrandomwriter]

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

*

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

*

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.