#i want to tie it up to a fence and hit it so it spins around like that ball on a big stick almost all schools i saw in my life had

[primofate]

Kinktober: Doing it raw for the first time [Modern AU] (Minors do not interact) Not SFW

Notes: And so it comes to this. I’m just jumping in >_> I don’t usually write smut but I guess I was in the mood?

Warning: gosh I don’t know where to start. no protection, rope play, breeding kink, overstim, size kink, praise kink, not proofread, giving head, established relationship. Pretty soft for Albedo and Diluc then it goes a bit hard for the others >_>

Characters: Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Tartaglia, Xiao, Zhongli x fem!reader

Juicy stuff below the cut

Albedo

Albedo was not one to push you into doing things. Even when your bodies were pressed up against each other, the warm touch of his bare skin on yours almost sticky, yet intoxicatingly so.

“Bedo, please,” 

You whimper under him as he slaps his cock against your glistening folds. So pretty, he thought to himself. Even the subtle slap of his cock on your wetness was making him shiver. 

He grabs your hips and pulls you towards him easily, his stature might seem small but his work with the fencing sword proved him to be strong and able. He leans in to whisper in your ear, his tip lining up to your opening. “Ready?” His husky breath tickles your ear, but before you could reply, you can feel him stretching you open. 

You close your eyes and throw your head back at how painfully slow he was going. You could feel every inch of him push through you and you hear him stifle a groan. “B-Bedo...!” you mewl his name, feeling him fully for the first time, as he does you. 

“Shhh...” He whispers out, trying to concentrate on the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. Trying to ground himself. Trying not to just plow you through your orgasm. He bottoms out, his whole length buried into your damp hole. He looks down to see how connected the two of you are, face flushed into one of bliss. “...Beautiful, Y/N,” 

Still, he’s calm. He’s calm as he takes his hand and starts rubbing on your sensitive nub. You jerk up and you clench around him, earning another groan. “T-Tight...” He pants, unable to wrap his head around the fact that he’s getting squeezed by you. 

And suddenly, both his hands are on your waist again, he pulls out nearly completely, leaving only the tip inside and you lift your head up giving him a questioning look, until he thrusts his hips forward, sheathing himself in one swift motion. “A--aghh!” A strangled moan leaves your mouth as he ruts into you almost violently.

He can’t control himself. It’s different. His bare cock in you. “I-I can’t stop--” the bed creaks, his hold on your waist nearly bruising, pistoning himself. Grunting, groaning, hitting you in all the right spots as he hears you cry out “Mmggh! A-Albedo! There, right there!” 

It’s like fuel for him, chasing his own high and yours. The friction on his cock is unreal. The wetness. The vice-grip. His head is spinning and you watch as he throws his head back in a beautiful moan. “Y/N...!” You watch as his hips continue in a magical pace, your hands suddenly gripping the bedsheets as you arch your back, reaching your orgasm before him, “-t’so good, so good! Albedo I’m cumming!” he thrusts a few more times, you can’t even feel him stiffen, just coming down from your high. He quickly pulls out and fists his cock, spurts of white shooting out to your stomach, grunting “Wish I could cum in you...” 

He rarely says such things, but you grin when he does.

“How about for next time...?” you suggest.

Diluc

He’s a gentle lover...for the most part. But there are days where even he loses control as he stands above you, worshipping your body. How could he not? It was a divine gift from God. Every time the two of you tangled in the sheets, it was a little piece of heaven for him, just seeing you bare and open.

The moans that you give out are even more of a blessing. He loves to please you. Loves to hear his name in whimpers and in squeals. So, his first order of events is tasting you. Letting you cum on his face as much as he wanted, it wasn’t your choice. 

Now he towers over you, your face already flushed out from the two orgasms he has licked out of you. He smiles at the look on your face, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. He lays over you and starts peppering kisses up your jaw, stopping at your ear. “On your front, darling,” He helps you turn, your ass is now grinding against his hardness and he ruts into the smooth surface of your skin as he kisses your neck. He’s deliberately slow, but you’ve anticipated tonight for far too long. “Diluc, I want you...”

He chuckles behind you, but moves up, and prods your opening with his tip. “...You’re...extremely wet...” he whispers in awe. He could guess that you were a lot more excited today than usual. So was he, the tip of his cock seemed a lot more enflamed than usual. 

He pushes in, there’s some resistance but he manages to slide it halfway.

SLAP.

You yelp as you feel his hand smack your ass. “Y/N... God-- Sorry, I--” It was just too good. It was entirely different from usual. You can feel his hands grip on your ass, squeezing it as he finally rests fully inside you. You can’t see it, but he shivers. The way your walls are clamping down on him is sending him to a high.

Slowly, he pulls out halfway and thrusts in again. His pace is mellow, but you can feel every inch of him all the same. His perfect cock curves in the right places, hitting you just as you like it. “Love you, Y/N,” He has his eyes closed as he says this, reveling in the feeling of your warmth. “Love you so much,” and yet his hands are gripping your ass tighter, his pace is quickening. The control he once had is slipping fast and before long all you can hear is the loud slap slap slap of his skin hitting yours. 

The feeling is intense, your face smothered on the bed as he gradually drills into you. “Diluc! Diluc!” that’s the sound he loves. The sound of your fucked-out voice moaning his name. “Ohhh feels so good... your cock feels so good... Don’t stop!” you whimper as his hips thrust at the same time he pulls you down. 

He grits his teeth as he groans, “Cu-cumming!” every thrust he sends you feels like fireworks in your tummy. You stiffen up as the pleasure you feel peaks, you moan into the pillow as you orgasm, a little embarrassed at the feral sounds you were making. “Mine, all mine,” he grunts as he bottoms into you, cumming deep into your walls, and collapsing on top of you, his arms barely able to keep him propped up. He kisses your shoulder as he comes down from his high, still grunting and panting until he slips out of you, spent. 

“You’re a goddess, Y/N,” 

Kaeya

There’s a red blindfold round your head, and your wrists are tied up above it. Kaeya watches as you squirm a little. It’s his favourite type of play, for a special type of occasion. 

Your folds are already glistening for him, and although he didn’t tie your legs up he’s got them spread wide open with his strong hands. He’d been fingering you, getting you ready for his cock. “Please,” 

Of course, he doesn’t make it easy. “Please what, love?” a smirk on his face that you can’t see. “Want you in me...” you whimper out, lifting your hips up a little in hopes that you would find what you were looking for. His cock on your folds. “Whose cock do you want, Y/N?” he continues to tease you with his hands, his finger running a circle around your clit, completely avoiding it. “Yours Kaeya, just yours, please...”

He chuckles at this moment, “Good girl,” and you can feel him shifting his weight, can feel him pushing your knees up to your chest in the breeding position. Then, without any warning, he ruts into you all in one go. “Oh my God!” you keen at the painful and sudden stretch, but a few seconds later as his length pulses in you, fills you up in every corner, stars erupt in your eyes. “More, please, more!” 

You’re not quite sure how loud you’re being, but he’s in total bliss at the raw feeling. “Shit...That’s my girl,” he hammers into you relentlessly, almost painfully but the pain hurts so good. “This pussy’s officially mine,” he grunts as he fucks you out, the rough in and out earning stuttered moans from you. “You cumming, pretty?” his eyes trail down towards your pressed back head, open mouth wailing him praises. “Ohh yes, yes! S-So close!”

He crouches over you and presses your tied hands onto the bed, hips blindingly fast. “Mm, such a good pussy for me. Take it, take it all...” he starts to grunt more, head dipping lower into your neck as he feels the pleasure grip all around him. “Fuck,” he spits out as he stiffens, an animalistic growl escaping his lips just as you grip tighter around him and reach your own high. “Fuuuck, you’re so good, Y/N,” 

He slips out, handfuls of cum spilling out from your hole as he leans his body over yours.

Tartaglia

“Relax babe, you’re always so good at this,” He’s laid out on the bed, arms behind his head as he watches you grind your clothed pussy on his bare cock. Such a sight for sore eyes. Your lids are shut, cheeks are flushed and your mouth open in silent gasps. “You like that, huh?” His smirk is obvious, thoroughly entertained, as if watching a show that was made just for him. 

“Mmhmm...” You whimper, feeling your clit rub against his long, veiny cock. Your voice seems to spur something in him as he reaches out and pulls your panties aside. “Lift up,” he commands you and you follow, propping yourself up on your knees. “Go on now,” his shit-eating grin is almost teasing, but when you line yourself up on him, tip slipping past the tightness allowing you to fully sit on his raw cock for the first time, his grin disappears and is replaced with a strangled, guttural groan. “Oh shit,” his hands grab your hips and stills you, glues you to your sitting spot. 

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he closes his eyes and struggles. “Oh fuck it’s better than I thought,” he inches his hips up a little, provoking a moan from you. “I-I like this better too...” you murmur. You can feel every vein on him, every curve and thickness rubbing against your walls. Slowly he takes his hands away and places it on his side, rutting his hips up, making you bounce slightly and squeal, a signal for you to start.

You waste no time in bouncing up and down on him, hands on his chest, balancing yourself. The only sounds in the bedroom is the slap of skin on skin, your wanton moans and his animalistic growls. “Y/N, fuck,” one of his hands grips your thigh, he can feel his cock grow warmer, feel the knot in his stomach tighten. He’s nearing his orgasm and he can’t keep still anymore. 

He starts plowing up against you. Your bouncing is now fueled by his hips and not your own accord, you scream at how rough he’s going, how his dick kisses your cervix with every hard thrust up. “So deep! More, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” your words string together and are hardly coherent. He takes that as a sign to keep pulling your hips down just as he thrusts up, somehow, one of his hands manage to rub at your clit despite all the bouncing and you tighten up almost immediately.

“Childe!”

“SHIT!”

The two of you scream out at the same time, reaching orgasm mere seconds apart from each other. You collapse on him, and he wraps his arms around you. He takes a few seconds to recover before he flips you over onto the bed. “...You can’t expect me to just go one round... I’m addicted now...”

Xiao

“You want to do it...without this?”

He already has the condom in his hand, and you’re laid out on the bed prettily. “...I’ve been taking birth control instead,” those words has him on top of you in seconds. He’s kissing you fervently, the bulge in his boxers seem to keep growing. Xiao is well-endowed and you know it from the countless times you’ve taken him deep in your throat. 

“I love you, you know that? If you don’t want to it’s okay,”

“I want to,” the words between kisses are fast and heated. He wants to make sure you’re alright with it. He seems gentle now, but the truth is he’s insatiable in bed. He has a hunger for you that doesn’t end. As with any other session, he preps you for his cock with his fingers. One, two, up until the third one stretches you out so well and good that you start asking for more. You start asking for him. 

“Xiao...Want your cock..”

He takes his fingers away and rubs your wetness on him, hoping that the slight lubrication would make it easier for you today. But it’s never easy with him. Every time is like the first time, the painful stretch of his massive girth, the way you feel so full even when it’s just halfway in. 

“C’mere,” he pulls you easily towards the edge of the bed and instructs you to flip over, your ass is hanging on the edge and he thumbs in gently, positioning himself into your damp hole and slowly pushing in. “X-Xiao! S’too big... too much!”

Dear Gods the sensation is a hundred times more intense. He doesn’t even hear you talking about how big he is, he’s lost in the velvety folds of your cunt, in the way your walls stretch out to accommodate to him. He doesn’t answer you and he’s lost in the pleasure, pulling your hips back to make you stretch out all the way and take him all in. “XIAO!” 

You feel like cumming just from him being all the way inside and truthfully he feels the same. He’s afraid he might cum in just a few pumps, so he takes it slow, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, to ease up the stretch you feel. “A-Ah! No! Too much!” 

You start to squirm as his fingers find the sensitive nerves. This time, he hears you and replies. “Shhh... You’re doing well, Y/N,” his fingers rub faster circles on your clit and finally, he feels that he can move a little better now as you keen and rut your hips against his hand. “That’s it...” he whispers and starts at a demonic pace. He can’t help it, it’s too good. “I won’t last long, Y/N,” but you’re already at your orgasm, you’re already reaching your second, his fingers still relentlessly rubbing on you. “The best, it’s the best!” you moan and he watches as your ass bounces on his big cock. “Mmmrghhh... Fuck, so fucking tight,” 

His last few thrusts are brutal. Deep, strong and forceful, until he freezes and unloads inside you with a groan. 

Zhongli

You look at him as you finish up your blowjob. You see him looking down at you on your knees, obediently bobbing your head up and down. Today though, he doesn’t let himself finish in your mouth. He pulls your head back gently and looks you in the eyes. “...Y/N...Let me make you feel good,” 

He gathers you in his arms and places you on his office desk, the papers are strewn around on the floor already. He kisses you hungrily, hands roaming up and down before settling on rubbing you through your underwear. “Zhongli...” He’s a lot stronger than he looks, and this time he pushes your legs apart, his cock is right at your entrance, just waiting for his pushing motion. “Last chance to say no,” he mutters and you answer with a lewd “Fuck me raw,”

He pushes through the muscle of your opening, groaning as he does so. “Gods, Y/N, you’re tighter than usual,” he doesn’t hold back. He knows you can take it and fucks into you rough. He picks you up in his arms as he fucks you and your legs wrap around his waist automatically. He’s making you bounce on his cock at a vicious pace. He can hardly steal a glance at his cock as it disappears right back into your hole. “Zhongli, c-cum in me,” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, as if trapping him. Something snaps inside of him at your words and he maneuvers you onto his office chair and starts pistoning inside of you, his hands gripping the arms tightly. “O-Oh my God. Give it to me, pleasepleasepleaseplease,”

He’s never been this rough before, and you wonder if it’s because of what you said or the fact that he’s doing it raw. He isn’t a very vocal person but today he promises to give you his all. “This.is.all.yours.” he says in between hard thrusts. “Take it all, Y/N, take it--” he stops talking when his pleasure cuts him off, fireworks going off in his head and he shivers on top of you. He growls under his breath and suddenly slaps your cunt, right above the clit and your jerk up with a howl. “FUCK!” 

All of a sudden he’s starting again, he’s fucking into you hard even through your orgasm. “Oh shit! Li! fill me up!” You’re shuddering under him, body out of control at the sheer amount of pleasure he’s giving you, his fingers continue to rub and tap on your clit. “C-Cumming! I’m cumming! OH ff-”

You feel him stop inside of you, and by his low groans you can tell that he’s released his thick strings of cum inside. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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[iceprincessviviane]

Whispers in the darkness

Paring: Yandere!C!Technoblade x BookwormEnchanter!Female!Reader

Type: Romantic (Technoblade is yandere) Trilogy - part two. (Previous part, next part)

Warnings: swearing, possessivness, yandere, angst, injury, blood, threats, sugestive content, silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Technoblade is trying to convince and adjust Y/N to new situation and himself. Some time has passed, but troubles are showing.

Author's note: Continuation from part one. Insipration from ACOTAR. English isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.

Words in red colour are Technoblade's voices.

Words in blue colours are Y/N thoughts.

Three days have passed and Y/N felt better. She was almost lying in bed all day, but she started to fast recovery. All her energy was restored and she could left their room. Technoblade went at adventure in Nether, for some supplies. She slowly went downstairs, hearing the cooking sounds and humming. Of course Phil was standing in the kitchen, preparing something. They both froze for a while. Realization hit her harder, than she expected. He knew... he had to know. Winged man sighed and his shoulders dropped. As he thought, he didn't know what to do.

"I... I noticed that Techno has thing for you, I adviced him conversation or something... when he left two days ago for training I have never expected, that he will come back with you in his arms. I was shocked, afraid and confused." Phil explained slowly.

Y/N bit her lip and hugged herself. He was one of her the most trusted person here, aside with Foolish and Bench Trio.

"Listen, I was with Techno through a lot of shit. He is my friend and I will always be on his side, no matter what. I don't fully support... this kidnapping, but I am still with him." He continued, then took cups of tea and plate with sandwiches. "Hungry?"

Y/N nodded and sat down. He put everything on table and sat too. Everything looked like during her last visit. Phil was living in house in opposite combined with Techno's by bridge.

"So... you won't help me convince him to let me go, right?" She asked with saddness.

"Unfortunetly no. I am not going to be involved in stuff between you and him. But is it that bad? You are not missing anything, Techno is caring about you, here is safe and all the stuff you need." He looked at her.

"I used to be a free person, you know..."

"I am sure, that he will let you go on backyard. On attic, we can set up enchanting place with books and stuff. Sometimes Ranboo is visiting us." Phil was determined to show good sides of current situation.

He didn't want to be manipulative, but for everyone's greater good, was that she had to accept her fate. Technoblade could be rough, when it came to be obedient. He really acted diffrent, since he found his thing for her and now, when Y/N was there, he was calmer and more relaxed. If she would escape, he will for sure track her down and then, everyone which would help, will be in great danger. Technoblade wasn't leaving something behind. Probably whole Smp will be burning. Maybe it was selfish, but Phil didn't want any argues or wars for now. Y/N was eating quietly, thinking about his words. It wasn't that bad for sure. She expected being injured and thrown into cellar or something and actually they didn't even tie her.

"You are being serious with that enchanting place and yard?" She asked quietly.

Phil nodded and smiled to her gently. After eating he took her to the attic, where was some space and shelfes. Immediately her humor improved, they even started to talk about setting up enchanting place. Later this day, Phil left to his house and Y/N was reading on the couch, cover by the blanket, because days here were colder than in main Smp part. Technoblade managed to bring most of her personal stuff here including clothes. She was wearing warm sweater and pants, but still got closer to the fireplace, which was very nice in her opinion. Sun started to go down, she was thinking if Techno will come, Phil said that he sometimes made trips, which lasted days.

Sudden sound of opening door caused her to turned at it's direction. Piglin hybrid stepped inside and smiled to her warm.

"Hi darliIIIAAAAAA!" He screamed and dropped something.

Y/N frowned and stood up. Small ball of fur squeaked and immediately recognized it's owner, it asap ran to her and hid behind her.

"Snowflake!" She screamed and picked up her fox gently, then petted it's head softly.

"It bit me!" Techno growled and sucked his injured finger. "This had to be surprise..."

She sent him warm smile and again sat on the couch. Snowflake snuggle her head into Y/N's chest, she hugged her back.

"Thank you for bringing her here..." She looked at him softly. "It mean a lot to me..."

The Blade smiled proudly and came closer. Fox started to growl, when he approached. Y/N gently petted her.

"It's all right my little one. He isn't that scary as he seems in first take." She smiled at Techno.

After a few minutes small ball of fur calmed and accommodate itself on Y/N's lap and went to sleep. Technoblade quietly sat on couch and looked at them curiously.

"Do you know that I am scary, intimidating and grim huh?" He whispered.

Y/N rolled eyes and looked at him. "Of course I know. I experienced that few days ago."

Silence fell upon them, Technoblade didn't excatly know what to say, this whole situation shloud looked way diffrent, he just didn't predict this whole chase, althought is was fun.

'Make her forget about it.' 'She will understand.' 'Chase was interesting.'

"Phil showed me the attic and mentioned, that there we could make enchanting place. Is that true?" She asked quietly, looking deep into his eyes.

"Yes of course! It's all yours, you can make there your working place." He said and took her hand, then gently rub it with his thumb.

"Really?"

He nodded with honest smile. Y/N hugged him gently, watching out at fox. "Thank you. Also I need a basket and blanket for Snowflake..."

"This isn't a trouble princess."

}*{

Some days passed Y/N was busy with making her workplace. Technoblade helped her, Phil occasionaly showed, but didn't want to interrupt them both. They worked hard with wood, she made enchanting table, because he brought most of her supplies to cottage, being careful and avoided everyone. For now none was looking for her and Techno wished, that this would last the longest, no troubles, no worries, just him and Y/N happy.

Piglin hybrid also brought her notes and books, so Y/N could study again, she was so happy about it, finally could do something useful. When the attic was finally done, she went into their shared bedroom. Deep inside she was still hesitant, when it came to Technoblade, but decided to don't make him angry. Being in tundra wasn't so bad, but also wasn't a paradise. Yes, she was thinking how to get herself from this awkward situation, but hasn't find solution yet.

Immediately Snowflake get up from her basket and sniffed around. Y/N smiled softly, recently her fox was more curious and brave, even tried to play with Techno's fox named Aura.

"Let's go to outside for a while, we both need fresh air."

They went outside, Y/N took a deep breath. Fox immediately jump off and started to run through the snow. She covered herself more by cloak and sit near, watching cute ball of fur playing around. Fresh air let her relaxed more and clean up thoughts. Around were silence, hound was sleeping in special building, sometimes Steve was moving in snow, to find a good position. Around the fence slept more wolfes, guarding the exits. Y/N swallowed slowly, she wasn't able to go through. Unfortunately, Snowflake had another idea, fox fast ran away from yard, jumping in snow and spinning around.

"Snowflake!" Y/N stood up immediately and ran to her. "Come back!"

But little fox puppy didn't want to listen, it ran away even more far. Worrying owner didn't think too much, just found place, where dogs were away and jumped over the fence. One of them woke up and started to bark and howl. Snowflake put her ears back, came back into her owner's arms, curling up. She hugged her tightly.

"Don't do it again, you scared me..." she whispered quietly into it's fur.

Cold wind started to blow and Y/N heard the whole hound howling, it was terrifying. She turned back just to meet Technoblade standing intimidating with sword in his hand.

"Are you trying to escape?" He asked slowly observing her.

"What? No! Snowflake ran away, she got over the fence..." Y/N explained quietly.

"You really think, that I am going to belive in this?" He made one step further, she responed with one step back.

"I am not lying!"

"You better not be lying, because you won't like my punishment, my dear." Technoblade looked deep into her eyes. "If fox is causing troubles, maybe it should disappear?"

Y/N shook her head. "I promise, it won't happen again, please don't hurt her!" She had almost tears in her eyes.

Piglin hybrid nodded slowly and gave her his hand. She took it gently and together came back inside. Silence remained between them, Phil was in his house, busy with books. Y/N took Snowflake upstairs and put in the basket. Fox immediately curled up and went to sleep, she backed into kitchen. Technoblade waited with narrowed eyes, she swallowed hard.

"You broke a rule."

'She wanted to run away from us!' 'She deserve punishment!' 'We won't let her leave the house!'

"I know, but I just wanted to catch Snowflake! You really think, that I would escape without nothing, only in cloak?"

"No, but rule is a rule."

He moved closer, towering at her. Their eyes met, red and y/c. She saw there anger and disbelief, but she didn't do something bad. Technoblade gripped her chin once more, Y/N hissed, when she was forced to look at him.

"Listen Y/N. I really feel diffrent around you, calmer and stable, but that doesn't mean that my true nature disappeared." He said slowly.

"I know, I told you... Snowflake ran away, I just wanted to save her..." a single tear strimmed down at her cheek.

Piglin hybrid moved his hand to wip it out, then cupped her face. Atmosphere changed immediately. Maybe it was warm, which radiated from his body or this gentle touch, but somehow room became hotter. Red crawled at Y/N's cheeks and Technoblade sighed quietly. His thumb has been found on her down lip. Time has frozen, she was looking straight into his eyes, their gaze locked. She grabbed his wirst gently, but he didn't stop.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm admiring. Be quiet."

But when he leaned in and Y/N colsed eyes, pending what will come next, silence distrubed light grunt from the door. They immediately turned heads at this direction. Of course Phil was standing there with awkward face.

"I am assuming, that I am bothering you..."

"Yes." Technoblade's eyes narrowed.

"Of course not. Come in." Y/N said and left Techno's grasp with smile.

}*{

Phil stayed till late hours, they discussed some cases, she left them quite soon, because conversation bored her. Y/N started to work in attic, but when night has fallen, she moved to their bedroom and started to read book. Snowflake laid on her lap, so she could pet it's head slowly. Phil and Techno talked quietly, so it was immpossible to hear anything.

When the door opened, Y/N lifted her sight, piglin hybrid entered into the bedroom. His eyes narrowed, when he spotted cute, little ball of fur, but didn't say anything.

"Talking is over?"

Technoblade nodded and closed the door, she put away book. Snowflake jumped off bed and went straight into her basket, avoiding him at all cost. Y/N sighed quietly and stood up, Techno locked his sight on her posture.

"I am going to take bath. You can go to sleep, if you want."

He blocked her way out, she looked at him with surprise. In one heart beat Technoblade pinned her to the closest wall. Quiet 'welp' left her lips.

"We had a thing, before Phil naughty interrupted us." The Blade whispered with deep voice.

"Did we have?" Y/N asked while looking at him, she tried to act tough.

"Oh yes, we had my dear."

He put left hand on wall near her head and right hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. Their eyes met again, confidence faced uncertainty. His touch was more gentle, that she might expect.

"Let myself be clear. You will have to pay, for today's little bad behaviour."

"Wh-what do you mean?" She suttered.

"Let's say... if you don't want me to throw out this little, annoy ball of fur... you will have to kiss me." Technoblade said with deep voice.

Y/N looked at Snowflake peacefuly sleeping at basket and sighed helplessly.

"Do you promise? And never, ever again will threat her?"

"Yes. I always keep my word."

She nodded slowly, red crawled on her cheeks, cupped his face carefuly, hesitated for a moment. Y/N, closing eyes, gently pressed their lips together, in slow, shy kiss. She had to stand on her tiptoes, to reach Technoblade's lips. His hand moved at her waist and pulled her closer and he kissed her back in more confident way.

Y/N was so sweet and her lips so soft, like they were made for him. Piglin hybrid fast took control of the situation. Hand from her chin slipped on neck, to press their lips closer. Y/N made quiet moan, which caused his blood to boil. He smiled through a kiss.

'So good for us.' 'So sweet, so soft.' 'Don't stop, don't stop!'

Voices went feral, their demands and screamings filled his head, in one smooth move Technoblade grabbed her thighs and lifted Y/N up, without breaking the kiss. Now, she slipped hand into pink hair. He muttered with satisfaction, but then she broke away and opened eyes. The Blade snorted, greedy for touch, contact and pressed lips to her neck, kissing slowly.

"Techno!" Y/N winced and grabbed his shoulders.

"Relax princess." He whispered into her skin softly. "It's part of the punishment."

She blushed even at her ears, when he pressed few more kisses, then broke away too. They looked at each other in silence.

"Well, now I think, that it wasn't a punishment for you at all." Technoblade laughed slighty. She shook head with disbelief and helpless, then looked down.

"Oh, don't be so shy, I mean, I like it, but you don't need to be."

"Are you going to put me down?" Y/N asked with impatience.

"Maybe yes... maybe no." He hid head in her neck's crook.

In fact Technoblade just had to chill a little bit. His blood was still boiling, lips were touch starved and hands didn't want to let her go. After a few deep breaths, he gently put her on the floor.

"Thanks you." Y/N giggled softly.

"Go for this bath." The Blade smiled haughty and kissed her forehead.

She nodded, grabbed night clothes and left bedroom. Technoblade was smiling like idiot, when she went out. Feeling in his chest grew only bigger through days, when she was here. Also he wanted show everyone that Y/N is his and only his, he would bite her shoulder or neck, maybe give her golden jewelry, but for now it was pointless. As long, as she wasn't leaving the basement, all of this could come later. Of course Technoblade desired to mark her, but her shyness and innocence were too adorable and entertainment.

}*{

Next week has passed without any serious problems. Technoblade was always in cottage, Phil sticked around lot, so they could spend time together. Usually, they were talking, pair of friends described Y/N their adventures, Phil was telling of far away lands, and she was always listening witn true amazement. When Techno and Y/N were alone, he usually read her books or they just cuddled on couch. Sometimes she was trying to work on attic, but it was quite hard, since piglin hybrid has become clingy and very touch starved. He stole her few kisses during this week, but they weren't so intense as their first kiss. But since yesterday Technoblade has acted like he was always lost in his thoughts. That was something diffrent, so she noticed quite easily.

Y/N was sitting at the table and watching piglin hybrid carefuly. He was making her cup of tea, but silence reminded between them for too long.

"You are taciturn, since yesterday... something happend?" She asked finally.

He smiled and turned back to her with cup of tea. "You are so caring darling." He put the cup on the table.

"That isn't answer of my question..."

"You don't need to worry about it. Everyone has a quiet days, even me." Technoblade grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently, it caused Y/N to smile too. She took a sip.

"It taste better than Phil's?"

"Um... I can't tell the diffrence." Y/N shrugged, it tasted good, tea like tea.

"Great." His smile widened and she felt warning twist in her stomach. Something was odd...

"You... are sure, that everything is all right?"

This time, he didn't even bother to answer. Just looked at her and studied her face. Y/N blinked... but suddenly her eyelids became very heavy. Though she was sleeping today well. Fatigue mastered her body, Y/N groaned quietly and put cup down with loud sound.

"Feeling tired?" Technoblade asked slowly.

She lifted her sight at him with little struggle. His face was stern, but something in his eyes... made her shiver inside.

"What... what did you do?"

"Nothing... nothing at all."

Y/N stood up slowly, but she tripped at first step, needed to support herself by table. He squeezed her hand harder and embrece waist, to hold her. She couldn't push him back, all energy went out, her sight found half full cup of tea...

"You bastard..."

Dark laugh left his lips, he lifted her in bride style, like she was like a feather. Technoblade kissed her forehead reassuring.

"I think, you shloud go to sleep my love."

Then, Y/N started to see blurry and finally lost consciousness. She didn't know how long she has been unconscious, but when she woke up, she has seen their shared bedroom. Then felt cold metal around her wrist. Still little tired and probably under the influence of drugs, Y/N tried to move herself from bed. Chain from her wirst was attached to wall and it was pretty long.

'What the hell happend...?'

Y/N didn't want to believe, that Technoblade drugged her... maybe staying here wasn't the best idea... Door opened with quiet noise, causing her, to look at it's direction. Piglin hybrid went inside with tray full of food. She clenched jaw and looked at him with narrowed eyes. If she could, she would throw at him fireballs again.

"Don't even think to get closer." She hissed quietly. "What is this?" She rose her hand with a handcuff.

Technoblade put a tray on table and sighed. Actually he had all his netherite armor on, sword at his belt, then trident and axe on back. Y/N swallowed hard.

"I am going on adventure with Phil... actually it's for supplies..." The Blade said slowly.

"So you chained me?!"

"I don't want to risk anything darling."

"Take it off." Y/N said totally serious.

"I-"

"Take it off!" Tears started to come up into her eyes.

Technoblade didn't even move slighty. He just watched, when she tugged chain couple of times, then sat helpless on the bed and quiet sob left her lips. He immediately came closer and crouch on her level. Despite her protests, Techno grabbed her hands and rub them gently with thumbs.

"I will be back in three, four days. You have food on table and I brought you new books. Chain can reach bathroom."

"Please take the chain off!"

'Music for our ears.' 'Make her stop crying.' 'We already miss her...'

He kissed her forehead, but then stood up and left her room, closing it on a key. Y/N was too shooked to make any move, she pulled her legs closer to chest and hugged them. Loud sob left her lips this time and tears strimming down at her cheeks freely. Snowflake jumped on the bed and snuggled near, to cheer up it's owner, but without any success.

Y/N just couldn't believe, that Technoblade actually did this. She behaved good all the time, didn't even fight his... sudden whims or whishes. He wasn't exactly as people talk about him, he had feelings, goals and persons which he cared about. He was a person, not a weapon. But this... she called fire at her fingers and grabbed the metal. After a few minutes, it didn't make any effect, but she spotted slight purple light on metal.

Enchantments.

Closing eyes, she focused on chain. After a second she had an answer. Mending and Unbreaking. Y/N cursed aloud, without key or magic, there was no way to open it. She was too weak for casting spells. It was made by Phil for sure, Technoblade didn't know enchanting that good... she curled up on bed, trying to find a way out of this horrible situation.

}*{

Ranboo sighed stepping at outisde stairs in Technoblade's basement. He was here so long ago, at least three weeks ago. Moving into mansion took a lot of time and they had to finish filling the rooms. After this, Eret told Foolish, that Y/N is missing, they immediately went to her home, only to find out it was empty and some things were taken. He helped with searching, because Eret and Foolish stated, that she couldn't just leave without a word. A week of no progress caused them to stop. Ranboo saw the true sadness on demi-god's face and he wished he would help. Tommy and Tubbo missed her too and Michael wanted, that Y/N read his tales. Enderman hybrid sighed once more and stepped inside. Main door wasn't locked, none dared to come here and steal something, maybe except Tommy. He would do that without any hesitation.

He needed blaze rods and some honey, to start bee farm for Tubbo. He was in the middle of searching, when heard suspicious nosie from on top. Ranboo looked at celling unsure. Technoblade and Phil were on trip, he know that, because they met in the Nether once in fortress. He knew only one ghost and he wasn't here for sure... Then he heard quiet whimper and sob. Tall teenager swallowed hard and started to head upstairs. The noises were coming from Techno's bedroom, that was really odd. He tried to open door, but it was locked. Looking around, he spotted the key on the nearest shelf, so took it and open door slowly and quietly.

Ranboo almost dropped everything in his hands, when he saw Y/N on floor, chain around her wrist, eyes full of tears, skin more pale than usually. She immediately looked up, her gaze was full of shock and disbelief.

"Y/N?" He knelt near her, look if there were any injures or wounds.

"Ranboo?" She almost cried this words. "What... what are you doing here?"

"I am getting supplies from Techno... and you? For gods sake, Foolish and Eret were looking for you!"

Tears left her eyes, when she heard this words. None has known what exactly happend... telling whole story wasn't a great idea.

"Why there is a chain on your wirst?"

Y/N bit her down lip and looked at him embarrased. This whole story was an absurd, what if he won't believe her?

"Technoblade..." she whispered quietly.

"Why Techno would do that? And Phil, he wouldn't allow it..."

"But he did!" She screamed, clearly with fear in her voice.

Enderman hybrid was confused, this didn't has sense or logic. He sighed slowly and looked at Y/N, no she wasn't lying, so what was the case? What was going on here?

"Let me help you with this..." He took metal into his hands and tried to break it. After few minutes, he grabbed sword, but still, stubborn chain didn't want to let her go.

"It's enchanted... only key or magic can release me... " Y/N explained quietly. "And if I leave... gods help us... Technoblade will be after me."

"But... why? What did you do?" Ranboo asked without even thinking.

"I don't know! This is madness, I just want to get back to home, but they won't allow me." Y/N started to shake and tears strimmed down at her cheeks.

Ranboo hugged her gently, she was watching out to not water his skin or suit too much. He rubbed Y/N's back gently.

"We will need help... to get you out of this I guess."

"No... Technoblade will be after them... please don't tell anyone!"

"But, what about you?" He seemed worried.

"I don't know... I will try to break out, but I don't know when... just please promise me, that you won't tell anyone!"

Ranboo hesitated for a moment. How will she manage to break herself? And how could he be quiet about it? Eret and Foolish are still sad and hopeful or her returning, Michael every night is asking, where is aunt Y/N.

"Right, I won't... but someone will know, now or later."

Y/N sighed, he had right... someone will eventually step inside Technoblade's house and find her... but now there was no better plan.

"Yes, but at least maybe that won't be my close friend... you shloud go, before they see you."

He again hesitated, but after all, hugged her for goodbye, stood up and left. Also put everything as it was when he came. Still he was torn, because, wanted to help, but didn't want to let down Y/N or betrayed Technoblade's trust. Finally he left closing the door carefuly, lost in thoughts.

}*{

As Technoblade promised, he stepped into house exactly four days after leaving. Inside was silence, he had full backpacks and was tired, Phil went to his part, they both needed rest. After put everything in magazine, he went upstairs and entered his shared bedroom. Y/N was sitting under wall, where chain was attached, room didn't changed at all, some things were moved, but nothing odd.

'We didn't see her for such a long time...' 'We are going to hold her whole day.' 'Can't wait to see her again!'

"I'm finally back princess." He hummed and got closer.

She looked at him and stood up slowly, a little bit shaky, she unsure wrapped arms around his waist and closed her eyes.

"Please, never ever again leave me alone here... please." Quiet whisper left Y/N's lips.

Technoblade smiled satisfactorily, then hugged her back and pressed soft kiss on her forehead.

"Will you be obedient now?" He asked cupping her face in hands and wiped out tears.

Y/N nodded almost immediately, Piglin's hybrid smile widened, well that was better than he has expected. He couldn't complain, more things could be complicated, but for now, he wanted her to calm and be nice as she shloud be.

"Good. Let me help you with this." The Blade took gently her wirst and pulled out small, golden key from his pocket, then opened handcuff. Skin where it was, was violated, red abrasions and scabs, his eyes narrowed.

"I will take care of this don't worry."

Y/N sat on bed and looked as he put away his cape, weapons and grabbed bandages, then cover injuries with it.

"Thanks..." she said after everything was done.

"Now I am going to take off my armor, then maybe bath. If you want... you can go downstairs or help me."

Y/N looked at him with a hesitation. They together started to undo Technoblade's armor, after a while he ended looking at her, when she was patiently helping. It took a moment, netherite armor was heavy and parts were big, but after everything was done The Blade hugged her tightly.

"I missed you sweetheart..." he whispered into her ear. "I'm glad, that we are on good terms now."

Y/N bit her lip, most important thing was, that they couldn't know, that Ranboo was here. This made her anxious, poor boy, wouldn't have chances with Technoblade...

"I missed you too." She smiled gently and pressed shy kiss to his cheek.

Night has fallen quickly, piglin hybrid was napping a lot after bath and Y/N finally could go to the attic or kitchen, so she spent time mostly there. Working and making herself her favourite meal. When she entered the shared bedroom, Technoblade was sitting on bed shirtless and taking care of his sword, he lifted his eyes in her.

"Come in."

Y/N closed door and walked few steps forward, this view reminded her, that actually she had trident with her, when got kidnapped. Where it could be now?

"Technoblade..."

"Yes sweetheart?"

"When we met in forest, I had trident with myself... what happend with it?"

Piglin hybrid stopped and put sword away, then stood up. She swallowed hard, maybe it wasn't a good idea...

"Why do you want to know?"

"Trident is important thing for enchanters... and this was my only one. I also spent a lot of time searching for it and enchanting it..." Y/N said honestly.

"It's safe in the cellar." He got closer to her and smiled gently.

She nodded and let him hug her, then wrapped her arms around his waist. Technoblade placed hand on her neck, kiss was slow and gentle. Piglin hybrid smiled after breaking out. Inside, Y/N sighed with relief, he didn't noticed, that Ranboo was here.

She let her guard down in vain. The Blade's gentle touch fast, became inescapable grasp on her throat, Y/N pupils widened immediately. Tried to pull him out, but that was only a weak try.

"You think, that I am stupid or blind?" He asked, then lifted her up, still holding her throat, air started to go out and didn't come back.

Y/N tried to kick him of, but again that was only a weak try, even when he was tired. She grabbed his wrist and trying to push off his hand, only to take breath.

"After a whole week, you just casualy asking me about your trident huh?" His eyes narrowed looking at her reaction.

'Grip her harder!' 'Make her cry and scream!' 'Show, who is in charge here!'

Voices again went feral, but this time they demanded violence and wildness. His sight almost became red and ears was full of noise.

"Techno!" Y/N whispered quietly, fighting to stay focused.

"Apologize and everything will be all right."

"Please..." Tears started to strimming down at her cheeks, she became weak.

He shook his head. "That's not how you apologize. Just say that you are sorry for being dirty, little girl, forgive me."

"I... am sorry... for being... dirty little girl. Please forgive... me." Words slowly left Y/N' lips.

Technoblade smiled with satisfaction, then just let her go. Y/N' body hit hard the floor, she hissed at sudden pain and looked up at male. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to stay like this, on knees.

"I hate do it to you. I really do. Please promise me, that you will be good, obedient, little girl."

Graps on her chin hardened, Y/N nodded almost immediately. After this, she had enough, hear pounded so fast, eyes full of tears.

"It's late, let's go to sleep princess." He left her chin and went straight into the bed.

She stood up shaky and quietly, then grabbed her night clothes and went into bathroom. When came back, Technoblade is sleeping peacefuly on his side. Y/N without any distrubing noise, snuggled into bed and turned her back at him. She couldn't sleep at all, just laying there and thinking. After today for sure her mind changed and situation seemed to be horrible and without exit.

The mattress sagged under the weight of Technoblade, when he changed his position. She immediately froze, again he put an arm around her waits and his head right behind her's. Y/N swallowed her tears in silence.

}*{

Couple of days have passed and Y/N became much more shy and quiet. Technoblade usually held her around, but when not, she was in attic working or reading books. Piglin hybrid was satisfied with her behavior, showing his affection and caring way.

It was almost an evening, Phil was working on supper, Technoblade and Y/N were sitting on couch, he held her hand and read ancient poem with shinning eyes. Winged man couldn't resist to smile, while was hearing it.

Everything became much calmer. Well it ended, when Ranboo stormed into cottage, heavy breathing, burns on his face from tears and he was in full netherite armor.

"I am sorry! Please forgive me..."

[unstoppableforcce]

dirty, pretty, beautiful

— “goddamn… I love to watch you work”

pairing: billy russo x f! street fighter! reader

masterlist | 5.2k | ko-fi

warnings: [18+], fighting, blood, blood kink (?), semi-public sex (? it’s a bar bathroom), slight choking, just overall violence (?) but enthusiastically consensual, all smut is from Billy’s POV

a/n: so maybe, I ignored every other WIP I have to write for billy russo. and yeah, this is 9000% inspired by the scene in 1x12 where billy is clearly turned on watching frank kill a man. but i really like the way this came out so I don’t even care

The warehouse had a stink to it. Musty, heady, metallic… Metallic like the remains of a handful of change against his palm. Metallic like waft of hot rain off the highest train tracks. Metallic like the taste of blood, coating his teeth, smothering his tongue until it was all he imagined he would ever taste again.

Fresh blood had a sweeter smell, a saltier smell even, but as more time passed, as the heat of the daily sunlight poured in through the windows left unboarded, as the frigid, damp night settled within the empty body of the building, the smell grew rancid. A ripe fruit passing it’s best by date, left to sit for far too long. A living liquor left to die, to rot, to stink. It was a smell he was far too familiar with, a smell that laced more of his memories than he cared to ever voice. A smell that, on his worst days, he found himself missing.

With hands heavy like weights, stuffed into his pockets to keep him anchored as the smell flooded his head, he managed his way forward towards the hum of the crowd. Hustlers worked the crowd, kids barely old enough to enlist waving hands full of crumpled bills and corralling bet after bet.

“We’ve got three fights! Three fights left until the main event!” One called.

“Place your bets and place them fast!” The next one chanted, over and over again, louder and louder each time a new wad of cash was pushed into his hands.

“This is a night you won’t want to miss.”

Clearly, the crowd agreed.

The itch of his sweater brought a new heat as he moved deeper into the crowd circled around the main cage, a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck where the collar of his leather jacket met his skin. He knew better than to wear one of his suits to an event like this, but he still found himself missing the fond feel of the expensive fabric, the protective layer it granted him, the height it added to his already intimidating form. A few sideways stares told him he still stood out plenty on his own, but something about being dressed down struck a chord with him he didn’t like.

It was wearing a different skin, a more vulnerable skin, one that left him desperate in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Billy Russo was a powerful man, but he hadn’t always been. It didn’t matter how many years it had been, he spent far too long walking on the edge, toeing a line. The group home, the bullies, the stares that followed his pretty fucking face wherever he went… one wrong move, one bad decision, and he could’ve ended up here under much different circumstances.

It could have been him in the ring, fighting for his next meal, fighting for his life.

His hand scratched at his beard as he shouldered further into the crowd for a better view, doing his best to ignore the brutal stench of violence and the unclean men surrounding him. It didn’t matter what feeling bubbled in his chest, nor what aching memories echoed in the back of his head, he was here for a reason. Recruiting discharged soldiers could only sustain their workforce for so long if special forces remnants and women remained hard to come by. When rumors started to grow, flowering up from the filthy underbelly of the city, a fighter to end all fights, he knew he had to get his offer on the table before anyone else could.

Anvil needed operatives. He had a job to do. The stench of blood and the avalanche of feelings that came with it, that was just… well, he could handle it. With or without his suit and tie.

“... El Tigre and the Mountain!”

The crowd roared for the first fight of the night.

There was a particular bias for the Mountain, which, upon laying eyes on him, made enough sense. He didn’t get the name out of irony, he towered over his opponent by a good foot, and no amount of speed on the smaller man’s part was going to make a difference. The fight lasted, violent hit after violent hit, but within a few minutes, the Mountain prevailed as expected.

Then another fight, just as brutal. Then another.

Watching men beat the shit out of each other, however, was nothing new. If he wanted unthinking violence and filthy brutality, he knew where he could get it a lot cheaper, he was here for overlooked skill, an underestimated killer. He was here for—

“The crowned royalty of chaos, the duchess of destruction, the princess of pain… the one and only…” his voice echoed across the warehouse, rumbling as the crowd grew uncontrollable. “The Queen of Combat!”

If the crowd had allowed enough space between where their rowdy bodies pressed against one another, Billy thought some of them might get on their knees and submit to you right there and then. Hell, the second he laid eyes on you, the thought even crossed his mind.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t linger.

The warehouse shook with unflinching loyalty, his ears defeaned by the corresponding cheers. Shoulders hit into his, shoved from behind, pushed by the guy in front of him, some of the crowd climbing up on the cage just to gain a mere inch closer to you. And yet, you made your way into the cage without sparing a glance to a single one of the aggressive animals clawing at the fencing, unphased by the noise, unflinching. Your chin lifted just above the noise and your graceful stature carried you the rest of the way in. Regal was an understatement, but, watching you as closely as everyone else, he wasn’t sure he even had the vocabulary to find a word that worked better.

Blood stained your hoodie, bruises scaled the ridges of your knuckles, and yet, he was sure that one word from you could summon an army out of the screaming crowd surrounding you. One word from you and Billy… well, the things he’d do for you.

His eyes locked on your knuckles, watching closely as you wrapped the brutalized skin away, then moved to your body as you tossed the old hoodie away. Scars and marks lined your torso—bruises left over from a fight a mere few days ago judging by the healing, scars from fights so long ago they were nearly faded, burns, cuts, slices, bumps… your skin was a war zone.

And he knew war zones. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, a hot pressure in his jeans apparent, he was sure he could lose himself in a war zone like that.

If the man who entered behind you was your opponent, it was clear there wasn’t more than a handful of souls in the whole arena who cared. There wasn’t a single clap out of beat, not one change in the roar of support aimed at you and you alone. He was bigger, sure, but if energy was anything to go by, he could be Paul fucking Bunyan and it wouldn’t have even come close to matching your unwavering support.

“Fighters, get ready.”

Your opponent took a few jumps, slapping his arms like he was Michael Phelps. You took one step forward, rolled your shoulders and leveled your stare.

There was no doubt in his mind who he considered a threat, who he considered a future asset.

“Tap out or knock out.” The kid stood between them reminded, and when neither of their deadly stares shifted, he nodded his head once, blew his whistle, and got the fuck out of the way as fast as possible.

But you… you waited.

Your opponent jumped at you, feigning left then right but not putting much strength either way, hoping for a flinch. A flinch he didn’t get. You didn’t even blink.

You just waited.

And when he opened up his left side in frustration after a series of perfectly blocked hits, you turned it on. He couldn’t even get his hands up fast enough.

It wasn’t like he was some nobody they pulled out of the gutter to have you fight tonight, he was clearly a skilled fighter of his own, it just didn’t matter in comparison. You were quick, controlled, deliberate. Two punches for every one of his. Perfectly placed to have him grunting and groaning while his landed with nothing more than a hiss or blink.

If he thought his sweater was suffocating him before, god, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He could feel the hum of his heart, and the sudden staccato everytime your fist connected with a crack. He could feel his pulse beating through every inch of his body, from his temples to his toes and every throbbing inch in between. Another hit, he could see the blood coating the wraps across your knuckles. Another hit, he could see the crimson staining your teeth.

He wanted a taste—no, he needed one.

A hit to the ribs had your opponent crinkling, a jab to the face had him spinning. A kick to the knee buckled him over, a knee to the chin sent his teeth up into his brain. As blood splattered up your bare thigh, your opponent collapsed to the concrete.

Knock out.

Even if he wasn’t truly out, he knew better than to move, his eyes already swelling shut, his unscarred skin bruised and bloodied.

The crowd went wild, but Billy couldn’t hear. He watched you swipe your wrapped hand against your chin, wiping away the blood from your lips, and he swore his mind short-circuited as his blood rerouted elsewhere. You were fucking gorgeous, you were delicious, you were his new religion, you were… Royalty.

A Queen.

Fuck, he was hard.

With your hand lifted in victory, the crowd reached a volume Billy hadn’t even thought possible, and when you ripped your hand away and moved back for your discarded sweats, the crowd again tried to swarm you. To touch you, to feel your power, to feel you up. He just watched. He’d catch you when you came back out, showered, with cash in your hand. In his experience, people were much more open to recruitment when they weren’t being verbally and sexually harassed by hoards of disgusting men with filthy leering stares.

It took about an hour, stood outside in the back alley where the late night wind beat him up with freezing gust after freezing gust, but when you came out, you were alone. That alone made it worth it.

Shouldering open the heavy metal door dressed in fresh sweats hanging loose off your hot muscles, you made it a whole two steps before you caught sight of where he lingered in your peripheral and nearly jumped out of your skin. “Staking out this door is a good way to get the shit beat out of you, you know.”

The cool bite in your tone hit even harder than the wind, but neither did anything to cool him down. In fact, his smirk only grew as you raised your chin in a stubborn challenge.

“Don’t worry, I come in peace.” He defended, lifting his hands where they held in his jacket pockets for the warmest show of surrender he could muster.

“Not interested.”

He took a careful step forward, eyes holding your piercing stare. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Don’t have to.” The bag hanging over your shoulder shifted as the wind whipped by once more, and you quickly moved it down your arm as the weight found one of your more grueling injuries stretching the length of your collarbone. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, maybe you could have hidden your shrug, but he saw it all, he wanted to see it all, even as you argued back. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it in my life.”

Your feet found two more steps away before he pulled you back with his sly smile and slimier argument. “Just one drink.”

It’s not frustration that stops you this time, it’s curiosity, one brow raised as your arms cross over your chest. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer. For the first time, that perfect exterior cracks, his brow furrowing and his mouth left open. “What—“

“I mean…” your laugh shook him out of it, the sound something rough and throaty. “Seriously? I thought for sure you were here to recruit me for something, with this whole pretty boy soldier off-duty look you’ve got going on but no… you want to get a drink? Seriously? You waited out here for an hour in the cold because you want to fuck me?”

He cleared his throat as his stare and smirk absconded, was it really that obvious? Did he really even care if it was?

Business Billy, he reminded himself chastely.

Cutting the distance between the two of you in half, he extended his hand for a shake he knew he’d never get once his mouth opened. “Billy Russo,” he introduced.

Your smirk fell in the same second

“That Anvil guy?”

His hand pulled back and his disposition shifted to the only defense it knew, a cocky smirk and casual shrug. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

“You take good people who get out and you toss them right back in.” The cold bite had vacated your tone entirely, and what replaced it, the heat of your righteous indignation, reignited the fire he felt when you were fighting. A match strike. A sharp cut against a stick of flint.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten it before, but coming from you… well, he just couldn’t turn his cheek to it. “I help those who can’t get back on their feet—“

“You help them get back to the hell that messed them up in the first place, you mean. How charitable.” The sarcasm was a slap to the face, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a step back.

“At least I take care of my people, I pay better, I—“

Your scoff echoed around the empty alley, bouncing off the dumpsters and brick walls, reverberating in his ears until it was all he could hear. “Yeah? And just how much is a life worth to you?”

His jaw clenched. “More than the government, sweetheart.”

“That’s not really saying much, is it?”

He let loose a sigh, a breath of tension he didn’t even know he was holding as his shoulder twitched and his stare found anything to look at that wasn’t you. What was he supposed to say? What argument could he voice back? You had a point. Hell, he could see a younger version of himself making the same argument back when things first got bad over there, back when he first thought about getting out.

The sentiment was respectable, and your stubborn tenacity was nothing to scoff at, but this wasn’t about heart.

Some people just don’t make it out. Some people can’t. Why was he so wrong for offering them a path back, what was so immoral about offering the opportunity for them to profit off of what they were previously exploited for? If he didn’t do it, then someone else would. And at least… at least he cared. At least he knew what it felt like to come back home and not have a home waiting for you, to have blood on your hands so violently red that you can’t go back into the real world without people noticing.

Your knuckles, scarred and scabbing, told him that you knew too. You found your way back to the fighting, just like the ones he recruited to work for him. Were you really so different?

And still, a part of him knew that voicing that question, in that way, was a good way to get beat up.

His eyes found yours again as his hands lifted and fell back down to his sides, defeated. “You’re right, but it’s just the way things are. Not all of us come home and end up underground fighting royalty.”

Your head shook as you muffled your rough laughter. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Now it was your stare that redirected, eyes dropping to your feet before you let them scale their way back up the rocky terrain of his dressed down form. Worn boots, dark jeans, tight sweater, leather jacket, and that face. That pretty face. Exhaustion buried in the bags beneath his eyes, frustration laced in the furrow of his brow, a familiarity in the darkness of his eyes, a void of everything you remembered, skilled violence and inescapable grief, a void so familiar, a void you could lose yourself in.

It was late. It was cold. And you were alone. You were always alone.

You had made worse choices.

Sucking your bottom lip in tight between the bite of your teeth and slowly letting it out, you cocked your head to the side and began working on the last of your stubborn defenses. “If I say yes to the drink, is it just going to be more of this recruitment talk?”

His head twisted into a similar quirk, his smirk slowly gaining back its traction on his lips as he took you in with a similar once over. He inched one hesitant step forward, and when you didn’t shy away from the renewed heat of his attention, he took another. “Well I mean… I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much talking we do.”

—

It had been a while since he last had bathroom sex.

His boots stuck to the filthy linoleum floor, making every shift of his footing an extra effort. The shitty fluorescent light overhead flickered in and out with an infuriating lack of rhythm, blinding one second and pathetically inadequate to see you beneath him the next. But as his fingers gripped tighter around the flesh of your thighs, pushing you down into the cool porcelain of the sink he had you sat on, he had to admit that you were right. For everything it was, at least the sink was clean.

“So…” The burn was exactly what he remembered it to be, the cheap liquor clawing at his throat as he forced the shot down, chasing it with a quick swig of the even cheaper beer you had ordered for him. “This is your bar of choice?”

There had been six shots, three for each of you to start with, but you smirked around your final shot and he couldn’t even think ahead to his second. “Is that judgement I hear?”

He could feel his shoulder tick as he corrected with a slow drawl, “curiosity.”

“There are worse bars.”

“There are better ones too—“ His hand caught yours as you reached for one of his two remaining shots, his fingers wrapping carefully around yours. “Do you mind?”

You tried to pull back but his grip didn’t budge.

“You didn’t seem interested,” you fought, following his eyes as they dipped down to your busted lips. Again, you tried your hand. Again, he refused to let go.

“I’m plenty interested.”

You could feel his grip loosen, but this time, you let him hold it there. If anything, you leaned into it. Reaching with your other hand, you brought your bottle to your mouth and wasted no time licking up the remnants of your sip left behind across your bottom lip. Again, his stare followed, his nose scrunching as something deep in his chest began to burn. Again, you leaned into it, close enough for his cologne to overtake any of the thousand other smells swirling around the packed bar.

“Actually,” setting your beer back down, your unoccupied hand found the inseam of his jeans, his legs perched open on his stool with you sat between them. “I like this bar because the bathrooms are the cleanest.”

Picking up his next shot, he couldn't help the twist of his brow nor the uptick of his heart rate as your fingers teased higher. “The bathrooms?”

“Yeah…” your casual tone betrayed the tension pulled taut between the two of you. Every point of contact had him burning. Your hand in his, a candle flame he couldn’t stop drifting his hand over even as it burned. Your hand inching on his thigh, a creeping flame following a line of detcord towards explosion. Your stare, a rumbling volcanic heat mere seconds away from erupting. The rowdy crowd surrounding the two of you was nothing, the stuttering breath fleeing your chest all he could hear.

He leaned in, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

You leaned closer, pulling your hand from his thigh to take his last shot for him. “You ever been fucked over a filthy sink, Marine?”

He prided himself on his composure, in battle and in bed, but fuck, with two fingers inside you feeling you clench around him and his head buried deep in the crook of your neck inhaling the harsh stench of industrial soap trying it’s best to cover the smell of blood, he could feel himself skirting dangerously close to an edge he wasn’t ready to fall off of yet. His dick wasn’t even out of his pants and still, when he thrust a third finger into you and saw your brutalized knuckles wrapped around his bicep, nails digging through the thick fabric of his sweater, his name falling wrecked from your lips, he very nearly lost it.

“Russo— Fuck—”

“You like that?” He challenged breathlessly back, biting down hard on your battle bruised shoulder to keep it together as you grew closer and closer to the same edge. The light flickered and his stare shifted back up towards your face. A Queen brought to a trembling mess, teeth piercing the already torn center of your beaten lip. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” The whine that accompanied your words betrayed the cut of them and his smirk only grew.

His lips scaled the scarred terrain of your shoulders, climbing up the bruised battlefield of your neck, nipping at every inch you offered him with your head thrown back against the steamed up mirror. “Shut me up.”

Your chuckle intercepted your heaving breath, the hot pants hitting his skin and flushing his cheek. “Yeah?” You challenged, your words ghosting over his lips as he drew ever closer. The cut of your nails dug into his arm pulled back, your grip settling comfortably around his throat instead as you inhaled his violent groan. “Make me cum.”

He fought against your vice-like grip as you squeezed tighter and tighter, stealing a singular kiss from your lips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

These were his cheapest jeans anyways.

Dropping slowly to his knees, his neck pulled from your grasp and his mouth found your ready and weeping heat. With one lick, your thighs closed around his ears, one suck of your clit between his lips and one of your calloused hands found his hair while the other gripped tight to the sink for any hope of stability.

“Billy—”

His fingers had worked you too close to the edge already, it didn’t take long before his fingers, still deep inside you, found the right spot and the burning pressure of his mouth on your clit had you soaring. The beating pump of your blood filled your head, the thumping echo all you could hear as your vision began flickering in time with the ancient fluorescent over head. You could feel him moaning into you, your stubborn grip holding tight to his previously pristine head of hair, dragging you closer as your screams no doubt echoed around the small bathroom.

Maybe the music and the boisterous crowd outside in the bar would be loud enough to cover the sounds. Maybe not. He couldn’t care less.

All he cared about as he fought his way back to his feet was the lazy pull of your hand in his hair. All he could ever imagine caring about for the remainder of his lifetime was the effortless drag of your tongue over his chin and lips, collecting the remains of your orgasm before sucking him in for the longest kiss of the night. Loose. Languid. Luxurious.

“Was that up to your standards, your highness…” he murmured with a smirk along the side of your mouth, his hands scraping down to your thighs, dragging himself closer.

Your grip found itself again in his hair, tugging tight. “Take your pants off.”

“Ask nicely.”

He felt the warmth of your scoff against his cheek, but you agreed in the only way you knew how, your hand not buried in his hair dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Please…” your lips pressed once to his chin, then to his neck, soothing the crescent mark your own nails had left. One kiss, then another, and before he could reach his hand to his own belt to comply, you bit into the mark and deepened the color. “Take your fucking pants off.”

His lips twisted into a snarl, but he had his belt off and his pants open in record time.

The condom in his wallet was only supposed to be a backup, but he had never been more grateful for his disgustingly hopeful thinking than he was to find it exactly where he had remembered it being wedged between the folds of leather. And as you pulled him out of his boxerbriefs and rolled it on with a few lazy pumps, your satisfied smirk told him you were equally grateful.

Still, your fought. “It’s not expired, is it?”

“God, I hate you.” He swore back, but his heart left halfway through the words, his chest deflating, a nearly whimpering moan leaving his lips as he pushed into your soaking folds. “I fucking—“

Your hips rolled as he seated himself fully within you and again, his breathing stuttered. If he thought he was close before, this was just embarrassing.

He remembered the ruthless violence of your fight, the blood running from your nose and staining your teeth, the strong pull between your shoulders as you landed hit after hit. He gripped tight to one of your thighs with one hand and flattened his other palm to the mirror behind your head as his pace picked up. He remembered the echoing crack as you landed your final blows, the utter brutality that oozed from you as you moved from one hit to the next. He dragged your hips closer, he pulled you flush against his chest, muffling your cries into his sweater.

He remembered your knuckles and every groan they elicited. He kissed your jaw, unable to stop himself from thinking of how many you had broken.

The rough drag of him inside of you was taunting, the feel of him so full yet your climax still dancing out of reach. It was too much and too good all at once. Too little and too overwhelming in the same breath.

“Billy—“ your broken sob tore through his chest with a heat he didn’t even recognize, a burn so heavenly he swore a sunburst sliced through him. “Fuck— Russo, yes—“

Every muscle in your body tightened around him, squeezing him, clawing at him, destroying his composure. He tried to draw it out, he tried to fight back from the edge, but your moans turned to music and his head emptied out. “I—“

“Come on,” you cooed, your words slurring as you forced his lips back to yours. He was melting, the heat was too much, searing his insides, charring his heart and fuck… he was melting into you. “That’s it.”

His nose scrunched, his teeth baring, a guttural snarl escaping his fiery chest as he powered himself even further into you. Again and again and again and— “Shit…”

You whimpered as his hips stuttered, you whined as he fell still.

“Shit…” he repeated, trying one last languid thrust as he found his way back down from his blinding high. “That was… fuck…”

“Yeah,” you muster just enough breath for a chuckle. “Yeah it was.”

He barely had enough time to catch his breath before you were pushing him back on unsteady legs, he barely managed to catch himself on the neighboring stall before you hopped down of the sink. He wanted to laugh at your sudden urgency, make some kind of joke, or pull you close and disregard it entirely, but he still couldn’t breathe. His hair fell in his face, his sweater rucked up around his waist and his dick barely soft—

He was a mess. A wrecked mess without the words to stop you. You already had your pants back on by the time he had the condom tied off in the trash, you were fixing yourself in the mirror before he even found a hold on his belt.

“You know, I know some bars with nicer bathrooms.” He finally fought, catching your attention as he fed the tongue of his belt back through. “Better beer too—“

A battering knock sounded on the door, making both of you jump. “Can you two hurry it the fuck up! Some of us have to pee!”

Neither of you two could hold yourselves back from laughing at that, breathless or not, even Billy felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks. Not for getting caught—no, surely that was inevitable in a place this packed—but because he really didn’t care, because he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You had to feel the same, that had to be as good for you as it was for him, god it was better than good. If you wanted him on his knees, he would beg. If you wanted to wreck his shit, he’d say ‘yes, please’—

You pressed a firm hand to his chest, forcing him back to the stall wall. Your lips hovered over his, so close, he could taste your breath. “This won’t happen again, pretty boy.”

His head quirked with a glare, your hand keeping him in place as he fought towards your lips. “No?”

“No.” Your lips grazed his as they formed around the word but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s a maybe then?”

“No, it’s not.” He could feel your pulse, the beat of your chest pounding against his as you keep him just close enough and still too far away. He could feel the lie as you made it.

His smirk only grew as his lips touched yours. “Well, if we’re not having sex, you should just come work for me.”

You hand slammed him back but he just laughed.

“Not fucking likely, Russo.”

He surged against your grip for one last kiss before you pulled back. “Well,” he sighed, slumping back against the wall and finally accepting his defeat. “I know where to find you, at least.”

Even your stubborn tenacity couldn’t hide your smirk as you unlocked the door. “Maybe so.”

That wasn’t a no.

[cinemaocd]

As an only child, I would like you all to know I got up to really stupid/dangerous games with my friends, just as much as kids with siblings. Here are some highlights:

Gladiator: set up a six man tent, grab two small pomeranian mix dogs, grab a "shield" (usually made out of family sized detergent bottle cut in half) and a "sword" (virtually any type of stick) rile them into a frenzy where they were leaping up in the air snapping at our faces. This should have been shut down on so many levels. Those poor dogs did not need that..

Cowboy: get on your bike, grab a jump rope, drive around in the middle of the street and try to rope your friends. If you actually successfully rope them, you can drag them off the bike.

Circus: grab a set of lawn jarts, have one person stand against the fence while the other throws jarts at them to see how close they can come without hitting them. There are really good reasons that lawn jarts were banned.

Pirate (didn't play this because we didn't have a pool, but I was friends with kids who played it all the time. They are all still alive btw): Tie someone's hands behind their back and make them jump off of a diving board into the water. The way to survive is to bounce off the bottom of the pool, jumping toward the shallow end. If you can bob back up to the surface and grab a breath of air, it helps.

Open the Garden Gates: two people sit on a swingset facing each other. They lock legs. A third person pushes them, and when they say "open the garden gates" the kids on the swings unlock their legs and the person runs through. This sounds harmless, but we had a version of this where two people pushed, each one holding the chains of the swings. When the gates were opened they would spin the swings as hard as they could usually toward the swing set support poles. Lots of kids got thrown into poles.

Indiana Jones: I used to babysit for a kid who'd do this. While he had a younger sister, he would play this by himself or with a couple of buddies. He'd get on his bike or skateboard at the end of the driveway, press the garage door remote to start shutting the door. The object was to get in the garage in the most spectacular way at the last second. We had a deal: no Indiana Jones and I'll let you stay up late, because I really didn't want him to have to be hospitalized on my watch.

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy - Kikuta deserved better - 273-276

As I catch up on things, I’m gonna hit the highlights that really stuck with me.  Ogata is able to escape from Vasily using the tactics he observed from the showdown in Barato with Hijikata cutting through random row houses.  He’s seriously gotten into Vasily’s head as he hesitated to snipe aggressively after killing the wrong guy with Ogata’s cloak.

The only worthwhile thing from this continued and seriously a no longer interesting plot point, is getting to see Ogata wiggle under a fence like a cat.

So, I approve of this at least.  My own cat scores this as an 8/10 in cat wiggling.  Minus 2 points for not enough emotion from Ogata’s face.

Thankfully, Asirpa was able to escape with Sofia after Tsukishima gunned down Ariko.  It seemed to me that Koito froze/hesitated during that situation.  Tsukishima had no problem brutally shooting Ariko at point blank while Koito literally just hung back and watched. 

Asirpa is in a state of extreme shock. She just interrogated by Tsurumi to give up the code, watched Ariko be shot and now sees Boutarou’s corpse in the bottle-mobile.  Our girl needs years of therapy - she’s reaching the same level as our male cast members at this rate.

At least she breaks down in tears as Sugimoto tries to console her.  The artwork for this part of the page is excellent, it really does capture the melting of her mind and how she’s realizing how deadly the gold is.

It ties directly back to her argument with Kikuta before all this shit went down.  I’m always giving Sugimoto crap for being a moron, but it seems that he did make the right action by reaching out to allow her to hug his arm.  There is that soft look as he gazes down at her and just lets her be emotional.  It is clear that his presence is a comfort to her as she takes her time before returning to a more lucid mental state.  This is shown by how she opens her eyes and looks up before declaring that they need to meet up with Hijikata since she’s figured out how to crack the code.

Meanwhile, Kikuta rushed Ariko to a clinic to save his life.  Being the father figure/older brother he is, he tells him that it isn’t his time to die; he never made that makiri yet! And to my relief, Ariko wakes up!  Noda didn’t go for the lazy writing of killing of the minor Ainu character, something I was afraid of.

If his father saved him, it means his makiri was where he was shot in the chest under his uniform.  There is a lovely transition about a makiri in a fictional museum that was made by him, implying that he returned home and did make the makiri and likely resolved some of his identity issues, though it was still likely a tough life for him.  Ariko apologies for not being able to work as a spy for Central and really it isn’t like he’d be able to do so anyways.  But he did verbally point out he’s now politically on the side of someone like Asirpa to fight for their culture and right to exist in spite of colonial powers. The middle panel of Kikuta bidding him farewell just gives me the feels.  It is so clear that Kikuta knows he’s toast.  He saw Tsukishima shoot Ariko and Tsukishima likely watched him as he tried to save the man.

The fact that he said a casual line about going to an onsen.  Ugh, death flag for sure right there.  It seems Ariko knows that as he looks forlorn.  Kikuta is that sort of suave man who is going to look cool even though he’s doomed; he’s that awesome.

The action returns to Tsurumi at the church having solved the code.  With Tsukishima gone off to try to kill Ariko, Koito has remained behind.  All of a sudden Koito reverts to his extreme Satsuma accent when addressing Tsurumi in the absence of Tsukishima.  I think he didn’t even realize it at first, just like how after they escaped the fight with Boutarou, Koito spoke normally to Tsurumi without realizing it.

It is clear it took him a moment to realize he was speaking ‘Koito’ as Tsurumi is unable to respond to him and he then panics.  Koito is more than willing to chase after Tsukishima and support him, but Tsurumi instead recalls him.

At first he consoles himself that everything is okay. 

He is trying very hard to convince himself that everything that they witnessed through the keyhole was all an act to get the key!  Yes, it isn’t that Tsurumi doesn’t have some sort of awesome goal and this isn’t about how the death of his wife and daughter left him unhinged!

But the other random members of the 27th then comment on how strongly Nikaido reeks of beer . . . and Koito then thinks about how he and Tsukishima were hiding in the room at the church when Tsurumi ‘checked’ that he was alone.  And then it hits him - they were also played as a part of the ‘Tsurumi theatre’.  Unlike Tsukishima who has whole-heartily given himself over to Tsurumi, it is clear that Koito can’t.

That monologue sounded too good to be true.  He weakly says Tsukishima’s name into the rain as he then thinks ‘No . . .’  The rain is really fitting in this scene, I think it really is a stand in for Koito’s own disappointment and tears in this entire crazy quest for the gold.  Is he worried about his ‘older’ brother figure?  Himself?  Both of them?

He continues to try to rationalize the performance that Tsurumi gave them - even if Tsurumi lied to them, it wasn’t all a lie.  Oh Koito.  I want to give you a hug and pull you away as your little bon-bon-ness has won me over.  Most of that speech wasn’t for Koito, it was for Tsukishima.  Speaking about helping Japan is what Koito would like to hear but we can tell he doubts that as well.  Hence, his waffling.

But then he realizes that as Tsukishima has given so much - all of Tsurumi’s words, even if they were ‘sweet lies’ as he he referred to them on Karafuto, it was just perfect for Tsukishima.  However, Koito has broken the spell that Tsurumi held over him.  The final page of the chapter of Koito looking at the illuminated Tsurumi and shutting the door on him.  It is the exact opposite of when Tsurumi rescued Koito from the kidnappers when in his youth. I now find myself wondering how this relates to the tiger curse.  It is clear that the curse for Tsukishima will not end well.  After he shot Ariko, his eyes regained their sparkle!  Not good, not good at all!  However, have I misinterpreted it for Koito that by becoming disillusioned with Tsurumi he will be cursed to be miserable through him gaining independence from his hero worship of Tsurumi?  The idea that ignorance is bliss, and now Koito is well in the know.  The fact that when he and Tsukishima were sort of on the same page was when he could speak to Tsurumi but now that he’s on a different path from Tsukishima he’s tripped up again.

Chapter 274 finally allows Asirpa to determine the fake skins after what she witnessed with Boutarou in the brewery and thinking about Ainu garments that she figured out that Edogai likely went above and beyond with his fakes.  Thanks money counterfeiting guy from the fake Ainu village for the inspiration.  It is a lot of pages that tie together other plot points nicely but really doesn’t do anything for me as a reader personally.

The most important point is that as Sugimoto falls asleep while Asirpa and Hijikata work with the skins is that we get another flashback - one that links him to Kikuta!

and even more importantly - Hanazawa Yuusaku!  Chapter 275 starts out with an homage to the classic movie ‘Singing in the Rain’.  As soon as I saw Sugimoto spinning on a lamp post, it was obvious.  Yes, small town boy in the big city - causing trouble.  He gets in some sort of brawl with random guys from the army and is ‘rescued’ by Kikuta, who immediately realizes that he’s hungry and decides to treat him to some lunch.

It shows that Sugimoto has a short fuse and is an impulsive youngster.  Really, he is lucky that he didn’t do more stupid shit to get him in trouble.  We can also clearly see that Kikuta is a member of the 1st Division, the Tokyo based one that Sugimoto eventually enlists with.

Kikuta decides that he wants Sugimoto to impersonate Hanazawa Yuusaku and to go on a marriage interview for him.  This is because Hanazawa Hiro, the now identified wife of Hanazawa, is pulling the strings in the background to prevent Yuusaku from becoming a flag bearer.

This then makes us wonder why these two parents have such contrasting expectations for their only son.  It makes me think back to my theory that Yuusaku was a pretty poor solider and lacked any skill or potential.  Long ago, Tsurumi told Nikaido that Ogata is the ‘true heir’ of Hanazawa inheriting his military and [some] leadership skills as he stood on the watch tower in Barato ordering the random gangsters how to fight effectively.  Yuusaku is a disappointment for Hanazawa - he can only save face by having his son become such a symbolic part of the army.

I laughed at the next page where Kikuta confirms that Hiro is colluding with the young heiress to steal Yuusaku’s virginity and thus preventing him from becoming a flag bearer.  I love the posture of the terrified Yuusaku!

However, Hiro’s plan has been found out by Hanazawa and he consulted with the leader of the 1st Division to assist him with resolving this unpatriotic and embarrassing issue.  Recall that Ogata was born as a result of Hanazawa being posted to Tokyo - this implies that he likely became good friends with the leader of the 1st Division during this time.

To prevent anyone from identifying Sugimoto, he’s the perfect substitute for Yuusaku and changes into Kikuta’s uniform.  He’s one of those guys who just has that look.  Sugimoto immediately thinks that since he’s been treated well by Kikuta, joining the military might be a good way to find security - in food.  However, we get a link of the cap to Kikuta and what appears to be his dying younger brother.

Kikuta looks so sad, like there is something unfortunate with Sugimoto’s statement of food.  We don’t get to see his expression, indicating he’s likely hiding his emotions from Sugimoto and instead tells Sugimoto he’s going to have to train him in food etiquette.

He’s presented with some Western cuisine, something that may blow his cover and something that Kikuta didn’t expect as he watches from a tree outside.  But again, due to his extreme luck, he’s able to use nervousness as an excuse and it gives him time to state his family his super traditional so they wouldn’t have eaten food like this.  When he’s removed the cap, Kaneko Kaeko is smitten with his handsome face. He can use his excuse as a way to have an out for not knowing how to eat that tasty ebi fry (why to I hear ��ebi fry’ in Nyanko-sensei’s voice?).

As she explains the fancy places she’s dined at, Sugimoto thinks about how he was living off of cat food.  Cue another reason why he just hates on Ogata, since he was stealing food from Ogata’s people! 

The rest of the dinner goes well, and Kikuta checks in with him.  Meanwhile, our wealthy heiress is completely smitten with him!

As Sugimoto mulls over the idea of a somewhat arranged marriage as a negative he spills the beans about Toraji and Umeko.  And Kikuta isn’t having any of his bullshit.  I love how Kikuta points out how selfish and downright stupid Sugimoto is being in all of this.  Kikuta gives Sugimoto good advice - which he’s clearly still never followed.

He makes it clear that he’s got to give up on that hometown and move on.  Which will be completely ignored as Toraji will end up in the 1st Division with Sugimoto in the trenches.  I’m now wondering how Toraji and Sugimoto reconnected.  Hrrrmmmmm?  Is this something that Sugimoto encouraged and that’s why he has all of these unresolved emotions about Toraji’s death in the war?

The chapter reveals to us that Tsukishima’s love ended up marrying the cousin of Kaeko, making Tsukishima’s acceptance of her ‘death’ even more heartbreaking as he thought that Tsurumi had lied to him about her fate.  [weeps bitterly]. 

As Kikuta and Sugimoto discuss what appears to be Yuusaku’s lack of a free will, he’s told not to meddle in others concerns.  What does Sugimoto do? The man just can’t keep to himself and he goes and finds Yuusaku to confront him.  He wants to know if Yuusaku wants to be a flag bearer even though it is a death sentence.  How does that conversation go? Just how we’d expect with all of the information we know about Yuusaku.

I love how he’s like it isn’t to meet my father’s expectations!  It is because understand my father’s convictions and fight for my country.  Okay, you keep telling yourself that Yuusaku, but it still sounds like you are doing this for your father, you know tomay-to, tomah-to.  Sugimoto mulls over what Yuusaku would choose if given the choice.  I just sigh as we know enough about Yuusaku’s backstory that the man only does what his father says - with great conviction. All of our Ogata flashbacks have made this so clear, Yuusaku is a doomed man from the moment he entered the army.  Maybe even a doomed man from his birth even.  Perhaps, he’s acutely aware of this, but based on how freakkin’ awkward he’s with Ogata and his older brother actions, I continue to think he’s not the brightest bulb in the pack and can only be used as a patriotic pawn.

Yuusaku then becomes suspicious of Sugimoto’s line of inquiry and realizes that he’s got Kikuta’s cap.

Not sure how to respond, he runs away and we learn that Kikuta’s younger brother died of illness during the first Sino-Japanese war.   That same war that killed Koito’s older brother and that Tsurumi and Tsukishima fought in as well. With the statement of illness, I know what most likely killed Kikuta’s younger brother - malnutrition - specifically beri beri.  As the Japanese military rapidly modernized using European models, they ran into an issue with many soldiers and sailors dying of some sort of mysterious illness and it wasn’t something that impacted the Westerners at all.  Most of this has to do with the ability to eat white rice which was much more processed.  It made it more expensive, but was nutritionally bad for men who came from lower incomes or poverty.  Remember how stoked Asirpa was when she ate white rice all the way back at the herring fishery?  If anyone has read “House of Five Leaves” by Natsume Ono, you’d know the protagonist is a poor ronin and he falls ill due to beri beri.  The solution was to return to the countryside/hometown to eat a more diverse diet.  For a more detailed explanation of how bad this was for the Japanese military check out the video by Linfamy on youtube here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzIBpFDRr5g

The video even highlights the fierce (and counterproductive) competition between the Army and Navy which has already been well defined through Koito’s backstory. The chapter ends with Sugimoto dropping the cap and the polite man who picks it up for him is Tsurumi with Ogata, Usami and Tsukishima in Tokyo. The plot thickens . . . somehow Sugimoto got mixed up in the business of the 27th and apparently Tokyo isn’t a vast city that you can get lost in and everyone knows everyone.  Like how I was on flight to Saskatoon and the man next to me started up a conversation how he was from Burlington and went to Guelph and my friend who I was going to visit was also from Burlington and went to Guelph it is a small world kinda moment and in agriculture.  I digress though.  Things are starting to pull back together but I’m still not 100% on with this plot direction/story arc.

[cowboy-anon]

Weston’s Wild West Whump - 2

I DID IT! I FINISHED IT. Holy cow. XD Anyway, it’s a bit of a longer piece. Today, we learn a bit more about Weston, we’re introduced to Graham’s men Dee and Sunders, and we discover Graham is not someone you want to mess with. Enjoy! :D

CW : Animal corpse used as a metaphor, bribery mention, broken bones (and the symptoms that accompany them), concussion, cowboy shenanigans, gun mention and threat (not real), hogtie threat (not yet realized), knife mention, mild cursing, somewhat degrading language, thieving mention, touch of low self esteem, vaguely implied unsafe home life.

(I’m new to content warnings, so if I’ve missed something, please don’t hesitate to let me know! :D )

Tagging: @milk-carton-whump, @unicornscotty, @abitefullofwhump, @alliecat5594, @ihaveacrushonjester (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list!

2 - Good Ol’ Righteous Cowboy

Weston has only met Graham twice before this. Once, last week when he came to investigate the ranch’s missing cattle. “Sheriff Graham Miller,” he’d introduced himself. The way he’d carried himself, charming and self-assured, Weston was sure the culprit would get theirs, and if Johnson was lucky, he’d get his cattle back before Weston moved on.

And then Weston found that handkerchief caught on the barbed wire fence, “G.M.” embroidered on it in a stunning shade of blue. As far as leads went, it was pretty thin, but that blue thread and those initials—there was no way it could be a coincidence.  

Which is what led him to his second encounter, dressed in Johnson’s clothes, pretending to be a wealthy man in search of some cattle for his father’s failing ranch. Of course, Weston was nowhere near wealthy, and his father’s ranch, he’d remembered with a shudder, was doing just fine, but wearing Johnson’s Sunday best, he sure as hell looked the part. 

But with Graham being the one to show him around, he could only see so much. Weston was walked past rolling pastures and prize-winning cattle, sure, but no proof. 

Which is what led him to his final attempt at getting it, not exactly a third encounter but one that led to it—this one—kneeling in front of two of Graham’s men, a lasso tight around his middle and with his right ankle throbbing painfully with every heartbeat. 

Despite their lack of history, when one of Graham’s men pistol whips him across the face, it feels strangely personal. Weston can feel the malice, sees the satisfaction on the left’s face when his own snaps sharply to the right. The shock of it almost overwhelms the burn. Almost.

Weston stays there for a second, hunched over with his eyes squeezed shut, reminding himself to breathe, letting out a pained groan instead. Another breath, this time bracing. He shakes off the stinging pain and rights himself with a tight lipped smile. 

His tongue darts out over his bottom lip, tastes blood. Yeah, he’s sporting a split lip now. He winces at the pain, more an ache than a burn now, and blinks back involuntary tears. 

When Weston raises his eyes again, the man has his revolver in hand, arm pulled back to strike him again. God, he hates to admit it, but he flinches, tucking his face into his shoulder, waiting for the blow.

He hears the grunt of effort, expects his view to whip right again in a burst of pain when he hears, “Stop playing with him, Dee. Get his legs.” When Weston doesn’t feel the strike, he allows himself a glance in the direction of the voice. 

It’s the man on the right, face stony with purpose. 

The man on the left, “Dee” Weston assumes, shoots the man a venomous glare, then turns to look at Graham, who’s digging into the saddle bag of one of the horses. 

Graham’s not paying attention when the butt of the gun slams into Weston’s temple. 

Weston hits the ground hard, landing heavily on his shoulder, cheek pressed into hot rocky dirt. His head, oh God. He gasps against the blinding pain, eyes skewed shut as he gapes like a fish out of water. 

“Dee.” Between the ringing in his ears and his ragged breaths, he hears it, a low reprimand but not a surprised one. 

Weston forces his eyes open to look at the two men now looming over him, but he ends up shutting them again. When did the sun get so damn bright? 

“You wanted me to get his feet, Sunders.” Sunders. That’s got to be the other man’s name. And—wait, they’re still talking. Focus, Weston, focus! “ —think he was gonna let us tie him up that easy? Graham likes Randy clueless. The sooner he’s tied up, the less questions we gotta answer. Get me?” 

Randy? Who the hell’s Randy? 

Weston lies there for what feels like ages before the more important thoughts make their way back to him. Graham’s here. Dee and Sunders, they’re going to tie him up. His ankle’s shot, he’s got that lasso around him that’s not going to let him go anywhere. 

And all three of them are armed. Great. 

Weston worms his arm out from under him and eases himself up until he’s propped on an elbow. For a moment, the world spins. Forget cotton. His head’s full of sloshing water, distorting and disorienting and all too heavy for what it is. 

He wants to lie back down, let whatever’s going to happen happen. He’ll feel those ropes dig into the tender skin of his wrists and bite into his swelling ankle. Will they make him walk? No, not with a hogtie. He’ll more likely be draped over the back of a horse and taken back to the ranch, where— 

Where what? Who knows what’ll happen back at that ranch? And what the hell is he thinking, lying back down and giving in? He shakes his head with a sneer. If he’s going to that no good sheriff’s ranch, he’s going angry, not complacent. 

So he pushes himself up until he’s sitting again, lightheadedness be damned, and squinting at Graham’s back, legs stretched out in front of him, he calls, “You needed three guys to get a hold of me, Graham?” It comes out a groan, nowhere near as snarky as he wants it to be, but it’s dripping with sarcasm nonetheless—and based on the smile that sneaks over the sheriff’s face, it catches his attention. “Why, I’m flattered. ‘Course, I probably should’ve expected as much.”

Dee’s at eye level in an instant. He grabs a fistful of Weston’s shirt and jerks him forward, lips curled up in a snarl. “Why, you—” 

But Graham just laughs from his spot by the horses. 

Dee’s eyes, still shining with murder, flicker with confusion, and Weston’s gaze snaps over to Graham, doubled over with warm, genuine laughter. What the hell?

The grip on Weston’s shirt wavers as the seconds tick by. Finally, Weston clears his throat and says, “Sure, I find your stupidity funny, too, but—” 

Graham’s gun is trained on him before he can finish. 

“Dee,” Graham says, motioning with his revolver. It’s a command. Dee barely spares Weston a smug grin before pulling his hands from Weston’s clothes and stepping into place between Graham and Sunders.

Graham squares his shoulders and, accent thicker than Weston’s ever heard it, he says, “What’s funny is you talking about stupidity.” 

Weston knows he should be scared, and he is. He feels it, unadulterated fear, making its way to his shaking fingers, twisting knots deep in his stomach, watching him stare down the blackened barrel of this gun, telling him, Give up, give in. Maybe he’ll let you walk away. 

It’s so damn tempting.

But Weston has already given in to too many people like Graham with the promise of walking away too many times, so despite everything, he balls his trembling hands into fists, meets Graham’s eyes with a pained smirk, and says, “Please, do tell.” 

Graham grins. 

“Good ol’ righteous Weston Casey.” He shrugs past Dee and Sunders and makes his way towards Weston, digits lazily fingering his gun’s trigger, blue eyes scanning him and the barely concealed shock on his face. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you. Hardworking, dependable, new in town. You rolled on in here just last month, didn’t you?”

Weston doesn’t answer. Instead, he changes the subject. “What do you mean, ‘righteous’?” 

Graham stops by Weston’s feet and sits back on his haunches, eyes trailing idly over his body. “I mean your absurd morals,” he says. “I’d heard about it before, but I saw it clear as day when I came to Johnson’s ranch yesterday. You were angry for him.” He laughs to himself, toying with the trigger thoughtlessly. 

But the hammer’s still standing tall by the frame, not pulled back. So the gun’s not cocked yet. It never was. That’s good news. 

“It’s a damn shame,” Graham continues. He’s looking at Weston’s face again, a tiny knowing smile on his lips. Did Weston’s realization show? “The bribe I would’ve paid you—beyond generous. Not that you would’ve taken it.”

“What’s this got to do with stupidity?” Weston cuts in. He’s stalling at this point, he knows it, but he needs something—anything—to distract him from the fear bubbling just beneath his surface. 

“Well, we’re talking about you, aren’t we?” Another flick over the trigger as Graham’s tone shifts, almost amused. “A good, quiet stranger rolls into town, surely minding his own business when something not quite right goes down. A few cows go missing. Nothing special, nothing new. Cattle go missing all the time around these parts. But being him, he decides he wants to investigate.” 

Graham’s voice darkens then. Weston forces himself to be still under Graham’s scrutiny as his eyes travel over his left leg, then to his right. Then to his right ankle, swelling like a cow’s carcass in the summer sun under his jeans. “And he finds out a little too much,” Graham continues. “And he gets in a little too deep. And he decides he wants to do the right thing. Which, in itself, is not a stupid thought.” Graham glances back up at Weston. “But his—your—morals, they get in the way of some really great opportunities. A guy like you would fit into this cattle rustling operation real well.” 

At that, Dee’s expression visibly sours behind Graham, but he stays quiet. Smart or scared?

“I know you won’t take the bribe,” Graham says lowly, “but how about a fair trade? Your work for my money, plain and simple.”  

Weston scoffs to himself. His heart is in his throat pounding so loud he can hear it, but it’s not even a question. He meets Graham’s eyes through his mop of hair and says, “Over my dead body.” 

He means it. 

Graham stares at him, and for a second Weston thinks he might burst out laughing again. But he just smiles, more to himself than Weston, seemingly thinking something over. 

He tucks his gun back into his holster, shoots Weston a big grin. And then his gloved hands shoot out and twist his right foot hard.

Weston’s broken bones in the past. He’s felt that wet snap of the initial break. He’s felt the numb shock before his brain catches up with his body. He’s felt that nauseating pain that accompanies every jostle and movement of the site.

But he’s never felt anything like this.

Weston shrieks, white hot blinding, agonizing pain that he feels all the way to his fingertips in sharp, involuntary spasms. Overwhelming, all encompassing. In this moment, Weston is pain. 

Too much, too much, too much! It’s blaring in his head like a siren, that fear. His face goes hot, then cold. Tears run down his cheeks, but he’s too focused on gritting his teeth against another wail to care.

“See, I gave you a chance just then,” Graham says over his cries. “I offered you a job, nice and respectable like, and you turned it down—and for what?” He leans in close to Weston, a hand still twisted in the fabric of his pant leg. “A few meaningless morals? If you ask me, that’s awful stupid of you.”

Graham wrenches his ankle again, and even though Weston knows what to expect, it’s just as awful as the first time—worse even. Bone grinding on bone, leather on swollen, hypersensitive, hot-to-the-touch flesh. 

He throws his head back with a broken sob. “G-Graham—!” Weston doesn’t know why he says that. He doesn’t even realize it’s him saying it, not in his current state, concussed and half delirious with pain. 

But he definitely hears “Yes, Weston?” through the haze, barely registers Graham’s hand leaving his leg. 

The twisting’s stopped, Weston knows it, but the pain hasn’t. He still feels it, twisting, twisting, the rough seams of Graham’s leather gloves on swollen skin. And he feels dread, prominent, telling him this isn’t the worst to come, not by a long shot, that only makes it hurt worse.

He hasn’t felt a dread like this since his last month at the family ranch.

As the worst of the pain melts from his limbs, just enough for it to be bearable,  his wits start to come back to him, and it occurs to him that he cried out Graham’s name in an agony-induced panic. Then Graham had asked him a question: “Yes, Weston?” His stomach drops at the thought. 

What had he been looking to say? Would he have begged? “G-Graham, please stop! Please!” Or would he have bargained? “G-Graham, I won’t tell a soul, I swear!” Maybe, Weston realizes with a thick swallow, he would’ve accepted Graham’s terrible offer, helping steal cattle for the man he’s grown to hate in the last twenty-four hours to save himself. “G-Graham, I… I’ll do it.”

Graham had called him righteous.

Weston is a coward. 

“Weston, you wanted to say something to me?” Graham is grinning, blue eyes glimmering with mirth. He wants to know what he was going to say just as much as Weston does.

Weston stares at his feet. His ankle is back to that constant throb, but the muscles in his foot and calf are still twitching and seizing from Graham’s rough hands. “Yeah, I did,” he says quietly. “I wanted to tell you, ‘Graham…’”  

He shakes his head, sets his jaw, meets Graham’s eyes with a steely gaze. And then he spits at him, fueled by what little fight he has left, “‘Graham, get your damn hands off of me.’”

Righteous. Coward. 

Liar.

Graham stares at him for a long moment before rising to his feet, that stupid smug grin still on his face when he looks back down at him. 

“I like you, Weston. I really do,” he says, vaguely apologetic, “and you’ve made a lot of stupid decisions today that I could forgive you for. But that decision you made just now, making an enemy out of me? Real stupid.” 

Graham turns on his heel and shoulders his way past Dee and Sunders again, only this time he stops between them and, in a voice just loud enough for Weston to hear, he says to them, “Now, I know I told you two to get him trussed up.” The look Graham gives Weston is chilling. “So tell me, what’s he still doing with his hands free?” Graham casts a final glance at Weston before Dee and Sunders make their way towards him for the second time.

This time, they don’t hesitate. Sunders pockets his knife, walks behind Weston, and tugs his arms behind his back, holding them together by the wrists. “Grab the rope from my horse, Dee,” he calls.

But Dee is standing by Weston’s feet, smiling a malicious smile. “His legs first,” Dee says. 

Weston can’t see Sunders’s face, but he can hear the exasperation in his voice from behind him when he replies, “There’s no way he’s going anywhere on that ankle now.”

“I know that.” Dee crouches down by Weston’s feet, eyes running down the length of his right leg. “But I want to start with his legs.”

Sunders sighs and drops Weston’s arms back to his sides, already aching at the joints from the position. 

“I’ll hold him down.” 

Sunders takes his spot next to Dee and puts pressure on Weston’s thighs, holding him still while Dee goes for Sunders’s rope. If Weston didn’t know better, he’d think they were trying to help him. 

But he does know better, and he knows their intentions are anything but pure. 

He could shove them off, Weston realizes from his spot on the ground. He could, and if he tried, he could get a good solid kick on Dee when he gets back if he uses his left leg. He’d sure as hell deserve it.

But watching Dee take his place by his feet again, Weston doesn’t. Smart or scared, righteous or cowardly—Weston doesn’t know anymore.  He just glares at Dee. 

Dee smiles back at him. “You got him, Sunders?”

“I’ve got him.”

“Good.”

Dee feels the rope in his hands, tests its strength with a few sharp pulls. Then he turns to look at Graham. 

Graham nods at him from by the horses. 

When Dee turns back to Weston, he’s grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“I’m gonna enjoy this.”

[lilravenswritings]

Waves of my Heart

A commission I did for the wonderful @witchesconstellation <3

Thank you so much for letting me work with your ocs and give them the honeymoon they deserve!

Oc: Keira Shepard (Merit), Jules Merit

A day at the beach

2k Words

********

Beautiful scarlet strands floated in the air behind the pale woman running along the sand, her laughter a melody of music Jules never wanted to live without again. The sound of the crashing waves beside them deafening, splashing tiny droplets of water onto their feet.

Jules ran after his wife, his joy palpable, overwhelming. To be with her at this moment, knowing they had each other for the rest of their lives, everything felt right in the world.

The sun had just begun it’s descent towards the horizon, bringing with it a light breeze. Keira’s black cover up danced with the wind.

Catching up to her easily, he lifted her, spinning around dramatically. Keira squealed, clutching tight to his shoulders. Feet safely planted back on the ground, she pressed her lips against his gently.

This kiss was no different from the others before it, a fire melting ice, an earthquake cracking a foundation, a firework lighting the night sky. Jules could feel how much his wife loved him whenever they joined like this; she put her whole weight behind it, cupping the back of his neck like she never wanted to be apart.

“You were right,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. A questioning hum vibrated through her, eyes shut. “The beach is definitely the best place to spend our honeymoon.”

Her cheeky grin could have lit up a thousand night skies. “I told you so.” They pulled apart, her melted chocolate eyes searching him, amused.

I don’t deserve her. The knowledge crashed through him every time they shared a tender moment. He watched as her love twisted to sorrow.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised. Her hand cupped his cheek, and he nuzzled into it. “Jules, there is nobody in the world I would rather be with. You are everything to me, don’t let your doubt get in the way of that.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had that conversation; she’d always find a way to let him know. Still, the little voice in his head never stopped trying to bring him down. “I know.”

Another chaste kiss, a tug of his hand, and Keira was able to, mostly, dispel the thoughts. She chatted animatedly about the wedding, all the cards they had gotten, and how sweet they all were. How it was so very lovely to see their families together at the reception.

She described how it felt to walk down the aisle and see him standing there, handsome in his suit and tie. How emotional it made her to know they were seconds away from belonging to each other. How their first dance made her feel, and how the song they danced to would always be her favorite for the rest of eternity.

A deep flush colored her cheeks, making her light freckles stand out. Their hands stayed connected throughout the walk back to their belongings; Jules kissed the top of hers every so often. She couldn’t hide her shy smile whenever he did, biting her lip and looking at the sand at their feet.

“I love you, Jules.” He startled at the words, having been deep in thought. She didn’t look at him to know he had heard her. It was just something she knew he knew, never even questioning whether it was obvious or not.

Keira loved him, and she was his Mrs. Merit. He beamed, pulling her close to wrap and arm around her shoulder. “I love you, my wife.”

She kissed his chest, warmth spreading through him at the action. “Let’s go swimming?” She suggested, turning them towards the water before the question had even been fully revealed. He followed obediently; why would he ever say no?

Water splashed everywhere as she lunged in, instantly diving beneath the water. Juled meandered in after her, moving much, much slower to adjust to the cooler temperature. Keira scoffed, throwing water at him playfully. His eyes went wide, he stumbled backwards. “Hey-!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s not that bad! Get in here,” she laughed, hitting the water at him again.

A sound of disbelief flowed off of him. Oh, you’re in for it now.” Keira squealed as he dove into her, tackling her under the water. She sputtered when they came back up, Jules’ arms wrapped around hers. Water dripped from their hair into their lashes.

They both cackled, peppered kisses shared between them before Keira puledl him back into the water. Using her feet to kick off of him, she had hoped for a quick getaway.

He caught hold of her foot last minute, tugging her back. He lifted her into the air, goosebumps rising along their skin as the air hit them. She giggled, struggling to loose his grip. “Jules, I’m cold. Come on, let me go!”

“Oh, you’re cold? Here, let me help you with that.”

Understanding immediately, Keira squirmed roughly. “No, no don’t you-” He let her go, tossing her into the water kicking and screaming. A loud gasp echoed around them as she emerged, amusement tickling her voice when she shouted: “Jules!”

“What?” He mocked with a grin. “You said you were cold.” She kicked water at him again.

Later, as Keira laid with her back pressed against Jules on their beach chair, they watched as the sky bled from blue to yellow, to orange, to purple, eventually turning into the black of night; stars shone bright without the lights of the city to dull their glow.

“Look!” Keira shouted, pointing up. “A shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”

Jules placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything I could ever want and more is right here beside me.”

He could just imagine the blush spreading across her cheeks as she swatted him. “That was so cheesy.” He chuckled, brushing his lips over her freckled shoulder. “I wish to always be this happy with you.”

A satisfied sigh of agreement grazed over her. “You’re right, I wish for that too.” His voice turned soft, quiet, like he didn’t want to disturb the moment. “And that was way cheesier than mine.”

“Not even close!” She scoffed. Then, turning so she could get a good look at him, she asked: “Do you want kids?”

Chewing his lip in thought, he pondered this. Did he want kids? He could picture them, sure. A little girl with Keira’s bright red hair and freckles swinging back and forth on a little playset in their backyard, eyes as blue as his pinched in joy. A brown headed little boy teetering down the stairs to run into Jules’ arms. A ghost of a smile danced over his lips. “With you? Yeah, I’d have them all.”

Her answering grin turned his limbs to mush. “I think we should get a dog too. Maybe a beagle? Although a fish might be the best thing for the kids for the first couple of years.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down there, we just got married. Let’s finish our honeymoon first, yeah?”

Her laugh was girlish and teasing all at the same time. “I know, I was just messing with you.” She paused, eyes drifting over his shoulder in thought. “Although, I would like to know where you see us living in a few years.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, eyes catching on her full lips. “I think a nice ranch style home, with a big fenced in yard for the kids to run around in. A big enough porch for us to sit on one of those swings and watch them, maybe even go out at night to look at the stars. A flower bed on both sides of the steps. No rose bushes, though. I don’t want the kids to get pricked. Maybe some trees in the yard, and a hammock.”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Hey, slow down. We just got married.” Her brown eyes glinted, mischievous but oh so soft at the thought of their future together. His arms tightened around her. He snuggled into her neck, breathing in the soothing scent of coconut mixed with salt from the ocean.

“You’re right, but I can’t help it. I look at you and imagine it all. Imagine our house, our yard, our kids. I think about the adventures we’re going to have, all the places I want to see with you by my side. I think about the mundane things, like cooking you breakfast on Mother’s Day, dancing with you in the kitchen after we’ve put the kids to bed, helping you do laundry even though you know I like my pants folded a certain way.”

She cleared her throat; Jules knew she was holding back tears. “And yet a pet is too much to handle?”

He snorted. “I’m thinking about our kids! Who knows if they’re going to be allergic, or if they’re even going to like the fish. And a beagle? Kind of small, don’t you think? How about something bigger, like a german shepherd-”

“Oh, nice-”

“-or even a husky? A dog to protect the home if I’m away,” he continued, speaking over her remark.

Keira pursed her lips in thought. “I guess we could get a german shepherd and name him Shepard, like my last name.”

“You’re old name,” Jules corrected.

A rush of air came out her nose; laughter. “My old name,” she conceded. She kissed his nose, nuzzled it with hers. “Let’s go down to the water and try to build sandcastles.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Right now? It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“Exactly! How many people can say that they’ve built sandcastles on the beach at night?” Before Jules could even think to respond, she remarked: “Not a whole lot of people, that’s who.” Her head bobbed in triumph, confident in her decision. How could he ever tell her no?

They walked across the sand, so much cooler now that the sun had been down for hours. The wind held a little more bite. A shiver ran down Jules’ spine.

“That one should go here,” Keira ordered after they had settled in their spot, plopping down a lump of wet sand on the spot she had picked out. “That will be the guard tower. And here, this will be the barracks. Oh, and we can’t forget the moat, who’d have a castle without a moat? That’s just idiotic.”

He’d never get used to the way his heart would swell over these simple moments. How, during even the most mundane of tasks, just being near her, hearing her talk, he’d instantly think I love you, I will never stop loving you, you have my heart.

“Okay! I think we’re ready for the flag now, don’t you my love?”

Swallowing, he put the fabric into her open palm. “Absolutely.” His voice sounded hoarse. She proudly placed it on top, standing to see the finished product. The castle looked… Horrible, if Jules had to be honest. Multiple places were already falling in on itself, the water from the moat overflowing and collapsing it from the bottom.

He’d never tell her though, especially as she pouted and looked to him for comfort. He pulled her into his embrace, instead looking over the beautiful ocean view.

“Look love, you can see the moonlight reflected on the water like it’s right here for us to touch.” He let his fingers drag across the skin along her spine. “I never thought about the fact that you’d be able to see the stars in the water as well.”

“Huh, I don’t think I ever have either.” She hummed, impressed by the revelation. It was one of the many things he loved about her, the way she was always eager and willing to learn anything she possibly could. She drank in information faster than a dehydrated animal, and it was never enough.

Clouds were slowly starting to form in the sky, crossing over the moon to leave them in total darkness for longer than a few seconds. “I think… We should probably get back to the hotel,” he offered, head tilting.

His wife sighed, “I guess we should.” His attention turned to her, inquisitive. She rushed on. “I’m not ready to go home yet. I want to stay on this vacation for the rest of our lives.”

“I want that too,” he whispered. “But we are needed back home. Besides, if we stay here, who will take care of our children? We can’t just leave them with the dog every day.”

She laughed hard, lightly bumping his shoulder with her head. Oh, shut it.”

His grin was infectious. “Never. You’re stuck with me, Keira Merit.”

[willowaudreykeyes]

I’m Afraid, Your Cute And We’re Both Stuck; Let’s Cuddle

@surohsopsisofclouds asked for (red 11) Wings and (purple 12) Spirits from here and I took the ‘spirits’ prompt and just made it into a Haunted House/fears thing and I hope that’s alright

@sparrowofsong​ @5am-the-foxing-hour​ @ladyedwina​

Pairings:  Romantic Intrulogical, Background Romantic Roceit, Background QPR Patmile

Warnings: Swearing, wings, collapsing structure, claustrophobia (fear of tight spaces), mentions of thalassophobia (fear of the ocean), fluffiness, my fear that Remus isn’t in character by the end of this

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Remus

Two stories tall, with dull brick walls and the occasional broken window. A stereotypical haunted house; recommended by Patton of course. If Virgil recommended one, it’d have reviews about a real ghost that made the rooms go cold and maybe a fork being thrown across the room. This place reeks of machinery and fake, money-grabbing tourism.

I glance up at the sound of wings, not fully turning towards it as I’d know my brother and best friend's wings anywhere. Roman has those huge angel wings that everyone swoons over because of their power and fluffiness; while Jan-Jan has awesome looking yellow-green scaled ones that he’s still self-conscious over since they’re often stereotyped to be with ‘evil’ people. 

So now I’m surrounded by winged-ones. Patton’s Puffin wings press tightly against his back as the sound of shattering glass, that’s been happening every five minutes on the dot, while Virgil’s huge Wedge-Tail Eagle wings fluff up despite knowing that it was going to happen again. At least Roman and Janus didn’t react as much, despite it being a shock to them

“You two are being fucking pussies.”

“Language, Em! And the shattering sound is scary… I can’t help it.” Patton should have brought his life-partner with him as it’d be more fun with more people. I guess after the last haunted house that we took Emile to, he wanted to be able to actually sleep this October.

“We’ll go inside soon, Pat. Is Logan here yet?” Oh yeah, that guy that I’m supposed to be meeting. Forgot about him. Virgil and Roman made him sound so boring, but they also made Remy sound boring before I met the guy while he was dealing with caffeine withdrawal. 

My foot sends a small stone flying as Virgil checks his phone; tsk-ing quietly as he starts typing. “He’s inside already. In the upstairs piano room.”

“I thought we were gonna meet him out here?” Oh my god; I’m going to die from boredom and haunt this place for real if I stand out here any longer. So I grab my jacket from the ground, throw it on and quickly slip between the fence bars instead of grabbing a ticket. No one’s watching anyway.

“I don’t care! I’m going in- Bye!”

“Remus! Wait up!”

Happily ignoring Roman, I slip in through an unlocked side door and fight the distant sound of doors slamming by letting my stomping echo through the house as I head upstairs. This place sucks at scares if they’re resulting in slamming doors, but I can probably piss off some employees if I can find one of their hidey holes. And finding this ‘Logan’ and messing with him would be a nice bonus.

Taking a glance into each room -and ignoring the bad jump scares of fake ghosts played by underpaid, teenage actors- I finally find the piano room Virgil mentioned with someone standing at the far end, by the window. Despite the poor lighting, I can tell that he’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and that his dark hair has been attempted to be slicked back. Perfect posture, hands held behind his back, shoulders tense; I may even be seeing a pair of those fancy black shoes that a lot of the richer kids in the area have. 

I shake my head as I step into the room, followed by an eerie creak in the floorboards. The guy spins around and I manage to see dark eyes behind some glasses before my legs suddenly give way.

One second I see those dark eyes, then the next I’m on the floor with sore arms and a heaviness on my back. A muffled voice, sounding close but layered beneath some kind of fog, gives me the energy to push myself off my stomach and onto my knees before I’m suddenly feeling exhausted.

Those eyes are in front of me again, but this time are a whole lot closer and also no longer as difficult to see that they’re a dark blue; as if the lighting has changed. With a quick glance around, I realise that it has. Because now there’s a broken piano, some splintered wooden pillars, a floodlight that looks like it’s been forgotten about, the walls showing their insides, and a giant fucking hole in the ceiling.

“What the hell...” This guy better have some answers- there’s no way that I should have fallen through the floor. But he looks just as roughed up as me, with some sawdust and a black feather in his now unkempt hair and his tie -who wears a tie to a haunted house?- is hanging around his neck. His huge, ruffled, pitch-black wings of some corvid don’t look injured at least. 

He… didn’t have wings a moment ago.

The guy must have noticed me staring at them, as he motions behind me wordlessly as he stands and brushes himself off. Something twinges in my gut as I turn slightly, only to find myself looking at the dusty wings of a hummingbird. They’re small and rather thin looking, but covered in blues and greens and a few hints of red. They flutter as I try out the new limbs, tearing another part of my shirt in the process. But who cares? I just grew two new limbs.

I’m pulled to my feet, my vision spinning slightly and a tightness in my chest makes it a little harder to breathe. My eyes drift back to the guy in front of me who seems like he’s not as stupefied as I am at what the hell just happened. “Uh… There’s a feather in your hair.”

His eyes widen as he reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, catching the feather along the way and taking a second to pocket it before nodding slightly. “Thank you.” I hear him taking in a sharp inhale as his wings twitch as they try to stay off the dirty floor. There’s no point as they’re covered in dust and dirt already, but he seems stubborn enough to keep trying. “As unexpected and strange as this encounter was, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Logan Crow.”

“Oh! You’re that guy I’m supposed to be meeting- Wait, your last name is ‘Crow’?” I point at the black masses on his back. “And you have those wings?” His brows dip in slightly; just enough that he looks kind of cute. I wonder what all of his other expressions look like...

“Purely coincidental. And you must be Remus Aurelian-”

Something grinds together, echoing the sounds of wood against metal and of a highly taught string snapping from the pressure. Logan’s wings move so that the joint sits higher than his head, ready to fly him away from danger; if only he actually knew how to fly.

I swallow with a dry mouth as I finally realise how small of a room that we find ourselves in. Not that the small amount of space is an issue. Nor that the room seems to be also empty, besides the useless, broken piano. “We should probably leave.”

“Agreed.” The door to the room is just a maintenance one; small enough to not draw attention to it the other side, while large enough to push through wood or something to fix these pillars. They obviously haven’t done so in a while...

It’s rusted hinges squeak with resistance until one of the screws pops out of place as I manage to push it open. But as I attempt to crawl through, a stab of pain flows up my back and shoulders as my new limbs hit the top of the door frame. I try again, wincing this time as I attempt to squeeze through until I’m dragged back inside by the leg.

“I can’t fit through that! Are you fucking kidding me?”

“If you can’t, I surely can’t either.” Even with my tiny-ass wings that may or may not be able to carry me in the future -something to worry about another time- we’re stuck in here unless we suddenly figure out how to fly. In this small room, with not even a window in it. Just four walls that seem to have gotten closer than the last time I had paid attention to them. “I’ll text message the others, see if they can get the operators of the house to help us.”

Standing up doesn’t help the irregular waves of nausea that continue to hit me, but it’s better than how hard it is to breathe when I’m sitting. “But that’s going to take ages!” Except now it’s both hard to breathe, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. And I feel light headed. And my legs don’t want to hold me up anymore. A deep growl escapes my throat as I kick the stump of the closest broken pillar, making a few extra chunks fly off of it. “Why the hell did they make half of these rooms so damn tiny!?”

I kick it again until a hand sits firmly on my shoulder. It’s weird that I already feel so much for this guy, as anyone else would get an elbow to the ribs for touching me while this nausea keeps attacking me. I move away instead, huffing a bit while also taking in a few deeper breaths. “Are… Remus, do you happen to be claustrophobic?”

“What? Fuck no.” I can almost see Janus raising his eyebrow at me; always somehow knowing when I’m lying. It’s just some stupid fear that everyone thinks that I got over years ago. I can last until someone comes to grab us. Maybe sitting down will help...

“I know that we have only just met, but I will ask if you need comforting right now. And before you say that you don’t need it; you are shaking.” The nausea fades into chills and a heavy stone in my gut as I look at my hands as the ground gets a little closer. I close my eyes, hoping that I can just imagine that I’m outside or in a huge cathedral with furniture and lots of room to run around. My hands aren’t shaking; they can’t be shaking. If Roman or Patton or Virgil- anyone knew that I would turn into this wreck just because I’m in a tiny space, I’d never hear the end of it. Being afraid isn’t… It’s not me.

A comforting warmth makes me jump, sliding me off of my pins-and-needles-filled legs. Something slides in behind me, with one hand on my waist and the other helping my wings fold before I’m pulled into a chest. Logan’s chest. When the hell did he wrap his wings around me? 

“I’m not great at this…”

“It’s cool.” I go to say ‘me either’, but instead decide to relax into him. My chest still hurts and it's still harder to breathe then what I’d like.

“You were crying.” 

“I didn’t notice.” Well fuck. What a great first impression this has been. He doesn’t sound judgemental, and he has his wings around me, so he mustn’t think too badly of me. Probably...

“Are you alright?”

I shake my head, sighing as he adjusts the both of us for a few seconds before he finally seems comfortable. “Don’t tell anyone that this happened. They uh, don’t know.” All of my usual drivel and weird flirts are weirdly vacant from my head. It’s weird since that’s the usual, but it’s not bad. I don’t think I’ve felt this comfortable since I was a kid. “The claustrophobia thing, I mean.” 

“Ah. Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Logan seems shy; that’ll be fun to fuck with later. A distant scream from the haunted house brings his arm further around me, and I definitely get a smug smirk because I know that Roman didn’t get cuddles for weeks after meeting Janus. Logan may be a little awkward but holy shit, I already love this.

It's too quiet though; I can hear how bad my breathing is and it’s making me way too self conscious. “I’m gonna eat a full squid in front of Roman to cheer myself up after this.” He stifles his laugh too. Oh, he really is a shy one! And he doesn’t get grossed out easily from the sounds of it.

“They do have three hearts that could be used to help you scare him, but I’m unsure if they are also edible. It may depend on the species.” He hesitates for a moment, moving his head to look down at me, judging by how he’s moving. Roman did say that he was a nerd, but not about stuff that’s actually cool. “I do know that they use two for their gills while the third sends blood to the rest of the body.”

He stops again, this time tensing up the shoulder that I’m using as a pillow. With a huff, I reach up to pat his face before closing my eyes; getting comfortable enough to try and forget where we are. “Keep goin’, you’re nice to listen to. Got that sexy teacher voice thing going on.”

I’m exhausted, but manage a chuckle after his sputters for a moment. He starts talking once more as the hand that’s wrapped around me lightly tapping a rhythm against my side.

“Oh, uhm, alright. I myself am afraid of the ocean, as we have mapped far more of Mars then it and it confirms that over ninety percent of the world is in the dark, but it is rather fascinating to know that ninety-five percent of life on Earth comes from our Ocean’s-” I get to listen to Logan talk endlessly about cool facts, wrapped in his large wings, while being comforted about some silly fear as we sit inside of a partially collapsed room? I think I could get used to stuff like this.

[prettyyyboyluke]

6-3; 6-0

pls enjoy tennis coach ashton 

~ 

“okay, i need elizabeth and nicole to play a challenge match to see who will get placed in second and third singles for this round.” ashton speaks, looking over his clipboard. “all doubles players will be with coach justin today, y/n, you and i are going to be working one on one.” he finishes. everyone goes to their designated courts and begin to work on what they were told. i grab my bag and follow ashton off the courts and up to the higher ones. once i place my bag down and grab my racket, all of my attention is on ashton.

he looks over his clipboard one more time before setting it down and grabbing his racket to join me in the middle of the court. “alright, y/n, i’m going to need you to push yourself the absolute hardest for me. you’re my best player, and i know you want that win against cameron just as much as i do.” he begins. this weekend was a very important tournament for us. and i needed to get my win against my rival, cameron. she is one of the dirtiest players you could ever meet. 

she would purposely call balls out that were in when we were playing out the deuce point. there was a point in the match where both ashton and the official had to watch and of course she played by the rules, but once they were gone, it was right back to the dirty habit.  

we start by just warming up short court, and then we move to full court. ashton was aiming the ball all over the place, really making me run for it. after the third ball i missed, he sighed and beckoned me over. “i need you to focus, doll. keep your eye on the ball, don’t just assume where i’m going to hit it.” he sighs.

“but you told me to protect the alley. that’s where she hit’s it most of the time.” i huff back.

“yes, but you know she can change it up and hit it across court to where you’re in no shape to get it.”

ashton continues to make me run all around the court. hitting balls that are deep, hitting some that are short, and of course he had to throw some overheads in there. “that’s the third overhead you missed, y/n. what have i told you?” ashton says, frustration clear in his voice.

“point up, move my shoulders, and shuffle.” i say back to him.

“exactly, so why are you missing them?” he presses.

“i don’t know! i’m stressed! there’s so much pressure for this goddamn tournament, i don’t wanna disappoint anyone.”

this whole season i’ve been training and training for this tournament, and now that it’s right around the corner, all my nerves are setting in. “y/n, take a deep breath for me, baby. it’s going to work out, alright? why don’t we just do some serves, i know you like to take your anger out on them.” ashton says with a calm voice.

“i just don’t wanna disappoint you, i’ve lost to her too many times.” i say, a few tears slipping from my eyes.

“hey, listen to me, you’re not going to disappoint me, you never do. win or loose, i’m going to be so proud of you.”

i listen to what ashton is saying, and just take a few seconds to collect myself. most people hate serving, since it’s the hardest part about tennis, but i like it. each time i play against one of my teammates they always tell me they get so nervous when i serve. it’s my biggest strength. i end up acing most, if not all of my serves, and ashton has a big smile on his face. “atta girl, just keep ‘em like that, and you should be fine.”

~

if the nerves weren’t setting in before, they definitely are now. everyone is on their toes to play today, ready for their a-game, and ready to take down anyone to get to finals. “alright girls, we’ve practiced all month for this. it’s time you give it all you got, and whatever happens on the courts, happens. just know i am proud of every single one of you for getting us this far.” ashton says into our huddle. it’s reassuring to have a coach like him, he did push us hard, but he was very sweet and considerate about it. he did have a temper sometimes, but that was only when you really pushed him.

we all line up from one singles, all the way down to four doubles. the announcers and the referees introduce themselves and tell us who we’ll be playing and what court we’ll be one. “y/n, you’ll be playing against cameron on court 1.” i go up and shake her hand, keeping a straight face. we head to our court, but before i could get there, ashton grabs my hand and pulls me aside. “remember what i told you?” he whispers.

“yes, be on my toes and don’t assume where she’ll hit the ball.” i repeat back to him.

“good, and watch out for her serves, they have spin on them, but yours are hard and fast, i know you can do it, doll.” he says.

“you’re going to watch, right?”

“of course, good luck, love.” he says before letting go of my hand and giving my lower back a pat.

the match starts and i’m serving first. i close my eyes and take a deep breath before tossing the ball up and serving it right in the corner of the box. the point plays back and forth until i make a volley right in the middle of the court. “15-love.” is all that is said before i serve again. now this part is tricky since i’m on the backhand side, and they’re not as strong and my forehand. cameron does a short ball and i’m instantly running towards the ball. as soon as i hit it, she calls, “out!” i grip my racket harder, knowing that the ball wasn’t out.

the first set lasts a while with the standing score at 6-3, me having the win. as we’re switching sides, i see ashton beckon me over. “first set score?” he asks through the fence.

“6-3, i’m winning.” i smile.

“that’s my girl, just one more set, and you’ve got in the bag.” is all he says before i get back in the match. now, cameron is clearly upset, and i know this is when she pulls her dirty tricks out. she starts serving this first game, and the point starts. i keep hitting towards the corner, knowing that she stays in the middle of the court.

“out!” she calls, once my ball hits. “you’re kidding! there’s no way that was out!” i argue. “outside of the line, y/n. forgot the rules?” she snickers.

we’re now at deuce, meaning i have to win the next two points to get the first game. and to my success, i got it. the second set lasts way longer than the first, but i’ve managed to keep my cool and am up 5-0, which is surprising. maybe cameron is having an off day, but hey, i’m not complaining. i’m serving this last game, and i’m just praying i can win the four points easily. again, the points play out to my advantage, and i win with a score of 6-0. on the outside i’m smiling, but on the inside, i’m jumping and screaming for joy.

i go up to the net to shake cameron’s hand, “good game.” she gives me a quick shake before muttering, “good game.” i go off the courts to see ashton with the biggest smile on his face. i wrap my arms around his neck and he picks me up, making my legs wrap around his waist.

“i won! i never thought i’d see the day that i beat her!” i exclaim into his neck.

“i’m so proud of you, doll. i say we celebrate.” he whispers, giving my hips a squeeze. i pull back, his arms still holding me up,

“how should we celebrate?” i ask. if anything, i’d figure we all go out as a team.

ashton sets me down and takes my hand, leading me to the pro shop. he takes his keys out and unlocks his office. “why are we in your office? the other girls are still playing.” i say, a bit confused.

“they’ll be too long, most of them are in a tie breaker, and still the first set.” he says, closing the door.

“we can still go watch them!” i tell him.

“i’m more focused on rewarding someone else.” he smirks, walking over to me.

ashton is very affectionate, that’s just who he is as a person. and i guess we do flirt, a lot, but i never expected this. he does call me some pet names that none of the other girls get called, but i just assumed because he really only works with the singles players. one of his hands come up to move the fly aways of my hair. his thumb setting itself on my bottom lip, dragging it down. i look up at him, my heart racing the slightest bit. “open.” he says. i open my mouth and he slides his pointer and middle finger in my mouth. i close my lips around them and swirl my tongue around the digits.

his other hand is running up and down the insides of my tank top. he then moves it to snap at the waist band of my tennis skirt. i release his fingers from my mouth and lean up to catch his lips between mine. he picks me up and sets me on his desk, with my legs dangling off the edge. “i can tell you a hundred times how proud i am of you, but, i’d figure i’d show you just how proud i am of you. will you let me do that, doll?” he says, breaking our kiss. i nod to his question and bring his lips back down to mine.

ashton moves his hand to the inside of my skirt, tracing the waist band of my panties. my breath hitched in my throat when his hand moves to the inside of my panties, coating his fingers in my arousal. ashton pulls away, his lips traveling up my neck to suck right under my ear. “you make coaching very difficult for me, doll. do you know how hard you make me when you wear your uniform? how your skirt rises up when you serve...” he says between kisses. my head is thrown back when ashton inches his middle finger inside me. “especially when your tank tops are so tight. you want people to notice, don’t you?” he continues speaking.

a small moan is released from the back of my throat when ashton curls his finger between my walls. “so responsive to my touch, what happens if i add another finger?” he smirks. now ashton’s middle and ring finger are curling up against my walls, making my back arch even more.

“right there, please, please, don’t stop,” i mutter. ashton’s free hand pushes my stomach down, making my whole lower half stretch. i quickly take off my tank top, exposing more skin and sports bra that was underneath. my muscles clench down around his fingers, making him move faster. “oh god, ashton, i’m gonna cum,” i moan.

“cum for me, doll. c’mon, i want you to show me how i make you feel.” ashton says. moans and whines are leaving my throat each time he curls his fingers, making my stomach coil and burn. i couldn’t hold myself up any longer, i laid back on ashton’s desk, letting pleasure take over me. my eyes were squeezed shut as i let my high take over me. “that’s a good girl, always making me so proud.” ashton whispers as his pace slows down. my chest is heaving up and down with a foggy mind. i can feel ashton wiggle my skirt and panties down to my ankles, his shorts quickly following them.

the tip of his cock slaps against my heat a few times before he eases himself in. “jesus christ, you’re so fucking wet,” ashton moans. my elbows are propping myself up again so i can look down at a filthy scene. ashton’s thumb makes its way into my mouth, giving me an opportunity to suck on it again. ashton’s hips move quick, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

“god, ashton, please, harder! i-i want it harder,” i whine. he removes his thumb from my mouth, placing both hands on my hips and driving himself harder into me.

my back is flush against his desk again. one of my own hands go between my legs to rub circles on my clit, making everything bubble up faster. “fucking squeezing me so well, doll. fuck, i’m almost there, baby.” ashton moans. the front of his curls are sticking to his forehead.

“please, i’m so close ash, i want it,” i whine again. the tip of his cock hits the spongy spot that makes my legs start shaking. my muscles clench around his cock, and the bubble in my stomach ready to explode. “yes, yes, yes, don’t you fucking stop!” i moan loudly.

grunts are leaving ashton’s lips left and right while he’s chasing his own high. “i’m gonna cum, doll, fuck, you feel so good,” ashton moans. he places one of my legs above his shoulders, driving further and further inside me. my hand gets sloppy between my legs as that bubble starts to explode. everything becomes tight, my shoulders rolling back and ashton’s buckling forward. i can feel his cock twitch before releasing his load. both of us are now catching our breath, eyes closed as our bodies come out of the bliss feeling they were just in.

“i’m so proud of you, baby doll.”

[dreamyjoons]

Last Light ⥋ 01

⥋ Alone was how you preferred it. People came with feelings, feelings get you killed - and death in the new world wasn’t permanent. But not everything is avoidable, and Kim Taehyung is no exception.

Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse!au, slight gore, blood, swearing, some angst.

Future chaps will include violence, character death, angst, smut, some gore, etc. You know what apocalypses entail. But there will be some good too, fluff and jokes, some calm in the eye of the storm.

Words: 3k

A/N: finally finally, i’m getting around to posting this. Zombie fiction is in my blood, dudes, my favourite genre of anything ever. I can’t wait to begin this series! Thanks to my girl Lucy (underthejinfluence) for pushing me to finally do this. I hope you’re all excited to join me on this journey.

⥋ Chapter 01: tarmac

Masterlist

An engine splutters off in the street below.

The noise bounces off every silent surface, echoing through your small end of town.

You hit the floor, a string of silent curse words falling from your lips.

Carefully you shuffle to the window, debris rolling awkwardly under your feet as you peer into the street below.

You blow out a steadying breath as you use two fingers to slowly separate the blinds, eyes scanning the once deserted street.

You follow the trail of smoke, passing your eyes over the weave of cars and debris that littered the street. Smashed glass and blood are splattered across the street. It wasn’t an unusual sight any more, the chaos mere background noise to what you were on the lookout for.

You see two men climb out of the car parked haphazardly at the end of the road, both tall, both holding weapons. A brunette and a dirty blond, decent athletic builds, both clutching heavy melee weapons. Definitely not people you wanted to cross.

Mercifully they were facing away from you, jogging towards the looted stores a little way up the high street. And by the looks of it, they had left their vehicle unlocked.

You snuck back from the window, grabbing your rucksack and stuffing your recently looted items into the raggedy pockets. The pack had lasted you decently long enough, but soon it was gonna fall apart. But that was a bridge you had to cross when you get to it. Now wasn’t the time to get bogged down in the future when the present was so delicate.

You’d made it this far without being cornered by people, you weren’t about to change that now.

Tucking an ugly-looking can of prunes in your rucksack, you pull the cord and knot it tightly. You hoist it up on your back and pull your bandana back over your mouth and nose, ready to face the world outside. Well, ready was an overstatement, but needs must. You pick up the hockey stick you had recently looted and turn it over in your hands, letting it sit comfortably.

If you were careful, this would be a clean getaway, no one would even know-

Gunshots.

A gasp rips through you, panic seizing in your chest. You sink to your knees, the feeling of liquid seeping into the leg of your tatty jeans.

Your eyes subconsciously move to the source of the damp, wincing when your eyes come across the mess.

He had been young. Barely out of his teens, dirty blond hair and skinny. A crumpled suit and tie sit on his figure, good quality and well fitted.

It had only taken three blows to kill him. Again.

This was the reality now. The dead had refused to stay down, and the country was engulfed in less than a week. Who knew what happened to the rest of the world.

Those left alive that hadn’t been bit and turned had grown cruel. It was less dog eat dog, and more human eat human.

You were determined not to be caught up in it.

Days had stretched into weeks, weeks into months and before long time wasn’t something to record, but just survive. There was nothing left of your family, your friends, the life you once knew. The only thing that you had left was a heightened sense of anxiety, a hockey stick, and an unappealing tin of prunes.

And now, a difficult escape.

You could hear two raised voices. The men must have realised how dumb it was to shoot their gun, the noise ricochetting off the barren street.

At least, there was no-

Moans. Unmistakable and blood-curling. Dozens of them.

You stagger to your feet and sprint to the window, all worries of subtlety gone. You rip open the blinds and scan the street, watching as a shambling herd of the undead move into the outskirts of the street.

The summer heat had rotted their bodies, a haze seemed to follow the falling-apart mass as they shuffled closer to your location. You knew the smell that rolled off them. You’d been too close to the nightmares more times than you cared to count. But there was never time to focus, just the imperative need to escape. You rip your eyes away, heart thudding in your chest.

“Fuck!” You shout, turning and sprinting to the door.

The noise of the engine must have drawn them in your general direction. The gunshot signed your death warrant.

There was no way you could stick around - once you’re trapped, they will find you. And no matter how much your stamina had improved since everything had imploded, you didn't think fighting off twenty of the undead bastards was entirely possible.

You leap over the oozing body and scramble down the stairs, throwing open the door and stumbling into the street, hockey stick brandished. You draw in a staggered breath through your bandana, heart beating erratically in your chest.

The herd hadn’t gotten too close, but you were rapidly running out of options. You scan the area for the best route out of the town, over high fences and back-to-back buildings.

Then, in the midst of unnatural and close rumbles of growls, you spot it: the vehicle, the one the men had left unlocked. You didn’t have time to play nice, it was either them or you.

But then you spot them, two figures jogging up the high street, weapons in hand. The smaller one slows, finally noticing you. You use his hesitation as your moment to strike.

You begin sprinting, ignoring the immoral guilt that builds in the depth of your stomach. Seemingly noticing your plan, the blonde one shouts at his companion. The smaller brushes him aside, tearing towards the car.

You had to get to the car. It was the only way to safely get away from the horde for good. It was the only way to survive, and if that meant living with the guilt of leaving survivors behind… well. You’ve had to survive worse. They would too.

Your feet smack loudly on the tarmac as you run, the sound drowned out by the shambling horror emitting from the undead.

You’re not far from the car, and the men are slowed as they weave through cars and debris in the street. Escape is hot in your veins, the tentative touch of escape brushing on your skin.

But then one of the undead staggers out from an alley, and you’re blindsided.

It catches you by the shoulder, sending you both tumbling into the debris-covered road. Your skin burns from skidding on the ground but you force yourself to ignore it, rolling away from the creature. It lands next to you, oblivious to the noise it’s brittle bones makes as it hits the tarmac. Its fingers grasp at your jeans, clawing itself closer to you, teeth gnashing angrily.

You crawl away, getting just enough distance to raise your hockey stick and bring it down on the creature’s temple. There’s a loud crack, and the grip around your leg loosens. You kick the undead mass away from you, ignoring the dark congealed splatters of blood that coats your clothes and hockey stick.

The gargle that was forced out of what was left of its mouth ceased, but you didn’t have time to celebrate your victory. The mass of bodies were close, only twenty yards away and shambling closer. And the stench they brought with them was pungent, threatening to make your eyes water.

The adrenaline courses through you as you race back to your feet, stinging plaguing your skin. You trip, body aching as you push on, pulse thumping in your ears.

But you force one foot in front of the other, hurtling yourself at the car.

Your fingers graze the plastic trim of the handle when you’re shoved by the shoulder, slamming you back into the rear door.

Fear seizes you as you claw desperately at your hockey stick, only to be met with dark eyes. Living, angry dark eyes.

One of the men stands opposite you, a frown so deep on his face that you thought he was going to kill you there and then. Blood splatter is dotted over his smooth skin, freckles hidden under the dark drops. An angry mist settles over his face, along with something all too recognisable - fear. Your lower lip trembles, but it remains hidden behind your bandana.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He snaps, furious eyes probing your face. His voice is low, dangerously low, striking you right in the centre of your chest.

“Trying to survive-“

“Tae, we gotta go. Let her in-“

“No way, Joon. She was gonna take the car! Why should we?”

“Make your mind up, or we’ll all die!” You shout, bashing his hand from your shoulder and eyeing the horde over his shoulder. They weren’t far - just a few moments and they’d be on you.

“Taehyung, we save lives first.”

The angry one, Taehyung, stares at you, eyes burning bright as he sizes you up. You hold firm, determined not to buckle under his pressure.

“Get in.”

He steps back from you, ripping the driver door open and jumping in. You don’t hesitate, opening the door and throwing yourself inside, your rucksack digging into your back and your hockey stick propped against the door. The other man, Joon, gets in the back beside you, heavy pants palling from his lips.

Taehyung turns on the engine, the vehicle slowly rumbling to life. You spin, staring out of the dusty rear window as hands slam onto the glass, making you cry out.

The car lurches forward as shadows begin to cover the windows. Your heart is in your throat as you heave in a breath, eyes scanning around you as the rev of the engine drowns out the hollow groans that surrounded the car.

Soon you’re flying, Taehyung throwing the car through the gears as he tears through the streets. The growls growl distant, and you stare out of the rear window, your breathing slowing beginning to even out.

As the adrenaline slowly begins to wear off, you feel the scrapes and aches from your knock in the road. Your joints ached, lack of sleep pulled tightly at your bones, your lungs burned from exertion.

“God that was way too close.” The long man next to you sighed, slumping in the chair and huffing in a breath. He virtually slides off his seat, hands slapping across his chest.

Despite yourself, you smile, watching as he squishes in the tight space. You were almost giddy, the ebb of adrenaline and the taste of survival swirling in your mind. You promptly stop the noise when you see Taehyung jerk awkwardly in the front seat, harsh eyes glaring at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Thank you. For not leaving me.” You state, straightening in your seat.

“It was the right thing to do.” Joon shrugs in the seat, though the move is jerky.

“Kim Namjoon.” He smiles, thick lips stretched across his teeth, dimples poking out as he reaches a hand to you to shake.

You’re floored at how nice he was being, and concern prickled under your skin. You gripped your hockey stick tighter, ready to strike, as you reached out to shake his hand. But all he does is bounce your hands a few times, his big warm hand enveloping yours.

You want to trust him, you realise. You know you shouldn’t, you know that you shouldn’t be in the car with them like this. But your gut twists, the chance at finding someone decent in the world too good to be true.

“Y/N.” You state, lips forming half a smile.

“Nice to meet another living breathing human. Up front is Taehyung.” He gestures, finally wriggling up into a sitting position.

You flick your eyes to Taehyung and smile weakly at him. All he does is meet your eye for the briefest second before turning his harsh gaze back on the road, thick brow furrowed.

“Charming. Sorry, he’s not usually this cold. Half our group are still missing and-”

“Namjoon! We can’t trust her, don’t say anything else.”

“This is about humanity, Tae. Stop being-”

“Look, uh, Namjoon. Honestly, it’s okay. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. It’s really fine.” You assure him.

He offers you a sad look before giving Taehyung a withering one. He looks at you in the rear-view mirror, and you do your best to avoid his icy glare. You didn’t want to be here any more than he did.

You flick your eyes away from him, letting them land in your lap. Bloody covers nearly every inch of your jeans, tears from your skid on the road gaping across your knees and thighs. Every inch stings, but now wasn’t the time to lick your wounds. You needed to be safe before you let your guard down. And that meant being alone.

“Look, thanks for helping me out there, and I’m sorry for trying to take your car but we all have to survive somehow. If you can just pull over, I can get out anywhere and-”

“Alone?” Namjoon gasps, and you look at him, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? We have plenty of space-”

“Joon, no way!” Taehyung shouts from the front, his voice dangerously low. His fingers are gripped tightly over the wheel, knuckles paling under the pressure.

The world whips past you, the outcrops of the town faded into motorway and forest that surround it. The car moves fast, Taehyung careful to avoid debris and abandoned cars that litter the motorway. The evening light slowly creeps over the world that surrounds you, and if you keep your eyes up, it's a pretty sight.

“No, it’s fine.” You say eventually, you stab of offence rippling through you. You would do the same in his situation, but it still stung.

However you realise that these men didn’t seem so bad. At least, not right now. You shuffle in your seat, your rucksack digging awkwardly into your back.

“But you’re alone!” Namjoon shouts, spinning in his seat to face you.

“Yeah, I’m just fine. I’ve been on my own since the beginning, I can handle it now.” You smile sadly at him, and you watch as his face appears crestfallen.

“But that’s not right.” Namjoon whispers.

“Truly, it’s fine. You’re the first survivors I’ve met in the last two months who haven’t tried to kill me or whatever. I don’t want to wait and see if you will.”

Your words are harsher than you intend, but the truth rings painfully loud. A silence settles in the car, the thoughts and sights you had all seen in such a short time playing out. The world was different, harsh and broken.

The minutes tick by, the occasional undead falling behind as you plough past. The sky dips into a deep purple, the dark whispers of the night coming into view.

Taehyung shifts in front of you, and you meet his stoic gaze, and for the slightest of moments, he seemed softened, his humanity peeking through his world-beaten shell. But it passes in an instant, his eyebrows creasing as he closes himself off once more.

The car begins to slow, the steady rumble doing little to still the worry that swirls into your gut.

Yes, these men are strangers. But inside that car, the chaos of the world outside was removed, forgettable. People as a whole couldn’t be trusted, but a certain person or two could be.

You move slow, the hockey stick tightly held in your fist as you move for the door handle.

“Look, you don’t have to survive this alone-“

“Namjoon-“

“No please, Y/N. Let me finish. If you do decide that you don’t want to be alone, I'll come back here at noon for the next two days. If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

“Joon! That’s not for you to decide.” Taehyung eyes you warily before looking back at his friend, concern pulled tight on his face.

“Tae, you’re not this heartless.” Namjoon spits, anger bubbling hotly on his face.

“Someone has to be.” He mouths, facing forward again, hands balling into fists on the wheel. You swallow thickly, sliding to the edge of your seat.

“That’s kind of you, but really. I’ll be okay.”

Namjoon huffs, lips pulled tight as he examines your face. But you hold firm, and finally he relents, letting out a sigh.

“I’ll still wait but… good luck. Good luck with everything.”

You nod at him, a pang resonating through your chest. You cast a quick eye around the area, eyes hovering over the random outcrop of cars and overturned tanker that sat awkwardly across the central reservation. You open the door, the warmth of the evening hitting you like a wall.

“Thanks for not leaving me.” You offer weakly to Taehyung.

He clears his throat awkwardly, moving to meet your eyes in the mirror. A frown crosses his face, his deep gaze locked with yours.

“Don’t.. uh, die.” He offers, deep voice barely above a whisper.

You feel Namjoon wither on the seat beside you, an exasperated sigh leaving him. But you smile, despite yourself.

“Yeah, you too.”

Finally you force yourself out of the car, shutting the door behind you and walking off the road down the grassy embankment. You couldn’t look back, they were offering you something you couldn’t accept. Not in this world, not any more.

The engine rumbles away from you, and you know you need to get moving. But something tugs at you.

People. The only people you’d seen in two months that hadn’t shot at you had just… driven away. And although you’ve survived for so long on your own, the pit of loneliness that had made a home in your chest seemed to grow.

But you stamp that feeling down as far as you can. Feelings will get you killed.

So you grip your hockey stick tighter and take a deep, steadying breath. With staggering finality, you sprint towards the trees, the sound of engines now a distant memory.

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

Soooo, bee haw related asks huh, cool, the white fang are cattle rustlers so Blake is insanely good with a lasso, while yang can put a hole in a quarter after someone flips it in the dark, they decided its a good idea to traid skills after they are partnered up at Beacon Ranch

There a whole lotta creative liscence taken with shooting and lassoing here 😅

I hope y’all like competitive bees!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Listen pardner…” Yang drawled, lifting her hat up slighting and leaning back on the fence, toothpick hanging loosely from her lips. “There ain’t no way no rope throwin’ gon’ impress me. Any body can throw a rope. Takes real skill to shoot a quarter in the dark, y’hear, Blake?”

“Sweetheart…” the cat faunus woman in front of her practically crooned, slivers of gold glinting from underneath her own hat. “If Just anybody could throw a rope, Ozpin wouldn’t have hired me. You need me.”

“Oh please, Blake. I could do your job easi-“

Yang stopped and quirked a brow when amber eyes glinted below Blake’s black hat dangerously, seeming to shift to a molten gold. Blake’s hands shifted to the two lassos that she kept at each hip and unhooked them from her belt and started spinning them at her sides, her movements slow and lazy at first but quickly picking up speed.

“Miss Xiao Long…” Blake said dryly, her golden eyes narrowing as Yang stood up and stepped forward her head tilted curiously. “I don’t appreciate your tone. Maybe we need to do something about it?”

“Like wh-“

Yang was cut off by Blake expertly sending her lassos out towards her and she lifted her arms high to block the incoming trap… only to realise too late that both ropes were headed to her gun holsters that were slung low on her hips. Blake’s lassos looped around each gun and yanked them out and into her hands, disarming her. Blake’s golden eyes gleamed with a challenge as she freed the guns and twirled them around in her hands before she quickly unloaded them, sending Yang’s magazines to the ground, before she hooked them into the front of her jeans with a smirk, her shirt lifting up to reveal the toned skin beneath.

“Holy-“

“Anybody can shoot in a sharp line. But it’s takes real skill to disarm our finest sharp shooter on the ranch.” Blake said, mocking Yang’s earlier words. “Now, these guns are real pretty so I think I might hold onto them for a bit. Come find me when you’re ready to admit defeat, cowgirl.”

Yang stared after her in shock as Blake sauntered away, her thumbs hooked through her belt loops and disappeared around one of the buildings.

“Goddamn.” Yang whispered to herself, taking her hat off her head and ruffling her long, blonde hair ruefully as she stared after Blake with a slightly dopey grin. “Now that’s a woman.”

She paused for a moment and blinked as she realised, later than she should have, something very important.

“A woman that stole my guns!”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake smirked lazily as Yang strolled into the saloon, her spurs clinking as she walked, an air of false nonchalance about her. But when lilac met amber, Blake watched the way Yang’s jaw tightened at the sight of Blake spinning her guns around her fingers lazily. The ranch hands surrounding Blake all glanced up and winced, patting Blake on the back and wishing her good luck as they moved a safe distance away.

Still within viewing distance of the show, though.

“You wanna give me my guns back now, Sugar?”

“Hmm… maybe.”

Blake bit back a laugh when Yang growled, her gaze narrowing as she turned a chair around and sat on it, leaning forward and crossing her arms over the back rest.

“What d’ya want, woman?” Yang asked, tilting her head slightly as her sharp gaze carefully examined Blake’s face.

“I want you to admit that you were wrong about me.” Blake said simply, placing the guns on the table out of Yang’s reach. “I disarmed you. Something that no one has been able to do, cowgirl. That’s gotta say something.”

“It says that yer a smartass.” Yang drawled, a competitive gleam entering her eyes. “I admit, you got the jump on me this time. But I still doubt that ropin’s as hard as you claim.”

“Funny. I could say the same thing about shooting.” Blake leaned forward, biting back a smile. She would never admit it… but she was having fun.

“Yeah? Well… how ‘bout we make this more interestin’, then, pardner.” Yang said with a sly grin. “I set up some trick shots that you’ll have to shoot and you set up some kinda challenge for me with a rope.”

“Make it two and you got a deal.” Blake smirked, her feline ears flicking forward with intrigue. “I’m ambidextrous. If I’m shooting with two guns, then you’re going to rope with two hands.”

“Pfft.” Yang scoffed. “Easy. What are the wagers?”

“Loser buys drinks for the winner for a month?”

“I like the way you think, Belladonna.” Yang chuckled, leaning her chin on her forearms and grinning up at Blake. “I almost feel bad that I’m gonna kick yer ass.”

“That’s funny.” Blake laughed, delighted with the challenge. “I don’t feel bad about kicking yours at all.”

“Feisty.”

“As you’ll find out, Yang.”

“I certainly hope so, Blake.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake, admittedly, may have bitten off more than she could chew. She watched as the two kids stroll 20 paces away and got ready to throw their coins.

Blake could shoot. She could shoot a bandit and a rustler. She could take aim at a rattler that was about to bite her herd or her horse and protect her animals. Hell, when she was with the White Fang and rustled cattle, she had taken out her fair share of deputies and sheriffs.

But that was basic shots. This was sharp shooting. She had heard the rumours about Yang. Had heard tale that she could shoot a hole in a quarter at 50 paces… in the dark, using only the glint of steel to direct her shot.

Ugh. This is what she got for trying to show off.

“Alrighty, Blake. Usually I shoot at 50 paces and at night but I’m gon’ be nice and getcha to shoot at 20 paces durin’ the day. When yer ready, Doll… let the kids know.” Yang called lazily from the crowd, a smug expression in her face.

Blake growled under her breath. Cocky little shit, wasn’t she? Regardless, she inhaled deeply and nodded to the kids and took aim…

And took out two windows instead of the quarters.

“Well, shoot.” Yang grinned cheekily, no doubt knowing exactly what she was saying. “That’s not meant to happen. I hope you’ve got enough lien for the upcoming month, Blake.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Yang.” Blake stomped over to her and calmly (well… as calmly as she was capable of at that moment as the crowd chuckled) placed Yang’s gun’s into their holsters, purposefully giving them a tug and leaned forward. “I can’t wait to wipe that smug smile off of your face.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“I’ll show you a small series of tricks and I want you to copy them as best as you can, cowgirl.” Blake said calmly as Yang watched carefully. She couldn’t get this wrong. How hard could it be?

“Got it, Sugar.” Yang smirked.

That smirk quickly fell away as Blake effortlessly danced through her lassos, bouncing and hopping between the loops. She made it look so easy… but not even Yang’s sharp eyes could keep up. Yang gulped, her confidence starting to crack.

This was what she got for trying to show off, wasn’t it?

“Here you are, Sweetheart.” Blake smirked with a brow raised challengingly as she passed Yang the lassos and stepped back.

“Pfft.” But she wasn’t going to let Blake see the crack in her confidence. “This’ll be easy. That’s nothin’, Doll.”

Now… Yang could throw a lasso over a rogue cow if she needed to. She could tie knots. She could even make a rope. But she was starting to realise that this was a very different beast.

She inhaled deeply and began to twirl to loops to the sides and made the first jump into them… and quickly lost track of what she was doing as the noose tightened around her ankles, sending her off balance. She hopped, desperately trying to regain her balance, until the back of her legs hit something.

There was a loud splash as Yang fell tumbling into a water trough. Loud snickers ran through the crowd and if she didn’t know better, she’d say that the horse’s were snickering at her too.

“It’ll be easy, huh?” Blake teased as Yang pulled herself out and crouched, loosening the lasso and pulling it off her ankles and throwing both ropes at Blake, who caught it easily.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yang grumbled, despite the smile fighting its way into her lips as she, dripping water, glanced at Blake. “I guess ropin’s harder than I thought.”

“And I guess I can’t shoot as straight as I thought.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment before they both began to laugh softly.

“Well…” Yang snorted, amused. “I guess that’s a draw. How’s that work out?”

“Let’s make it simple and say that we just have to buy each other drinks for a week?” Blake smiled genuinely as her left ear flicked. She had a really pretty smile, Yang realised.

“Sounds good to me.” She said before letting out a sigh. “I would suggest that I buy you one now… but I need to go change.”

“We can catch up later, then.”

“Sure thing, Blake.” Yang started to walk away but paused and glanced over her shoulder with a small side smile. “Jus’ so y’know, Blake… I’m looking forward to workin’ with you.”

“You too, Yang.”

Yang grinned, winked and waved as she walked back to her home. Life just got a lot more interesting around here.

[stights]

outside by stight - serizawa katsuya/reigen arataka, 1,657 words. “he has to squint to catch the white blips of stars twinkling in the sky; this kind of black is comforting and all-encompassing, blanketing the world.” this is a work copied over from my ao3! i hope you enjoy -- and if you do, my ko-fi commissions are currently open!! i would love to write for you!!

i think i smell the rain again It’s nighttime when he steps outside. It’s the first nighttime in weeks; the concept of the sun and moon has blended into one and the wholesome swell of free spins on Gacha games remains all that he really needs, those ticking time-bombs, the vibrant firework displays of beaches and dates on a rooftop, of foreign lands and exploring with friends, of boat rides late in the afternoon and sleepy car rides, illuminated by the steady orange glow of streetlights dipping between cool windows. The people in the games aren’t ever him, though. He keeps the lights in his bedroom off just so he doesn’t see his reflection when the screen turns black, so frail and unlike those smiling cartoon figures. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t exist. There’s a certain kind of dark, disgusting guilt that comes with thinking you’re the only person of your kind in the universe, that you weren’t actually supposed to be here, on this perfect planet. He wishes he could blame his mother for these pathetic shortcomings but he can’t; the counsellors call him gifted and it’s perhaps the one thing he takes away from the sessions, greedily. Gifted. Gifted! He runs it through in his head like a mantra, if only to clutch the last sinews of human contact he’s had in months as tightly as he can. It makes him feel invincible as he lies in bed at night, that deep, comforting dip in his mattress, thinking about what he could do with this magnificent sort of gift, until he checks his phone and sees his old schoolmates’ new houses and wives and cars and he feels like screaming until his throat is hoarse, bitter, sobbing. Gifted. Gifted. fresh air awakens everything His bedroom is dark and musty and it smells like nothing and everything at the same time. Dread curls and spirals in the pit of his stomach when his mother enters the room - food? Laundry? Another therapist? - and stays dutifully quiet. He doesn’t often sprout the courage to look at the disgust thinly guised on her face because the room smells bad, awful, like himself, lines on her face illuminated by the dead blue glow of the television. She never stays long, never talks unless it’s necessary; their relationship isn’t amicable, but as he mulls over this thought long after she’s gone, leaving behind konbini platters and clean sweatpants, can he really say he has a single amity at all? The faces he sees are always smiling but they’re drawn to be that way, those model girls on dirty websites, or the counsellors except they’re ugly and they’re always talking down to him. They hate him, deep down. They want to go home to their families and the people that love them. The thought alone makes him squeeze his controller hard in his hands, feeling the plastic crack and snap. He is society’s cinder block. Out here, it smells good. The sensation shocks his lungs so much so that he doesn’t register the raindrops falling on his head until they splash his nose - it’s the special kind of cold that he can’t find from bottled konbini soda. It’s a reaction to expect his anger, one that he’s formed over fifteen years of isolation; he doesn’t like to be surprised, stopped celebrating his birthday two years in because that pink cake felt condescending. Why cherish the aging of a corpse? i hear the drizzle coming down And yet the raindrops here don’t carry any emotion at all. He closes his eyes to steady himself, but the anger doesn’t arrive, and momentarily it’s just him in the universe in his night air, allowing himself to not just be but become, to put something to this moment. When he opens his eyes again, he takes in more of the nighttime in, slowly. That’s what he’s been told to do. Taking the initiative doesn’t happen in a day but it’s the outcome of work - of others, too - but himself first and foremost. Putting himself first. The raindrops are still falling on his face and shoulders, and as he looks down he notices they’re beginning to accumulate on the street, too, which is narrow (they don’t live in a fantastic area). It’s enough, though. The houses are built taller than they are wide and each is separated from the road by a brick fence with ornate patterns woven in, plants creeping over the top of some, inquisitive and merry, green and pink and white, nodding their leaves in time to the rainfall. Their own house doesn’t have a garden; the two of them are too busy to do much other than water a few houseplants in the kitchen. As he reminisces on the fact, he can finally put an emotion to this weather that so starkly contrasts anything he’s witnessed before. He thinks it’s joy. and then i realise in all of my life His clothes aren’t really appropriate to stand here in, even if it hasn’t been long. He learnt how to iron a shirt yesterday and he’s made good use of the skill tonight, tongue stuck out in concentration as he stood in boxer briefs and shorts earlier, carefully running the iron over the sleeves, one at a time, the collar, then the main body, taking his time. It’s nice to have something to show for his efforts, even if it’s slowly getting dampened. That’s okay. He’s getting used to letting things happen, too. He can always iron it again. It’s dark above. He has to squint to catch the white blips of stars twinkling in the sky; this kind of black is comforting and all-encompassing, blanketing the world. It’s not a warm hug but touch is touch and touch is something incredible with any kind intent. Looking up and being faced with this never-ending sea reminds him of those witching hour marathons - how long had he been playing for? A day? Two? Three? Energy drink cans littered the floor and his legs ached with every sudden movement, the muscles in them tired and settled from being crossed for so long, as if they belonged to something dead - and indeed it was a zombie playing the rhythm game, the cheerful music falling on rotting ears, impenetrable to any sort of living emotion, and when the screen went black the zombie stared back at itself and its haunted eyes and its quivering mouth and those heavy salted tears spilling down its cheeks-- i don’t think i remember it being so vivid Hand on the small of his back. Footsteps in puddles from behind. There’s someone laughing in his ear. “Why’re you standing in the rain, silly?” A creeping love blooms in Serizawa’s chest as a man, shorter than himself but with a heart too tall and too wide to be comprehended by numbers, walks beside him. “I was just thinking.” The rain falls quietly around them. “Mm, that’s dangerous..” The other man’s hand slides from his back, then to the umbrella he’s holding. It’s made for Serizawa rather than himself, and it’s too big; he struggles to pull the catch on it which makes Serizawa laugh, sticking one leg in the air as if it’s going to help, then finally pulls it free. The arc of the umbrella’s clear, so that when he strains to hold it above both of their heads, Serizawa can see the drops hitting it and sliding off. The man’s other hand comes down his arm, then brushes his own, and then they’re linked. “You want to know what I’m thinking?” Serizawa’s smile comes effortlessly. “What?” Reigen smiles back. It’s the kind of thing that he can’t find on videogames, or videos, or social media. It’s the kind of thing that makes his heart cartwheel. It’s the kind of thing that reaches Reigen’s eyes, so warm in their mirth. “I’m thinking that I love you.” Serizawa laughs again, giving his hand a squeeze in his larger one. Reigen squeezes back, then stands up straighter, dutifully, “and that Mob’ll be scratching his head if we don’t get to this reservation on time.” Later that evening, Serizawa excuses himself to the bathroom in the back of the ramen shop they’re at. It’s an old place with pleasant sunset lights, people from every walk of life sitting on wooden benches; tonight it just so happened that himself, Reigen, Mob and one small, green ghost were decorating them. The meal was delicious. Good company always made everything a little sweeter, whether that was food or the scenery. Between the chatter he’d hardly stopped laughing all night, and smiles even as he goes to wash his hands in the small restroom, turning the faucet on and letting the cold water flow. He looks up as he does it. There’s a mirror above the sink and as if the glass had been broke, a stab of something stale and wrong shoots up his spine. He takes in his reflection; a tall man with broad shoulders, tired eyes, short hair, thick eyebrows, a faltering smile. A tie. His reflection. Fifteen years old. Twenty years old. Twenty five. He takes in the small lines on his forehead, the shape of his jaw, his Adam’s apple, the collar of his shirt.. It’s perfectly ironed. His shoulders are still slightly damp from the rain. And he can look at himself without being scared once again. He’s just a man; not some kind of pest squirming on the earth, or something to be revered, something immortal and unworldly. He’s just a man with friends from school, and a boyfriend, and whatever Ekubo is to him. When he exits the bathroom, taking his seat, everyone beams at him. Reigen reaches forward to wrap his arm around his shoulders, then pulls him forward to kiss the side of his cheek, and it’s the best feeling in the world. He’s just a man. He’s loved.

[nishigo]

lunar new year. // todoroki shouto x reader.

lunar new year. // todoroki shouto x reader

hello! hope you have had a lovely day, here’s a little todoroki love for you all as the Chinese New Year starts tomorrow! much love to you all~

words : 1528

tw : none , fluffy fluff !

request status at time of post : open !

in which he failed the first time to convey his feelings, but luckily, he had another shot.

————

Todoroki glances at the small house, tilting his head softly as he glanced from the red packets in his hands to the soft glow of the candles guiding towards the backyard. He heard the chatter in the background, how everyone from class had joined together to celebrate the lunar new year. Although rarely celebrated in Japan, many of those in the area decided to support their Chinese neighbors and cheerfully greet the new year. It was also another reason to party, which no one could deny. Your parents had decided to go to their friend's house to celebrate, leaving you with just the house to yourself until tomorrow. It was smaller than most, however, after doing a small raffle, your name was drawn from the jar and here he was, in front of your home.

Todoroki has just gotten back from seeing his mother in the hospital, in which he had finished ranting to her about what would partake in the night. Of course he was nervous, you were the only person who could make him feel such a way. His mom reassured him that everything would be fine, but what if it was not? He shook his head, no time for that now. It is also where he got his red packets from, as everyone was forced to bring something as a token of cheer, whether it be food or games, and needless to say, the boy was not exactly poor. His mother insisted to stick to tradition, smiling at her son as he took them with a swift nod but slight concern. A sigh escaped his lips as he began to walk towards the back, hoping for the best as he kept a relatively cool demeanor.

Todoroki walked into your backyard and took in the sight. It has a large tree sprouting from the ground, lanterns of all colors, shapes, and sizes hanging with various symbols in both Chinese and Japanese wishing good luck for the new year. Bamboo lined along the white picket fence, little red banners hanging off their small branches with stars and more writing Todoroki did not recognize. All around the tree were small tables, and various red mats were sprawled around them for his friends to sit and talk, whether about school or how excited they were. A long table lined the side of the house, food decorating every inch of it. The smell of moon cake, rice, pork dumplings, and duck filled his nose, making his mouth water slightly as he walked closer. The whole place was brightly lit up, decorations of stars of gold and red painting his vision, along with various peonies, carnations, and orchids. It was amazing how much effort you had put into making this an enjoyable experience for all, and frankly, he was touched.

“It’s Todoroki!” The boy whipped his head around and looked at the owner of the voice, who happened to be Midoriya. He sported a red sweater and black pants, grinning from ear to ear. Actually, everyone was decked out somehow with the color, whether it be a simple bracelet to Kirishima, who had on a red outfit head to toe. Todoroki got pulled towards the food, where he finally saw you for the first time this night.

You had your hair brushed out and away from your face, eyes sparkling as you served food and made conversation with all of your friends. Your energetic attitude was contagious, and Todoroki could not help but smile at how cute you were when you were passionate about something. Sporting a red jean jacket and gold bracelets, earrings, and necklaces, you looked right at home as you explained to Iida what eating long noodles symbolizes to the Chinese. As he picked up a plate and began to grab some food, he caught your eyesight and gladly went up to him to talk

“Hey! Todoroki, I am so glad you could make it! And- Oh! Red envelopes? Here, let’s add them to the pile over here, I will be handing them out later after everyone settles down from the food.” You took them from him quickly, putting them into a basket full to the brim of various family names and money. Turning back around to face him, you paused as you opened your mouth slowly and began again.

“Hey, Todo, mind heading inside with me? I need to pull out some more food, looks like noodles and dumplings are running out.” Todoroki blushes lightly at the nickname as he nodded, watching as you made your way towards the back door and allowed him to slip in with you and towards the kitchen.

Trays of food were stacked on top of each other, still piping hot as he shuffled quietly behind you. You took a deep inhale, exhaling loudly as you took some trays and separated them from the rest, supposedly what was needed more outside. It was a bit weird for once, since both of you were quiet and there was no one else around. Maybe this was an opening, maybe he could-

“Take these outside for me, will you?” He retracted his outstretched arm, quietly sighing as he nodded and grabbed the various trays and doing obediently as he was told.

The night unpaused after that brief moment alone with you. His heart was racing inside his chest. Jeez, it’s as if you used his own fire quirk against himself, he was heating up just looking at you. He went on to sit at your table along with Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka. He chewed his food silently, internally praising you for your delicious seasoning on the pork buns. With his cheeks stuffed, the conversation varied in the night, but all he could focus on was you. He saw words come out of your lips, but no response was made on his part. Just sitting by you was enough for him, and he was content with the positioning. It was bugging him, though, that he had not completed his final motive, and he only had a little time left to succeed.

The hours began to lengthen, and soon enough, people were starting to leave. You had handed out all the red envelopes and it was fun to see people jump for joy at how much cash they were getting. One by one, he watched as his classmates received a hug and a wave from you, holding various leftovers as the food coma was beginning to hit and drowsiness arose. He waved off his friends goodbye, cracking a small smile as he then turned around to see you working hard to get everything put away. With a large amount of pity from him, he sighed and began to help you pack up tables and stack mats. Lanterns were turned off one by one, and with a quick flick of his fingers, a frosty blast sent all of the candles out, nothing but smoke left.

Inside, you two panted as the effects of doing so much hit you all at once. Stretching slightly, you pulled your hair tie down and he watched as your face was cupped by your lovely locks. Now, since it was just the two of you and silence, he decided to break out. May his mother’s words be true, and with courage, he spoke.

“Y/N, a word?” You glanced back at him in small confusion, grinning from ear to ear as you shuffled close to him, signaling for him to continue.

“I missed it at the beginning of January, and I was meant to tell you that night. However, I never gained the courage to do so, so tonight…” He took a shaky inhale, glancing away softly as he pulled out a packet he had saved for you along with some deep red roses, making you stop in your tracks in awe.

“I wanted to try again, since the lunar new year is another beginning. Basically, I am here to say I’m in love with you. No, wait, scratch that, I’m infatuated with you. You make my head spin and makes me freeze up and melt at the same time. So, would you happen to want to become...a couple?” He repeated his phrase that he had said over a million times in the mirror, hoping that his words would be enough. He could not read your reaction for a second, but soon enough, tears began to flow out of your eyes as you nodded sweetly, taking his red envelope and flowers into your hands and quickly grabbing him into a hug. Although Todoroki did stumble a bit, he caught his balance and hugged back, a breath of relief flying into his lungs before he began to smile and bury his face into your neck shyly. A sweet blush overtook both your faces, and innocently, you pecked his cheek with the brightest smile in existence and he mimicked your actions back at you. Elated, exhilarated, overjoyed, you two were many things, but to describe it the best...

You both were over the moon as the ringing of fireworks popped in the background, signaling the start of the new lunar year and your relationship.

[durotoswrites]

We Have Each Other

A More Friends of Mineral Town/HM for Girl one-shot I wrote a while back.

Summary: "This was a mistake." When a disaster strikes their farm, Claire and her husband are dumbfounded as they struggle to pick up the pieces. Despite an uncertain future ahead, she learns that some things will never change. (Originally Posted on fanfiction.net)

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We Have Each Other

She sloshed inside and wrung the water out of her hair with a deep sigh, her twisted blonde locks resting on her shoulder.

So this was failure…

The rain dripped loudly in the pot Claire had set on the dining table.  Each splash reminded her of the gravity of the situation.  One bad season could do an unlucky farmer in, after all.  She kicked off her muddy boots in frustration and discarded her waterlogged denim overalls, flannel shirt, and drenched socks.  She buried her face in her hands, but the tears refused to come, much to her dismay.

Her husband closed the door behind him with a quiet click.  Mud-caked shoes were discarded on the mat beside Claire’s.  He quietly stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest.

The young woman remained motionless.  They hadn’t spoken since breakfast and they had worked together outside in silence, dazed at what they had witnessed.  He nuzzled her shoulder, silently asking her to speak what was on her mind, just as they always did when one of them was upset.  She let out a scoff at why he would want such a thing today, but it was too late; the words flowed out before she could stop them.  “This was a mistake,” she whispered bitterly.  “I can’t believe I sunk so much money into those seeds!  There’s no way we’re going to turn a profit this season, and we’ll be lucky if we can even manage to pay our bills.  I-I’m such an idiot!”  Her voice had risen into a shriek and her knees went weak as she felt the room begin to spin.

He gently turned her around and held her in a tight embrace; she was on the verge of hysterics.  She always blamed herself whenever anything went wrong. “We had no way of knowing a monsoon would hit weeks ago when we decided to invest.”  He brushed her damp bangs out of her eyes and pressed his lips against her forehead.  Her shoulders relaxed a bit as she leaned into him, his body slightly rocking back and forth to the soft rhythm of the water dripping from the ceiling.  

They stood in silence together for a few moments, taking in the aftermath of the destruction, the gentle swaying therapeutic.  The crop fields had taken a heavy hit from the storm; they would be lucky if a quarter of them survived.  Trenches had been dug throughout the day in an attempt to drain the fields.  Squashed green tomatoes and snapped corn stalks had littered the plots of mud, scattered about and causing dams.  A fallen tree had nearly missed their house and the stables and barns had remained standing, albeit leaky.  His place of employment hadn’t fared much better – broken fence posts and trellises were spread about, and several roof shingles needed to be replaced. There was a lot of cleaning up to do.

“You are the cleverest, most resourceful person I know, and I know a thing or two about getting by without much money.”  He affectionately brushed his nose against hers.  He paused for a moment as their eyes locked and he cupped her cheeks in his hands.  “Everything will work out, love.”

At the sincerity in his eyes, she found herself relaxing a bit.  Claire moved her hands to his shoulders and danced with him.  An unwilling smile spread across her face as her foot kept landing on the squeaky floorboard halfway between the dining area and kitchen, realizing the absurdity of dancing to no music while wearing nothing but her undergarments.  “How can you be so sure, Cliff?  I… I wish I had the amount of faith that you do…”  Her relationship with the gods wasn’t a bad one by any means, but she admired and was a bit jealous of his fearlessness about the future. “Wh-what’s going to happen to us?” Claire choked.

“It’s simple,” he murmured, pulling her close.  “You’ll have me, and I’ll have you.  That will never change.  Nothing will ever be as precious to me as you are.  As long as I have you, I have joy.”

It was such a simple declaration, but it made a lump form in her throat.  “W-we have each other…” she reiterated, closing her eyes.  

“That’s what I told you the day we got married, remember?”

Many details were blurry, but she could clearly recall gazing into his starry eyes with unbridled joy as the future awaited them, her ears drinking in his sweet words.  Things really hadn’t changed that much, she realized. She nodded as a goofy grin spread across her lips.  A couple of tears streamed down her cheeks and he quickly kissed them away.

“I didn’t mean to depress you with such a horrible fate,” he teased, giving her a coy wink.  “Being stuck with me forever and all…”

Claire looked up at her husband.  His damp hair clung to his face and when she gave him a squeeze, his saturated tunic dripped rainwater like a sponge.  Her undershirt became even more soaked and she shook her head with a smirk, unfastening the tie at his waist and casting the wet garment off to the side.  “It’s terrible!  Especially being married to a man who doesn’t even know how to properly dry himself off!”

“What’s the point if I’m just planning to get even wetter with you?”  He gave her a playful nip on the neck.

She let out a tiny squeal and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks, hearing the implication in his words. “You are absolutely filthy!” she chided.

“Which is exactly why we’re going to take a hot bath, pervert,” he teased, kissing her hand and taking it, leading her to the bathroom.

She stopped walking and he turned toward her curiously.  “We have each other,” she repeated, her eyebrows unfurrowing.

He pulled his wife into a deep kiss and scooped her up with a grin and a nod.  “And that’s all we’ll ever need.”

0o0o0o0

Thanks for Reading!

Feel free to check out my other fanfictions on Archive of Our Own or fanfiction.net.  Username is Durotos for both sites. :)  

[malereader-inserts]

Driving Me Wild

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Male!Reader Summary: Cedric pure and sweet, totally wild for you Word Count: 1,222 Request: “could you do a Cedric Diggory imagine with “you were in my dream last night.”” A/n: I fall in love for Cedric then I remember he’s DEAD, baby boy deserves better

“You’ve never been to Muggle London?”

Wide eyes as you stared at your boyfriend, it was the nearing of the end of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Cedric shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders as he fixed your blue and silver tie.

“Come stay with me for the summer, I already agreed I was going to the Quidditch World Tournament, if I’m meeting your family in August, you’re meeting my family too.”

“Alright, I’ll have to send a letter first to my family, they have to know,” Cedric laughs as you grinned at him.

You were definitely lucky to be with Cedric, he has boys and girls fawning over him. You weren’t surprised at all, Cedric has a heart of gold. In your eyes, he was adorable, sure you have to tutor him in some subjects but he was always determined. Him being good looking was just a bonus.

You two were a well-loved couple within Hogwarts, despite many whispers of people gushing over you two, you and he were in it for the long run.

“I have to go,” You responded, “Study date before our potion exam?”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The pair of you grinned before lightly pecking him on the lips, his smile turned into a grin as you swung your legs over the bench and leaving the great hall. Cedric was a man of many things, a whipped man is one of them.

Being with you was a fantastic start to the summer, Cedric loved your family as did your family love him. Coming from a pure-blood family, he’s only explored the magical world but you got the best of both worlds.

One magical parent and one muggle parent, Cedric was fascinated with all different objects around your house, he found your bedroom like a little toy shop as it was full of foreign objects to him.

The first week, you took him out to multiple dates, the cinema to the bowling alley. To simply going to the gelato shop for some ice cream, even though you were aware that the wizarding world had ice cream for some reason Cedric claims it’s different. 

Walking down muggle London was different, a whole new experience.

Holding hands, you wearing an oversized striped burgundy and white flannel over a white shirt whilst he sported double denim, which you hold him against, though he likes to claim he could be the only person who could pull off double denim.

“In your dreams love,” You teased, as you gently pushed his face to turn the other way, “Come on, if we get on the double-decker, it’ll give us a tour of London.”

Cedric loved every minute being with you, from the crazy shopping to the wild activities to the incredible sightseeing. Holding hands and kissing in the London Eye, as Cedric gush about how pretty London looked from such a height. Within a week, he’s seen it all, you’ve taken pictures of him and found various other older wizards mingling around London who happily take wizard pictures of you two at the tourist attractions.

A treasured wizard picture was of you two kissing in the London Eye with Big Ben in the background.

You took still muggle pictures of him in the London Museum, claiming with a face like his, he was art too. 

“You’ll be history, Ced,” You say, waiting for the picture to form and showing it to him, his chin resting on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around you.

“I don’t think I would be,” Cedric confessed, “I’m still confused to what I want to do when I’m older.”

“Quidditch player,” You suggested, “You look pretty good out in the field.”

“Well, whatever I do, I hope I still have you by my side.”

“You’ll always have me,”

“I know.”

You two headed back home, after having dinner out. It was dark but your family trusted you two to get back home safely, you did have a phone if you ever got lost. Luckily, you didn’t live too far away from the centre of London. Taking the bus journey and walking the rest home was enough.

The dark summer night upon the two of you, giggling like school children, trying not to fall on the way home as Cedric tries to jump on your back. Whilst you were given dirty looks for being two boys in love, you had each other’s back and that’s all you care was Cedric. 

Kissing up against fences and walls on the way home, scrunching your nose up as he returns to action, staring into his eyes and biting your lips.

“You’re adorable.”

“Could say the same thing about you.”

You two had it good, everything was working in your favour. His hands moving up your back under your shirt. His cold hands compared to your hot skin. Pushing him away, rolling your eyes bt a fond smile was unmissable as you jump on his back.

His hands holding you up as he spins you around, under the street lights. Having fun despite just being you two. Cedric drops you, landing on your feet.

“Weak,” You exclaimed, “I carried you for five minutes before giving up!”

“Maybe, I rather see your face,” Cedric offers as you looked at him with a gaping mouth, scoffing.

“Alright, smooth man,” You teased, allowing him to put his arm over your shoulder.

You both walk down in the middle of the road of your neighbourhood. No cars or peering eyes to ruin your walk home. Just you and him, with your mp3 player blasting hits you’ve missed through the year you were out at Hogwarts. 

“You know, you were in my dream last night,” Cedric confessed, you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, elaborate?” 

You both stopped, noticing how you were at your home. He faces you and your home, you looked at him expectedly. Your hands intertwined with yours, falling in love with you over again as he stares into your eyes. The corner of his lips quirked upwards into a soft gentle smile.

Soft laughter escapes him, shaking his head slightly, “I dreamed a future with you, married and all.”

“With kids, we’ve adopted?” You asked with a smile that melted his heart.

“No, not yet,” But he doesn’t deny that he does want kids, “Fresh out of Hogwarts maybe, two or three years after graduating. You’ve got a job and I’ve got a job.”

“Married,” You breathed, “We’re a little young to talk about marriage, don’t you think? We’re only sixteen, well, you’re almost seventeen since your birthday is in September.”

“Most wizards marry young,” Cedric proposed, “And you drive me wild.”

Your heart was beating ten times louder and faster, “So do you, but, we’re only going to be in the sixth year, ask me again after our seventh year.”

Cedric was probably blushing, pressing his lips against yours. Passionate, slow and full of meaning. A kiss like that was everything, both your minds pausing their train of thoughts because all you cared about was each other.

No matter how much he drove you crazy in both ways, mad and madly in love. You couldn’t see any other person in your future but him, no one could have a love for you like Cedric does.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[theawkwardundercoverwriter]

Bucky X Reader

Description: Bucky and Y/N in the 40s. If Steve had a younger sister this is how I imagine their lives would be.  (Inspiration and scenes from Captain America: The First Avenger). Not factually accurate. 

Warnings: Abuse, swearing and of course amateur writing. No editing has been done. 

Part One:

No matter how many times you madly readjust your hair the purple blotches only deepen above your eye. 

“No no please.” You murmur to yourself. The overwhelming sense of panic runs down your spine as you note the time on the wooden grandfather clock that sits almost mockingly above the fireplace. Steve would be home anytime now most likely with Bucky in tow. Ever since your parents died both Steve and Bucky have gone the extra mile to look after you. Both held a protective gaze over you at all times. If either of them saw you in this current state they would flip. 

You grab your powder, smothering it above your eye causing you to wince - mostly in frustration that the welts couldn’t be covered to the extent you want them to be. 

You feel completely stupid as you evaluate the damage left on your body. You had a cut on your forearm that was still bleeding. A trickle of blood is currently seeping through your dress sleeve. The new shoes that Steve somehow managed to buy for your birthday are scuffed, and the bow of your hat remains detached, lying on the floor.  You had gotten into a fight with your boyfriend, Eric. You’ve been courting him for only a couple of months, but his nasty side becomes increasingly evident as each day passes. He’d enlisted for the army, he, of course, had the extra pressure of serving his country as his father was the mayor of Brooklyn, Fiorello H. La Guardia.  He had to go and fight in the war; his drafting day inches closer and closer which means his explosive nature heightens. The fight you two had was over Bucky. He as usual accused you of having feelings for your brother’s best friend. You didn’t try to deny it, because deep down, you both knew it was true. Bucky’s smile had the power to mend any ache. He is your rock, especially when your mom died. You wouldn’t know where you would be without him. He knew all your secrets, all your fears and how to make you laugh like no one else. No man could ever make you feel the way he did. Watching Bucky go on countless dates broke your heart, it nearly tears you apart at the near mention of another woman. But you ignore the dull ache in your chest; instead of pining over your brother’s best friend you alter your attention elsewhere. You decided that you didn’t want to be heartbroken by this beautiful man anymore so instead, you came up with a plan. Erica was the answer to get over Bucky. 

He beats you. He yells at you. But you still stay. You figure you aren’t exactly innocent when it comes to Eric and his drama. You are and have been using him, maybe not on purpose, but if you were being honest with yourself, he’s a distraction. It made you a guilty party in this mess.  So you stayed and remained silent. If anyone found out the mayor's son was hitting his lady, there would be a huge scandal. Your reputation would be damaged and Steve would run off and get himself killed if he and Eric ever came face to face. 

Rushing around the room you quickly change into another dress, discarding the stained one into a ball at the bottom of the closet.  You fumble in the kitchen cabinet looking for bandages. The number of times you’ve had to fish them out of the draw for Steve when he came home beaten and bloody has gotten you familiar with first aid. 

Two familiar voices irrupt in laughter from outside the walls of your home. “Crap.” You hiss as your fingers fumble with the bandage. 

“Ah, I can’t find my key.” Steve huffs from outside the door. Tying the bandage up and pulling your sleeve down you take a deep breath attempting to calm yourself. 

“Seriously man? Again?” Bucky laughs. You hear some movement and scuffling outside. You assume it’s Buck grabbing the spare key from underneath the loose brick just outside the apartment. A few seconds later the key jingles in the keyhole and the door swings open. 

“Hey Stevie, did you manage to get some bread while you were out?” You call walking towards both men pretending that it was any other normal day. 

“Sorry Y/N, I got caught up. I’ll get us some tomorrow.” He shoots you an apologetic smile. You walk towards them ready to give him an ear full when something stops you dead in your tracks. 

Bucky stands proud and tall in his army uniform. Gold flakes dance in his blue eyes as he drinks in your appearance. 

“You’ve got your orders?” You nearly choke out. 

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.” You swallow the thick lump that’s formed in your throat. “Y/N, don’t look so sad.” He gently coos. Bucky pulls you into his side, gently rubbing his fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to comfort you, but it does nothing to soothe your aching heart. You dreaded this very day. His hand continues to trace soft patterns as he senses your unease but he soon hesitates. His hand hovers over the bandage hiding under your sleeve. Your eyes interlock and immediately a rush of panic overloads your body as he starts to notice the messy hair, the overdone makeup and the bandages sprawled out in the kitchen. You can see his mind working overtime, putting all the pieces together. His eyes burn into your soul and for a second you are convinced he can see right through you. Quickly pulling your hand away you turn your attention to Steve. Examing his appearance you notice the bruises on his face. They were nearly identical to yours. 

“Seriously Steven? Again?” You huff, “You got into another fight? Who was it with this time?” You begin to fuss over him but he swats your hands away, not allowing you to fully inspect his wounds. 

“Y/N I’m fine.” He wines. 

“Honestly is it too much to ask to just walk away?” You can feel Bucky’s eyes scanning your appearance but you ignore him. 

“Are you going out tonight Doll?” Bucky quizzes. 

“Yeah what’s with the clown makeup, you don’t need it Y/N, you’re beautiful, just like mom,”  Steve interjects. “ And I promise I will be careful next time.” He says while planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about me.” 

You roll your eyes; you’ve heard that before. 

“I haven’t made dinner because I’m going to the Stark Expo.” You answer Bucky while staring at your bare feet.  

“Oh so are we, I just need to get cleaned up.” Steve groans, “Double dates are never fun, but here I am, getting pressured into this situation, again.” He walks into the cupboard retrieving a new tie without any bloodstains leaving you and Bucky alone. 

You silently plead for Steve to come back. 

“Who are you going with?” Bucky asks. He steps closer to you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  You can feel his warmth radiating against your skin. You ignore the shivers he sends up your spin and silently curse at Bucky as butterflies explore in your stomach. 

“With Eric.” You reply, trying to will yourself out of Bucky’s grasp. 

“Is that who did this to you?” He replies softly in your ear but you notice his jaw tighten. You pull away, scrambling to find your shoes and purse. 

“I’m running late, I have to leave now. Eric is probably wondering where I am.” You shout loud enough for Steve to hear from the other room. 

“Wait sis, we will walk you. I’ll just be a minute.” Steve calls out to you.

“You can tell me, doll. I promise I won’t get Steve involved.” He pleads, searching your eyes for the truth. 

“I will see you later tonight. Don’t leave without saying goodbye to me okay?” You ignore him. You reach on your tippy-toes and place a soft gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m all good Steve! Stay at least a mile away from me tonight at all times.”  You yell as you reach for the front door.

“Take care of him tonight.” You instruct Bucky as you fly out the door. It takes every bit of strength to hold in the tears that so desperately want to escape. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Part Two:

The stench of the alcohol burns your tongue as Eric pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. Passer bys shoot you dirty looks as Eric continues to make a show of PDA. 

“I’m sorry about today. I won’t happen again.” He mumbles into his flask. You were currently leaning up against the fence watching the crowd play fun carnival games and dance the night away. 

You’d only been here for an hour, and so far you’d engaged in zero fun. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bucky,  Steve and two other girls. Steve looks uncomfortable, while the blonde woman looks bored. The brunette is attached to Bucky at the hip. However, Bucky’s glances haven’t gone unnoticed. About half-an-hour ago he spotted you with Eric and has made a conscious effort to stay close ever since. The sight of him in his uniform causes tears to pool in your eyes. There was a chance he was going to die and that very thought made you want to breakdown and scream. 

“Seriously Y/N? You can’t keep your eyes off him can you?” Eric’s voice booms, as he takes another swig of his flask. “You can’t help yourself!” He gets considerably louder causing some heads to turn. 

“Eric I wasn’t-” You start.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He hisses in a tone so deadly the pit of your stomach drops. 

“Eric it’s not like that.” You begin to explain. Familiar fear creeps in. If you didn’t shut this down now, a very public scene would occur. Eric is twice your size, so any attempt of getting away is slim. He pulls you into his firm grip and tightens each time you squirm. 

“You’re a filthy bitch.” You cry out as he pushes you back into the fence. You stumble back dropping your purse. 

“Hey, that’s my sister!” You hear Steve say as he charges at Eric. You and Steve are pretty much the same in height and weight. There is no way Steve could ever take on your date. In fact, three years ago, Eric beat up your brother in one of the parking lots downtown. Steve’s face was so swollen you could barely recognise him. 

“No Steve, please. Don’t.” You scream but it’s too late. Steve is on the ground groaning in a matter of seconds. Kick after kick you desperately scream at Eric to stop. 

A few seconds pass, hearing a scuffle you blink furiously but your eyes are blinded by tears. The grunting seems to halt suddenly but you can’t seem to stop crying. This is your worst nightmare. The whole of New York, your brother and Bucky have just laid witness to your daily abuse. 

“You’ll pay for that Barnes!” Eric’s voice screams from a distance, but the only thing you can focus on is the loud pounding in your chest. 

“Hey Doll, Shh, I’m here.” A familiar voice whispers in your ear.  Your body is shaking uncontrollably as the shame sets in. Bucky’s hands fly to your face assessing the damage. “Are you hurt?” He asks, but the only reply you can manage is a whimper. “Y/N? Are you hurt?” He scans your body furiously for any injuries. 

“Y/N! What the heck was that?” Steve yells causing you to flinch. Your brother has never yelled at you in your life. “You need to explain this to me right now.” His eyes are filled to the brim with rage and his breathing ragged. You’d never seen him like this.

“Take a walk Steve, you're scaring her,” Bucky instructs as he finishes his examination. 

“No. Buck cmon!” Steve insists. 

“I said take a walk. Come back when you’ve calmed down.” Bucky says which Steve reluctantly follows. “It’s okay man, I’ve got her.” He assures. 

You watch as your brother angrily picks up your purse and stalks in the opposite direction kicking a trash can in anger. 

“Cmon beautiful let's sit down.” Bucky gently commands as he leads you over to the park bench he pulls you into his side protectively. 

“I’ve never seen Steve so mad.” You whisper glancing down at your fingers. 

“He’s just scared Y/N, he feels like he failed you as a big brother.” He sighs, as he scratches his head, “Frankly I feel like I’ve failed you as well.” 

After a moment of silence Bucky speaks up, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want Steve to get involved. As you just saw he likes to think he can take on the world.” You mumble.

“Okay, I get why you didn’t tell Steve, but why didn’t you tell me.” He gently wipes a tear that’s managed to escape. “I would have handled this for you.”

“I don’t know,” You whisper, wishing you were anywhere other than Bucky’s accusing eyes.

“That’s not good enough Y/N, why didn’t you tell me when I asked today?” He pushes. His jaw tightens and his brows furrow. 

“Because you're leaving Buck.” You finally gain the courage to look him in the eye, “You leave tomorrow, and as soon as you leave I lose the ability to count on you. I’m not stupid. I know Steve is out there, day after day trying to get shipped off into a war zone. He will either get accepted or thrown into jail for lying on the enlistment form, so I can’t rely on him either.” You swallow back the ball of cement that seems to be lodged in your throat. “I thought I could deal with this on my own, ya know, without you because soon enough, it will just be me.” You take a deep breath, “I guess I just wanted to prove to myself I could handle this.” 

“Come here.” Bucky pulls you into a fierce hug and for just a split second all your troubles melt away. 

“I’m always going to find my way back to you Y/N. Always.” He whispers.

“Not if you die in the war.” You whimper. “What if this is the last time I ever see you.” Your heart starts to pound in your ears as horrible thoughts burn in the back of your mind.

“Hey, shh, Doll.” He hushes, “I will come back, even if I have to crawl through barb wire or walk thousands of miles without food or water just to see your pretty face. I will. I will always find my way back to you.” He presses light kisses to your bruises and pulls you in closer.  

“But I need you to promise me something.” He gently grabs your chin so you are both holding eye contact. “I need you to promise me that you won’t ever go back to him or any guy like him okay? Actually on second thought, maybe don’t go near any guy that isn’t me or Steve.” He shoots you a goofy smile and you nod causing him to let out a light chuckle. 

“I’m only half-joking about that last part.” He reassures, he takes a second to think before making his declaration, “When I get back I’m taking you on a real date Y/N, I’m going to show you what true love is.” He looks down at you, adoration shining in his eyes. “I’ll make you forget all about that scum.”

You laugh, loving the sound of that. “You’ll have to tell Steve and then get his approval first.” You joke lacing your hands in his. 

“He knows doll, he’s always known about my feelings for you,” Bucky whispers. For a second it feels like the world just stopped turning.  Your face must mirror the confusion you feel inside because Buck laughs as you try to comprehend the words he so confidently spoke. 

“You better come back to me Barnes.” You whisper as you gently kiss his lightly bruised knuckles from when he saved both you and your brother. 

Bucky was and will remain your hero. 

Apologies for changing the storyline of Bucky & Steve. And a double apology for not editing this but it’s 12am here.