#it doesn't quite stick the landing

[cantsayidont]

July 2014. Dazzling Tula Lotay artwork for SUPREME BLUE ROSE, previewing the cover of #2 (above), and a page from that issue:

I don't even know how to summarize what's going on here because this series is a pastiche on a pastiche of a pastiche: a Warren Ellis revival of Alan Moore's SUPREME — an extended pastiche of/homage to the Silver Age Superman, and Silver Age DC more broadly, based on Rob Liefeld's '90s Superman pastiche/parody — framed as a pastiche of William Gibson's Blue Ant trilogy (PATTERN RECOGNITION, SPOOK COUNTRY, and ZERO HISTORY), and featuring some of the most jaw-dropping artwork I've seen in a modern comic book. It will probably not make any sense at all if you're not familiar with the things I've just named, but if you are, it is unaccountably, exceptionally good.

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Slightly weird question, but you know I love making and giving themed gift sets: Do you have any recommendations for board books or picture books with a sunshine or lemonade kind of theme? The set so far is a pink and orange and yellow quilt, a plushie sun, and a pair of pink and yellow baby booties with lemon slices all over them. It's good as-is, but I think if I can find a book to tie them all together it'd be even better

[keeps-ache]

lost vocation: fish

[tisorridalamor]

I think where I landed on the "does Ace Attorney (original trilogy) like women" poll is that the AA fandom (specifically tumblr but you know what I mean) generally speaking likes women a lot more than the actual series does, to the point where I think people may give it more credit than it's due

[supercantaloupe]

do you have any recs for recordings of giulio cesare i can watch/listen to? preferably very contrasting ones? tysm

(it’s probably not the healthiest thing ever that every time i get stuck on an assignment for my music history class i show up in your askbox. (this is the verdi research anon if you remember me.) but oh well!)

admittedly the only video i've watched in full is the 2013 mcvicar production on the met on demand. it's fairly solid even if you do have to suffer through daniels as cesare (on the bright side, dumaux tolomeo!). there's an earlier glyndebourne performance that i think is on medici.tv but not institutional access so i haven't watched that one in full yet, only clips. can't speak to any other videos since i haven't gotten around to watching any in their entireties yet, but from at least browsing clips around there sure are some WEIRD ones out there. so i think the one on the met is a decent place to start even if i think it kind of loses its own point somewhere along the way with its staging. the musical performances are great at least.

as for listening, i usually listen to this album, partially because it doesn't do anything i find egregious tempo/ornamentation wise, partially out of convenience (it's the one that my music app lets me stream lol). there's a couple older audio recordings on the met too, i think i've listened to one of them and thought it was fine. basically as long as cesare is still a treble voice i'm willing to give it a listen, if they recast that mf as a baritone though i bail immediately

[pirateprincessblog]

outlaw

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you wish there would be a time you could call your life boring again. before all the mess, before the town fell apart, before your father disowned you. before jeong yunho. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: wild west theme, cowboy!yunho, bartender!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: praising, claiming, dacryphilia, marking, size kink, oral, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, weapons, alcohol consumption, murder, slight gore, attempted SA 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: django performance might be the reason why i switched from hongjoong to yunho after four years of being loyal. NOT PROOFREAD I AM IMPATIENT I HAD TO POST IT BEFORE GOING TO BED! <3

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"another one, sweetheart."

i'm not your sweetheart, you wanted to mutter. but you bit your tongue, remembering that your father is somewhere in the room. so you have no other choice but to approach the loud, messy table, and pour the greasy dirty man another glass of whatever alcohol you had in hand. it didn't matter anymore, as long as it filled his stomach.

"that's a good girl," he roars with laughter, heavy hand landing on your bottom and making you jolt.

your eyes seek your father, silently asking for help. but no help comes. instead, he points to a different table that demands attention, and leaves the saloon. you stand still, voices muffling around you. your neatly put bun is now falling apart, strands loose on your face and sticking due to sweat, your clothes are heavy on you, and your hands will soon start shaking if you don't take a break from all the work. from early mornings, to even earlier ones the next day, you are destined to be a servant on your own father's property. you wonder if this will last forever. pouring alcohol, dodging flying chairs and tables, taking the harassment so you can survive for another month.

if this really is your future, then what is the point of living? will he marry you off to one of these men? or will he keep you as his servant until the end of his days? you remember the day everything changed for you. you had just come back from the city, finishing the school day. barely a teen, hand in hand with your best friends. your father sat you in the empty saloon, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"you're quitting school."

just a month after you buried your mother, he told you that. there was nobody to help him, he had to fire his staff, and laid his trust into you. the business was crazy that week. who wouldn't want to come and see the owner's little daughter serving alcohol? those men congratulated your father on your birth, watched you play on the street, went to your mother's funeral and wailed with you, came to the saloon to see you struggle with bottles and glasses, only later to have their filthy hands all over you as soon as you turned eighteen. it doesn't stop, no matter how many times you ask. the pleading only makes them do it more, those sick bastards. and each one of them have a wife waiting at home, and a child comforting her.

"hey, bitch, over here!"

monday was a peaceful day. no work, not at the saloon at least. but a basket full of dirty old clothes awaits by the door, waiting to be washed. it is a cold autumn morning, the sun very low in the sky and not warming at all. you drag your feet across the field, hands red from the weight of the basket and the frost. your dress catches onto various branches and bushes, but you do not look back. you need to be done before noon, so you can make lunch for your father.

reaching the river, you drop the basket on the dying grass. a few flowers are still scattered here and there, fighting their way through the cold morning dew. as you scrub your father's shirt on the washboard, you notice just how old those clothes have gotten. you both need new ones, you cannot be walking around looking like the poorest people in town, while owning a saloon. but your father sees no value in those things. talking to him is like talking to a wall that might hit you if you say something it doesn't like. so you keep your mouth shut.

the used, thin washboard suddenly snaps under your hands, a piece of wood jamming into your skin and making you yelp. your skin being almost frozen from being in cold water, and then getting pierced, makes you finally break down. you hug your knees to your chest, and bury your head into the muddy dress. you're cold, in pain, and you miss your mother. your friends. the life you had, and the life you were supposed to have.

sometimes, you selfishly blamed your mother for dying. if she was still here, you could've had a life just like your friends. finding a job in the big city, a man too, a decent one. not this.

you hide your hands in the ruffles of your worn out dress, seeking warmth. you cannot go back home without washing the rest of the clothes, and the sun is rising faster than you want it to. noon will come by soon, and you will have two tasks unfinished. your father won't be pleased.

a distant neigh and galloping have your attention, your head curiously turning to see who it could be. your heart almost sinks when you see the speed the horses are headed at towards you, but with legs and bum frozen on the ground, you cannot move. all you can do is close your eyes in defeat, hoping for the best.

the gallop stops, now switching to a trot. you open your eyes, and see two shiny horses in front of you. the two men riding them dismount, one of them standing next to his horse and taking the leash from the other one. the taller man adjusts his hat, gaze fixed on the floor, and fastens his holster. you gulp, seeing the shiny revolver resting on his hip. then, he raises his head to finally look at you. you almost forget the potential danger of the situation once you look at his brown eyes. he is tall. very tall. and absolutely gorgeous. you look away, suddenly aware of how you look. heavens, what a perfect timing.

"oh, it's just a doe." he says, voice soft and sweet. he tilts his head, trying to get you to look at him. when you don't, he takes a step closer to you, careful not to scare you away. "came for a morning refreshment?"

you don't respond. instead, you look at the man behind him. he stands still, leashes in his hands. his clothes are a bit more rugged than the ones on the man in front of you, but it fits his image very well. then, your eyes betray you end lay on the man in front of you again. he wears a brown leather jacket with fringes, dark blue jeans, and matching brown boots. his brown hat sits perfectly on his head, giving him a mysterious look. he notices you staring, and only chuckles softly. he reaches into his saddlebag, retrieving something wrapped in a white cloth.

"hungry?"

this time, your stomach is the one that betrays you. it decides to grumble as soon as you shake your head no, making the man chuckle again.

"go on, you can have it. you look like you need it."

he holds it out for you to take, closing the distance further. you step back, remembering your father's words.

"no speaking to other men outside of the saloon. if i see you do that, i will personally declare you a whore. nobody will want to marry you, and you'll be alone for the rest of your life."

charming. the man doesn't give up, as he steps further towards you. you step back again, hunger, fear and curiosity fighting inside of you and making you sick to your stomach.

"it's alright. it's just food, i don't mean you any harm."

but he doesn't know what words ring inside your head. taking another step back, your heart almost stops once again. you have stepped into the shallow river, your body losing balance following. the handsome cowboy drops the item on the floor, and firmly grabs your waist and pulls you back to stand on the grass. you instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, and he pulls your body into his. you breathe out when your chest collides with his, overwhelmed by the situation.

"clumsy girl," he teases.

you can't make yourself move, not only because you don't want to, but because his grip is firm on your waist. he safely moves you away from the water and removes one hand from your body, only to move the loose strands of hair from your face.

"wyatt," he calls.

the other man steps towards the two of you, not uttering a word.

"you go on. i'll catch up with you."

without protest, he gets on his horse, nods towards his companion, then gallops away. you are left alone with the ridiculously handsome cowboy, now feeling a bit warmer than a few moments ago. the man finally lets go of you, picking up the cloth from the ground. a distant thunder surprises you, and you look over at the scattered clothes. the black clouds over the mountains are covering the blue sky quite fast, and it just seems at this moment that everything is working against you.

you hurriedly collect the remaining dirty clothes, crouching down and brushing it against the half of the washboard as best as you can. your hand is in pain, still dripping red, but your father's consequences are more painful. you'd rather have a hundred more splinters ripping your skin than your father slapping you across the face like he is used to.

the man lets you finish, turning his attention to the horse. in the corner of your eye, you see him caressing the horse's mane. the animal leans into his hand, enjoying the comfort of his warm and caring touch. he looks so tough, yet his actions are a complete opposite.

"if you're done staring, you can join me."

caught red handed, and red cheeked, you turn around to see him sat under the nearby tree, opening the white cloth. he sets it on the ground near him, and folds his arms across his chest. you pick up the now clean clothes, the broken washboard forgotten and floating somewhere further down the field. you sit next to him, the food serving as an imaginary border. he takes his hat off, putting it over his face and rests his head against the tree.

"if you're embarrassed to eat in front of me. now i won't look. eat. please."

and you do. you take a bite of the biscuit, enjoying it like it's your first one ever. you take the chance now that he doesn't see anything to properly look around. his horse is gorgeous, white with brown legs and head. you then look at its owner, still chewing on the biscuit. the more you look at him, the more your stomach feels all fuzzy. is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? are you finally experiencing a crush?

you should really get home.

thunder grumbles again, causing the horse to become restless.

"shh, you're good." the cowboy says soothingly, not moving from his spot. and the horse listens.

it soothes you too, because you lean against the tree like him, and silently eat. your breathing matches his, and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep. until you start feeling drops of rain on your head. you don't say anything. you don't really need to, because the man interrupts his short break by standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. you take it, your hand melting into his as he helps you up. his touch is secure, and gentle. nobody has ever held you this way, and you are afraid you might get used to it. he leads you to his horse, throwing his spare jacket your way.

"i'll take you home."

"no!"

the cowboy scrunches his eyebrows, and abruptly turns towards you. his hand doesn't leave yours, no matter how hard you pull. "she speaks." he says, as if he made an important discovery.

you shake your head frantically, repeating yourself. "no, you can't."

"why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"because."

"that's not a valid answer, sunshine."

if your stomach wasn't turning from the difficult situation you have found yourself in, it would turn from the simple nickname coming from his mouth. you aren't quite sure whether you're feeling nervous because of your father, or because of the handsome stranger. you remember that he is just a stranger, no matter in how much awe he has you. if you get on his horse, he could take you anywhere. but if you don't get on his horse, he could simply tie you up and take you with him anyway.

fuck.

"i like to walk." you blurt out, grabbing the basket of clothes and holding it in front of you, as if shielding yourself from him.

"lies."

"please, just leave me alone. thank you for the food, and for, well, not letting me fall into the water, but-"

"does he beat you every day?"

he says it with a tone so serious it has your blood going cold in your veins. his gaze becomes stone cold, dark, and it pierces right through you. seeing your distressed face, he steps towards you again, moving your hair away from your neck. the bruise you thought you so cleverly hid now uncovered in front of him. funny how a potentially dangerous stranger shows more interest in it than the town.

"or only when you do something wrong?"

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it isn't. however, if you want it to stop, you might have to make it my business."

you wish for nothing more than for it to stop. but exactly how does this man plan to make it his business? talk to your father? teach him a lesson? or the worst?

"i'll tell you what. i'll bring you just to the hill so nobody sees us, and you think about what i said until then."

you nod, defeated. you really need to get home as quick as possible and get started on the lunch. the cowboy helps you up on the horse, then climbs behind you. this is the closest you've ever been to a man, and if you weren't sneakily reading those short romance stories in the back of the discarded newspaper, you would think that you are becoming ill by how hot your cheeks feel. when he grabs the leash, also helping you hold the basket in the process, you take your time to admire his hands. pretty pale fingers, slightly muddy from maybe hours or days of riding. he smells of whiskey, vanilla and a hint of tobacco. you allow yourself a moment of weakness, closing your eyes and inhaling the scent. it doesn't help the way his warm chest and torso are pressed against your back, rubbing against you with each horses gallop.

when you open your eyes, you are disappointed to see the hill. it means that the short little adventure with the mystery cowboy has come to an end, and that you might never see him again. it's all up to you. and you hate that.

he helps you down, then fixes the ruffles of your dress that were slightly turned upwards from riding while you are occupied with the clothes in the basket.

"well?" he finally says, seeing that you have no intention of speaking first.

"i'll be fine." you lie.

you almost miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek from disappointment. almost. he nods, understandingly, and approaches you. for the last time, maybe. he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the place where your splinter is. "take care of that. wouldn't want such pretty hands to be in pain or have a scar."

he kisses the back of it, eyes not once leaving yours. you almost shiver, from the cold and from his touch.

"thank you for your company, dove. we must part ways now, but i do hope i see you again one day. you are too pretty to forget."

he takes his hat off to say his goodbye, then climbs back on his horse. with a sweet smile and a nod, he gallops away. you stand there and watch, heart swelling with sadness. you watch and watch, until he becomes just a small little dot in the distance.

weeks pass, and your life dynamic does not change. you still serve drunk perverts, avoid sexual offers, cook, and freeze yourself by the river. only now, you wake up earlier than usual, and keep looking at your surroundings in hopes of seeing a familiar brown hat. but you never see it. it's been almost two months, and not a single sign from him. maybe for the best. he did look like bad news. very handsome bad news.

you currently sit in a dark corner in the saloon, reading last weeks newspaper for the romance update on the last page. the appearance of the main character morphs into the cowboy in your head. no longer short, blonde haired with blue eyes and bulk figure, but dark haired with a short mullet, with brown eyes and a slender figure. you didn't even catch his name, yet you shamelessly daydream about him.

the doors of the saloon aggressively swing, startling you and breaking your bubble. you turn the newspaper upside down, hiding your little secret. a young man, known as denver, stands at the entrance, face pure horror. your father approaches him, putting his hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

"what's wrong, boy?"

denver barely gets his sentence out, before countless gallops are heard outside, accompanied with various screams. "he's here."

"who is?"

"the stallion."

you have never seen your father scared. and that scared you even more. he took a step back, abandoning the young man. the saloon became a mess, everyone pushing each other on the way to the exit, but suddenly coming to a halt. you stand up, taking your place behind the bar. the people are stepping back, slowly, still facing towards the doors. they separate in two groups, making way for the intruder. and when your eyes land on the intruder, you swear your heart could jump right on the bar in front of you.

your cowboy, your mystery man, the man you prayed you'd see again, stands in your saloon. drenched in blood and dust, sweaty, and with a revolver in his hand. the look on his face when he sees you tells you that you weren't meant to see him in this state. but he doesn't say anything. instead, he approaches the bar, along with his companions. they are all a mess, but not as much as him.

"good day, darling."

your stomach twists again, and you have to fight the urge to smile. you can't smile, not when everyone around you is terrified. you clear your throat, collecting any stray thoughts before speaking. "good day, sir."

"two rooms. and two bottles of whiskey waiting for me tonight." he says, a sweet smile on his lips.

"uh, yes-"

"there are no rooms available for you." your father interrupts, making his way to the bar.

the cowboy raises his eyebrow, then looks at your father. "oh?"

"yes. so i'm afraid you'll have to call it a day here."

the young man chuckles, eyes returning to your face. he throws a roll of money on the counter, then pushes is towards your father with his stained revolver. "don't be afraid, we won't."

you feel caged by his gaze, afraid to even move. why are you here, you wanted to ask. and why do you look like that. his clothes might look different, but the look on his face when he looks at you stays the same. in the corner of your eye, you notice someone trying to exit sneakily. but the cowboy also seems to catch it, because he points his trusted weapon toward the ceiling and-

"argh!" the woman screams, pure fear painted on her face.

"nobody leaves, until i get two fucking rooms and two bottles of whiskey. have i made myself clear?" he slams the revolver on the counter, causing you to jolt and step back. "now, if your pretty little daughter said that i can have them, just why the fuck are you meddling?"

defeated, your father takes the money, then nods your way. "show them."

alone?, you wanted to ask. but your tongue feels swollen, and your jaw heavy. you don't say anything. instead, you look at the fearsome cowboy, then proceed upstairs. the three of them follow, not uttering a word. you reach the rooms, opening the doors for them to see. the cowboy nods towards the room, sending them a signal to go in. when the two finally close the door, the dark haired man wastes no time in softly pinning you against the wall, just between the two doors.

"there, there. are you that scared of me, sunshine?"

you swear your eyes couldn't get any wider, and you hate it. you must look like a freak to him. but if you do, he doesn't show any disgust. he removes your hair from your neck once again, letting it fall down your back. his knuckles caress the now yellow spot on the neck, the bruise slowly healing.

his eyes shift from the bruise to your eyes, his gaze softening. "not excited to see me?"

you gulp, figuring which words to use. you are, and you are not. you don't even know.

"that's okay."

his other hand find its spot on the back of your head, slightly tilting it so that the injured side of the neck is more exposed. you feel his warm breath against your skin, growing hotter and closer. you finally let out a noise, it being a whimper rather than a proper word or sentence. soft lips graze your skin, before his tongue delicately swipes across your bruise. your stomach has never felt fuzzier, and your head is in the clouds. all those butterflies you felt while reading the newspaper have now turned into a volcano, waiting to erupt any second. the cowboy continues giving attention to your now sensitive neck, having you tremble in his arms.

he notices, putting his other hand on your waist and pushing you further into the wall, silently ordering you to stay still. he leans his own body into you, warm sensation enveloping you and causing you to moan into his ear.

realizing your horrible mistake, your hands quickly find their way to his firm chest, in an attempt to push him away. but instead, your fingers grip the fabric of his ruined leather jacket, and your head falls completely in his control. his hand massages your scalp, all while his tongue never leaves you. he switches from tender kisses, to kitten licks, and if he doesn't stop soon, you might just drip all over the floor and his shoes. 

as if he heard you, he delivers one final kiss, before he pulls away. "i'll see you downstairs at dinner. thank you for the room, dove. and for the lunch."

hearing the door slam shut, you can finally breathe normally. you are left to tremble against the wall, your neck and underwear wet, all because of him. you rush to one of the empty rooms, at the end of the hallway. you lock it, then toss yourself on the bed. you waste no time in flipping your dress over, your fingers finding the soft folds between your legs. you gasp, more at the state of it than the feeling. you are soaked, your fingers almost slipping from your folds.

you spend a worrying amount of time trying to please yourself somehow, but the buildup is just growing and growing, not giving any signs of erupting soon. no matter how much you picture your handsome cowboy, just a few doors away.

and you don't even know his name.

"did he touch you?"

"what?!"

"i'm serious. did he do anything to you?"

"father-" since when do you care? "he didn't!"

he continues to follow you while you serve the guests, asking questions and demanding to know the truth. "did he say anything?"

"like?"

"anything."

"he asked for a prostitute and i said i'm available tonight."

smack.

nobody turns, already used to your father's free will. you bite the inside of your now stinging hot  cheek, wishing for nothing more than to hit him with the bottle of gin you had in your hand.

"fucking slut. just like your mother. give me that." he yanks the tray from your hands, causing two glasses to fall and shatter. "pick that up, and go to the stables."

"but it's dinner time-"

"judith will help me. go. now."

not only do you end up not eating yourself, but you don't see the man whose lips you're still feeling on you. maybe that's why your father told you to leave, just so you don't see him. is it possible that he knows today isn't the first time you see the cowboy?

you search for his horse, the one you thought was the prettiest one you've seen. but it's not in the stable.

"it got shot. he had to put her down." slowly getting used to sudden intrusions, you turn around. one of his companions sit on a block of hay.

"oh." is all you manage to say.

"a shame, really. especially because she was a present from his wife."

"what?" you turn around, the bucket of carrots falling from your hands.

"ah, he didn't tell you? why would he. he wouldn't be able to get into your pants if you knew he was married. haven't you noticed something shiny on his finger?"

no, no you haven't. because you were so mesmerized by his face and behavior you didn't question whether he has someone waiting for him at home. besides, a married man wouldn't... touch you the way he did?

"ah, poor thing. you thought he had a thing for you? you don't compare to his wife. he's an outlaw after all, our yunho. his wife is a perfect match for him, almost a female version of him. did you know that the bounty on her head is higher than his?"

you feel like you could throw up. from multiple reasons. you let a married man touch you. hell, you touched yourself to a married man. not just an ordinary man, but an outlaw? what if his wife finds out? is she really that dangerous? will you be next on her victim list? not able to contain the emotions any longer, you run to the corner, bending over the blocks of hay and puking on the floor.

"ah, there, there. i'm quite surprised, that was the calmest reaction yet. other women tend to jump at his throat immediately."

other women? the ground sways under your feet, threatening to crumble and swallow you.

"since you're not in a state to speak, i'll answer all the questions in your head. have a seat, please."

you finally take a good look at the man once you sit down, seeing him stand up in front of you. he's no less handsome than the cowboy, yunho, and he is older. but the somewhat evil smirk on his face is off putting. you hold the now empty bucket in your lap, carrots laying on the ground for the horses to feast on. just in case you feel sick again.

"see, while yunho does love his dear wife, she can be a bit of a handful for him. too... dominant for him, one could say. so he seeks submissiveness in other women, just like you. women who are the opposite to lori, women who are, well, nothing. much like you."

his words shoot at your heart, and you know he is right. it just feels disappointing to hear it out loud. were you really a nothing?

"he sleeps with them and whatever, and kindly robs them while they sleep from exhaustion. the rest of us do the same with others, not to worry. it's rude to exclude, don't you think? you know, you should really pay more attention to that notice board next to your house. my head is the third one from the left, right under the mighty stallion."

"why would you tell me this? what's in it for you?"

"my, you speak! what's in it for me? nothing, if i'm being honest. i just happen to be aware of the treatment your father gives you, and i guess the years are starting to catch up to me. i think i feel pity."

"you're going to ask for something in return, aren't you?"

"clever girl, you are." he crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "give me what you wanted to give yunho."

"i didn't want to-"

"you think i'm dumb? like you? i know that if he had only asked you, you would've jumped in his bed right away. therefore, i tell you, give me what i ask."

"no."

the older man scoffs, then stands up again. his hand remains on your cheek, but his thumb stops caressing it. he removes it, only to bring it back with a slap. losing balance, you fall on the ground. the man doesn't give you any time to process what just happened, grabbing you by your shoulders and throwing you on the pile of hay. you open your mouth, letting out a scream that gets cut off by his lips on your mouth. they feel greasy, reeking of onion and beef, not remotely close to yunho's.

your hands are trapped above your head, his hand holding it in place while his other one struggles with the layers of your dress and apron. you kick, as fast and hard as you can, but you only manage to piss him off. he pulls away, only to spit in your face.

"i bet you wouldn't give yunho a hard time like this. why do all women have to be so difficult? all i want to do is make you feel good, baby."

tears stream down your face, words stuck in your throat. even though nothing is blocking your mouth anymore, you don't speak.

"you know, if you just let me... i'd get rid of your father for good. i could take you with me, i'd make you feel good any time you ask. i could-"

his words are left hanging in the air, and you feel hot liquid splash over your face. the shooting noise catches up to you right after the man's body falls on you, lifeless. you finally scream, lungs hurting from the amount of it. your hands fly to your face, wiping off the liquid and staring at it. red drips down your hands, onto your neck, pure terror filling your body as you realize you have someone's remains all over you. short and fast breaths leave your mouth, chest compressed under his heavy figure. it is not until another figure pulls him off you, and puts his hand over your mouth with hushing noises.

"it's alright, love." you recognize the voice as wyatt's, who then helps you up. "hey, you're fine."

you're not. you do not know who to trust. then again, when you don't trust your own father, why bother?

"let's get you washed."

after splashing your face with cold water and wiping it with his handkerchief, wyatt helps you to the back entrance of the saloon, then goes back to the stables. probably to finish the business.

you find yourself laying in the guest bed again, only this time, the sheets aren't wet from arousal, but from tears. you spend at least two hours, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling . you feel dirty, still feeling his dirty hands all over you. your fingers hesitantly touch your face, afraid that you'll stain them red again. your dress and apron still have droplets of now brown liquid. is this what yunho does? is that why he looked the way he did when he entered the saloon? only the blood on his clothes was still red, still very fresh.

if what the dead man said was true, then you best stay out of the cowboy's way. and just like that, your secret little romance story has turned into a horror one.

the next few days, you don't see yunho much. you see the prostitutes coming down from the top floor, sometimes two or three of them at a time. and you are disgusted. you only see him at breakfast, from afar, and he doesn't show much interest in approaching you. his companions surround him, making the frown on his face bigger every day. were they discussing the strategy of robbing the town? was there something in their way?

for a split second, the man catches your gaze. his eyes soften, and you swear you could see a faint smile on his lips. but you couldn't return it. not when you know the intentions behind it. the soft look is replaced by confusion, which grows even bigger when you only spare him an ice cold glance and move on with your work.

saturday evening, the saloon is full. it is foggy, reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and is loud. you don't see him or his crew yet, and you are thankful for it. at least one evening of peace. so far.

"it's kind of disappointing, you know? i mean, the sex is amazing. well, you know. you had him yesterday. but it's so sad that the town fears him and wants him dead. wouldn't mind having a piece of that every day. my body is burning, and it's been two days, but i still want more."

"i know, right? what a shame. i wish he'd stick around longer. i don't know about you, but i love that thrill of knowing that he's an outlaw. a wanted man, a gorgeous wanted man, having his way with me? i don't think anything will top that. i mean, did you see his-"

"another drink?" you interrupt, not able to listen anymore.

they giggle among each other before handing you the downed glasses. the saloon quiets down when they hear thuds coming from the stairs. you regret looking up, eyes immediately locking with familiar brown ones. everyone seems to watch their step, ready to get up and free a table if yunho desires it. oh, the amount of power he holds. that isn't supposed to make you feel some type of way. you're supposed to hate him.

but how, when he approaches you so politely, tucking that loose piece of hair that's been bothering you all evening behind your ear. such a simple gesture, which awakes the oceans in you, and probably means nothing to him. just a foreplay, before he finally cages you and fulfills his plans.

slowly, but surely, the music goes on. the people are relaxed once they see yunho doesn't have any thirst for blood tonight.

"gin."

"right away."

the night goes on, with you tending to everyone. and the cowboy follows you with his eyes, so much that the two women at the bar near him start throwing themselves at him just to get his attention.

"say, when are we going to have fun again?"

"yeah, stallion. did you forget us already?"

yunho chuckles, seeing you approach the other side of the bar and mouth their words with a mocking face. you hear him, raising your head enough to look at him. caught red handed, you only awkwardly press your lips in a thin line, continuing to wash the dirty glasses.

"you were never really ones to remember," yunho simply says, bringing the glass to his lips and downing the drink in one go.

he stands up, not sparing the women a glance even after they audibly gasp and start murmuring among each other. he approaches your father, saying something into his ear, then looks at you once again before disappearing upstairs.

"here," a clean washcloth lands on the bar counter by the end of the night.

"what?"

"that cowboy, stallion. he needs a bath."

"so? he can get his own washcloths. why do i need to- oh."

"yeah, oh. we haven't had a single man in a while, so there was no need for edith. now you can go fill her position."

great.

you knock on the door, and use the other hand to fix your hair before you hear him say come in. you do as told, two washcloths secure in your hand as you go deeper in the room. it takes everything in you to stand still not collapse from the sight. his clothes are carelessly dumped on the floor, and he lays still in the wooden basin filled with water. the place is steamy, the fireplace keeping the winter cold away. yunho has his arms hanging from the basin, and his head resting against the edge. the steam has caused his hair to stick to his face, which was shiny. droplets of sweat roll down his neck and into the water, and you think that is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

he is so manly, so handsome, and so...

"you gonna stand there and watch while i slowly cook myself into a stew here?"

he is fresh shaven, that is the first thing you notice when you approach him. he lazily opens his eyes, the hot water having relaxed his muscles a bit more than he wanted to. "right, sorry."

you wet one washcloth, then wrap it around a bar of soap. you haven't done this since... ever. yes, you helped wash your sick cousin. but she was sick, and it was different. this? having a whole man naked right in front of you, and you were supposed to touch him?

"go on. i don't bite. not unless you want to."

"i really don't." you murmur, finally pressing the soap against his hot skin.

you exhale, your heart threatening to escape from your chest and jump into the basin with the cowboy. a thin layer of fabric is all that is in the way of you finally feeling him the way you wanted. a fabric that could so easily just slip from your fingers, and you accidentally touch him. and he likes it. and he acts on it. and-

"i see you breaking your back down there. every day. with your father, with all those perverts, with all those jealous women. you deserve better. my offer still stands, you know?"

"i'm fine," you say, just like last time.

"give yourself some time to think."

the next half hour is quiet. peaceful sounds of the wood cracking, water dripping, and yunho's calm breathing. his eyes are locked on you, and you are sweating as much as him, only for different reasons. you fear that he can read your mind, figure out just how naughty the images in your head are getting. but when it gets to a certain point, you are reminded of that night, and you stop. that bastard has stolen your first kiss, and almost stole your first time. if anything, you are thankful that yunho has brought wyatt with him.

"uh... can you sit up straight?"

yunho raises an eyebrow, amused. you clear your throat when he doesn't move, looking around before finally figuring it out.

"could you sit up straight, sir? please?"

"right away, darling."

he does as asked, exposing his back to you. heavens, you want to- you want to- you don't even know what you want. there he sits, a whole meal right in front of you, and all you can do is breathe heavily and act all clumsy. you rub the soap on his back, gently massaging him and feeling every line on his body.

"you missed a spot."

"huh?"

"right here." his warm hand takes your wrist, guiding you towards his chest once again. your hand rests over his beating heart, and if you weren't so foolishly focused on seeing what the missed spot was, you would've seen the look on his face that is yelling to kiss him.

"oh, sorry."

he doesn't get angry. instead, he chuckles fondly. you are so delicate and innocent, it hurts him. too mesmerized by your focused face, he doesn't notice that your hand is traveling to his stomach. he jolts, hand clasping your wrist so tight that it has you whimper. you seem to have found a sensitive spot, not only to the body, but to the mind and heart. the look on his face shifts from a soft to an angry one, and you take it as your cue to step back.

"that's all. you can go." he mutters, looking away from you.

"but-"

"i'll finish up. go."

coming back to the stables, it takes a lot of energy. you first go during the day, with jongho. he knew, wyatt told him. the rest only knew that wyatt and the man got into a fight and wyatt had to shoot him. jongho is understanding, kind, and doesn't seem to share any of the qualities that the dead man had given them. not only is he not interested in doing any harm to the town and its people, but he is rather helpful.

yunho, again, is nowhere to be seen. you hesitate to ask. you don't know what you did wrong, but you pray that the night isn't your last encounter with him.

you stand in front of the stables, memories flooding your brain once you see the hay blocks. they have been rearranged, some destroyed, possibly by jongho or wyatt. the horses are sitting together in the corner, enjoying the warmth of each other during the first snowy day.

"i can't do it." 

"that's alright. i won't force you. i just don't want one sick man to keep haunting you even when he's no longer here."

"i need time."

jongho only smiles reassuringly, patting your shoulder. he's nice, why doesn't your stomach toss and turn when you see him the way it does when you see yunho?

"i still wonder what he told you about yunho. your behaviour towards him isn't at all like he described it."

"what, he spoke to you about me?"

wyatt subtly kicks his knee from the side, ordering him to stop. but jongho feels rather mischievous today, and is growing annoyed of his leader. they were supposed to move on days ago, not behave like tourists.

"you first. i want to know why you despise him. well, except obvious reasons." the young man turns around, pointing at their companions scattered in the main street, keeping people away and scared.

you sit on the bench in front of the stable, running your hands through your already messy hair before finding the right words to say. "is he married?"

the two men look at each other, their faces not giving you much of an answer. they are extremely good at masking their emotions. wyatt sighs, sitting down to your right. "yes. and no."

"what do you mean? yes or no?"

"well, it's complicated." jongho says, sitting to your left.

"it's also not our story to tell," wyatt adds, looking over at jongho with a warning look, "yunho is the one that should be telling you."

you scoff, making both men look at you in confusion. "does it matter? he'll just sleep with me, you all will do your part of the job, and then you'll leave. i should do it as soon as possible, for both of our sakes. i imagine you can't wait to leave this town, just like we can't wait for you to leave."

"listen, if yunho wanted to harm you, he would. we never stay in one place longer than three days. we've been here far longer, as you can see. i don't know the reason yet, but i know he doesn't mean any harm. did he have a change of heart? doubt it. will he continue his crimes? i don't doubt that. is there something holding him here? yes, yes there is. i might have a guess, but-"

"jongho. shut the fuck up."

"i wasn't going to tell her, wyatt, relax."

the two men bicker over you, random words and sentences traveling to your ears and overstimulating your brain. you start feeling dizzy, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. you stand up and march down the street, leaving the two men to feel bad on the bench.

the next time you go to the stables, it is night again. and it is because your father throws a glass at you. it hits the wall right next to you, breaking, shards flying into your skin. you have nowhere to go, yunho's companions basically running the town by now. you don't need one of them to get a hold of you again. you sit on the new pile of hay, far in the corner. sobbing, pulling at your hair, cursing yourself.

how wise would it be to actually take his offer? would you be able to survive on your own? or would every single man in town finally be happy that you're all alone, unprotected, and out of someone's cage.

it hurts to even think about it, and it causes you to sob even more. your chest hurts, and after what seems like hours of crying, you aren't sure if it's from physical or emotional pain.

the animals seem to feel sorry for you, because soon enough two horses find their comfort in the hay right next to you, shielding your figure from the outside world. you can't help but laugh at the bigger one, his head pushing into your lap and demanding attention.

"aren't you cute?"

your fingers gently caress its neck, lulling it to sleep. it seems like the whole stable was affected, because soon enough they all start laying down one by one, calling it an early night and pulling you to sleep with them. funny how you got way more peace and affection from animals than your own family.

"moonshine."

click. click. click.

"come on, girl."

the warm surface you were laying on moves, following the mouth clicking noises and leaving your head to rest on the hay. you're still asleep, not aware that someone else has joined you in the stable. but the other person isn't aware that you're there either.

"there's my good girl," the man pets the black stallion, which lives up to its name and stands under the moonlight, in its full glory and shine. "aren't you beautiful?"

your eyes peel open, the voice slowly waking you up. you hear crunching, and a bucket rattling. when you finally open your eyes, you see the outline of the familiar figure at the entrance. it is not yet morning, that you figure out by the darkness that has swallowed the place. the only light being the gas lantern hanging from the saloons entrance, you don't see much. but you recognize that hat and figure anywhere.

"i wish you could speak, my pretty moonshine. you'd tell me why blood was spilled, and why my pretty girl won't lay her eyes on me anymore."

his...? his pretty girl? you don't move a muscle, hoping to hear more. the mare only points its head towards the bucket, demanding more food. yunho chuckles, reaching for another apple.

"do you think i scared her away? i made sure she knows i don't mean any harm to her. did someone fill her pretty head with something?"

the mare lets out a noise, as if wanting to confirm. yunho exhales, then sets the bucket aside. he goes further into the stable, walking just past you and grabs the saddle from the corner. going back, his boot gets caught in your dress, and causes him to halt. you shut your eyes, pretending to still sleep.

"heavens." he exhales.

you feel him get closer to you, and almost betray yourself when you feel his knuckles caress your face.

"darling?"

his voice is usually low and pleasant, but hearing him whisper is just something else. why does he have to be so perfect, yet so dangerous?

you stretch, pretending to not notice him yet. finally opening your eyes, you fake a gasp. you lean back into the hay, trying to keep a distance from him. he crouches in front of you, fixing his hat. you can't get over how well it suits him.

"had a good nap?"

"well, yes. had." you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"that's no place to sleep, dove."

"it's the only place that gives me comfort right now."

he nods, understandingly. he offers you his hand to take, and you only look at him, puzzled.

"i'll take you to a place that will give you more comfort."

"i'm not sure-"

"that wasn't a question." the tone is serious, but the wink he gives you after it relaxes you.

the cowboy stands up, making his way to his mare. you stand up, dusting off your dress and following him. he puts the saddle on the horse, securing it, then offers you his hand again. this time you take it, not yet sure what he had in mind.

"go on, climb her."

"uh... she's quite... bigger than the last one. or any other one i rode on."

"yeah, moonshine is quite something. she's gentle though, nothing to worry about. go on, don't be shy."

with a bit of struggle, and a little push from yunho, you finally sit comfortably on the tall mare. she indeed shines under the moon, black fur reflecting beautifully in the dark night. yunho climbs behind you, taking the leash in his hands and guiding the mare down the street.

"is she fast?"

"she can be. want to see?"

"i don't know. i might scream."

he chuckles. he maintains the pace, gracefully trotting down the quiet sleepy town. you see some of his companions keeping watch, each nodding their heads your way as you pass them. your gaze falls on his hands, searching for the shiny item that was mentioned that night. but you don't see it. was it really a lie? or did yunho somehow know, and took it off? is the wife even real?

"hold on tight." he whispers into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck and cheek.

you grab onto his thighs, instinctively, right before you pass the last house and yunho whips the leash against the mare. it neighs, puts its two front legs up in the air and almost throws you on the grown. you gasp, but manage to collect yourself once the animal returns to its position and starts galloping. it feels like you're flying, and you're enjoying it more than you're scared of it. your hair flies into his face probably, but he doesn't say anything.

you pass hills, past the river where you first saw the man, and into the mountains. you don't remember the last time you went this far outside of town. not only because you weren't allowed, but you had no time or way. it's not as if you had a horse of your own.

his thighs are firm under your hands, nothing but pure muscle. and it suddenly drives you crazy, the way you feel his torso pressed against your back, arms holding the leash and keeping you from falling off along the way, his breath against your ear.

"you alright?"

"yes!"

"how do you feel? scared?"

"this is so much fun! it's scary and fun!"

his laugh is loud over the wind, chest vibrating behind you. the mare slows its pace when arriving on the steep mountain trails, carefully navigating to the top. once there, it comes to a halt. it is not very high, but high enough too overlook the fields, the river, and the distant town. yunho dismounts, then helps you down.

"cold?" he asks, noticing your trembling frame.

"a bit."

this time, he doesn't throw the spare jacket at you like the first time you met. he takes off his own, helping you put it on. it's warm, smells like him, and it's making you so dizzy you might just fall off the cliff. taking a good look at him, you decide that even if he is dangerous, his handsomeness makes up for it. he wears a brown waistcoat, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders. heavens, he is so dashing.

you stand still, waiting for his next plan. he pulls a blanket out of the saddlebag, along with the familiar white cloth, and sets it on the ground. the mare continues it's path further up, taking a spot near a boulder, as if used to the situation already. which brings you back to the questions in your head; did he bring other women here?

"sit down, peach. make yourself comfortable."

and you do, right next to him. you both sit still for a few moments, looking at the faint light in the distance. yunho then fidgets with something in the pocket of his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. in his open palm lays a ring, the very ring you've heard about and had your head spinning for days.

"hmph," he laughs through his nose, "figured that was the issue."

"there is no issue. you have a wife. end of story."

"take it."

"no."

"take it."

"i don't want to."

yunho sighs, then closes his hand again. he sits still for a few moments, as if thinking. and then-

"why would you do that?!"

you stand up, watching the shiny piece of jewelry fall from the cliff.

"if you listened and took it, you would've seen how worthless it is."

"i don't need your wedding ring, yunho."

his eyebrows are knit together, and you suddenly realize your mistake.

"you know my name."

"yeah."

"how?"

and you tell him. every detail of it, including the wife story. he listens carefully, face not giving any emotion. typical. by the time you finish, you are laying down and looking up at the shiny sky, tears streaming down your face. yunho is propped up on his elbow, laying on the side and listening. his fingers catch a fresh tear, brushing your cheek in the process. you are left completely baffled when he puts the very same fingers on his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the salty liquid.

"you poor thing." he coos, bringing his hand back to you. he removes the hair from your neck, then smiles with satisfaction once he sees your healed skin. "that's good. seems my medical techniques worked."

you scoff, putting your hair back over your neck with embarrassment. "so, uh... your wife?"

"a psycho."

"oh."

"she stabbed me. almost bled out to death if it weren't for jongho."

he says it so casually, as if it isn't a big deal. "you're still married though, right? that's why you had the ring."

"not quite. we weren't really married. it was just play pretend, so she could have half of everything i was bringing back. once i stopped, the bitch jumped me with a knife. barely made it out alive."

"then... why did you keep it?"

"to keep women away from me. well, those i didn't want."

"but you sleep with them. you use them anyway."

he frowns at the accusation. "no, no i don't. i only rob. i sleep only with prostitues, sometimes. what my companions do is none of my business. we have a deal, and i do not ask about what they do. just like they don't ask about me or what i do."

so, not all of it is true. but then again, can you really trust him?

"i'm so sorry, dove. if i knew that sick bastard would go behind my back, even after threatening them not to touch you-"

"it's fine. nothing happened." you try, seeing him get angrier with every second he spends imagining the situation you were in.

"he stole your first kiss."

"well, yes. but, what's done is done. it was barely a kiss, really. more like mouth to mouth breathing. it was like inhaling a whole onion." you say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. but yunho doesn't laugh. instead, he unbuttons his waistcoat, then his shirt.

"what- what are you doing?"

"well, since you showed me your bruises, and told me your story, it would only be fair that i showed you mine."

you remember the night you washed him, when you went to touch his stomach and he told you to leave. kneeling in front of him, you finally get to see why. a scar decorates his lower torso, just above the jeans and the v-line. you breathe in, ready to do something you would only in your dreams.

you lean in, hands trembling against the blanket and fingers scrunching it from the nervous state you're in. yunho shivers, feeling your lips press against his scar. you don't stop there, inspired by his own actions. you allow your tongue to graze it, and when you get another gasp from him, you take it as a sign to keep going. his hand finds its place under your chin, raising your head to that you can look at him. and he snaps.

he grabs you by your waist, pulling you up so that you sit in his lap. you don't fight back, you're enjoying it. over the layers of the dress, you feel something poking you, and it makes your cheeks heat up.

"stop looking at me like that." he whispers, lips inches away from yours.

"like what?"

"with those big eyes. like you want me to ravish you right here."

"maybe i do."

"you're saying risky things, sugar."

seeing that he doesn't intend on making the first move, you do. you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. you don't know what you're doing, but try your best. luckily, he gives in, humming into your lips and kissing you properly. his hands on your waist scrunch the fabric of your dress as he contains himself from just pushing you below him and having you his way. he needs to take it slow. you're not like others.

"relax your jaw." he mumbles, and when you do, he allows his tongue to touch your lips, as if asking for permission to enter. and you grant it, parting your lips and unsurely letting your tongue join his.

he massages your muscle with his own skilled one, rubbing it just right and making your thighs rub and seek pleasure. he kisses you slow, and deep, each stroke of his tongue more passionate than the previous one. he feels you get annoyed by something, and is forced to stop.

"what is it?"

"as much as i love your hat, it's in the way."

the man chuckles below you, immediately removing the hat and putting it on your head. "there."

"how do i look?" you adjust it, getting used to the new item.

"like a feast."

with a swift move, yunho pulls your body closer to his face, so that it is between your legs. his hands shuffle through the layers of fabric, finally finding the undergarment and pushing it aside. "what are you doing? i'm going to squish you!"

"sit."

"what?!"

"sit."

you hover above him, not yet listening. this time, he is the one to get annoyed, and puts his hands on your bottom. he slams you against his face, tongue immediately licking a stripe up your already slick folds. you gasp, hand flying to his shoulders for support.

"rock your hips, sunshine. make yourself feel good."

you do as told, rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue, soft moans and gasps leaving your mouth. you tremble in his hands, the newfound pleasure too much for you to handle. "i can't- yunho, it's too much-"

the man only sends you a mischievous look, before taking the situation into his own hands. his plush lips close around your clit, sucking it, while the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. you let out a long and loud moan, body shuddering from the surge of intense pleasure.

"fuuuck-" you whine, hips hopelessly grinding against his tongue.

deciding it's enough, yunho flips you underneath him with a swift motion. "do you want to do this?"

"yes, please."

"then, i'll have to prepare you. since you asked so nicely."

he flips your dress over, exposing your wet bottom to the cool air. you shiver again, his jacket not helping much with the cold.

"this is going to hurt a little. i promise i'll be gentle."

you nod, then go back to abusing the poor blanket underneath you. you bite into it, feeling his long digits intrude your tight walls. it is unpleasant, but not that painful.

"that's a good girl. you're so wet for me, look how easily you're taking me."

he starts pumping in and out, squelching noises having you completely lose your mind and almost drool on the blanket. his fingers are long, very long. how will you survive his-?

"this good, darling?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, sir." you moan out, hips moving along with his hand in hopes of more pleasure.

he doesn't speed up. being soft and slow seems to be his way of doing it, and it is a pace you are enjoying very much. it's not fast, like you do it. you do it to get rid of it. he does it for actual pleasure. when he removes his fingers, you can't help but whine at the loss of contact. he turns you around so that you lay on your back, facing him. his hair is a mess, much like yours, and he smiles lazily at you.

"my needy girl." he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips. "can i claim you, sweet thing?"

"what?"

"do you wish to be mine?"

do you? or is it just the horny speaking instead of you? either way, you might end up regretting. so you simply say:

"yes, sir."

"say my name, darling." he pulls himself out of his jeans, the tip of his cock running circles on your sensitive clit.

"yunho."

he hums, slipping his tip past your folds. "again."

"yunho," you gasp, feeling him inch by inch splitting you in half.

"again."

"yunho-"

"more."

"yunho," thrust, "yunho," thrust, "yunho!"

he gets lost in the feeling of your tight warm walls, hips snapping deep inside of you and driving you crazy. you get wetter by the second, even more when you see him so dizzy. it's nice to know that you have him in a chokehold as much as he has you.

"does it hurt?"

"no," you reply.

"that's because you're so perfectly made for me. look at you, you fit in the palm of my hand."

that's not true, obviously. but the way he says it makes you really feel that you could fit, and that you could stay protected there. his hips collide with yours, and your eyes roll back.

"such a pretty pussy," he growls, pace getting sloppier and slower. "wish i could do this all night long."

"me too," you moan.

his hands rip your dress apart, exposing your chest. his lips waste no time in attaching to your skin, leaving bite marks all over it, until reaching the tense nipples. he takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around it, while his other hand plays with the other. your fingers find comfort in pulling his hair, subconsciously pushing his head into you further.

"my sweet peach," he coos, cock sliding in and out so easily, "my pretty girl."

"so sweet"

"even your moans are so beautiful"

"use me for your pleasure, darling"

you find yourself moving your hips along with his, only in a faster pace. you need to finally feel that orgasm. you feel something build up in the bottom of your stomach, and you're not sure what to do.

"yunho..."

"yes, my love?"

"i don't know how to- how to orgasm."

"you'll feel it. don't think about it. just relax, and let your body do it. let me do it."

you feel the buildup, then you lose it. again, and again, until you whine about it. yunho turns you around again, so that you are sitting on his lap. you feel him deep in your stomach, almost pulsating.

"let's try this."

he helps you up and down, rolls your hips, until he finds what works for you. you hover above him, hopelessly biting into his neck to contain your inappropriate noises. his hips snap into yours with a fast pace, finally hitting the spot you didn't know existed. the buildup starts again, this time not stopping. and when pleasure washes you over, you can't help but pull at yunho's hair mercilessly, moaning into his ear and letting yourself completely go. he helps you ride it out, waves of intense pleasure washing over you as yunho helps himself get closer.

"fuck, darling." he growls, pulling out of you.

"wait, what about you?"

"i'll just- i don't know."

his hand wraps around his cock, which is ready to unleash any moment. the man almost audibly gasps when he sees you kneel in front of him, innocently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. just how did you know?

"are you sure?"

"positive."

"absolutely sure?"

"yunho?"

"yes?"

"please cum in my mouth."

and it's all it takes. yunho jerks himself on your tongue, or at least tries to. some of it ends up on your face, but you so carefully try to collect every single drop he gives you. you don't miss the way his head falls back, eyes rolling and low moans escaping his pretty lips. coming down from his high with one last pump and moan, he finally looks at you. the texture on your tongue is not the most pleasant one, but you decide to impress him further, and swallow it. he scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

"you are just perfect, aren't you?"

in the morning, the ride back is much more comfortable. you still wear his hat, proudly, and his jacket. he can't help but kiss your shoulder as you ride, having it difficult enough to keep his hands off you. if only he could hold you in his pocket all day.

upon entering the town, you notice the people, your people, standing and waiting. would now be the right time to tell yunho you accept his offer?

he helps you dismount, before taking the revolver in his hand.

"what's this? a rebellion?" he says, mockingly.

"does she know?" your father asks, pointing at you.

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking between the two men. something shines in your fathers hand, and you realize he also holds a revolver.

"there is nothing to know." yunho replies, approaching him and standing in front of you. "you keep your mouth shut."

"oh, but there is. see, my little daughter, if you want to whore around, you could've picked anyone from the town. not your own mother's killer."

blood runs cold in your veins. the sun suddenly doesn't shine as bright anymore, and the man in front of you morphs into someone else. he turns around towards you, shaking his head. "no..."

"he shot her."

"you shot my father!"

"he deserved it!"

"no, the fuck he didn't!"

you step back, tears burning your eyes. did you really give yourself to the man who took your mother away from you? who also took your father away from you?

"listen-" yunho tries, hands reaching to touch you.

"don't touch me."

"he came here to finish the business. but he didn't count that he would fall for the daughter. what a clash of interests."

he doesn't deny it. and it only infuriates you more. so he did have an evil plan after all.

"you came for me, didn't you?" your father presses further, raising his revolver.

"no, i didn't." yunho replies, face changing from a guilty and sorry one to a neutral. "i came for her."

he grabs you by your shoulders, putting his hand over your mouth. you toss, scream, and whatnot, but what are you compared to his grip?

"i assume you won't care much if i took her away. but it would mean much to me. tit for tat."

"you are to never step foot into this town again. not you, not your companions."

yunho nods. and your father puts his weapon away. and it crashes your heart. you know you don't mean much to him, but to give you to an outlaw so easily?

"i came for what i wanted, not to worry. you won't see me ever again."

and just like that, you find yourself tied up and tossed over the black mare.

why did you ever wish for a life other than the one you had?

"you're all mine now, sunshine."

feedback greatly appreciated! <3

[nariism]

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you. 

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat. 

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

⟢ james potter x reader ⟢ your boyfriend doesn't mind getting his hands a little messy for you ⊹ 794 ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication, james is taller than reader, knife (used to cut fruit)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Cherries, Jamie!” you cheer, your head popping up from its place in the refrigerator.

James stands behind you, holding the fridge door open as he endearingly watches you stick your head deeper than necessary into the fridge, fitting your face between the shelves, in search of a midnight snack. 

His amused expression falters as you pull out the basket of cherries you bought at the market yesterday. 

James closes his hand over the side of the basket, intent on taking it from you, “Ah, how about we do the raspberries instead, yeah?” 

Your grip tightens on your snack, giving it a futile tug that causes you to stumble back.

After a night out with your friends, you’ve returned to your shared flat, fairly drunk and quite famished, your tastebuds craving something sweet. 

James frowns as images of this drunken version of you clumsily cracking your tooth or choking on a cherry pit swirl around in his mind.

A pout overtakes your lips as you complain, “Don’t want ‘berries, want cherries.” Your downturned lips don’t last long when you suddenly snort at your accidental rhyme, “Berry, cherry,” you repeat, giggling. 

James tries to pry the fruit from you while your distracted, but your grip remains strong as the papery basket bends from your collective tugs in opposite directions.

“Baby, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he tries to reason.

“On fruit?” you ask incredulously. 

Maybe it was a little silly, but James’ protective nature knows no bounds. 

“I just want cherrieeees,” you whine and James has never been good at saying no to you.

“Okay," he gives in, "but give them here first.”

“You’re gonna put ‘em where I can’t reach ‘em!" you accuse.

“I'm just gonna wash them for you," James says in a soft, reassuring voice, "Can you let me do that please?”

You squint at him skeptically, but you release your hold. 

James holds the basket in one hand, the other finding its way around you to press against your lower back, guiding you away from the fridge to let it close behind you. 

He sets the cherries on the edge of the sink and you in front of them as he moves to rummage through the cupboards for a colander to rinse the cherries in.

James has to suddenly return to your side, steadying you by your waist when you fail to hoist yourself up onto the counter.

A stressed sigh leaves his lips as he dips his head down so that his eyes are level with yours. "You wanna sit?" he asks, giving your waist a squeeze.

"Mhm."

James lets his forehead tap against yours briefly, a sign of his affection, "Okay, hop up for me."

You jump again and with James' help you land on top of the counter this time. He kisses your temple before resuming his mission to recover the colander.

He's quick to dump the berries from the green fiber basket into the strainer and rinse them in the sink. Once the water is off, you're already reaching for a cherry and he lifts the dripping bowl out of your reach.

You look at him with an expression of utmost betrayal.

"I'm gonna give them to you, baby, just give me a minute. Trust me?"

"Trust you," you grumble a confirmation.

James places the wet colander atop a dishcloth. He keeps a close eye that you don't sneak any bites as he takes out a plastic cutting board and a paring knife.

Soon, James falls into steady a rhythm of plucking stems, depitting little stone fruits, and popping the halves into your mouth as he goes.

It's tedious— slicing the cherries around their pits, twisting the halves apart, and driving out the pits with his thumb. Not to mention, it's messy, and even while applying his most delicate touch, fruit juices are spraying everywhere. On top of that, the stones keep trying to roll onto the floor.

The ordeal has the whites of his nails pink and his fingertips stained red, but the way you giggle happily each time he feeds you another piece makes it all worth it.

Once your sweet tooth is been satisfied, he pecks your crimson stained lips, and rinses excess fruit juice from his hands.

He returns to you, placing his now dry hands atop your knees and he traces little shapes on your skin with the scarlet pads of his thumbs.

You beam up at him, and his chest swells with a profound, all-encompassing love.

"Happy now?" he asks, his eyes lovingly studying the crinkle of your eyes and curl of your lips.

In response, and as a thank you, you scoot closer and press another sweet kiss to his mouth.

He smiles against you and he tastes cherries.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[ashtxrie]

incognito mode (heeseung)

PAIR. classmate!heeseung x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, implied strangers to lovers WORD COUNT. 1.0k WARNINGS. none! IN WHICH: heeseung receives drawings from an anonymous admirer who decides to not be so anonymous anymore...

heeseung finds the first drawing when he opens his locker, a yellow post-it note among his books and papers. he doesn’t think much of it, not until he pulls out his textbook and it flutters to the ground, landing near his feet.

there’s something on the back, so he bends to pick it up and freezes. there’s a raccoon staring at a hamster opening up his locker, a small speech bubble above the raccoon.

i wish you’d notice me...

heeseung smiles despite himself, tucking the note back into his locker.

he finds the second drawing when he’s standing in line for coffee and rummages in his pocket for spare change. he finds two five-dollar bills, and absent-mindedly hands them to the woman with an outstretched palm, who then hands him his drink.

heeseung is more interested in the slip of paper he feels tucked and folded in his pocket, and he quickly thinks back through his entire day and realizes he has no idea how someone’s managed to put it there.

he pulls it out as he takes a sip of his coffee, hissing as it burns his tongue.

the drawing’s cute, it’s a raccoon staring at the same hamster with hearts in their eyes.

heeseung looks at it for a few moments, then folds it back up, sticking it back in his pocket. he doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches sight of his reflection in the windows, and thinks he looks uncharacteristically happy.

the third drawing he finds is during class when he flips his textbook open, frowning as he notices something tucked in one of the chapters in the back of the book. he flips forward, eyes widening as he sees another post-it note.

it’s the same raccoon, staring at the hamster curiously. there’s another thought bubble hovering over the raccoon.

do you like the drawings? i wish you’d talk to me.

heeseung smiles and holds the drawing closer, turning it around to see if there’s any trace of the artist. there isn’t, and heeseung frowns.

how am I supposed to talk to you if I have no idea who you are?

the fourth drawing is tucked into his palm as he’s passing through classes, and heeseung whirls around, eyes wide.

“wait,” he calls, but he doesn’t know who he’s talking to, doesn’t know who to look for.

he’s met with blank faces of people walking past him, and his face falls.

he was so close. so close to figuring out who it was.

he moves to stand somewhere near the edge of the hallway, unfolding the paper. he stares at it for a while, folding and unfolding the paper.

the drawing’s split into two halves. on one side the raccoon presents the hamster with the drawing, beaming. on the other half, the one heeseung has been staring at for minutes, is of the raccoon hiding behind a wall and watching the hamster opening the paper.

heeseung sighs, then sticks his hands in his pocket and walks outside.

the next week, heeseung seems uncharacteristically quiet, and he looks at the first drawing he’s taped to the door of his locker.

he doesn’t know why he’s kept it there, but somehow it makes him feel a little less lonely. he supposes it’s because he hasn’t gotten a drawing in a while.

he frowns as someone bumps into him, and heeseung drops his books. he grumbles and reaches to pick everything up, frowning as he searches for the drawing he’d been holding in his hands.

his eyes widen and he swallows. he didn’t lose it, did he?

someone clears their throat and heeseung looks up, curious to see the person who’d bumped into him holding his last book and the drawing in their other hand. “here,” you say, “i'm sorry.”

heeseung blinks, then breathes out in relief. “thanks.”

you smile warmly, then point to the drawing that heeseung is nearly cradling. “did you draw that?” there seemed to be a knowing lilt in your voice, but the boy in front of you doesn't quite catch it.

heeseung looks up again. “oh, this?” he shrugs. “no, i’ve just been finding them everywhere.”

you laugh. “do you like them, at least?”

heeseung smiles, and part of him is wondering why the hell he’s talking so naturally to someone he’s barely even met. but he does. “yeah. although i’m offended that i’m a hamster.” he grins. “i think i’m more of a deer, at least.”

you laugh again, and heeseung thinks he could talk to you forever. “a deer,” you shake your head, eyes curved to crescents. “okay.”

heeseung stands up again. “i’m heeseung, by the way.”

you smile, and heeseung thinks your eyes are rather pretty. “[name]. i’m [name].”

when heeseung sees the fifth drawing, he loses his shit. he opens up his locker and sees another drawing folded so small that heeseung doesn’t see it until it falls out. he picks it up, his eyes widening.

the raccoon is laughing as the hamster puts deer antlers on its head as a headband.

you’re still a hamster, it says in the text bubble above the raccoon.

heeseung walks out of school late, and pauses as he sees you lingering by the bus stop, standing up to stare at the vending machine.

heeseung can feel his breath in his throat, feels the drawing clenched between his fingers, and he marches toward you.

you turn at the last second, eyes warm. there’s a moment of surprise as you see heeseung, and he thinks you nearly look scared.

but heeseung pulls you toward him and wraps his arms around you. he hears your small gasp of surprise, before you hug him back tighter. so he figured it out, huh? took long enough.

"it was you?" he says, softly. tentatively, as if afraid he was wrong.

you hum and smile at him. "you found me."

"and for the record, you'll always be a hamster to me. you were the sad hamster personified when the teacher said you couldn't eat your instant ramen in class last week."

"i-- hey! ... whatever. at least i look cute in your drawings."

[reverie-starlight]

{airport pickup - michael kaiser }

I saw this vid and immediately knew I had to write something inspired by it.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions, lots of fluffy fluff, I’m extremely down bad for one (1) Michael Kaiser and it shows in this fic. reader speaks a bit of german. if he’s extremely out of character to a horrifying degree, just know that I haven’t actually read the manga, he just takes up 90% of my brain. I’m working on it I promise 🥹

dividers by @/cafekitsune

kaiser isn’t used to being on this side of an airport pickup.

normally the roles would be reversed- he’d be coming home after a round of away games, tired and sore after pushing himself, and you’d be waiting past the gates with a smile and open arms looking like the epitome of home.

but today it’s him who is nervously glancing at his phone every few minutes, checking the time, waiting for a notification from you to see if you’ve landed or not.

you've been away for work, a conference of some sort that you had been handpicked for. he’s very proud of you, of course, but now he’s had a taste of what you must feel while he’s away and it makes his heart hurt. at least when he's overseas with his team he has constant distractions and he's often too tired to fully register the loneliness that comes with not sleeping beside you at night.

but now that he's on the off-season, training doesn't take up as much of his time and he's forced to confront a house that doesn't quite feel like a home without you.

all he wants is for you to be in his arms again. to hear your laughter, your slightly off-key singing while you’re doing chores around the house.

he’d wonder if this is really how you feel when he goes away, but he’s confident enough in your feelings to know that it is. and it pains him.

next time he travels he’ll insist on bringing you with him. he doesn’t want you to suffer through it anymore.

kaiser waits another ten agonizing minutes before your text notification goes off and he’s fumbling with his phone, trying to unlock it as fast as possible. he curses under his breath when he almost drops it and clings to it with both hands for extra security.

he’s glad he chose to go with the makeshift disguise, because he’s not sure if he’d ever live it down from you or his team if someone were to catch him in this state of desperation and post it.

(although you’ll probably laugh and call him a dork regardless of a post when you realize just how excited he is to see you. he’s counting on it, actually.)

plane landed, heading to baggage now :))

he breathes a sigh of relief and quickly lets you know where he's waiting.

how many times has he been to this airport? it must be somewhere in the thousands by now. how pathetic is it that he can't go find you without risking getting lost? he makes another mental note about learning the general layout in case this ever happens again.

knowing that you're safe and in the same building fills him with more unbearable anticipation. just as he's decided he's had enough and gets up to look at the signs that will lead him to you, he catches sight of your familiar figure and bright luggage.

your eyes meet his and you both break into wide smiles, but as you examine him and walk over, faux confusion takes over your features. he narrows his eyes suspiciously, knowing you're up to something.

"excuse me, sir," you say. "could you help me find someone?"

kaiser sighs, playing along with your antics. "no promis-"

"he's tall, has blonde hair with blue dyed tips," you cut him off, mischievous intentions clear as day to him. "kind of handsome?"

he rolls his eyes affectionately. "sorry, I don't thi- kind of handsome?"

you burst into laughter at his incredulous expression, unable to keep the act up.

"liebling, I think you mean extremely handsome, hm?"

you shake your head. "nah, not really."

he glares at you and squishes your cheeks together between his palms. "nimm das zurück!" his tone is playful, so you feel confident enough to stick your tongue out at him.

you pry his hands away from your face and happily let him wrap them around your waist. "du bist so leicht zu necken, michael," you card your fingers through his hair and he hums.

"missed you," he admits, finally feeling at peace.

"I missed you too, schatz. can we go home now? I'm jetlagged and in need of affection I don't feel comfortable displaying in an airport."

he nuzzles his nose against your hairline and presses a quick kiss there before resting his cheek on your head. "I'm already home, süße."

he doesn't see the tears welling in your eyes, but he knows you're touched by his words from the way you pull him closer and hold him tighter.

turns out you’re already home too.

translations:

nimm das zurück! - take that back!

du bist so leicht zu necken, michael - you're so easy to tease, michael.

süße - sweetness/sweet thing

liebling, schatz - dear, treasure

thank you @dira333 for checking the translations over for me <3

considering I haven't fully read the manga, it goes without saying that if he seems slightly out of character, that's why lol

hope you enjoyed!!

[wyldthots]

Mommy's Day Off Pt. 2

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/wyldthots/761095102467833856/mommys-day-off?source=share

This picks up directly after Part 1. It will make more sense, but you don't have to read that one for this to make sense. Nothing but porn. Minors do not interact. TW: incest, mommy x daughter, strap-on, drugging, weed intox, baby girl doesn't know she's been fed drugs.

After the candy mommy gave me, time stretched in a funny way. For all I know, mine and mommy's day could have already come to a close. I was quite the view, I'm sure. My eyes were clouded and unfocused, my breathing labored, and my swollen pussy was still spread wide and on display for my Mommy.

"You did so good, baby." Mommy grabbed under my knees and pushed them out and down. A shocked gasp left me when a glob of spit landed on my clit and she roughly rubbed it in. Mommy scoffed at my reaction. "You know, they say that weed either makes you hungry or horny. I guess we know which you are, slutty girl. I think another edible will do you good..." Her words don't process in my brain. I'm too focused on my throbbing pussy. She feeds me another weird-tasting candy but I swallow it to make mommy happy. I love it when she's happy with me...

My head is so floaty and my eyes can't stay open... Ugh, my little pussy feels so good with the little circles I keep tracing on my clit. But my hands are on the couch by my side? My eyes slowly shift to my core still spread wide. It's Mommy. My eyes travel up from her fingers rubbing my pussy to her other hand stroking a strapon. Mommy sticks her slick-covered fingers in her mouth and moans at my taste.

"Oh, mommy isn't done yet..." She starts dragging her cock through my messy folds. "Baby, have you ever had anyone inside of you? Other than mommy's fingers..." She slides 2 fingers inside and massages my pussy wall. My mouth drops open and my head falls back as I moan loudly. Mommy laughs at my reaction. "I didn't think so, but don't worry. Mommy's gonna be so, so nice to her baby."

I blink my eyes but they struggle to open again. When they do, I am face to face with her big blue cock. She smiles as she guides it into my mouth. I have never done anything like this, but if it will make mommy happy, I'll do it. I shove her cock in as far as it'll go but I gag and have to pull myself off quickly. I look up at mommy with tears in my eyes, hoping that she won't be mad at me for messing up.

"You're okay, baby. Try again. Take it slow. You make mommy so proud." I grab her cock with one hand while the other moves up her body to cup one of her titties. I moan as I slowly bob back and forth on her cock. Mommy's fingers thread in my hair and tighten. Then she yanks me forward by my hair so that I choke on her fat cock before she pulls her hips back and thrusts again. I choke and gag on my mommy's fat cock until she finally throws me off. I land roughly against the couch but Mommy moves faster than I can think. She grabs under my thighs and yanks my body forward so my ass is hanging off the couch.

"Time for round two. That second candy should be kicking in aaaaannnyyyy second now..." Mommy whispers in my ear before tweaking one of my nipples and sucking on the other before she swapped sides. "Time for me to fuck your pretty pussy. Mommy is going to pop that cherry of yours." She pulls away while she lines her cock up with my dripping hole. "Big breath, love. And out."

She waited for me to follow her direction before gliding her cock into me and stretching my pussy. I thought she would stop and let me get used to her size. That's what they do in all of the stories I read... Not my mommy, though. She didn't stop until her hips rested against the backs of mine. My pussy was spasming and clamping on the large intrusion inside of me. Mommy smiles and pushes on the bulge in my tummy. I moan out and grab at her face to kiss my mommy. I just needed to be close to her.

"Baby, Mommy is so close to you. Do you need closer?" I didn't know I had said anything out loud but I nodded through my teary eyes. Mommy shoved herself deeper into my sopping pussy before sloppily kissing me. She didn't hold back while she pistoned into me. Every thrust forced a yelp out of me. Time was still stretching weirdly, but the next thing I knew I was bouncing on mommy's lap. Mommy fucked up into me while I ground my pussy down and my ass clapped against her thighs. I pull mommy's mouth from my nipple with a pop and I shove my tongue down her throat. I can't remember if this is happening or if this is the best dream I have ever had... My pussy clenches down on Mommy's hard, thick cock while I have the most intense orgasm ever. I collapse on top of Mommy but I can feel her thrust up into me, forcing me to ride her through my orgasm.

"Damn, baby. Look at how messy and puffy your baby cunnie is." Mommy cooed to me as she pulled out of my gaping cunt. "Fuck, this is so hot. Those pot gummies really hit you hard and fast. It's not even noon yet. We are just getting started, baby. Now Mommy needs to teach you how to return the favor..." I can't even open my eyes, but I can feel Mommy lapping at my pussy again.

"Messy girl. Mommy will clean you up while you catch your breath."

[galedekarios]

gale & karlach

i think out of all the dynamics between the companions, i've come to enjoy gale and karlach the most over my time with the game. karlach especially bc she's the only one who genuinely seems to care about and for gale.

she repeatedly checks in on him after the orb reveal and doesn't turn it into a joke about slurping carrots, or sipping wine, or wanting him to be gone entirely from the group.

not only does she advocate for him to stay three times, depending on which dialogue path you pick:

gale's background story reveal & the reveal about the netherese orb

Karlach: Come on. We all have our secrets - and our risks. If Gale leaves, we might as well disband completely. - Karlach: Absolutely. We're all risky in our own ways. We stick together anyway. Right? - Karlach: If having dangerous, otherworldly objects stuck in your skin is wrong, then Gale and I both have to go. We're not really splitting up, are we?

but she's also the only one who repeatedly asks him throughout the game how he is doing, to make sure how he's faring, both in general and with his debilitating condition:

act 2 - shadow-cursed lands banter

Karlach: Doing all right, Gale? Gale: Oh, you know... Still alive and kicking, despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of darkness and decay... devnote: Almost with a sigh. That's just how things are - Grim humour to it. Karlach: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

act 3 - after mystra stabilised the orb

Karlach: How's the orb treating you, Gale? Gale: Oh, quite well as a matter of fact. Since it was stabilised, it's been humming along nicely. Gale: I have noticed one adverse side-effect. I seem to be losing hair in some, er, unexpected places. Karlach: I can only imagine.

i think it really bears repeating/stressing that no other companion does this. not one checks in on gale like karlach does, after his affliction has become known to his companions - with the exception of the protag potentially.

karlach also arguably has the strongest reaction in response to mystra's demands in act 2, showing again her care for gale, as well as her protective side:

Karlach: Aw, was that Gale's granddad? Player: That was Elminster Aumar - the most famous wizard in the realms. Karlach: Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say to Gale, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope. Player: I don't think it was. It turns out Gale has an explosive bomb in his chest - and Mystra has asked him to use it to blow up the heart of the Absolute. Karlach: Whoa, now. He's got a... well, I guess that would explain a little, but... Mystra... I mean, this is a lot to take in. Karlach: What's he going to do? - Player - Option 1: I think he's going to follow through with it. Karlach: Fuck me. There's devotion, and then there's stupidity. If the god of magic can't handle this without sacrificing Gale, she's no god at all. - Player - Option 2: I don't think he'd do that to himself, even if Mystra commanded it. Karlach: Good. I'm one hundred percent sure there's another way to bring down this cult. No true god would ask such a thing from her faithful. That's for certain. Karlach: Poor Gale. He must be in bits after hearing that. I'll distract him. Tell him I haven't read a book since secondary school, watch his face melt off. - Player - Option 3: I'm not sure. I think he's of several minds. Karlach: Well, tell him to pick the right one. Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option. Karlach: If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms. - Player - Option 4: You know that bomb in Gale's chest? Mystra has asked him to use it to explode the heart of the Absolute. Karlach: She what?! Is she mad?! - Player - Option 5: Don't worry about it. Karlach: Karlach doesn't worry, she acts. So if Gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.

i particularly like that last response bc it really echoes throughout her relationship with gale ("karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.").

their banters are often playful, but also genuine. both karlach and gale tease each other, they joke with each other, showing how comfortable they are with each other despite their many differences, but there are also moments of understanding and care between them, allowing them to emphasise with each other:

Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who? Gale: She who thirsts buys drinks the first. devnote: Like it's a well-known saying Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! devnote: Jockeying with Gale (prob supposed to be Joking with Gale) Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.

Karlach: Just when I was getting used to the sky again... Gale: Fear not, Karlach. Sun, moon and stars will still be there waiting for us. devnote: Reassuring Karlach: Meanwhile, this place is pretty spectacular, isn't it? Gale: No book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice. But perhaps our stories might, when we return to the surface. devnote: Agreeing with Karlach, enjoying the sense of wonder as you explore

Gale: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Gale: Passionate, primal, capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort, or inflicting the profoundest damage. devnote: Listing the qualities of fire, Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image Karlach: That's... pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But now I will.

Karlach: Wouldn't mind a dancing axe of my own. Gale: A simple movement charm wouldn't be too hard to apply to such an object. I could conjure one up for you if you like? Karlach: Yes! I like! Gale: Very wel then. Once the city is saved, Karlach's Kinetic Cleaver will be first on my list.

Karlach: So, Gale - got any book recommendations for me?devnote: With concern Gale: You can read?! devnote: Taking the piss - knows full well Karlach can read, and that she's always claimed not to enjoy it Karlach: Very funny. Yes - I can read. School put me off big boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing. devnote: Friendly rather than flirtatious Gale: Say no more - I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep. devnote: Jumping on the opportunity to give a book recommendation (a favourite hobby) Karlach: Ooh! Something with magic, please. And no devils.

even at his most vulnerable moments, karlach is there to support him:

before the stormshore tabernacle audience with mystra

Karlach: You can do this, Gale. And I'll be right here when you're done.

she allows herself to be protective of him and get angry on his behalf not after when it comes to mystra, but also when he is potentially kidnapped by orin:

karlach's reaction to gale being kidnapped

Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.

once again, it's a good callback to her previous line: "karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me."

she's willing to be needed by him - and he does need her. whether that is as a friend, or (if you chose to play so during an origin pt) as a romantic partner. it's a lovely dynamic either way.

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Octavinelle dorm (Azul, Jade, Floyd) × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Azul's ideal type would be...

Someone witty. Azul is a smart guy who likes being entertained. While his way of achieving that is less... for lack of better words, aggressive than the tweels', he enjoys a good mental game. If you can carry a good conversation with him, he'll remember you.

Someone who doesn't pressure him into making decisions. He is someone whose independence is very important to him. On top of that, his signature spell literally revolves around choice as a concept, so he understand the importance of it. Someone as stubborn as Azul will keep his distance if anyone tries to influence his free will.

Someone who appreciates music. He's a pianist and a good singer, which are skills that require a lot of practice and hard work, something Azul is known for. He will appreciate any genuine praise, but if you ask him to teach you more about music or, Sevens forbid, you want to duet with him, all of his three hearts are yours.

Someone who doesn't mock him, not even when teasing him. If you really know Azul, you know how bitter he is towards the people who have brought suffering onto him. The words they said are ingrained into his brain, controlling his choices for years after they were spoken to him. I'm not saying to constantly uplift him, but bringing up old wounds will only push Azul away with low chances of getting any closer again.

『••✎••』

Jade's ideal type would be...

Someone whose next move he can't accurately predict. It's kind of easy to catch the attention of any of the tweels, but it's also easy to lose it. The key to keeping Jade's eyes on you is to make him believe he's had you all figured out, then do something unexpected. Being a little unpredictable, even when you think you're outside of Jade's vision, will pique his curiosity.

Someone who plays along his little tricks and schemes. Jade is not an honest person: he always has some ulterior motive, hidden behind carefully worded questions and statements that he uses to poke and prod for information. If you try to help him and his twisted game of detective, he will certainly find you amusing, if not helpful.

Someone who goes exploring with him. Just like his brother, Jade has a fascination for the land above water, and he loves learning things about the fauna and flora. Someone who understands his appreciation for nature and genuinely embraces his curiosity will have a bit more of his appreciation.

Someone who doesn't try to understand him. Jade is very careful not to reveal too much about himself. Being awfully private with himself, he won't open up to just anyone. So he will appreciate someone who doesn't try to pry into his business too much. At the end of the day, Jade can be many things: a bartender, a vice housewarden, an informant, but he'd like to be seen as "just Jade" sometimes.

『••✎••』

Floyd's ideal type would be...

Someone who isn't intimidated by him. It's a surefire way to catch his attention. Even if you just pretend to not be intimidated by him, he'll stick around and try to push all of your buttons, test your limits, squeeze all that he finds interesting out of you.

Someone willing to teach him more about land folks. Everyone knows that Floyd has quite the interest about land folks and their customs. He wants to know more, so don't be afraid to throw random land people things towards him every once in a while. If it's something he didn't know about, he'll tell you to prove it. Congrats, he won't leave your side for a couple of hours.

Someone who doesn't compare him to Jade. Since he's the more polite and responsible one, Floyd gets compared to his brother pretty often, and some people even assume he's the younger twin. It is exhausting to have his other half be given as example on how to behave time and time again. If you reassure him he doesn't have to be like his twin, that being Floyd is just fine, it'll pull at his heartstrings.

Someone who takes his mood swings in stride. From people thinking he is a threat to people who just find him annoying and hard to work with, no one really takes Floyd's mood swings seriously. That doesn't mean he'll open up if you asked him "are you okay" and "what happened". Still, it would be the first time someone outside of his family reacted like that to him. It will baffle him, in a good way.

[ch4bby]

I read two fics some time ago with Tim dancing along with Cass, and omg, it changed me- Because... JUST THINK ABOUT IT-

Tim being a rich kid, with really strict parents but who are flexible enough so that they don't have prejudices regarding very conventional gender roles. And thanks to this, Tim is put in classical ballet classes long enough to be able to wear pointe shoes.

Tim likes it to a certain extent, as the exercises, physical conditioning and muscle elongation help him to be able to follow the bat and bird duo around Gotham. Over time he stops attending classes either due to his parents' influence to focus on some other activity, or because he preferred that time to coordinate patrol routes and get more photos.

By the time he starts being Robin, he no longer attends ballet classes. The training left a small mark on the way he moves as Robin, but nothing too noticeable. He finds it easy to jump really high and is able to land silently and smoothly. He doesn't get dizzy easily thanks to the pirouettes and fouettes his teacher made him practice daily.

Also, training with Dick is easier than when he trains with Bruce, since with Dick there are really similar exercises thanks to the older boy's training in the circus as an acrobat. The elasticity is not comparable between the two, but Tim has enough so that some of Dick's exercises are not so impossible for him.

Cut out when Cass arrives and Tim notices that she likes ballet, and even more surprisingly, she dances ballet! It is thanks to this that Tim manages to find a common point between the two to be able to start a friendship, with Cass being really excited to know that Tim also knew ballet!

They both connect thanks to ballet, Tim, taking advantage of the fact that they were both quite similar in height and complexion (even in face, which still leaves him wondering sometimes if they weren't secret twins?) shares with her his leotards and shoes, at least the training ones. Because although Cass can stand on pointe with amazing ease, Tim prefers to help her go over the basic training to get on pointe. Because literally, those things break feet, and he doesn't want to see his adopted sister go through that (We're talking about Cass, though.)

By the time they've been through about two months of helping Cass go over the basics, and remembering moves she remembered seeing from when she lived in the basement of that Ballet school, she can get up on pointe, and Tim hands her some cute yellow pointe shoes that he got years ago, when Robin colors still drove him crazy. So when Cass wears them, they're flexible and soft, not hard and uncomfortable like the ballet slippers one recently bought.

And Tim, he has his cream pointe shoes to wear, also used and flexible, comfortable like an old toy you haven't used in a while and despite everything, you still know how to play with it.

They both select certain days to practice and dance different pieces of music, Tim occasionally teaching her the classical pieces she doesn't know, or showing her how to dance as a couple. Although for this he takes off his pointe shoes and goes back to his leather slippers.

They keep up this routine even when Damian arrives, and so far the only one who knows what they're doing is Alfred, basically because he's the one who usually does their laundry and tidies up the room they use to dance. Making sure the floor isn't too slippery and the furniture is pushed up against the walls to make room. Every now and then, they both invite him to watch a specific dance they've practiced, like a snippet from Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, or The Rite of Spring.

As more time passes, Cass takes more liberties in the dance and fuses ballet with something more contemporary, while Tim sticks to classical ballet. They keep dancing, but now each one gives a personal touch to each pirouette, pas couru, and movement. They make a temporary bar with pvp pipes, which despite everything, works wonders for them.

Maybe Bruce is the first one to find them, after a particularly tiring day in which he just wants to be alone for a few moments and decides to go to the rooms less used, he hears a classical melody from one of the rooms that supposedly, should be empty. And when he goes to see where the music was coming from and why, he finds his two children playing a fragment of Carmen (Gipsy friends duet) and is more than surprised by the ability not only of Cass, but of Tim! Bruce had no idea that Tim could dance ballet, did he learn it now from Cass? Or is it something he already knew?

Whatever the case, what surprises him the most is the amazing coordination of the two, they seem to be the reflection of each other. And with regret Bruce admits inwardly that if it weren't for the distinction of the clothes and the hairstyle, he would swear that he was seeing double.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Crystal Waters

AKA On Silk Sheets Part Two. (The pirate!au.) Or you don't feel like you belong in your husband's new life, but good luck convincing him of that. No smut in this one, but there is suggestive dialogue. ~2.5k words

It's not that you regret sleeping with your husband, it's more of the fact you didn't quite think it all the way through. Yes, you missed him. Yes, you might even still love him. But, he's built an entire life for himself without you.

You've seen it the past two weeks, the way he seamlessly works with his crew, how maneuvering about his ship is second nature. It makes you feel out of place. Even if you've slowly come to learn the names of the other pirates, it doesn't change the feeling that you're a piece of his past.

You can't help but wonder if you're even more than someone to warm his bed. The restless anxieties draw you to the deck just before dawn, unable to sleep even with him next to you. You're surprised he doesn't wake, but it makes it easier, allowing you a moment to your thoughts. It's nice, to watch the sun start to peak over the horizon, to see land slowly drawing closer. The quiet doesn't last long.

"We'll be docking soon."

You turn, eyes fixating on one of the pirates, Roy, you think, "Which port is this?"

He settles next to you at the railing, "Star Port, unless Jason changes his mind. He's been cautious since the navy ship tried to chase us down."

You sigh softly, the memory of cannons and shouting and swords being drawn flashing in your mind, "What's it like?"

"Star Port?" Roy replies cheerily, "you'll like it. Lively markets, great taverns, and nice views for a port city. Easy to get lost in, though, lots of winding alleys. Best stick close to someone."

"I'll keep that in mind," You murmur, eyes trailing back to the distant port.

"Something botherin' you, Sweetheart?"

"Are you looking to hear my secrets, Harper?" You drawl, idly tapping the wooden railing.

He huffs a laugh, "Have you got someone better to spill them to? I'm the closest thing you have to a friend at the moment, so spill away."

You tut, side eyeing him, "There's no need to rub it in. I'm well aware I'm alone on a pirate ship with complete strangers, an estranged husband, and not one person loyal to me."

He chuckles and shrugs at you, an easy going smile painting his face, "I'm going to take that as a no, and will take my place as the closest person you've got to call your friend. Congratulations, sweetheart, we both should be honored."

You raise a hand to your head and fake a swoon. It's nice, to joke around with someone like this after weeks of uncertainty and walking on eggshells, "my closest friend, here to console me over my husband moving on."

"Is that what's got you so down?" Roy asks curiously, and you curse yourself for letting it out, "The Captain's a right mess when it comes to ya. Lovesick, obsessed, head over feet, whatever you wanna call it."

You sigh and focus back on the city growing larger and larger, "He has other things now."

Roy leans closer and bumps his arm with yours, "Cheer up, sweetheart, you're with us now. You're family too. And you got Jason chasing after you like a dog. That bastard won't let anything happen to ya. He'll move the sun stars for you. So don't worry yourself over anything, the only thing you have to be concerned about is your captain's love sickness. We'll take care of the rest."

You falter over his words, throat tightening, "Why?"

"Why what?" He asks, raising a brow and giving you an incredulous look, "Why are we lookin' out for you? Why do we have your back already? Because that's what we do. Family has each other's backs. That includes you. You're one of us now. Whether you like it or not."

His words are a stark reminder, Jason's crew is nothing like you expected from a pirate lords ship. But Jason hasn't exactly matched up to the tales of 'Red Hood ' either. "A family," you breathe out.

Roy nods, "Don't get me wrong, sweetheart. Jason's as ruthless as he's cold, knows how to take his pound of flesh. I've seen him beat his enemies senseless with just his fists, but he's saved each and every one of us. We're loyal to him, and he's loyal to us."

You take in the information slowly, "It's... good. That he's loved."

"Loved ones way to put," Roy agrees, "crew practically worships the ground he walks on." He eyes you for a moment, "Does it bother you? Knowing that everyone here cares about him?"

You shake your head, "No. I know he made a life for himself without me. It's– I'm glad he wasn't alone."

Roy looks baffled. "That's not what I was expecting, lass."

"I do want what's best for him," You mumble, "even if best doesn't include me. I don't want him to be alone. And he's easy to love. I'm not surprised he built a new life."

"You care for him more than I thought you did," he admits, a bittersweet smile on his face, "I'd hope my wife still loved me too, even if we weren't next to each other anymore."

You wince, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You don't need to bottle it up. You're allowed to feel, allowed to let it out and talk about what you're going through. I'm glad to listen," Roy tells you steadily, patting your shoulder.

You offer him a small smile, "It's nice to have someone listen."

"You know the captain would listen, too. I know it's hard to talk to him about him, but he'd give you anything you asked. Hell, you could ask him to go swim in shark and jellyfish infested waters butt naked and he'd do it. No questions."

You laugh, "What a silly thing to ask for. I think I'll just stick to asking to visit the market."

"I'm serious, sweetheart, you could say you wanted him to jump off the side of the ship and he'd ask what side. You have no idea how much he adores you. Just wait and see. The only answer you'll get from him is, 'Yes, love.' Probably clear out the whole treasury on whatever you set your sights on," Roy drawls, grin widening with each word.

You hum thoughtfully, "I suppose that sounds like him."

He laughs, "Don't get me wrong, Captain's a tough guy. Smart, clever, strong as an ox and meaner than a crocodile with a toothache, but it all goes away 'round you. Turns right into a pup with no brains at all when you're near."

You can't help but laugh with him, "Sounds like a bit of an exaggeration."

He grins brightly at you, "Hardly, sweetheart. Why, he'll probably cause a whole scene when he wakes you and you're not there. You know, storm around the ship, calling your name, shoutin' at the top of his lungs and scaring half the crew into thinking there's a monster on board. It'll be quite the show."

You shoot a look towards the captains quarters, "He wouldn't, right? There's nowhere for me to go but his ship."

"Ah, he's the dramatic type. Wouldn't put it past him to go into a frenzy over not finding you in his bed," Roy teases, crossing his arms lazily over his chest.

"Maybe I should go back," You murmur, worry crossing your face.

Roy pats your shoulder, "No need. Captains not an idiot, after all. He'll come out here lookin' for you soon enough."

You sigh, slumping against the railing as the ship draws closer to port, "If you say so."

He laughs, "Speak of the devil. Look who's coming to join us."

You don't bother to turn and look as Roy offers a cheeky 'morning' to your husband on his way off to prepare for docking. You hear a sleepy grunt in response before two strong arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back from the railing into a broad chest.

You make a noise of protest, but Jason only holds you tighter, nuzzling his face to your shoulder, "Coulda woke me up, darlin', if you wanted to go on deck."

"You were sleeping. And I was making friends with your crew," You answer, shifting his grip, "You should be happy about that, you know"

"I am happy you're making friends. But Harper? Out of my whole crew, you pick Harper? You just had to choose the one crew member who's most likely to encourage you to do something stupid," Jason grumbles into your neck.

You tilt your head slightly, letting his lips ghost over your skin, "He didn't offer any particularly encouraging ideas, Jason."

"Really?" He asks, disbelieving, "No cunning escape plans?"

"He's too loyal to you to help me with that, I think," you answer mindlessly. Escape plans. It's not like you have anything concrete. You only threatened to jump off the ship a few times. And you don't even know if you want to leave. But the thought persists that it might be better. Better for him. That both of you have changed too much to work. That you don't fit as a pirate's spouse.

Jason hums in approval, "Good."

"Oh, Jason?" You start, turning in his arms to face him, "I'd like to go to the market today. I don't– I didn't get to grab anything when we– uh– left."

"Of course, darlin'," Jason agrees easily, pressing a kiss to your hair, "whatever you need."

"I don't have any money," You continue, hesitant, "But I could–"

"You don't need it," Jason cuts you off firmly, "Anything I have is yours. The finest silk, the purest gold, the most sparkling jewels, all of it. We're married, pretty. You're my partner. I want to take care of you. Okay?"

"Okay," You echo, too stunned to argue. But that's exactly like him, the man who risked the sea again and again to bring home finer and better things to you.

He grins, bright eyes leaving you to focus on the growing number of crew members on deck, “Looks like my crew’s finally waking up. About time to dock, it looks like. Get excited, love. You’re in for a treat. This port’s a party. We’ll have no problem finding some fun and whatever you want to buy here." He lets go of your waist to grab your hand, pulling it up for a kiss, "Perhaps you'll let me buy you a new ring while we're on land."

"A new ring?" You question, somewhat distracted but the shouts and noises from the crew as they prepare to dock, "Shouldn't you be helping them?"

Jason's shrugs, amused, "The crew can run themselves. They've docked enough times that it's like clockwork to them. And yes, love, a new ring. One fitting of a pirate lord's partner."

You study him, "They do call you that, don't they?"

He practically beams, voice going light and teasing, "You've heard? The crew of The Outlaw are somewhat of a legend. They tell tales of my skill with a sword. My prowess in battle. My strength and power. My sheer terror. They shiver at the mention of my name."

You laugh, tone skeptical, despite knowing the truth. He has his reputation for a reason, "Is that so?"

"Do you doubt me, my love?" Jason drawls, shifting closer to you, "Do you doubt your husband's skill? His prowess? Do I not impress you enough, darling?"

You tut, "Forgive me if I'm more interested in a new port than I am my husband's tall tales."

He flashes a faux hurt look, his hand pressed dramatically to his chest as he replies with a mock-offended tone, "Oh, I see how it is. You prefer the port to my tales. You'd prefer to explore a new port than hear about my latest adventure. I know how it is. My own spouse prefers a new port to my tales of triumph."

You can't help but grin at him, he looks so much like the person you married in this moment, "I'm sure you can regale me with stories once we're back out at sea."

"Oh, I plan to, treasure," he reaches up to trace your face, "I plan to share everything with you."

You open your mouth to answer, though you're not sure with what, when you're cut off by Roy, "Captain, should we drop the gang plank?"

Jason grins, and takes your hand, pulling you towards the plank, "Aye, Harper. We're going to buy out the entire market for my love today. Make sure our favorite tavern is prepared with enough ale for tonight. We're going to celebrate."

"Those are orders I'll be happy to follow, captain," Roy chirps back, motioning to the crew to drop the plank.

"What would you like to get first, love," Jason questions, tilting his head towards you.

"Books. Clothes that are easier to move in. A cloak. Hair pins," You list off, eager to get off the ship after so many days at sea.

"Practical," Jason mumbles, nodding to his crew as he guides you to shore, "I offer to buy you the world and you desire leathers."

"I can't wear silks, lace and ribbons around your ship," You protest, eyes darting excitedly around the docks.

"Perhaps not, love, but you can wear them in our bed," Jason answers, his hand leaving yours so he can grab your waist, pulling you to his side as he walks.

You go to swat lightly at him, to tease him for being vulgar, but you falter when you look up at him. His face is set, eyes trailing over the crowd of rugged sailors on the dock. He looks hard. Threatening. Like the pirate lord he is. "I- yes. Maybe I will," You stumble out instead, unable to get the thought out of your head that you don't quite match him now. That you look wrong by his side.

"Are you alright, love?" Jason asks, and when you look up at him, his eyes are on you, softer. Something you recognize.

"Yes, just overwhelmed, I suppose," it's only half of a lie.

"We'll stop at one of the tailors I know first. She's dressed my crew more times than I can count," he says, reassuring, "if it gets too much, we'll go rest at the tavern."

"We're not staying on the ship?" You question, curious.

"Mm. Not tonight, love. I'd like to have you in a bed that isn't rocking," Jason drawls, shooting you a sly grin.

"You're insatiable," You breathe out, eyes darting to see if anyone's heard.

"Only for you, darling," he replies cheekily, arm steady around your waist as he guides you towards the shop.

You follow him, there's nothing else you could dream of doing in the moment. But the whispers of the crowd plague your every step. And the question that's haunted you every day since he stole you from that ball resurfaces, 'should you be at his side?'

Part Three | More Headcannons

[love-toxin]

@ eric draven, hes goth and metal And he kills people AND hes a feminist. literally the whole package what else could u want <33

UNNNNNGHHH AND HE'S GOT THE BIG WET PUPPY EYES GRRRAAAAAAAAHHHH

like.....like......imagine after the events of the crow Eric doesn't go back to purgatory or pass through to the afterlife, but rather finds himself staying in the land of the living for some unknown reason. he's got his revenge, he's avenged his beloved Shelley, but what now? what's his purpose?

but the crow won't speak to him any words of either comfort or doom, so he just wanders. wanders away from his city and home until he stops somewhere on the opposite side. spends time thinking and planning and thinking until he drives himself nearly mad and falls asleep. he can't do much else, or at least thinks he can't. when he's found no better place to roam he returns home, but when he steps up the curb to his apartment, he sees lights on upstairs. something dark stirs in him--protectiveness, maybe, he's sensitive to his home being invaded for obvious reasons--but when he leaps up and perches on the ledge of the shattered window he sees somebody he's never met before.

you're just standing in his apartment, sweeping up shards of broken glass like you own the place. humming to yourself. he remembers, briefly, what it was like when there was music in his home. but it used to be Shelley's laughter, and now there's a soft-eyed stranger singing a quiet tune in the lamplight, and he feels the same as he did back then. he sticks to the shadows because he doesn't know what to expect, but you just step lightly around the pile and sweep the glass shards into your dustpan. there's a little electric lantern keeping the place aglow and a few small bags of meager luggage huddled at the front door.

it occurs to him that you might be the new resident as he coldly watches you from a distance. it's obvious that the apartment would be repurposed at some point after his death, but how do you feel knowing that you're taking over the home of a dead man? that you'll lay your head in the same place where a couple were brutally and viciously murdered? where Shelley, his Shelley, was-

you tilt your head. your ears perked at the imperceptible sound and you nearly caught him staring, but he's a lot faster to hide than you are to see.

he leaves soon after that, but he finds himself returning every night. he learns things about you. you're industrious, for one--you work on the apartment whenever you're not working your job, both of which are tough, and you sleep on a hard mattress on the floor. you spend such a long time cleaning but when you find little things left behind of his or Shelley's, you don't throw them out. maybe you feel bad for them. maybe you know exactly what happened, and you don't want to disrespect their memory.

maybe you're a really, really good person that lives for a better world. Eric can't help but think that when he watches you tirelessly slave over renovating his apartment--he can't ever quite see it as something not of his own--taking down what was broken and making it into something beautiful again. he doesn't know you that well, he only hears your voice when you're talking on the phone or singing in the shower, but he grows to like you. you're gentle. you smile at little things and you laugh as sweetly as you cry. even when you feel frustrated or betrayed, when you get violent and punch something out of anger, you just feel it in such a raw way that it entrances him. you're complex. you're gorgeous. you're someone he could very easily fall in love with, but you don't deserve to feel his hurt in the way that he does. you can't shoulder his burdens with him when they're just too great for a mortal life.

so he resorts to watching you and feeling badly about it. he's kind of stalking you at this level, but he goes nowhere beyond following you to work and back and occasionally glancing through your window to make sure you're okay. one time he caught you freshly out of the shower with your towel nowhere in sight--you were out of clean ones and had to go digging--and he felt so bad about it he couldn't be around your place for weeks. but you deserve protection and all the love in the world, and if he can't give you one he can at least give you the other. at this point he would never forgive himself, he would probably burn down the whole city if what happened to him and Shelley happened to you. he would truly lose his mind.

it's only when you catch him that he has to stop and think on what he's doing, because there's no way he can explain himself properly--perching atop the roof of your apartment with the crow grooming its feathers at his side. when you stumble across him he wasn't even paying attention, just keeping an ear out for any screams or cries for help, but you mesmerize him because you're just so....so...

"are you....cold?"

kind. you're so warm he couldn't think of shivering in your presence. from that day on you're aware of his presence but you don't mind it. you welcome it. you don't know who he really is and you probably wouldn't believe him if he told you, but you welcome him in and that's fine because he really, truly is in love with you now. he has to be. because there's no way that his silent heart would start beating again for any other reason, even if it's just a trick of the mind and it's not really true. you touch his hands and feel cold skin and he's definitely still not alive, but he doesn't feel quite as dead as he was, and every day he spends growing closer and closer to you he feels death growing into a curse over a promise. maybe he doesn't really want to go back to sleep after all...not if the world has people like you, and not if a person like you could start feeling something for a restless, morbid soul like him.