#see when you’re the best st character

[thelostsisters]

HENRY CREEL BACKSTORY STAGE PLAY CONFIRMED????

[kanri-domo]

Characters: Dottore, NB! Reader can be read as either/or

Warnings: Dub-Con

Work as Dottore’s secretary is dull at best and horrifying at worst. Somehow, you’ve managed to land yourself in a situation that falls somewhere in the middle.

When you got handed a trick snake toy by one of the segments, you didn’t think much of it. They tended to just leave things around for you to dispose of, or just to make random shit other people’s problem after all.

It’s a small, rubbery little thing, filled with slime. You remember playing with these as a kid, sticking your fingers inside and turning it inside out for the heck of it. There’s nothing much to do today, so you start fidgeting with it, pushing your fingers into the hole and squeezing the toy. It’s… weirdly wet, you think.

You’ve been playing with it for a while before an animalistic growl breaks you out of your trance.

“Y-you,” one of Dottore’s segments growl, or at least you’re pretty sure it’s one of them. There’s so many, you can never really tell the difference, and the real one never seemed to leave the main lab.

 “Who gave you that?!”

“I- Sorry?” you answer bewildered, “One of the segments, sir.” Your hands are still, fingers still deep inside of the toy.

“Put that down,” he orders you, and confused, you do as you’re told, pulling your fingers out and placing it down on the table. He whimpers when you do, and you pause. The segment is red and breathing heavy, and he’s holding onto your desk, as if needing support. Something perverse inside urges you to pick it up again and you do. You begin to trace the rim of the hole, playing with it like it’s the rim of a rectum. There’s no way, is there…?

“Don’t – “ he tries to growl again, but it comes out as a yelp. “What the fuck,” you whisper, amazed as he begins to curl up in response to your ministrations. The toy is tight around your fingers too, something you had thought was weird when you were first playing with it.

“Does this feel good, sir?” you ask, “How was this even made?”

“N – no,” he mewls as your fingers go deeper, “St- ahh!”

A segment passes by and stares at the two of you. The one in front of you looks up to glare at him.

“Sir?” You question, keeping your hands under your desk. You just wanted to mess a bit with the one in front of you, not all of them, so you try and play innocent. Your fingers are still stuck inside of the toy, and you shamelessly rub the inside.

The segment is still staring at the two of you when the one you’re playing with tries to silence a yelp when your finger gets caught on a small bump.

“Leave,” the segment exhales hard, trying to not moan, “now.”

 The segment rolls his eyes before taking his leave, mumbling about perverts and primes under his breath. You’re not sure what that means, but you suppose that the segment didn’t seem to care too much about what you were doing. The one in front of you, on the other hand…

“Hand the damn thing over,” he snarls. You pause a moment, before replying, “No.”

The other segment’s lack of much interest emboldens you even further and you begin to thrust into the toy even rougher than before, determined to make the Dottore in front of you cum. You’re going to be in so much trouble for messing with a harbinger after this, but it’s a good way to go out.

“Ah, ah!” He moans lewdly, “Too- too much! I’m go- going to kill you for this!”

With some clever maneuvering, you manage to stick all five fingers into the toys hole. Your nails scrape against the squishy inside of the toy and you think you can feel every twitch and jolt of his insides. It’s really an amazing little thing.

There are more segments watching now, you’re pretty sure. They’re doing a good job of being discrete, but the one in front of you is rather loud. There’s drool and tears leaking out and he’s curled over your desk in pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” You ask.

“N-no,” he moans, and his mask is crooked so you can see the way his eyes are glazed over in pleasure.

“Ah. Okay, sorry,” you respond before pulling out. He squeaks in protest, “What are you doing?!”

“You said it didn’t feel good, right?” you ask teasingly, “So I’ll stop.”

He glares at you with a flushed face. “You… Don’t you dare stop,” he snaps out. “You already did this much, so don’t you fucking dare stop until I cum!”

You think you hear some of the segments sniggering but ignore it in favor of finger fucking the toy in earnest. You feel yourself feeling hot too, and you know this is going to show up in your wet dreams for a long while, if you survive this.

“Harder,” the segment bites out with a moan, you obey. Whatever decorum he had been trying to keep while in such a public space and in front of so many segments was completely gone now. There’s something fascinating about watching someone so powerful like Dottore reduced to a moaning, whimpering mess on your desk. You can’t see most of his face, but his mask is skewed enough to see a bright red eye glazed over in pleasure and his face is flushed red. Each thrust of your fingers is responded with a moan or twitch of his body as he’s overwhelmed by pleasure. It takes only a moment more before you feel the toy squeeze impossibly tight around your fingers and Dottore goes limp, tension draining out of his body.

It takes you several minutes of silence to realize with no small amount of dread at how public this space was. It was one thing to have the segments watch, but someone else was a whole other thing. The footsteps right outside of Dottore’s labs alert you to the bumble of activity before a certain set of footsteps begin to come closer.

Light footsteps approach and to your dread, it’s the Regrator, looking at the both of you, unimpressed.

“Am I interrupting something?”

[stevesgother]

ahhhhhhh there it is ! 💌 love letter officially deposited hehe

thank you sm for answering my inbox message and for taking in my request. Steve Harrington girlies forever and ever amen !!!

Pairing - Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

WC - 1.3k

Warnings - mention of character death, canon typical violence/gore, sad stebe, flangst, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, depictions of ptsd

Request by @sheisjoeschateau w/ the prompts - barely proofread. i'm really sick, cut me some slack

“The panic between thinking you lost them and the relief of seeing they are okay” + “Just please, don’t leave me.”

“Let me go!” You all but scream as Nancy holds you back by your waist from the squelching, pulsating gate in Eddie’s trailer ceiling.

“You can’t go back, it’s too dangerous!” Dustin tries to reason with you but his pleas fall on deaf ears. Eddie’s down there– Steve is down there. Your Steve. If they aren’t going to help them, then you will.

You know you’ll be apologizing profusely for this later– already thinking of ways you can make it up to her as you rear back, driving your skull into Nancy’s nose with just enough force for her to loosen her grip. When she stumbles back, you don’t waste the opportunity to grab onto the makeshift rope and hoist yourself into that dank, unforgiving hellhole.

Not nearly as agile as Steve, you land on your back with a harsh ‘thump!’ and realize with a stark clarity that Eddie must’ve moved the mattress. There are a solid ten seconds where you can’t seem to convince your lungs to suck in oxygen, and you lie there squirming uncomfortably until your alveoli start to inflate again.

You hobble out of the trailer with as much agility as you can muster, calling for Steve and Eddie all the while. A trash can lid with nails protrudes from the ground, surrounded by tiny scraps of clothing littering the dirt. Bile rises in your throat at the thought that they could’ve belonged to Steve.

“Eddie!?” You whisper yell, as not to bring unwanted attention to your location. You may be impulsive, but you’re not stupid. Screaming down here would be like ringing the dinner bell for interdimensional demons, “Steve!”

About thirty yards from the front door of Eddie’s trailer, you see a bloodied and bruised figure hunched over another mass. From this distance, they seem to be moving– a rhythmic rise and fall of broad shoulders.

Knowing exactly who you’re looking at and expecting the worst, you sprint to the huddle as fast as your appendages will carry you. Your lungs burn from the exertion of it, combined with the less-than-stellar quality of the air in this alternate dimension.

Steve is giving Eddie CPR, or at least attempting to. He’s badly injured himself– his lifeguard training never prepared him for something like this.

“Steve!” You grab his shoulders when you reach him, and one look at Eddie informs you that he’s gone, “Steve, we have to go, I’m sorry,”

Lost to his dissociative state, it’s hard to tell how long he’s been down here hunkered over Eddie’s dying form for. He barely acknowledges your presence, only muttering a weak ‘gotta save him.’

“He’s gone, Steve,” you manage to bite back the sob that threatens to spill through your lips like hot blood, “We have to go. Now.”

Using all your will and every ounce of strength you have left, you pull your best friend to his feet with a promise to come back and get Eddie when this is all over. The gashes in his sides are weeping and caked with dirt, infection will set in soon. You needed to get him to a hospital yesterday.

The leather of Nancy’s Mercury Grand Marquis is cold and biting at the bare expanse of your right thigh; your clothes having been torn to shreds earlier in the evening. Steve’s head lies motionless against your lap where he’s curled into a fetal position on the bench of the backseat.

“Are we almost there?” You ask Nancy for the fourth time. The Earth had split clean in two– at least it did in your sleepy town that you’d called home your entire life. The home you’d met Steve in. The home you’d almost lost him in.

“About four more minutes,” she called back from the driver’s seat, “traffics’ backed up, I promise I’m going as fast as I can,” she hits a particularly deep pothole and Steve groans as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

You run a soothing hand over his albeit grimy hair, “I know, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Stevie,” you reassure, not even entirely sure he can hear you. You’d talk to Steve forever. In life or in death– in disaster or in peace. Whether he could hear you or not.

Nancy came to a halting stop in front of the Hawkin’s Memorial Hospital’s emergency room entrance. Despite being brushed off by several hospital staff, she continues to demand for a gurney until a resident sidles one up to the car for Steve.

Without thinking twice, you try to enter with him– his hand locked tightly in yours.

“Are you family?” The resident asks in a scruffy voice as he narrows his eyes at you questioningly.

“I–” Yes. No. Kind of? Not the blood kind. But he has no other family, at least not in the way that counts. Just you, and this ragtag group of teenagers. “Yes.”

He doesn’t question you again as he ushers the two of you into the emergency room, and the on-call doctor assesses his injuries.

Four hours and fifty seven stitches later, Steve still hasn’t regained consciousness. The staff assures you that he will– but that they gave him an anesthetic and pain medicine that’s keeping him knocked out cold. You lay with your head resting against his hospital gown clad chest, still keeping a firm grasp on his calloused hand. You didn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

A groan, not unlike the one he released in the car, breaks through the cacophony of hospital noises causing you to snap to attention. His eyes peel open slowly and one at a time– a look of recognition and fondness passing over his features when he realizes it’s you. His voice cracks with misuse as he says your name.

“Steve. You’re okay,” you try not to disturb his web of hospital wiring and stitches as you hug him a bit tighter.

“I’m okay,” he reassures you with a wobbly smile.

“I love you.” You blurt it out like it’s sour acid on your tongue– painful to keep it in for even a second longer.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you, too,”

“No, I–” you inhale a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“Oh…” he whispers, realization flickering across his features.

“I’m sorry– I know this is such shitty timing. Just, after everything, I mean I– I thought I was going to lose you before I ever got to say anything and I–”

“Hey–” he interrupts your rambling with a shaky hand to the apple of your cheek, “I love you, too,” he repeats the words in the same clarifying cadence as you did, causing you to crack a small smile.

“Let me go get the others,” you say as you get up, antsy to let everyone know he’s awake. But before you even have the chance to leave the chair, a firm hand grips your wrist.

You can see a flash of fear and the subtle well of tears above his lash line, “Don’t go,”

“Are you sure? They’re all really worried about you,”

“I’m sure just– just please, don’t go,” and the pleading look in his eyes crumbled what was left of your already deteriorating resolve.

“Okay, Steve,” you sit back down from where you were hovering over the uncomfortable plastic chair, “I’ll stay. I’m right here.”

Steve scoots his body close to the edge of the hospital bed, and you lie down next to him with an arm around his torso. The warmth of the embrace and the release of a ten-year-long breath is enough to lull you both into a peaceful sleep.

divider credit @cafekitsune

[azulaaaaaaah]

rating every zuko ship (cause that mf is shipped with everyone)

CLICKBAIT!!! this isn’t every zuko ship just the main ones i immediately lied lol. idk if any of these are hot takes or not but please don’t crucify me (might do a part 2 where it’s azula ships)

Jinko - Zuko/Jin

6/10

awwww it’s cute (for what it is)

and what it is was one singular date that was never really mentioned again

i really appreciate how jin is so unperturbed by zuko’s awkward angst and just genuinely likes him

howevvver she’s kinda one dimensional (as she’s only in like an episode) and i just don’t see this going anywhere longterm

less a ship, more a vehicle for zuko’s character development lol

Jetko- Zuko/Jet

3/10

jet being zuko’s first gay encounter is canon in my eyes

don’t ship them however cause i hate jet with the fire of a thousands suns

similar issues to jin as well where their interactions are extremely limited so personally have no clue how this could be a long term thing

Maiko- Zuko/Mai

5/10

i am so impartial on this ship it’s not even funny.

i get that it’s canon. i get that izumi looks suspiciously like mai so it’s endgame. i just don’t see HOW?? it feels as if the writers realised zutara was becoming popular and were like ‘OH SHIT WE GOTTA DEFUSE THIS SITUATION SOMEHOW’

their relationship is basically just mai being a cold asshole and zuko being an angry asshole and there’s no change or development between EITHER OF THEM

however when they’re cute they’re cute !!!!

‘i love zuko more than i fear you’ COLDEST LINE EVER

however again it’s like - you had a crush on him as a kid. he was BANISHED. you dated for like a month as teens. you argued the whole time. he left again- and shortly after you saved him from prison, but then you were imprisoned partly due to his actions. you get back together again, he becomes the ruler of a country, and then you’re surprised it’s isolating him/making him even more of an asshole???

on the other hand we as a society need to admit that zuko is weirdly possessive of her (ig that’s a positive if ur a booktok romance girlie but im not). like if i was mai i wouldn’t put up with that toxic shit either

at the end of the day, i honestly don’t care that they’re canon lol- but i think they’d probably best as a bitchy best friend duo

Zukaang - Zuko/Aang

1/10

not round here partner. not round here

my first issue is the age gap is objectively extremely weird if examined in canon. leaving it at that

i get that this is grumpy x sunshine in a way the other ships aren’t to me- but we’ve only ever seen these two characters interact with each other when there’s (again) A WEIRD AGE GAP

they are bros in the least homosexual way possible

the cherry on top of this situation is: isn’t aang the reincarnation of his great grandpa? isn’t that giving slight, uh, inc*st vibes??? imagine if people shipped korra and jinora isn’t that just WEIRD???

Zuki - Zuko/Suki

8/10

is this my most controversial take ???

i am a sucker for bodyguard x royal family dynamics guys

and the fact that this is girlboss x malewife is even BETTER

suki seems the most competent at handling his pissy ass in a way the other people on this list aren’t

like she’s real. she’s not sugarcoating his situation, BUT SHES COMPASSIONATE !!

i don’t like throuples typically but suzukki is even eliter than this, which removes the whole ‘going against the bro code’ element that arises from them being together

also i feel like if you haven’t read the comics this doesnt make sense At All so please do

-2 points for the lack of tangible reason to ship them lol

Zutara - Zuko/Katara

7.5/10

okay this one makes the most logistical sense to me within canon (solely examined as a zuko ship not overall)

it really seems as if they were gonna make this canon and swerved circa book 2

LIKE CMONNNN OG ENEMIES TO LOVERS WHERE THE GUY ACTUALLY HAS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND ISN’T JUST EVIL? FIRE X WATER? ITS INTRIGUING

something about this makes me uncomfortable though. (despite the age gap which again a little weird)

something about katara potentially becoming the fire lady is so… icky. she’s a waterbender. the fire nation tried to systematically erase her kind. her mother is killed by the fire nation because they think she’s a waterbender. and katara…. what, becomes part of the royal family? it just seems wrong, and like something she wouldn’t be into

also i feel like their arguments would be a little too NUCLEAR. there’s like, a 50% chance of divorce

she deserves a better ending than that is all i’m saying

to paraphrase the hunger games: katara has plenty of fire herself. SHE NEEDS THAT DANDELION IN THE SPRING MAN

(i’m a kataang truther)

Zukka - Zuko/Sokka

9/10

my zuko related otp!!!

bros to lovers guys, where zuko falls first but sokka falls HARDER !!!

ik this will never be canon and im happy with that. i know there’s not even a whisper of romance between them in the show, but i just think it’s c u t e .

sokka (like suki) is very likely to call zuko out on his shit, but less likely to lose his own shit (like katara)

this in my heart of hearts is 10/10 however is still problematic in a similar way to zutara

his mother is killed by the fire nation and he (presumably) becomes consort ?

however though, i would still say it’s not as ruhroh as zutara bc firstly, sokka isn’t a waterbender, and secondly, ‘consort’ is a lot more open to interpretation than i think fire lady is. in my opinion a consort ≠ a fire lady, just like irl a consort ≠ a queen. it kinda means he can still be ambassador to the southern water tribe/a leader of his own people, while just so happening to be married to the fire lord.

overall i can’t help but stan a friends to lover ship cmOn now

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: The crew deals with the aftermath of Jameson's album release party and makes major decisions about their futures.

Warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, emotional breakdowns, mentions of depression, deception in relationships -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.3k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

The aftermath of the disastrous album release party left Imani seeking solace in her hotel suite. As she lay in bed attempting to find sleep amidst the chaos in her mind, thoughts of Jameson consumed her. She couldn’t shake the image of him when first laid eyes on her at the party, or how he looked with Camille by his side. The way he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close made her believe they were happy together but the look on his face made her feel completely different. 

He didn’t resemble her Jameson anymore. He appeared…solemn and apathetic. He smiled and talked politely throughout the night but he didn’t seem to be the life of the party anymore. Then again – what did she know about him? It had been a year since they even laid eyes on each other.

After tossing and turning all night, Imani realized she had to let it go. It was time to get back to her life. The next morning, she woke up feeling restless but she forced herself through her usual routine. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, and ate breakfast.Then began coordinating a swift exit from New York with her assistant. The trip had been a disaster and she wanted nothing more than to leave as soon as possible. 

As she was sending out an email, a phone number appeared on her screen. It wasn’t saved, but she knew exactly who it was. She had removed him from her contacts but she didn’t forget. Without hesitation, Imani answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. He didn’t say anything. But when he did speak, it was like a shock to her system. “Hey. It’s me.” His deep voice was like an earthquake to her core. It left her brain scattered. She needed to think of something fast! This man shouldn’t get to affect her like this.

She laughed, “Yeah. I know, Jameson. What’s up?”

She could hear his hesitation over the line and wondered what this was about. “I was…If you’re still in New York, can we meet up? Lunch or something? I think we should talk.” 

“Yes, that’s fine!” She answered eagerly, the pitch of her voice rising in anticipation. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “I mean, yeah, we can go today.”

Once again, he got quiet. She expected him to call her out on her eagerness. Make a joke, tease her. But he didn’t. He seemed to be all business. “Two o’clock good? At Masa?”

“Yeah, that works. I’ll see you at Masa at two.” “Good. See you then.”

The call ended and her heartbeat tripled in speed. What the fuck did she just agree to? Why was he calling her? Why did he want to see her? Did he end things with Camille? Did he want her back? No, it couldn’t be that easy. He didn’t even flirt with her over the phone. Whatever he wanted, it made Imani nervous. She didn’t know how to handle the man he was now. 

After coming face to face with Imani, Genie’s emotions were a rapid whirlwind, shifting from sadness to hurt and now settling into a wave of deep, seething anger. All she could think about that night was her former best friend barging back into everyone’s life without a word of warning. Understandably, her situation with Jameson became untenable and she had to walk away. Genie wanted the best for them both but sometimes love didn’t work out the way she thought it should. But never did she think Imani would cut her off without a word. She didn’t get it. She was her best friend. 

She was pissed. 

She decided she wouldn’t wait for Imani to reach out. If she did, she’d wait forever. She was taking control of their friendship. Determined, Genie called Imani’s assistant to find out where she stayed in New York. Aman Resorts. From there, it was nothing to get to Imani’s room. She practiced her speech the whole way, strutting down New York streets muttering to herself.

This wasn’t fair and Genie wasn’t going to stand for it.

When she arrived at the hotel, she immediately took the elevator up to the floor the assistant gave her. Genie fought to keep her composure despite the anger within her. When Imani’s voice rang out from behind the door, her stomach churned. Was this the path she wanted to take?

But it was too late. The door opened and Imani was there…looking at Genie in clear surprise. The girls looked at one another and before Imani could say a word, Genie wedged herself between the door and pushed her way inside. The aggressive action wasn’t part of her personality but she stuck with it. 

It seemed the only way Imani would take her seriously was to make demands.

She marched past the foyer and found herself in the living room, waiting for Imani to join her. As soon as she heard the door close. She loosened the Chanel purse from around her arm, tossing it down onto the couch behind her as she paced the floor. She could hear the other woman approach the room and Genie whirled around, hurt in her tone. “Was it so hard to pick up the phone?”

To her credit, Imani apologized. Almost immediately. “Genie. I’m…I’m sorry. I–”

But she didn’t want an apology. She wanted answers. “You could have told me that you needed space. I would have left you alone. I wouldn’t have bothered you. I would have just checked in and we didn’t have to talk about Jamie. We could have just…” Her voice broke and tears glistened in her eyes as she fought against them. “You were my best friend. How could you?” The words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do after I broke up with Jameson.” Imani confessed, tears filling her own eyes. “I just knew I didn’t want to speak his name. I didn’t want to hear it.” 

“Okay but you just left me.” Genie’s voice cracked with emotion. She was fighting a losing battle with her tears. They ran down her cheeks as she glared at Imani. “Out of everyone, you know I would have understood.”

Imani nodded, acknowledging that Genie was right. Being understanding was one of her greatest strengths…but also a flaw. She searched for the good in people every single time and she got hurt because of it. She didn’t want Imani to just be another person in the list of people who hurt her.

“I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for shutting you out. Please forgive me,” Imani begged, her voice pleading and sincere.

Genie’s anger faded as she saw the genuine remorse in her friend’s eyes...but it still lived within her. “I’ll work on it. Just…don’t shut me out like that again or I might kill you.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffling. 

The two women eyed one another warily but their love for each other couldn’t be denied. And just like that…there was a glimmer of hope that their friendship could be salvaged. All it took were some tears and a couple of apologies.

“I won’t.” “You promise?” “Of course.” “You swear?” “Yes.” “...Give me your pinky.”

Imani laughed, moving closer to Genie as she wiped tears from her own face and offered her friend her pinky. Genie linked hers with Imani and nodded, the action sealing the promise between them. Imani wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. “I promise you I won’t. I missed you so much.” she whispered. 

“I missed you too.” Genie replied and returned the hug.

“You want to help me pick an outfit? I’m about to go see Jameson in an hour.” Imani said softly. 

Genie reared back, blinking at her in confusion. “You’re seeing wh—Oh my god, Imani. Does it ever end?! Show me your options.” 

Coming face-to-face with Imani again might not have been the best thing to do. He was already struggling after seeing her last night. And that was only one time. He shouldn’t put himself through the torture of doing it again, but he had to. He had to see if she was alright. He had to reassure himself that leaving her alone was the right thing to do. 

He waited for her at Masa, shuffling silverware around nervously as he waited to see her. Meeting in public wasn’t ideal – he knew people would talk – but it was better than meeting her alone somewhere. He needed to keep this above board. His relationship with Camille was developing well. She was good for him. His therapist encouraged him to make decisions that were best for him.

Panting after Imani wasn’t good for him. He spent six months of his life reaching for a bottle of liquor every time he thought of her, literally begging God to have her wake up and come back to him – only to see her leaving LA hotspots with her latest fling. He circled the drain when he couldn’t have her…and he was tired of living like that.

But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t miss or worry about her, so he hoped this could be a new chapter in their lives. 

When he saw her being led to the table by a hostess, he rose from his seat. It was a reflex but he followed it. His gaze swept her frame, taking in the outfit. The dark orange bordering on brown. The way her pants hugged her hips. Her belly button piercing was clear as day. Fuck. He had to stop. If they were going to be in each other’s lives, he couldn’t think like this.

They were going to be friends and it was time to act like it.

“Hey Jamie,” she greeted him with a smile. “How are you?” She asked, sitting down. 

“Hey. I’m..I’m good.” He said softly, staring at her as she took a seat. Eventually, he realized he needed to be sitting too. Jameson quickly sat and met her gaze with a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

She looked at him, pausing for a moment. “No problem. It’s nice to, um, see you again.” She said softly. This was a side of Imani he wasn’t used to. She was softer and more timid. He didn’t like it. 

“We just saw each other last night.” he joked

She laughed, looking away. Imani pushed her hair behind her ear. “I—I know. I just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I’m glad I am though.”

“I’m glad too.” He said softly, gazing at her before remembering what he was there for. “I uh–I was worried about you. You left early and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Again, she paused. She gazed back at him. He studied her facial features, looking for the answer she didn’t want to tell. “Oh, I’m fine. I was tired.” She said, her eyes giving away it being a lie. “Are you okay? You left your party early too.” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just tired from finishing up the album.” he said. Their conversation was stiff and awkward just like how it was at his album release party. It didn’t flow like how he was used to.

“Well, um, I’m glad you’re okay, Jamie.” She glanced at him. This time he could tell she was being genuine. “That’s all I want. I want you to be okay.”

“I-I want that for you too, Imani.” 

There was a pause. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. Jameson knew what he had to do coming into this conversation, but he was having difficulty finding the words to do it. He exhaled, his eyes meeting hers. “Cami and I are…we’re good together. We get along really well. No arguing, no screaming, no mistrust. We work and I want to see where it goes. She’s good for me.”

She nodded, her smile faltering slightly, but she quickly recovered it. “Good. I’m glad that you’re happy, Jameson. You deserve that.” She said softly. 

“Thanks,” he said. “I want you to be happy too.” 

“I am,” she said quickly. “I’m happier than I've ever been.” 

Her bright smile remained, leaving him hopeful, but her eyes conveyed a different story. He wanted so badly to ask more questions. He wanted to see if she was telling the truth. One of the last things she ever told him was that she didn’t think he was her person anymore. Shouldn’t she be happier now?

And yet, he stopped himself from asking. He had to let her go for her to be happy. It was a thought he lived by for a year. That had to be true. She was better off without him.

“That’s good. I asked you here because I—I want us to be friends, Imani. We loved each other for so long. I won’t pretend I don’t worry about you. I do. So I want us to be okay with each other.”

She paused, glancing at him. “I…I’d like that. I want to be friends with you too. I miss your presence in my life, Jamie. And I just want you to be happy at the end of the day.”

The words sounded nice and Jameson let himself trust in it…even if something in his chest tightened at them. He gave a nod, grateful that she wouldn’t just disappear from his life again.

She left lunch with Jameson, feeling bitter, annoyed, and lonesome. Yes, she agreed to be friends with him. Yes, their conversation seemed to flow after the initial stillness of discomfort. But she didn’t want any of this. She hated hearing him talk about how happy he was with Camille. They were supposed to be the perfect couple - never arguing, never screaming, always trusting each other – not him and Camille. Why couldn’t they get it together? She didn’t understand it. 

Before coming to New York, Imani had been so sure of what she wanted - him. She thought it would be easy to win him back, to get back on the rollercoaster of their relationship. But now she could see that he was happily occupied with someone else, riding an easygoing kiddie ride with no thrill, and yet, he was having the time of his life. Imani was pissed. But there was nothing she could do about it; she had to move on, too. 

As she rummaged through the clothes in her suite's closet, Imani searched for an outfit that would turn heads. Tonight was her last night in New York before returning to Los Angeles tomorrow morning. After forgetting to book a flight earlier in the day, she didn't want to spend her remaining time in the city sulking in her hotel room and watching Sex and the City. So when one of her industry friends mentioned a party just a few blocks away, Imani jumped at the chance to go out.

She stopped flipping through her clothes when her hands landed on a sleek black fitted dress. It hugged her curves perfectly - this was exactly what she needed.

The party was everything she had hoped for - alcohol flowing freely, fine ass men everywhere, and good vibes. It was the perfect distraction from Jameson. Imani took another shot of tequila and relished in its bitter burn as it slid down her throat.

“Okay, bitch, let’s go dance!” She exclaimed to her friend before they made their way from the bar to the crowded dance floor. The music was loud and pulsing, and Imani didn’t even know what song played, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was letting the beat move her body and forgetting about Jameson for the night.

As she danced, Imani could feel all eyes on her, but there was one set of eyes in particular that caught her attention. Through the dim lights, she could only make out a few of his features, but she recognized his gaze - he had been watching her all night. And she was sick of him just staring at her without saying a word. So Imani took matters into her own hands.

After the song ended, she confidently strutted over to where he sat. “You just gone stare at me all night and not say nothin’?” She asked with a sly smile as she finally got a good look of his handsome face. He had smooth caramel skin, his haircut was sharp like he just got it done, and a perfectly trimmed beard - exactly her type.

He chuckled and licked his full pink lips before standing up to meet her. Okay, he was tall too. Another plus. He stepped closer to her. “Oh, I was gon’ come talk to you. I was just waiting for the right time,” he replied, holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Isaiah and you?”

“Imani,” she said softly as she shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

"It's nice to meet you too, Imani." He smiled, flashing his diamond tooth fang. He pulled his hand away. Isaiah's neck, wrist, and earlobe were dripped in diamonds that danced harder than the crowd did. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Yes, I don't see why not. You can get me a lemon drop with a sugar rim."

He chuckled, "I like you already. You know what you want and I fuck with that." He said, a hint of admiration in his voice. She liked him too. Isaiah wasn't Jameson, but he was a perfect distraction to forget him.

EJ glanced at his phone, noticing the two missed calls. One from his manager and another from an artist he was working with while in town...but he had much more important plans going on then as he browsed the website of Aspen resorts. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs and rolling his shoulders. The faint sound of knocking at the front door pulled him from his hard work.

He carefully exited out of the browser before making his way to the door, hoping it wasn't Genie. He wanted to surprise her with dinner plans but hadn't even started to cook. Thankfully, it wasn't her. It was his best friend.

“Hey. What's up?" EJ said, opening the door wider to let him inside.. He noticed the tension in Jameson’s posture, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh. “I know you left early last night. You good?”

Jameson sulked into the room and dropped into the chair in the attached living room, taking a deep breath as his face clouded with something heavy. “I had lunch with Imani today.”

EJ shut the door behind him because he knew he was in for one hell of a story but he did his best to keep his tone neutral. “And?”

“And…” Jameson hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I asked her to be friends.”

He took a seat across from Jameson, crossing his arms as he leaned back. He didn’t miss the way Jameson avoided his gaze and he immediately braced for bad news. “That’s…progress, I guess. But you don’t sound convinced.”

Jameson exhaled sharply, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It doesn’t feel right. I thought it would. I thought that time apart would make things easier when we saw each other again but it's like..." He shook his head, his voice dropping. “It’s like nothing’s changed. I’m still drawn to her. And I hate it because Camille deserves my best.”

EJ frowned, his jaw tightening. He cared about Jameson, but he wasn’t about to sugarcoat things. “You’re right—she does. She’s good for you, man. She’s steady, supportive, and she actually cares about your well-being. She’s not a tornado like Imani.”

Jameson shot him a look, defensive and protective all at once. “Imani ain't a tornado. I put her through a lot of shit. She had to choose herself first.”

EJ held up a hand, waving off Jameson's defense. “Yeah, you did. It was fucked up. But that being said...she made the choice to walk away. That means staying away. And maybe I'm being a dickhead about it but you gotta admit -- shit with her has always been…complicated. Even when y'all were good, shit could go left within a minute. With Camille, it’s simple. She’s there for you, no drama, no games. She’s what you need, not just what you want in the moment.”

He could see Jameson mulling over his words, the conflict etched across his face. EJ hated seeing his friend like this, but he wasn’t going to let him spiral back into the mess he’d clawed his way out of.

Jameson finally spoke, his voice quiet. “But it ain't that simple. My head knows Camille’s the better choice, but my heart…Man, my heart starts thudding every time Mani girl looks at me. I sat with her at lunch and I just wanted --” He trailed off, shaking his head.

EJ sighed, leaning forward. "Let me know when she looks at you and I'll tell her to close her eyes."

"EJ, c'mon." "No, you c'mon. You spiraled, Jay. Your mama had to move into your house and take care of you." "I was fine. She was being dramatic." "You weren't eating." "I ate!" "Barely! You barely ate enough to get through the day but you drank enough to get through anything. Y'all were rocky before then you cheated but after that, everything got all fucked up."

Jameson looked up at EJ, seemingly wounded by the mention of his infidelity. He saw it was the root cause of all their problems but he was being foolish. He and Imani started having issues before he cheated. “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy. But you’ve worked too hard to get your life back on track to throw it all away for something that might not even work out. Camille’s solid, Jameson. You and Imani keep burning each other. Stop the cycle.”

Jameson nodded, but EJ could tell he wasn’t fully convinced. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face before, the one that meant he was caught in a tug-of-war between his past and his present so EJ decided to give him something else to think about. “Speaking of relationships…I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

Jameson looked up, his expression curious. “What’s that?”

EJ hesitated for a moment, a rare flicker of nervousness passing through him. Then he smiled. “I’m going to ask Genie to marry me.”

Jameson blinked, leaning back in his chair. “Wait—what? You’re serious? You’ve only been together a year,” He was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you sure about this?”

"Of course I'm sure," EJ muttered defensively. "That's my baby. She's sweet, creative, and intriguing. I ain't never met anybody like Genie in my life. She makes me happy and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

Jameson processed what EJ was saying, and a small smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay. Good. Soft ass. Should I give you the speech?”

"What speech?" "That "If you hurt my sister, I'ma knock ya head off your shoulders" speech?" "Ain't nobody scared of your big ear ass."

Jameson got up, jokingly taking a swipe at EJ but the other man was much faster. He dodged out of his chair and laughed out loud. "I'm gonna need your help to do it. I want to catch her off guard. You, her dad. She loves Aspen. So I'll do there in February."

“Anything you need,” Jameson said without hesitation, though he still looked a little stunned. “You’ve got it. Just let me know.”

EJ nodded, a rare moment of vulnerability settling over him. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

"Well, let me get out of here. I got dinner plans with Cami." Jameson said, heading to the door before pausing and turning back. He clapped EJ on the shoulder. "You're a very blessed man. Genie's had a heart of gold since she was a kid. If she's your soulmate, God really did smile down on you."

EJ smiled wistfully, his tone soft as he spoke of Genie. "Believe me. I know how lucky I am."

His mind still lingering on his conversation with Jameson when he heard the door to their rental open. Knowing it was Genie, EJ got up and went to the kitchen to make her some tea. "Duke?" She called out, using the nickname he had grown fond of. "You here, baby?"

"Kitchen!" He called out and sure enough, she came around the corner looking every bit as serene and graceful as she usually did. "I take it you feel much better now?"

The past few months had been rough for her. She was building resentment and anger. It was the total opposite of her everyday persona but watching her now...it seemed that she had managed to handle those feelings very well.

"I do. I saw Imani this morning."

EJ’s body stiffened for a moment before he forced himself to relax. He didn't hate Imani but he was always on edge. She had the power to twist his two favorite people into knots and he didn't like that. “Yeah? How’d that go?” He beckoned her closer and she came to wrap her arms around him.

“It was…unexpected,” Genie admitted. “But we talked. We cried a little bit. I think we’re going to work on our friendship going forward."

“That’s good, my love,” EJ said sweetly, turning his head to kiss her as he waited for the kettle to warm. "I'm happy for you both."

Genie tilted her head, watching him carefully before she uttered her next words. "She also told me she was going to have lunch with Jameson.”

Even though he knew it, he still felt his stomach drop into his feet. Imani didn't even know how much power she had over Jameson. She had him rethinking his entire relationship with a woman he'd been with for six months. One sighting, two conversations...and he was considering throwing it all away. EJ schooled his expression, wanting to appear neutral to his girlfriend. “I know. He came to see me after.”

Her eyebrows lifted, curiosity in her eyes. “Really? What did he say? What'd they talk about? I didn't call Mani to ask. I didn't want to be too nosy.”

EJ hesitated, then gave her a reassuring smile. “He said they talked about being friends. They agreed. And uh -- that it felt like a step in the right direction.”

Genie studied him for a moment, brows furrowed. She knew it didn't sound like Jameson. But then...stranger things had happened than him practically growing up and being mature. She seemed to accept his answer with a nod, placing her head on his shoulder. “Maybe it is. I hope so -- for both of them.”

The kettle whistled on the stove and EJ reluctantly pulled away, lifting his hand to pat her bottom gently. "Go get comfortable. I'll make you a cup of tea and we can talk some more."

She gave him a beautiful smile and nodded obediently, practically skipping out of the kitchen giddily. He liked making Genie happy. If he had his way, he'd see nothing but bright smiles and happy giggles from her for the rest of her life.

EJ finished up in the kitchen, making her tea and finding a snack for her to nibble on before dinner. Taking care of Genie was one of his main priorities. It was why he rationalized lying to her about what Jameson said.

As he exited the kitchen and moved into the living room, she was stretched across the couch, knit blanket across her legs as she scrolled her phone. Her hair was curled, pulled into a ponytail. She hadn't even tried and she was gorgeous as hell. “I was thinking we should take a trip. We go back to Cali next week but maybe sometime soon -- we can go somewhere. Take a little trip?” He told her, setting the tray down as she pulled her feet up, giving him room to sit.

Her eyes lit up, and she sat up straighter. “Really? Where to?”

“Anywhere you want,” EJ said with a grin. “But...I've been looking stuff up in Aspen. That house you told me about? Talked to the owner. She'll let us rent it for a week in February.”

Genie’s smile softened, and she shifted closer, tucking herself under his arm. “You're too good to me, Ellington Dupree.” She didn't say anything more but she clung to him and he knew she was grateful.

“Please. This is nothing. Wait til we're together for ten years. I'm going to be hella annoying.” EJ said, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I want to make some time for us. No distractions, no work -- just enjoying life together."

EJ kissed the top of her head, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie but knowing it was better this way. “You know what? Maybe we should make this trip a family thing. Bring your dad? I can bring my mom and sister?"

Genie looked up at him, surprised but intrigued. “That’s actually a great idea. They’d love that.”

EJ smiled, brushing a curl from her face. “Good. Let’s do it.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as if a thought came to her.

"What?" "Hmm? Nothing." "You sure?" "Yeah. Us and our families. Sounds perfect."

She smiled, leaning into him. “Thank you. For everything.”

EJ kissed her forehead, holding her tightly. As they sat together in the quiet of the house, he felt a sense of calm settle over him. He was making the right decision. He wanted this for the rest of his life.

The lights of New York spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Camille’s penthouse. it was a beautiful view but Camille wasn't looking at it. She stood at the kitchen island, her phone buzzing incessantly on the marble countertop. Even glancing at the screen made her nervous.

[ +33123456789 ]: What's going on, Cam? [ +33123456789 ]: Are you seriously not going to tell me? [ +33123456789 ]: You're temporary, remember that.

Camille exhaled sharply, locking the phone and setting it face down. She poured herself a glass of wine, trying to push the words from her mind. Meeting Jameson was never supposed to make her feel anything. He was a handsome face that a friend wanted for herself. Camille's job was just to see if he was open to seeing someone else. Sleeping with him and falling for him wasn't part of the plan. But he was on the verge of being hers now and what her friend wanted didn't really matter anymore.

Even if guilt gnawed at her. The knock at her door startled her, and she quickly smoothed her silk robe before padding over to answer it.

The object of every thought she seemed to have lately stood on the other side, his tall frame illuminated by the hallway light. In his hands were two lush bouquets of roses, one red and one pink.

“Good evening." he said with a soft smile, cradling the roses in his arms.

Camille’s heart fluttered as she took him in. 6'3, solid frame, the most beautiful green/blue/whatever damn color they felt like being eyes? Jameson Lucas was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen...and she spent all her time with male models. "Roses? You’re spoiling me, Mr. Lucas.” She moved aside, letting him inside as she reached for the flowers.

“I would hope so.” Jameson replied, stepping inside as she moved to place the bouquets in vases. He had been to her place much more than she had been to his so he shut the door behind him -- getting comfortable. "I like the look in your eyes when I do something nice for you. It's very sexy."

Cami glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips curving into a playful smile. “You’re laying it on very thick tonight. What’s the occasion? You missed me?"

Jameson shrugged out of his jacket, kicking off his shoes and lining them up perfectly against the wall in her living room. "Yes." He called out to her, following her into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “But no other occasion. I just wanted to see you..”

Even as her hands finished arranging the flowers in its vase, Camille's face was hidden behind the beautiful roses. Her cheeks were warm as she turned to face him. “Well, you’ve seen me.” she murmured, not looking at him as he rounded the corner and stepped into her space.

“Not enough,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist. Jameson pressed his head against hers, tilting his head to kiss her shoulder. "I told you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately."

"Thinking what about me?" "Everything." "Mhm. I know what that means. You cannot put me in that position again. You almost broke my hip last time."

His humorous laugh warmed her heart and she was proud of herself for being the one to make him happy. Her breath caught as he reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers.

“I"ve been thinking...I want you to be my girlfriend,” Jameson said, his voice steady. "I've been taking things slow because -- of the past. But I have to look forward. No second guessing. You're good for me. I like being good for you. If you would have me, I want to keep building on this."

She turned in his arms, the smile that spread across her face absolutely illuminating. “I wouldn't mind building a life with you.”

"Very enthusiastic response here." He grinned, dipping his head to give her a kiss. She melted against him, the laughter bubbling in her chest gone. The warmth and the steady beat of his heart grounded her. This was real. He chose her...over Imani. This didn't feel temporary.

"I didn't expect to care about you like this." She confessed against his lips, clinging to him tightly. Her hand moved from his, sliding up his wrist. Her fingertips grazed the watch he always wore and then moved to his biceps. He was hers. All hers. "I believe in you and I want you. I'm crazy about you. How's that for enthusiastic?"

“Very good. I like it." He sighed. "You make me happy,” he murmured into her ear.

“You make me happy too.” she replied, her voice soft.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, swaying in her kitchen. When he pulled back, his lips brushed hers in a tender kiss that left her breathless.

She didn't let herself think back to those messages. Even if Jameson found out, she didn't think he'd care. Neither of them meant to get serious about each other. It didn't matter why she had approached him. Only that she did and they hit it off.

She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the way he held her, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the world. For now, she could let herself believe in this—believe in them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Love Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: another surprise double day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wake up alone. The night of reverie fogs in your mind. Touching, biting, slapping, choking, fucking... The kinkiness of it all has you tingling again yet you’re raw and sore from the overstimulation. Beneath the afterglow is something else. Doubt. 

You agreed to it. You wanted it just as much as Andy. All you want is to keep him happy and this is what he likes. And you can’t say you didn’t enjoy the thrill of it. It was so unlike anything you’ve done before, especially with him. The whole scene was so out of character. It’s roleplay, it’s supposed to be, and yet it just feels off. 

Again, it’s your first time. It’s going to be new and weird and wild, right? Will there be a next time?  

You roll over, thighs grazing tenderly, and sit up. The cuffs are gone along with all other remnants aside from the tangled sheets and the shell of dried sweat over you. You feel grimy as you look down at your naked body, your lingerie crumpled up at the corner of the mattress. You barely remember when you passed out. It’s all just a blissed out blur. 

You stand and stagger. Oh. Your mouth forms an O as you daintily touch your pelvis. You can feel the stretch still as your walls twitch. He was so rough, so deep inside you. 

As you hobble into the bathroom, surprised by the gingerness in each step, you can’t help the flow of your thoughts. Is this what Andy will want from now on? Why? Were you not enough before? He’s always seemed content. At least with that part of your relationship.

The way he groans when you touch him, the way he begs and whines before he cums. It’s all so wonderful so why now? Why this? 

You heard all his explanations but you just don’t know what to believe. Your innate insecurity can’t help but latch onto the worst suggestions. He wants someone else. He wants someone better. Then why did he ask you to marry him if you’re not what he wants? 

Ugh. You lean on the counter and look your reflection in the face. You blow out through your lips and trail your hand up your stomach. There are bruises all along your torso and chest, your neck, even your thighs, maybe a few on your ass. You didn’t expect to like that sort of intensity so much. 

You push away and limp to the shower. How do you act like nothing’s changed? Like it’s all back to normal. A naughty grin curves your lips. That’s kind of hot. 

You step into the shower and take your time. You’re reluctant to wash away the filth only because you want to go back to the night before. You want to feel that electricity. You remember how peculiar it felt when he had his face between your legs and the way his hands moved so deftly. Why couldn’t he be like that before? 

All those expectations restrain Andy. He must need to pretend to be someone else to let out his inner needs. It helped you too. For the first time last night, you shut your brain off and just felt the moment. 

You bask in the steam but make yourself get out and face the day, letting the night fade behind you. You go through your usual routine, with all the creams and cosmetics Andy bought you. He was always certain to get you the best of the best.  

You never even stepped foot in Sephora before him, but when he took you, he was certain to ask the associate the most important questions. The woman told you about each product and showed you how to use them, doing you up before you left. It took you a while to get a hang of it but now you feel naked without it all. 

You put on a red camisole blouse and a white wrap skirt, along with a silver chain around your neck and your engagement ring in place. As you come downstairs, you can hear Andy’s voice. He’s on the phone as you enter the kitchen. He’s already dressed; a dark blue suit with a light blue shirt and matching tie.  

You round the island to face him and he gives you that look. The one that says I’m busy. You turn and cautiously work at starting the morning right. You flip the kettle on and take the lid off the french press to wait for the boil. You scoop the grounds into the glass and turn to Andy as he wraps up his call. 

He stares at you as he puts the phone screen down. His eyes flick up and down and his cheeks dimples. You smile and step up to the edge of the marble island. 

“Last night was so fun,” you cheep. 

His expression remains stony. Your cheeks loosen and you fix your face. Oh. 

“Last night was last night,” he says. 

“I... yeah, sorry, sir.” 

“Sir?” he challenges. 

“Honey,” you correct yourself. So, it is back to business as usual. You’re disappointed and a bit confused. 

“You slept in,” he checks his watch. 

“I’m sorry, I--” you pause and tilt your head, “it’s Saturday, where--” 

“Emergency,” he says, “not like I want to be spending my weekend working but...” he looks up at the ceiling then decisively traces the room with his oceanic irises, “well, I gotta pay for all this, don’t I?” 

You lower your eyes guiltily, “I can pick up some appointments, hon--” 

“We’ve talked about this.” 

“Erm, I know, but if we need money--” 

“When are you giving notice?” He asks abruptly. 

“They’re short right now, Andy, I can’t just--” 

“Look at me when you talk to me,” he girds, “you know I don’t like it when you act like a child.” 

Your eyes flick up and you pout, “I’m sorry, Andy. I just don’t want to let you down but I can’t let them down either.” 

“You do nails, not rocket science,” he snips. 

You do your best not to flinch. You should be so happy. Everyone at work tells you how jealous they are. You get to work whenever you want without having to worry about rent or expenses. Andy will help you out. He insists on it and when you said yes to the ring, that meant saying yes to his expectations. 

“I’m not putting the wedding off,” he insists, “so you need to make up your mind soon. Sweetie, I don’t have the same time as you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you gulp. 

The kettle clicks as he stares at you. You wait for him to say it’s okay but he doesn’t. You turn and pour the water and place the lid on the press. You meekly glance over your shoulder and face him as you wait for the coffee to steep. 

“You know what I expect. I don’t think it’s a hard ask at all. You take care of the house, I take care of you,” he taps his fingers on his phone case, “simple.” 

The last word is sharp. It says a lot; it’s simple enough for you to understand. You can’t be mad at him. You did promise and you haven’t followed through. 

“I’ll talk to Gina.” 

“Good,” he looks at his watch again, “you can put my coffee in a travel mug. I gotta get my stuff together.” 

“Right, yes, sir—honey,” you correct yourself, “I love you.” 

He stands and his chest rises. He slowly lets out his breath, “love you too.” 

He leaves you with the dulcet, almost flat proclamation. What happened? Was last night bad for him? Did you do something wrong? Maybe you liked it too much? Maybe you didn’t play the role well enough? 

Oh, you don’t know. You love Andy so much and you only want to do what’s right but sometimes it seems like there is no right with him. You look at the clock, a few more minutes and you can pour the coffee. It has to be just perfect, like everything else. Not too weak or strong. Exactly as he prefers. 

💕 

You wile away the time on your own. It used to be that you longed for time off, to catch up on your favourite shows, to do your hobbies, but now, you have too much of it. You watched everything, you’re bored of crocheting and diamond art, and your focus is split into pieces. You’re restless and lost in the large empty house. 

It makes you even more nervous about the future. You thought have a ring, having Andy, having a place to live, would make all a bit more stable. Nope. Now you’re terrified that every day is going to be as lonely and tedious. 

You make yourself sit down with a bridal magazine. There is stuff to be done. You just like to procrastinate. It’s a habit you’ve yet to break since your college days. Those get further and further behind you yet you don’t feel any wiser. 

Another point of envy you don’t quite understand. Marciana at the salon loves talking about the wedding, she has so many questions, and yet you don’t have the answers. She tells you all the time how she can’t wait to get married and do it all. You find it all a bit too much. 

It’s not just flowers and a dress and the ring; it’s catering and music and guests and cutlery and too much! You asked Andy what he liked for wedding colours and he told you he didn’t care. He says it’s a woman’s thing to plan the wedding. 

Gina said her mom helped her with her wedding. Well, you wish you had a mom to ask. The girls at work gave you some suggestions and tried to help but work always comes first. They’re your coworkers, not your friends after all. 

You still haven’t even booked the dress appointment. You don’t have anyone to go with and you feel ridiculous going alone. Andy can’t come, even after you said you don’t care if he sees you. He says it’s tradition. 

So you’re back to square one. You have an aunt who sends you a text now and again but not much else. The more you think of everything you don’t have and never had, the more you wonder how you ended up with Andy. He’s too good for you and you’re not the only one to think so. 

You close the magazine and mope at the pretty model on the front in her veil. You’re not going to look like that. She’s smiling and happy and you’re just stressed. Maybe you could just go to the courthouse. That way you won’t have to stand in front of the empty pews on your side. 

Before you can sink further into doom, the bell rings and you jolt up. Huh? You can’t remember the last time someone stopped by. In the early days, one of the neighbours stopped by to introduce herself and you noticed the other women across the street, watching from a porch. She never came back. You realised after they were trying to find fodder for their gossip. 

You get up, worried it’s another nosy neighbour. The bell rings again at your reluctant pace and you speed up. You peek out the window beside the door and see a man bouncing on the balls of his feet. Maybe it’s a delivery. 

You flip the lock and push down on the lever, inching the door open enough to see through. You give an uneasy smile. The man stills and shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks you up and down and you blink at the striking resemblance. His hair is different, shaved around the sides, longer on top, he wears a mustache instead of a beard, and he sports a short sleeved turtle-neck and cream-coloured pants. Despite all that, he reminds you of Andy. 

“Uh, hello?” You stammer. 

“Hey, darling,” he winks and pulls a hand free, putting it on the doorframe as he leans in, one foot hooked on the other, toe digging into the mat. “Is Andrew around?” 

“Andrew? No,” you answer tentatively. 

“Oh man, I don’t got the wrong place, do I?” He pushes himself straight and reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out his phone and squints, tapping on the screen. 

“No, uh, no Andy’s not home,” you clear your throat, keeping your hand tight on the inner handle. 

“Andy, right. He hates Andrew,” he scoffs, “I was thinking you might be too young so I wasn’t sure,” he snickers and shakes his head, “well, I got a delivery for the old man. Well, he put a name on it...” 

He swipes on his phone and reads out your name. It can’t be a mistake. You feel a little less stressed now. 

“Sure, that’s me,” you confirm. 

“Great, wait one minute,” he holds up a finger. 

You have no other choice but to do just that. He turns and bounces down the steps, jogging back up the walk of the perfectly trimmed lawn and vibrant garden planted inside the white picket. The man goes to a black cube van and opens the back doors. He shuts the door as he hugs a basket in his other arm. 

You watch him dumbly as he returns to you and holds out the basket. You take it, surprised at the gesture. Andy can be sweet but this morning was rough. He seemed to be in a hall of a mood. Even after what you did the last night.  

Maybe that was it? Maybe he freaked himself out. He had gotten pretty carried away. Well, this is as good an apology as you’ve ever got. 

“Old man loves you,” the man purrs with a crooked smirk. His timbre strikes you as familiar, gravelly and gritty, as if you’ve heard it before. It’s almost as if you can feel his breath against your throat. 

You look over the basket at him and smile, “uh, yeah, thanks, er...” 

“Lloyd,” he answers, “I’m an old friend. I owed him a favour.” 

“Well, it’s very sweet of you to bring this by,” you say. 

“Ah, you know, I just do what I’m told,” he drawls. His gaze is close to a leer and makes you want to shiver. 

“Yeah, well, um, thanks again, but I...” you glance over your shoulder. 

“You got a wedding to plan, Mrs. Barber,” he spouts, “you must be a busy lady. Lucky at that.” 

You face him again and wince, “yep...” 

“You make sure you have some of that wine, sweetheart,” he points to the ribbon around the bottle’s neck, “you earned it.” 

“Uh, oh, okay,” you shake your head, “that’s... kind.” 

“And say hello to the old man for me. Remember, Lloyd,” he winks as he backs up, “have a good night, baby girl.” 

He leaves and you stand with the basket, heavy in your arms as the rest of you sinks down too. You have a strange feeling about the unexpected delivery and that man especially. You feel as if you’ve met before. Maybe it’s that he reminds you of Andy. 

Well, no use in overthinking that as well. You won’t complain for a surprise, especially one as nice as this. 

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |X| pirate!Eddie au

a/n here it is. the final chapter. I am so excited to share it with you all, just as much as it pains me that it actually is coming to an end. I've worked on this story for almost a year, and it had been a risk I had no idea how it would play out, but seeing how much everyone has enjoyed this story and supported me in my little experiment really made all the days I say in front of my computer screaming worth it <3 thank you all so so much for trusting the process

Series Masterlist

word count: 14.3k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near-death experiences. hanging. men are pigs: implied mentions of past abusive experiences [of background characters]. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. prison. capital punishment.

there will be several mentions of other ST characters in this chapter, and some instances might not be the most favourable of portrayals, but this is not to indicate my opinion on them. I am simply intertwining universes. there is also a name spelled differently than in the shows and that's just for the sake of the setting.

Chapter 10: Lock and Key

“Some pirates achieved immortality by great deeds of cruelty or derring-do. Some achieved immortality by amassing great wealth. But the captain had long ago decided that he would, on the whole, prefer to achieve immortality by not dying.” ― Terry Pratchett, The Color of Magic

Everything went into chaos, happening so quickly that you genuinely got the sensation of being frozen in time and space, just letting everything around you go by, unable to intervene. Your mind could not work at that speed to understand everything that was happening, too far down into a shock to catch up. But when you finally did, you screamed. 

‘No, father, no.’ You tried to push yourself away from him, but his grip was too firm. Even if you had, the chances of getting past the barricade of armed bodies to Eddie was impossible. ‘You can’t do that!’ you trashed around in his arms like a wild fish out of water. 

All your father did was pull you closer, further away from Eddie, who you could just make out from between the uniforms and bayonets. The glimpses you got of his face showed a stoic expression. He wasn’t even trying to fight it. The last thing you saw before you were turned around and practically handed over to someone was the chains on his wrists. 

‘Take her away from here,’ your father told his closest guard, ‘she’s hysteric.’ And perhaps you were, as you kept screaming at them to let go of you. The pleas quieted down the further from the harbour you got, changing into silent sobs by the time you reached the gardens of your home.

‘It’s alright, miss,’ the guard tried to calm you as best as possible. ‘You’re safe now.’ 

The pearly white building towered over you as you entered its shadows, and as soon as you did, you saw almost the entirety of the house staff standing in the main hall, awaiting you. Their faces blurred with their welcoming greetings and sweet words of comfort. A woman took you from the guard, immediately guiding you up the stairs, mumbling something to him and shouting about to the rest of the people around. You could not place any name to her face, and having always been quite good with remembering people, you could only assume she had been a new addition to the staff since you had last been home. Looking over everyone around you, most of them must have been. 

That’s right. Your father had always been keen on replacing the staff but usually had been around to witness it, take in the new batch from the beginning, and, most importantly, say goodbye to the old ones.

You wanted to protest at every corner you turned up to your room, but the group of maids that had accumulated around you was like a forcefield, unbreakable. One of them opened the large double doors that led to your room. There was barely any time for you to sink in the feeling of being back in it after so many weeks as you were pushed through another pair of doors. There, a bath had already been prepared, the water steaming hot. You let yourself be dragged to the centre of the room and mechanically put your arms up for the ladies to take your dress off. Had they always been this rough? 

They mumbled about the state of your dress to one another as if you weren’t even there, and in their defence, you weren’t. Your mind was miles away, barely aware of what was going on. The only thing that pulled you back into the room was the gasp of the women as your dress fell to the floor. You looked down at where all their eyes had locked in on. 

‘Did they do this to you, miss?’ One of them asked, pointing in fear at the scar on your ribs. It had gotten much smaller over the weeks, but compared to the rest of you, you could imagine how grotesque it might look to people like them. 

‘Uhm, no,’ you mumbled, ‘I tripped. On our ship.’ You barely recognised your voice as you spoke, too tired to put any emotion into them. The women looked at each other hesitantly before continuing on with their tasks. 

 You just about felt the hot water burn as they got you into the bath or poured it over your head to wash your hair. The scrub of the cloths over your limbs did practically nothing. All you could do was stare out ahead of you at the hawk engraved into the wood panelling on the wall across from you and how you had always seen it as a sign of comfort but now noticed how angry its eye looked. Staring directly at you at all times. You lulled your head slowly, trying to get it to look away, but it just followed you around until someone grabbed you by the side to stop you from twisting. 

‘Sorry, miss. Just trying to get out this knot.’ One of them said as she combed out your hair, tugging your entire head back against the edge of the bath. 

You had not even realised how much grime came with being on a boat full of pirates for weeks. Even though you had tried to wash yourself regularly, there was never enough fresh water. By the time the ladies were done, the water had gone cold, and your whole body was red and sore from the scrubbing.  You could barely feel your fingertips, but your nails were perfect again. 

Trembling, you got out of the bath and quickly were wrapped up in linen to soak up the water. Like any other day, they began to put your undergarments on, preparing you for a dress that you could not even think about the weight of, but no matter how many layers they put on you, you were still shivering.

Someone, you had no idea who, pulled a blanket over your shoulders and put a large cup of lemon tea into your hands. It used to be your favourite, but the sips tasted bitter no matter how much sugar you poured. You stood in the middle of the room, holding the cup and felt all their eyes on you, drinking your tea with a shaky hand. No matter how you held it or steadied your arms, the porcelain clinked together louder and louder until it smashed onto the ground, the hot liquid pooling around you. Before you could apologise, someone was on their knees cleaning it up. 

‘I am so sorry,’ you cried out, tears already threatening to return despite it being only a few minutes since they had dried up. With water pouring over your face and hair in the bath, the tears would have been washed away, but now there was nowhere to hide them.

‘No worries, miss,’ one of the maids said. She looked you up and down, a corset in her hands, clearly seeing a mess of a woman in front of her. ‘We should get you ready; there is a meal waiting downstairs and I am sure you’re famished.’

‘I am alright, I just want to—’ you wanted to disappear. Get out of everyone’s sight. You wanted to lock yourself in your room or run away, just be anywhere but here, surrounded by these strangers. You wanted Eddie. Where was he now? He must have been dragged into the dungeons. 

You pushed back the next load of tears that were breaking through.

‘Miss, we must insist.’ The maid said, somewhat concerned, and hesitated. ‘The food will do you good.’ And yet, the idea of eating now made you feel quite ill to the stomach.

‘I would really just like to be alone now.’ If you had more energy, your statement might have come out more pointed, giving you more edge over the staff. You would have fought them until you’d slam the door behind the last one, but instead, you let yourself be trapped into a dress—a beautiful green garment that the women were not shy to praise as they put it on you—and sent you off to the dining room.

Once, you would have walked these halls alone,  with your head held high and letting the steps of your heels announce your presence in any room, but now the clicking against the marble floors made you wince and the presence of the maids and guards following you certainly did not help to put your mind at rest. 

The dining table was set, filled from one end to the other with dishes, but you could barely stomach a spoonful. The same happened at dinner. You could not think of eating these extensive meals knowing that Eddie was kept locked up somewhere, most likely not given anything to eat since he had been arrested. Your mind was whirring with ideas, but each and everyone was immediately halted when you saw that there was nowhere in the house you could go without onlookers. The chances of you being allowed into the dungeons and speaking to him were close to zero. 

Having eaten exactly two bites from your plate, you excused yourself back to your room, where people were ready to get you out of your dress and into your nightgown. Once done, one of the maids was prepared to blow all the candles out, but you quickly stopped her. 

‘Wait,’ you called, ‘could you leave one on, please.’ 

The woman nodded and left one of the candles in the holder burning before leaving the room. You sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to catch your breath, but the room felt so stuffy—a ridiculous thought considering the room was bigger than Eddie’s quarters, possibly the double of it. The candle only gave light to its nearest surroundings, letting the rest of the space, and you with it, be eaten up by the night. It was overwhelming, together with the hot air swallowing you whole. As your chest tightened, you ran to the window, pushing it open. You greeted the cool night air with a sigh. 

Nights at home were never quiet, but unlike in Saint Claire, it was not drunken brawls that kept the shores alive but the rustle of waves and the chirping cicadas. The streets buzzed with the sounds of nature, illuminated in silver by the moon, now an almost complete sphere. 

You had always loved the view of your room, but now it felt more like a cruel joke as you could look out at the harbour and the gates of Star Port. It was like a million pinpricks stabbing into you. The Hellfire was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t expect anything less. With Eddie arrested, it would have been mad of the crew to stay behind, risking their own capture. 

Still, the feeling you got at the sight of the empty harbour sank deep into your stomach, not helping with how you had felt before opening the blinds, and when you closed them again, the room seemed to have grown in size. Large, cold, empty, with you standing in the middle staring at your bed. Sitting on it, let alone sleeping, was impossible. The second you touched the mattress, you were scared you’d sink straight through the cotton, and the sheer size of it…

You lay there for hours, deciding whether to curl up and make yourself as small as possible or to spread your arms out in a poor attempt at taking up some of the space meant only for you. Every time you moved, your hand would grab for the sheets, hoping that one of those times, you would feel more than air. If you opened your eyes, you would see him sleeping peacefully by your side. 

Most of your pillows had met the ground as you threw them in frustration.  You had spent years in this bed, perfectly fine, and only several days with Eddie. So, why were you feeling this profound loss over his absence besides you? It wasn’t fair. 

Eventually, you managed to fall to sleep, quite literally, as pure exhaustion tipped you over and made your head finally hit down. There were no dreams, nightmares or memories to haunt you, as you were awoken before any of them could take shape. Firm knocks on the door announced your maids, and they filled the room in their designated corners. 

‘Good morning, miss.’ They said chirpily as they got you dressed and ready for another day. All you replied with throughout the entire process was a mumbled ‘’morning,’ which you hoped could be blamed for having only been awake for a few minutes.

‘Breakfast will be served soon,’ you heard. The mention of food again twisted at your guts, but an idea began to bloom in your mind.

‘Will my father be there?’ He seldom dined with you, leaving you to eat your meals in the company of the staff, but you assumed he would want to see you after all these weeks.

‘I assume so,’ the woman brushing your hair said. You nodded curtly, as much as possible, when someone held on to your head. The prospect of speaking to your father face to face brought a new energy into your step. 

You walked out of that room determined and with your head held high, only to be disturbed by footsteps parallel to yours. Two pairs. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, and they just happened to be walking there, too, but they followed you down the hallway, around all the corners. By the time you reached the dining room doors, you had grown tired of it.

‘I am quite capable of walking on my own, thank you,’ you said, coming to an abrupt stop, making the two men behind you  ‘have done it all my life, in fact.’

‘Yes, of course, miss,’ said one of the guards who you bumped into at your sudden halt. ‘It is just—’

‘Just what?’ You crossed your arms.

‘Well, your father—’ he stopped speaking at the sight of your unimpressed, somewhat annoyed expression. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the confrontation. ‘We are here to protect you.’

‘From what exactly?’ This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

‘From any danger, miss.’

‘I was not aware this house was so full of threats.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘I appreciate the efforts, gentlemen, but I doubt you will be needed.’

‘But your father, miss.’ The other man tried to argue, but you were not having any of it.

‘I will not be patrolled in my own home!’ You shouted, pushing the doors to the dining room open. Your father sat at the opposite end of the large table, fork mid-air to his mouth. ‘Father, this is absurd.’

‘I think it is perfectly reasonable to want to protect my daughter. What is absurd,’ much to your annoyance, he spoke in his usual collected and cool-toned manner. He waited to continue speaking until you sat at the table. ‘Is you being held hostage for weeks at the hands of some barbarians.’

‘They are not barbarians, Father,’ you ignored the hands that spooned food onto your plate. ‘They took rather good care of me, actually.’ You bit your cheek, trying not to think of the days you spent in a cage. But even considering that, you were aware of your fortune with the circumstances you had been put under. Many more people had encountered enemies at sea, and few had been able to return home and live to tell the tale… or the preferred version of events, at least. 

‘Is that why you look so sick and frail?’ he spoke bluntly, taking you back. ‘Because of how well they treated you?’

‘They did their best with what they had,’ you believed. It was your choice to starve yourself for the first days on board, refusing to eat anything they gave you. And you could hardly expect a feast such as you held in front of you now, every day in the middle of the deep waters. Even on board the Red Tail, the meals had been somewhat shoddy. ‘I just do not think that…’ you stopped yourself from using his name. ‘That man deserves to be in prison.’

‘Of course not.’ Your father took a bite. ‘He will be hanged for his crimes.’

‘W-what?’ Your fork clattered onto the ground. ‘Father, you cannot— I know he had tried to take money from you but—’ Murder and high treason. That is what he was arrested for. Had your father somehow found out about the Red Tail? But how could he… there were no survivors. 

No survivors. He killed them all. He had— 

‘Do you know who that man is?’ Something in your father’s voice sounded sharper, more pointed. 

‘I thought so,’ you hesitated. Yes, you had spent your days and most tender moments with him, but what did you know about Eddie Munson?

‘Then you should understand the severity of this situation.’ Only if you were to believe hearsay and talk of the people on the streets that shaped this image of a blood-thirsty monster that roamed the seven seas, killing everything in his path. It is what you believed him to be yourself until not very long ago until practically every fibre in your body had been proven wrong.

Or at least, God, you hoped you had been wrong.

Your father sighed, ‘I know it is difficult, after all you must have spent a lot of time with them on that ship, and I do not know what lies they had fed you, but these are serious matters that begun long before any of this and need to finally be taken care of.’

‘Well, explain it to me because I would like to know what is happening.’ 

At this, he scoffed. ‘All you need to know is that man is a dangerous criminal and should be treated as such.’ But then, what about everything Eddie had told you? What about all the pieces you had managed to gather of the crumbs he and everyone else left you? There was more to it all, and maybe you did not understand yet, but you would.

‘When?’ you plucked at your food on the plate, defeated, ‘when is the hanging?’

‘In four days.’ If you had been well enough to eat, you would have choked. You had barely come to terms with returning home, if at all, and now this. Prisoners were usually held for weeks before a date was set for an execution. They were clearly adamant about taking care of him quickly. 

For the sake of everyone else, you ate a bit of your breakfast, each bite sticking uncomfortably heavy in your throat.  After that, you got up without saying another word. The two guards who had walked in with you were on high alert again, ready to follow you, but stopped to look nervously at the governor when you glared at them. 

‘Let her go,’ he waved them off, ‘but keep an eye on her.’

You huffed out a breath and walked away. 

The rest of the day you spent walking around the town, mainly the alley of the market that led to one of the entrances to the dungeons. You had no idea why you were there, considering there was nothing you could do. Besides the fact you could clearly see the new set of guards appointed to follow you around the streets, they seemed utterly futile, considering all eyes in the street were on you. Every person there was highly aware of your presence. 

You used to walk around the market nearly daily, making polite chats with the salesmen as you bought fresh fruit to later eat at the shore or in the garden. Most people knew that you had decided to join the Red Tail on their voyage primarily because of your enthusiasm to finally leave the island and go on an adventure.

It must have taken quite some time, they would say in some form or another, to convince your father.

I can be quite persuasive when I have to be; you remember how proud you had felt. After months of begging everyone around you to let you go, promising them that you would be safe and careful and not get in the way of anyone, finally, they let you go. Under Admiral Carver’s watch, you spent weeks enjoying the breeze and the waves, awaiting what the rest of the world would bring.

The ship sailed for four weeks to another naval post. You did not know their exact business, nor did you care, as you now had a whole new land to explore. The city was larger and nothing like home. The people looked different and spoke an entirely different language, but you still managed to get around and on the market behind your house. It had been excellent and eye-opening, only making you more eager to see what else to discover. But unfortunately, there was only so little time, and before you knew it, you had to return home. You remember the last day. It had been raining, but it did not stop anyone from loading the new supplies. Somehow it seemed like much more needed to be brought on board for this half of the journey than the first. 

What’s in those barrels, you asked, but no one ever replied. They barely ever did. It wasn’t your place to ask questions in these matters. You were simply a passenger on the ship, verging on stowaway, spending your days in the quiet of your own room for the most part until…

It was the middle of the day, and the sun burned above you brightly, yet you shivered. You had always known to trust your father’s judgement and his decisions, but there was no possible way in which this was right. That this was how it would end.

The alleyway practically screamed at you for you to go and run in and get him out of there, but with so many people watching, it would be hopeless. The guards would get you before you had even reached the stairs. You would have to wait.

‘It’s good to see you again, miss.’ A voice pulled you out of your thoughts. It took you a few slow blinks to realise who it was.

‘Oh, you too, Mr Bowman.’ you smiled towards the merchant as he smiled at you through his bushy beard. He was sitting next to his table of… you were not sure what to call them. The man was quite the eccentric, and you had barely ever seen him actually make a sale on any of his products, but you doubted he was there for business anyway. ‘Have I missed much in the past months?’ You could always count on him for good stories about the townsfolk. The man had all his senses on sharp, constantly vigilant of everything around him. 

‘I think your return is the biggest news we’ve had in a while.’ He scratched his beard, ‘That, and well, the upcoming execution, of course.’

‘People already know?’ You blinked, not having expected that to be public knowledge yet. Then again, it is an event like no other. Preparations have to be made.

‘Edward the Banished gets arrested, and you expect people not to know?’ He laughed almost mockingly as he usually did, but you looked at him blankly.

‘The Banished?’ you had heard much about Eddie, but this name was new to your ears. 

‘Yes, ridiculous name, if you ask me,’ he waved it off, ‘Pure sensationalism as it rolls smoother on the tongue than deserter or runagate, quisling, traitor—’

‘I understand,’ you stopped him nervously. ‘But how did he get this name? What did he do?’

‘HA!’ he startled you with volume. ‘What didn’t he do, you should ask.’ This caused many of the other merchants around you to weigh in on the subject. 

‘I heard he abducted the governor’s daughter.’

‘That’s her. She’s right here.’

‘Oh. Well, he had attempted to assassinate the king of England!’

‘The Prince, you blockhead. And he did kill him!’

‘He has burned entire islands down. All over a game of cards.’

‘Stole an entire fleet and handed it over to the Spanish, just like that.’

‘He drinks the blood of his enemies!’

‘Sold his soul to the devil!’

Everyone looked at the old man that shouted this out. You were afraid to ask more questions, so let the others do this for you. ‘What do you mean, he sold his soul?’ 

‘He did! Did all those things to offer himself to Satan and do his dirty deeds here on earth. He is cursed to sail the seas in his wicked ship with the unrighteous crew for all eternity.’

‘Well, that eternity won’t last much longer.’ Someone commented, resulting in a chuckle around the street. Most of the people laughed, but you stayed quiet, your mind going back to Eddie, his body covered in unexplainable scars. The wind suddenly grew stronger.

‘I’m telling you,’ the man continued, ‘we won’t get rid of him yet! Not until Hell freezes over!’

‘Someone give the man a hat; he’s had too much sun,’ Mr Bowman called, rich coming from him, whose balding head was burning bright red. He then turned to you, shrugging as the rest had clearly proven his point. ‘And that is why I do not mess around with pirates, deary, no matter how charming they may seem.’

‘Excuse me?’ were the first words coming out of your mouth in the last few minutes, and you quickly regretted having them form into another question. 

‘I saw you two yesterday at the arrest.’ Of course, he had. Nothing around here ever escaped this man. He looked proud of himself for having witnessed the events. ‘It was quite dramatic, seeing lovers have to be broken apart like that.’

‘I think you might have had too much sun today,’ you tried to sound casual as you laughed it off. 

‘I am not here to judge,’ he said, putting his hands up in surrender, ‘simply to advise.’ 

‘Thank you, Mr Bowman.’ You smiled politely, ready to escape the conversation. You had been used to him often throwing around false and farfetched accusations, and even listening to this conversation, you knew it was nothing if not complete nonsense, just gossip gone too far along the years. So now that he had actually been correct, it stunned you, even maybe scared you. What would the people around you think if they knew what happened between you and Eddie? How would they react if they knew how you felt about his death sentence? You would be deemed mad. 

Of course, the not-so-inconspicuous guards followed you back to your room, where you stayed for the rest of the day until it was time for dinner. Your father did not join you this time. As hunger finally struck you, fighting nausea caused by the stress of the last few days, you ate everything served to you. 

On the ship, you had thought that once you came back, you wouldn't be able to stop eating all the things you had been missing for months, but nothing tasted as good as you remembered. In fact, nothing was as good as you remembered. The food was bland, the flowers not as vibrant, and the people not as joyous. Once, you had heard laughter and chatter, but it seemed like the streets grew cold and silent, leaving you alone to your thoughts. 

After your meal, you walked out of the room but turned left instead of taking the right towards your room. People immediately caught on. 

‘Miss? Where are you going?’ A guard called out.

‘Oh,’ you attempted to sound like you had not expected this exact conversation when you moved, ‘just thought of going on a stroll. The night air does me rather well.’ You grinned in a way you hoped would come off naive. 

‘I do not think that’s a good idea.’ The guard said. ‘I would suggest that you return to your room,’ he spoke in a tone telling you that it was not a suggestion at all. Not in the slightest.

‘Am I on house arrest?’

‘See it more as a curfew.’ 

You scoffed at the idea, or more that you had very little choice but to obey. There was a moment in which you stared up at the guard, switching between expressions to get him to crack and let you go, but to your disappointment, he cocked his head toward your room. 

How were you ever supposed to get to Eddie if they constantly watched you? The question kept you up another whole night and the next day. Just for the sake of it, since they so desperately needed to be with you at all times, you decided to sit in the library for about four hours with no book in sight, just staring out the window, letting them stare at you. At a certain point, you had caught one man actually yawning.

‘I am absolutely certain that there are at least fifty things that would be more  productive for you to do then this,’ you broke the deafening, maddening silence, still looking out the window. You had counted all the leaves on the tree branch that kept hitting the pane in the breeze and had recollected every corridor and door in the house. In the reflection of the glass, you could see the guards glance nervously at each other, and with a smile, you turned to face them. ‘You can just go. I won’t tell anyone.’ But they stood their ground. With a groan, you sank back down into the chair. 

It would take much longer for them to break, so much more time that you—that  Eddie—did not possess. Three days left before the execution. Three days left for you to take the chance and do something. Save him. There were a million ideas, one worse after the other, with so many risks and problems that it could eventually end in your own hanging. 

You shut your door at the end of the day, and it must have sounded through the entire house. Another day gone, and you had gotten nowhere. You could see the shadows of their feet come through the gap underneath your door, and they would be there the next morning when you awoke. Sleep deprived from tossing and turning as long as the sun was down. The bed still felt too big for comfort. At one point, they had run into the room at the sound of muffled screams, just for you to pull your head out of your pillow to yell at them to get out. 

You walked towards the dining room for breakfast, this time wearing a rose gold dress, surprised not to be followed by a parade of footsteps but halted at the sound of voices coming from inside the hall. 

‘I think it is safe to say that she does not require any supervision, sir.’ one of the guards said. You never bothered to learn their names, too frustrated to care, but you learned to recognise their voices from the amount of squabbling you had done. 

‘Is that so?’ your father munched away. 

‘She does nothing but mope around all day, quite harmless, I’d say… uhh, sir.’ The other added. 

Mope? You did not mope, if only because they sucked your life out with their constant “supervision”. As much as you wanted to burst into the room, you composed yourself and listened on. 

‘Does she seem well, in the head, I mean?’ Your father asked, but they did not reply. Not verbally, at least; you could imagine them looking at each other in the way they did, and just the idea made you clench your fists until they turned pale.

‘She’s stubborn, a bit immature, a bit aggressive.’ One of them chose his words carefully and slowly.

‘So that’s a no, I take it,’ your father concluded. You took this as your opportunity to announce yourself with a few loud steps, moving back a few paces to repeat them with exaggeration. 

‘Good evening, father,’ you said as you took your seat, not giving him or the other man any more of your attention. The guards glanced at you nervously before leaving the room.

‘Terrorised the guards, I see?’ he asked.

‘No more than they did me,’ you replied in the same emotionless tone as you ate.

‘I just wanted what’s best for you. It had been a tumultuous time, and you had gone through quite– ’

‘Is that a reason to… to lock me up and have me followed around like some kind of—’ You were at a loss for words, so instead, opted for a frustrated groan and stuffing your face with a forkful of lamb. 

‘Well, you’ve proved me wrong. Clearly, you can still care for yourself.’ he wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. ‘I’ll make them let you be from now on,’ and with that, he walked away. You couldn’t suppress the smile that rose to your lips once the doors closed behind him, immediately knowing the first place you were heading to with your newfound “freedom”. 

The kitchen. 

Well, that is not exactly the first thing. You had to wait for all the dishes to be cleared from the dining room, so you wandered around the corridors and then headed down the stairs as quietly as possible to not raise any attention to yourself. 

As suspected, the kitchen was empty. Most of the food on the plates still untouched. Quietly, you grabbed a basket and began picking things out here and there, those that would go unnoticed by anyone walking in to grab a midnight snack. The only thing that might have caught someone’s attention by going missing was one of the larger bottles of rum stacked on a shelf. 

You placed a napkin over the basket's content and grabbed one of the staff member’s hoods to cover yourself up with before heading outside. It would help against the cold night air and hopefully make you a bit less noticeable, as the grey hood did not stand out as much as your extravagant dress. As you took the first steps out into the garden, the idea came to you that maybe that was another idea of them trying to keep you inside these walls. After all, while you had always had nice clothing, it did not compare to the dresses you’ve worn since your return. It could be seen as a welcome home gift, but it was undeniable that the dress you wore now could be spotted from miles away.

You pulled the cloak tighter over yourself.

Besides a few men who were too drunk to notice or care who you were, the streets were also empty. The men standing at the prison doors were half asleep, and either way, you were not too anxious about them as they were usually more preoccupied with keeping people in than out. You slipped through the shadows into the alley and only dared to breathe once inside. The steps leading further into the building were uneven, especially in the dark. The only light was half-burned-up torches lining the path. A crinkly small corridor that eventually led to a crooked staircase. You could barely keep yourself up straight, almost tripping over your feet. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, where the dungeon's entrance stood, took almost longer than the walk to the building across town as you held onto the cold wall, doing your best not to fall.

Now, you could only pray that the final door was not locked. The handle wiggled and creaked open. 

You hesitated. What would await you inside? This whole trek had been based on your intuition that he would be put in one of the isolated cells, away from the petty criminals. But what if they kept him somewhere else? What if they had done something to him and… well, there was only one way to find out.

As you stepped into the caved-out room and almost instantaneously, never before had you felt such a cold fall over you. Maybe it was due to the thick walls absorbing all sound or how the slit-like windows below the ceiling only let through the tiniest slivers of moonlight, obstructing any of the day’s heat from entering the room. Or maybe it was the sight of him in the pale torchlight that chilled you to the bone. 

He was seated on the ground, framed by a cell jagged from rock and steel bars. The moonlight managed to just about frame his face, exhausted and fragile. His eyes were closed in pretend sleep. You could tell that much as his brows furrowed at the sound of your footsteps. You tried to call out to him, but your throat was stuck. But you didn’t need to say anything. He called your name in a weak voice, in a hesitant manner, as if he was making sure that what he saw was real. If you were really there. 

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked in disbelief.

What were you doing here?  You had been asking yourself this the entire walk up to the cells, trying to find a reason why it meant so much to you to see him again, to help him, and yet you still could not come up with anything. There was no response besides holding up the basket with a weak smile and saying, ‘I thought you would like some dinner.’ 

Eddie sat straight, pulling himself up by one of the cell bars. As you walked up to his cell and sat down on the ground beside him, you could feel his eyes on you. Pure disbelief at your presence, the food. You held the meat out to him, but he did not move. 

‘It is not poisoned,’ you smiled sheepishly, ‘if that is what you’re wondering.’ Even when you handed him the food to eat. He did so slowly, apprehensively at first, still unable to look away from you. Perfectly understandable. You had barely gotten used to this. How the beading and frame of the dress poked at you from every angle. Your feet hurt, and your hair had been pulled into an intricate hairstyle, causing you to walk around with a headache for hours. Not that it was anything to compare to Eddie’s circumstances. He sat in his cell, too small to stretch his body out in, with no bed, just the cold hard ground. They had removed his jacket and belt, leaving him to sit out the cold of the night in just his shirt. You also noticed a new bruise forming on his jaw, which certainly had not been there when you last saw him. All this to break him down, yet the way he looked at you—you could have sworn you were still lying together in his bed, far away from all this. 

He glanced down at your dress, how it pooled around you, almost leaking through the cell barriers up to him in all its opulence. ‘How the tables have turners, haven’t they, princess,’ he chuckled, and you had never thought to be so happy from hearing such a simple sound. The nickname felt deliberately chosen at this time, too. You pulled at the edges of your dress, collecting it closer to you.

‘I know, I look ridiculous.’ 

‘I think the word you’re looking for is beautiful,’ he said between bites, but you ignored the compliment, knowing that if you let it get to you, it would come together with a shower of tears. As he kept on eating his food, you sighed, letting your side hit the wall as you leaned up to him. You handed him more of the food that you had brought him and the rum, then let him finish in silence. His mere presence beside you already was more than enough. The sound of his deep calm breaths was enough to put you to rest, and it pleased you that the sea had not left him just yet. He still smelled of it. That fresh sea salt air was simply stuck in his hair. You refrained from combing your fingers through it.

This was already so far from what you had expected things to go like. You had thought that once you came home, even with his request for a hefty payment, he would still be welcomed as a hero. That you could make things work and somehow, maybe, naively, be together. Even now, you thought that if he saw you here, you would have some kind of moment of clarity where everything became crystal clear and easy to understand. That you would know exactly what to do, and it would be glorious. You thought he would be happy to see you. Never had you imagined him asking you again, ‘What are you doing here? Really.’

‘I wanted to see you,’ you said, but he could read past all your layers. ‘And… over the past few days, I have heard things. About you. Things that I can hardly believe to be true and yet are seen as such by the majority of people, so I hoped you could clear some things up for me.’

‘You don’t believe your own people but would believe me?’ He took a swig of the rum, already handing it back to you, but you declined, giving it back.

‘I have given you my trust more times than I should have, and so far, it has not led me down any dark paths, but I can only hope that you will not break that bond now.’ After all that you had been through? Was he in any position to do so? ‘So I hope you will tell me what really happened. I—I remember you, years ago, meeting with my father and Carver. You were in the military, right?’

Eddie let his head roll back, hitting the wall behind him with a shallow thud. ‘You remember me?’ 

‘It came to me during the storm. A memory of you walking with them in the garden. For the longest time, I could not make sense if it had been real or if my mind playing tricks on me, but I realised now what it was.  You looked different, but it was you, wasn’t it? You were like them?’ 

‘Turns out, maybe I still am, and more than you’d think,’  he sighed, ‘or less, depending on how you look at it.’ He took another sip of the drink. 

‘Will you tell me, please?’ You pleaded, eagerly awaiting the answers to what you had been trying to figure out long before you had returned home. Eddie looked apprehensive. 

‘What good will it do?’ He turned his head in your direction, still leaning against the wall. You moved over to be closer to him, your legs almost touching. 

‘Perhaps nothing, but—’ you sighed, ‘All my life, I’ve been protected. I’ve had everything handed to me without any trouble. I had spend most of my years never further away than these shores and always under someone’s watch. I had never had the space to make risks or mistakes. There was no such thing as danger. Even now, I had been under constant watch. No one will answer my questions or even listen to me because they want to protect me. Because they think I’m fragile and cannot handle it.’ 

At this, Eddie scoffed. ‘If anything, they cannot handle you, darling.’ 

‘Meanwhile, you,’ you smiled, ignoring the heat burning over your cheeks, ‘Well, perhaps not all your methods were ideal, but you never treated me like I was made of glass. You pushed me, and it actually, for once, made me feel alive and like I am worth being in the room with.’

Eddie reached for your hand. ‘You’re worth so much more than that,’ he mumbled against your knuckled as he kissed them. He held on to you as he began talking slowly, choosing his words wisely. ‘I had joined the navy younger than anyone should have—my parents couldn’t afford me, so I had to make myself useful quickly, and that felt at least somewhat commendable, no matter how it would end. 

‘Started right at the bottom, but I wanted to prove myself. I followed orders, did everything what was asked of me, and more, and I moved through the ranks. As I gained more of a position, I got more of an insight into the men I was working for and with.’ 

As he spoke, you watched his eyes pale, haze over with memories. The dam he had built around them had broken up, flooding out, and he could not stop it anymore.  He wanted to continue, but he hesitated, glancing your way, but you encouraged him to go on with a nod of the head. Even then, he scratched at his face nervously and took a deep breath. 

‘We would find ourselves everywhere around the world, and a certain power comes with wearing a uniform. It is universal, one that everyone understands and is willing to abuse. It was easy to see yourself as better than the poor locals, to excuse yourself from the import taxes and all the bureaucracy around the travel. I had done it myself, flashing a grin with the mindset of superiority.’ He hid his face in his hands, groaning. You reached out for his arm. 

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ you hushed, but was it really?

‘When you get that taste of power when it hits right, it is hard to let go. It had never sat well with me; every time I got away from a port without paying for my ship, I stayed up entire nights as the guilt ate away from me, but it had been what everyone else was doing, and you don’t want to fall behind. It had become a pressure to boast your power over those who did not have any. 

‘And this power…. it turned darker as simple actions of business turned to abuse. Swindling merchants of their products, conning drunks with games, and stealing their money. Taking advantage of… everyone. It had become a sport to them.

‘I was aware of it, but it had somehow never seemed that serious—it happened so gradually—until one day I saw one of the commanders with this girl…’ his breath hitched. You squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there, that you were listening. ‘She was just a child, and when I saw what he—I lost control of myself, lashed out at him. It had been stupid trying to argue with someone that outranked me. There was no one I could tell that would do anything about it, not when they were all just as bad.

‘Then Carver came up to me one day. Said that together we could make a change.’ Eddie’s jaw clenched. ‘I should have known better. He had always been too close with the rest of them, but we planned on making a change.

‘But on the day we were about to tell your father about everything that happened on our voyages—the day we saw each other in the garden, in fact,’ he squeezed your hand back. ‘We never got the chance because I was sent away.’ Something in you caught your breath, making him smile lightly. 

‘There had been talk of a war, and so I was sent out with a fleet to take charge. Carver had promised me he would take care of everything in my absence, but—’

‘He didn’t,’ you finished the sentence for him.

‘In a way, he did. Of course, it was all a hoax. He had needed an excuse to get rid of me. It took me three months to get back, having found no signs of possible ambushes, and when I did, I returned to the news that Hargrove, the commander I had attacked, had been found dead that same evening I left. And there was the missing gold and the rumours of a coup, among other things. Somehow, he had convinced everyone I had gone above and beyond in betraying our country, but the murder charges hit the heaviest. They thought I had killed one of our own.

‘The only people on my side had been those on the ship with me, and they had given up all they had by giving me their trust. They were marked as traitors just for standing up against the accusations. I  already had lost everything I had to lose and could not stand by it, so I left. I took my ship and my crew, and we sailed off. 

Bowman’s words rang through your mind as Eddie said this. Deserter. Runagate. Quisling. Traitor. You still wanted to ask him so much, but you let him speak before interrupting. 

‘The sea was a liberation. We were free to do whatever we wanted, so we did, but I always felt like I was tied back to this place. Like…’ he laughed, ‘like a rope was hanging around my neck, dragging me back here. At first, I thought it was guilt, so I did my best to reprimand everything they had done. I wanted to do something for all those men and women we had hurt, give them some form of protection against those uniforms. 

‘But no matter what I did, who I helped, that feeling did not stop. In a way, it grew worse. I got angry and felt like the only thing that would help me was revenge; I stayed up most nights thinking of unimaginable things. I got lost in the darkness of it. If it wasn’t for Harrington, I don’t know what would have become of me.’

‘Harrington?’ You could see how that would happen, but the mention of him somehow startled you. It's another piece of the story that made it feel so real.

‘He had been in a similar position as me. His commanding officer had been asking him to do all these dirty jobs until he had had enough. It had only been a couple of days since he had given up his post when we met one night at a tavern. He wouldn't have joined us if it had not been for a game of cards. Neither would have Robin.’

You had no idea how long you had sat there, just enough for your body to grow cold and stiff on the ground, but you could not care less about any of that, too focused on his story. As he mentioned Steve and Robin, his smile reached his eyes for the first time since you had arrived, revitalising you, knowing that there was still something in his life that left fond memories behind. You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you listened on. 

‘Either way, I had fallen into a deep, dark pit, and Steve pulled me out. He showed me what I was doing did no good for anyone but them. It was eating me alive, killing me from the inside.’

‘But you still killed them all.’ The words left your mouth sooner than you could think them through. Knowing his reason behind it all made you understand, but it did not lessen the impact of the deed. 

Hearing you say that, Eddie quickly turned his entire body to you, pulling himself as close to you as possible, almost pushing himself through the bars. His eyes were full of an intensity that burned through your soul.

‘I am not trying to make excuses. I did what I did—I led my crew towards the Red Tail and let them sink that ship, but not for myself. That is what Harrington made me realise. I did not need to see them die, but they needed to pay for everything they had done. For ruining all those people’s lives. You must understand that?’ 

He didn’t need to see them die. Moments flashed before you of your very first seconds on the Hellfire. Of Eddie walking up to you, the words he spoke in front of you. 

– Carver? Where is that pesky little bilge rat? 

– Bled out on the ship. 

– Shame. Would have like to have seen that. ‘You weren’t even there.’ you whispered.

‘It wasn’t about me.’ He shook his head. ‘Besides, if I had been the one to kill them, it would have only satisfied them. To see me become what they had told the world I already was. All I wanted was for them to be gone. Just gone. 

‘None of this,’ his eyes darted over your face. ‘Was meant to happen to you. My men were simply looking for the things in the office that had already been stolen. But then they saw you under that table, they couldn’t leave you. You were innocent.’ His hand reached out to brush over your cheek. Only at his touch did you realise that you had started to cry as he wiped down your tears. ‘And to you, I am truly sorry for everything I put you through.’ 

 You had nothing to reply with but a kiss, pulling him close to you. The steel bars of the cell caused an awkward distance between you, yet you never felt closer. It was as if now, you finally, truly, knew who it was you were touching. The kiss had been brief, but the silence that followed stretched on. The two of you sat there, sinking away from reality, but the questions you still had kept you grounded. Just as Eddie had said, a noose dragging you back. 

‘Eddie,’ you called him carefully. ‘What about the letter?’ 

‘What letter, princess.’ His hand kept rubbing over your tear-stained cheek. 

‘You know which one I mean,’ you pulled back slightly to be able to look properly at him. ‘Who was it for?’ 

He laughed, the saddest laugh you had ever heard come from him, and it pained you from within. ‘What does all this matter? I will be dead soon. The less there is left of me here, the better.’

 You watched him pull himself up again to sit, tap his knuckles on his knee. His answer had angered you. ‘Because…’ you took a deep breath, taking the leap you had been too afraid to take. ‘it just gives me that much less time to know the man I have fallen in love with.’ You wanted to keep as much of him as possible. That is what you could do by listening. To give him that voice in his own story. 

Eddie fell silent. His mouth opened to speak, but no voice came out for several tries. He searched for the right words until he finally blinked slowly and looked up at the ceiling. His jaw clenched once again, in the way that he sucked in a deep breath. As he released it, he said: ‘Her name was Christina.’

‘Your wife?’ Again, you thought of what he had told you earlier. I  already had lost everything I had to lose. He must have had people who cared for him before all this had happened.

‘Fiancée,’ he corrected, not that it mattered to either of you. ‘We had known each other our whole lives, having grown up on the same streets. We kept each other strong with this promise that one-day things would get better. That we would escape from all the burdens and create our own paradise. She was the reason I—’ he couldn’t speak of it out loud, and you didn’t need him to. You didn’t tell him to continue the story when he eventually did. 

‘Foolishly, I had not told her anything of what went on. I told her things would finally be good for us when I returned. We would leave and never turn back. I thought I was protecting her by keeping it all from her, but it was the final nail in my coffin.

 ‘She had been the first person I saw after my return, and I could sense that something was wrong.  Then the guards knocked on the door, and she opened it like she had been expecting them. 

‘I could only assume it was Carver. That he told her what he told everyone else. She wouldn’t look at me, touch me, speak to me. No matter how hard I tried to prove myself, he had poisoned her with his words. In the end, she only saw me as a monster.’ 

The last word stung you in your chest, knowing how often you had used that exact word to describe him yourself. How often have you called him a monster or even worse?  But his openness triggered more memories to come up. Your conversations with the crew of the Red Tail. Their stories and lives. 

‘Christina…’ you mumbled the name with familiarity. ‘That was… that was the name of the admiral’s wife.’

‘It does not come to me as a surprise,’ he chuckled that sad laugh again. He had clearly expected to hear those words eventually. You looked at him, feeling the sting in the corners of your eyes. The tears were coming right back, but he quickly wiped those too. ‘Please, don’t. I do not need your pity. I have told you everything there is to know about me, and that is all I could or ever will ask of you again.’

‘I don’t—’ you wanted to speak, but he quickly went on. As he held your face in his hands, his thumb brushed over your lips, 

‘And I will cherish these moments, every second I spent with you, until my last breath. I will think of you as the sun sets, I promise you.’

‘What—what are you talking about?’ your voice choked between sobs. 

‘I never expected you to come here,’ he kissed you, passing all the feelings he had voiced earlier over to you with the touch of his lips, ‘but don’t come here again.’

‘What? No!’ You pushed yourself away. This wasn’t the plan. You were going to help him. You were going to get him out of here. As you got up to your feet, so did he, reaching for your hand again.

‘Listen to me.’ he gritted his teeth in desperation. ‘There is no way out of here, and it will only get worse for me.’ As he said so, your eyes flashed back to the bruise on his pale skin. ‘I do not want you to see me like that. Let this be where we say our goodbyes.’ He held your hand, finger over your knuckles, soothingly. You hated that he was comforting you at this moment.

‘No,’ you whimpered, head shaking. You turned your hand around in his to grab onto his fingers. One of his skull rings slowly began to slide off, and so you stopped before it dropped.

‘Please,’ he squeezed your hand.

‘No!’ you shouted, not caring if the guards outside could hear you. They might storm inside any second now and drag you out, they could try, but you wouldn’t let them. ‘I won’t let you die.’

‘It’s okay.’ He said. With every sentence he spoke, a new piece of the puzzle had been allotted to its place, but the final picture still blurred before your mind. It only seemed like even more gaps needed to be filled in, but it was slowly coming together, and when it did… You wanted to cry out. 

Eddie held you as best as he could through his restraints, the faintest smile painted over his lips. 

‘You knew, didn’t you?’ you stood there, defeated. ‘That if you would come back here with me, that this would happen. You knew you would be arrested and hanged.’

‘At least now I truly deserve it.’ All the crimes he committed at sea trying to help others, what he had let happen to the Red Tail. ‘So, please, just go. I promise, it will be alright.’ 

You wanted to scream at him. Hit him, punch him, and much more for all of this. You wanted him to hurt as much as you did as he told you to leave, but in reality, you doubted anything you could do to him would match even half of the pain you felt as you stood there. You wanted him to hurt, but all you could do was take one last step forward and pull him in to kiss you. 

When you left, you could still feel him on your lips. That feeling let you move step by step out onto the street. Everything else felt not quite right, not quite real. You walked mindlessly across the empty market, barely aware of your surroundings, until you suddenly stood in front of your room door. You dropped the empty basket at your side and practically floated onto the bed.

It was late; you had no idea what time exactly, but too late for anyone to help you get out of that corset. You lay on the bed, now unable to get up, unwilling to move even if you could, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe you never stopped staring or fell into a slumber, but the next morning you still lay on your back, barely changing position over the early morning hours.

 You sat in your room, looking at the tide coming and going, pushing the sand and the rocks through the hours. The hours blurred; days became night, and the moon turned into the sun. The following two days passed, and you spend them in silent disbelief and confusion, just fighting to not return to the prison cell.

There must be something you could do. People you could convince or pay or bribe in any other way to not let the execution take place. Help him escape. 

This could not be the end.

But Eddie had made his final wish clear. You were not to see him again, and what could you do when no one would listen to you? When everyone on the island had his mind set on what Eddie was? You were paralysed with helplessness, and no matter what you tried to do or what to think about, it just would not go away. It grew inside you, impossible to ever leave you again, and you were slowly making peace with that. Your own price to pay for not being able to do anything for him when he truly needed it.

Even when you arrived at the square, which was filling up with an audience hours before the event, were you trying to look for escape routes, but the more people arrived, the more challenging a wall they created to penetrate. You would never be able to run through it, but you thought of it. Holding his hand, never looking back.

The sun that afternoon was flaming hot, burning through all the layers of your dress that pinned into your ribs as you sat down. The governing families got the best seats on the raised platform in the house, with plush chairs to wait on while everything was prepared. There was only the cool breeze of your fan to cool you down, but it did nothing on your nerves. They burned within just as much as the sun's rays. 

You had not been sure if coming was a good choice or if you were prepared to witness Eddie’s death, but your absence would surely be questioned and… and you could not pass on the ever last possibility of seeing him. The dubiety ran through you with a threat of tears.

But more and more people came around to see, and you traced each face to find someone who could help you. Someone on your side. A familiar ally, but no luck. They were all prepared to see a man die tonight. The mumbling amongst them turned into chatter, and the conversations of local gossip turned to absolute mudslinging.

‘I heard he has killed over a thousand men with his bare hands.’

‘Well, I heard he had planned on taking over the army in order to become the next king!’

‘And I heard—’

‘I heard—’

I heard… One thing after the other, each one worse than the last. Could they not see this? All of it nothing but hearsay. They were putting a man on death row for things overheard at the market. Of course, no one would listen if you were to say this. 

The sky slowly turned a warm orange, glowing on the buildings like a soft fire. The bell in the church tower struck seven times, half through instinct and half through custom, people’s heads turned in one direction. All but yours because as they all looked at the procession—the court man carrying a large scroll of parchment, followed by the executioner, who pulled the chains that were locked around Eddie’s wrists and the two guardsmen behind him, weapons at the ready—you stared ahead at the gallows. The rope hanging on it looked short and could only mean one thing. 

A slow and painful death.

The clanking of the shackles echoed through the entire square with each step Eddie took. He was barely visible through the crowd, but the length of the executioner in front of him ensured everyone could follow the death march.

Eddie looked ill—pale and fragile. His steps were shaking, not improved at all by the heavy chains that pulled him forward. He stumbled around up the stairs to the gallow. You could see his eyes look up in fearful amazement at the construction of the gibbet. His Adam’s apple choked up and down, and then his eyes caught sight of you. 

Everything began to move at a slowed-down pace. 

He must not have expected you to come or hoped you wouldn’t because the brave and confident facade cracked for the tiniest moment. The sadness dominated his features for a glimpse of time, but it was all you could see. Too occupied by his view, he had missed his call to step up. The hangman shouted something from underneath his black hood, kicking Eddie forward. You flinched as Eddie kept his balance not to fall to the floor. You couldn’t do this. You could not watch this go down, but you did not want to leave him behind. Not ever. This could not be the end.

The court man stepped forward, unscrolling his parchment as he cleared his throat. It was enough for the people below, standing on the pavement, in the shadows of the buildings, on the balconies, to quiet down and listen as he read: 

‘On this day,’ his voice carried through the entire square, ‘we bear witness to the punishment of Edward Munson, pirate, for his admitted crimes of theft, perjury, extortion, abduction, desertion, high treason and murder, sentencing him to death as decided by the governing council. 

‘He shall hang here for God to give his final judgement and remain a reminder for any wrong-doers and sinners to come!’

You glanced at your father, who sat by untouched. Was Eddie’s body here to stay forever? You could not imagine having to walk around this town every day just to see his body be taken by the elements. 

The sun was nearly at the horizon, shining bright at all of you, its heat still heating your skin. 

The people cheered as the rope was put around Eddie’s neck, who waved to them as if they were not cheering on his demise. One hand pulling the other up, making the chain between them clink. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and it astonished you to see that he managed to stay his entertaining self even now. Always playing a role for the other man. Here to entertain. To provoke. To distract.

But the smile faded, body stiffened as the noose was pulled taut.

‘That’s a bit tight,’ Eddie commented, and in response to that, the hooded man pulled it even tighter. It dug into his skin. He looked down at where the floor would soon disappear from underneath him, then up at the sky and with a slight choke, he spoke out his final words, embellished by the last spark of his life: 

‘To reign is worth ambition though in hell: Better to reign in hell, then serve in heaven.’

People gasped, mumbling amongst each other once more until hushed to silence by the hangman walking up to the lever that would set everything into motion. As Eddie took his final breath, everyone held theirs in anticipation. Your hands were shaking; every breath you took felt like a betrayal to him and like a stab in your lungs. Your fan moved faster, the small gushes of wind barely doing anything to cool down your face. This could not be the end. Not this. Not now. It couldn’t be—

The arm was pulled, and it was as if it had removed the ground from underneath your feet; that’s how deep the drop in your stomach was as you saw Eddie fall. It was as much as you could bear seeing before you turned around, hiding your face in your hands, hiding your tears from everyone else. 

When hanging a person, two types of noose could be used. With the longer drop, the fall's impact would cause the neck to break and bring instant death. The shorter rope prolongs the act of dying as the rope digs into their throat, cutting off their air. During this, the square is filled with the sound of choked gasps, encouraged by the hundreds of onlookers. 

If you had been one of them, down there on the ground, with easy access to the podium, you would have stormed it. Cut the rope loose. But you sat on the balcony, surrounded by your father and the other gentlemen and guards, unable to move anywhere. So you could only hope that there would be someone to do what you wanted to do. That someone would show up and save him like you wish you could. But when no one came, and his strangled groans became more sporadic, you had had enough. You couldn’t do this. You could not sit by and watch or even listen to what was happening before you. 

Your father’s call of your name was muffled by the public, and your own internal screams as you ran out. Arms reached for you, but you pushed past them all. As soon as you were out of everyone’s sight, the tears started to flow, and they would not stop no matter how far you ran. And you wanted to run as far away as possible, as far away as your legs could take you. Off this island, away from these people. Yet, you eventually carried yourself back to the square. Each step made you dizzy through the corridors and down the stairs, but you could not stand still. 

You had thought you were faster, but as soon as you pushed the heavy doors open and saw the stream of people walking away, the truth sank into your bones. You pushed your way past the crowd back to the open marketplace. As soon as it was done, people lost interest and continued with their evenings as if nothing had happened, ready for whatever next was to come eventually. By the time you reached the foot of the gallow, there was practically no one else around you. 

The sun was saying its goodbyes, and his body was a dark shadow across the obscuring sky, hanging limp, still swinging from side to side but with every second coming closer to its final halt. Something about the movements looked so serene that you could not come to terms with that this was really it. Just like that… he was gone, but it happened so quickly, so easily. Too quickly. 

You stood in front of him as the last people left, and the sun disappeared at the end of the world until the real darkness fell upon you, and your tears finally dried out until your throat screamed for water and air, and you could barely stand up straight.

This could not be the end.

And you were one of the first people to hear of it. 

First, there was the prickling of the fire in the reading room, the flipping of the pages as you stared ahead at the words of the book, making yourself seem present in the room as your father sat by. Then there were the rushed footsteps in the hallway. The hushed whispers of hesitance behind the closed door as the men contemplated what to do. A creak of the door as they walked inside towards your father and leaned in to whisper so you would not hear what they had to say.

But the room was so quiet, you heard it quite clearly.

‘Sir, there is an…a problem.’

‘What is the matter?’ Your father, as always, did not find much need to express himself largely, but at the guard's response, his eyes grew wide, and for a moment, the glow of the fire seemed that much cooler.

‘The body…. It’s gone, sir.’

‘What do you mean,’ he composed himself quickly, ‘he is gone? How can that be?’ 

The guards never looked so small. ‘We do not know sir, but he is. It is like he has disappeared into thin air.’

‘Absurd,’ your father got up, and so did you. Before you got to say a word or take a step forward, he quickly stopped you. ‘You stay here.’

‘Absolutely not.’ Was all you replied as you rushed out of the room ahead of anyone else. 

You had already made your peace with never stepping a foot inside the town square ever again, not if you would have to be reminded of that afternoon, of everything that happened in the last months, but as you walked back up to it, you could not have been happier that you had returned. 

Only the rope left was where his body had hung and where it had meant to hang for days to come. Its perfectly knotted noose swayed like he had the last time you saw him. 

Everyone else was right behind you, but just before they reached the platform with you, you noticed something in the corner of your eye. A shine against the moonlight on the wooden beams. You could just barely reach it, but with a stretch of the arm, your fingertips just about managed to get a grip on it. Before you could look at it, you heard your father shout orders at the guards, making them search everywhere in the nearby surroundings. Maybe whoever had taken the body was still somewhere nearby. 

Whoever took it… was that what happened? Before you could look around for more signs that could clarify the situation, you were called to return back home. It would do little good to argue now, so you followed the guard tasked with escorting you to your room. Only when he closed your door and you sat down at your drawing desk that you opened your fist to reveal what it was you had found beneath the rope.

The pair of hollowed-out eyes of the skull ring stared back at you. There was no possible way for you to know what this meant if it even meant something, but you couldn’t help but smile. The ring was loose on your finger, but you kept it on. 

This could not be the end of Captain Eddie Munson. 

It wasn’t. 

For most people, he lived on as a ghost story, and as you had learned from a very young age, dead men tell no tales. The living pass their stories around, mouth to mouth, page to page. Blurring the truth with their urgency for clarity, they try to make sense of things they cannot understand. Secrets become myths and legends that barely resemble the truth. 

In most cases, it takes years, decades, if not centuries, but here, on this small island, the conversations on the street already trickled with gossip and rumours the following morning.

I did not want to believe it, but it must be true, what they say. He did sell his soul to the devil! And it came to retrieve his body. 

I told you! It is useless to try and kill the unkillable! No, did you not hear what he had said? “Better to reign in hell!” But he is the devil incarnate!

Well, I’m surprised they caught him in the first place! Why he must be a ghost. The lot of them on that wicked ship. All cursed, and now he will return to haunt us for the rest of our lives! 

Who was to say out of all of them what happened on that square once darkness fell? No one was there to see it or tell the truth, as all who could had long left the island. 

They left at night, days after everything went down after the search for Eddie’s missing body had been called off, “officially” said to have been stolen but never confirmed. Those who knew what happened to it stayed in hiding until it was safe to come out until all suspicions were blurred with the gossip and basically forgotten. Quietly, they ran to the harbour, unseen by anyone, swift as the wind. 

Unnoticed by anyone…but you.

Like most of the nights, unable to fall asleep, you had been looking out your window out at the harbour and the sea. The ships that calmly stood anchored there and the waves that pushed against them. Slowly, they put you to sleep, and so at first, you thought it was just a blur of your tired gaze, the dark spot in the far distance. It wasn’t a ship. And there, on the shore, there were no people preparing a boat. Not this late… 

You rubbed your eyes, trying to better understand what they were doing. Packing in a hurry, throwing things into the bottom of the rowboat. As you watched, you told yourself that it was just the exhaustion speaking, that you were fooling yourself with this hope, but you could not let the chance pass you by.

You left your room without bothering to put anything on over your nightgown. Quietly to not gain any attention, but still as quickly as you could manage. Who knew how much time you had left before they would leave? Then once out of the house, you ran as fast as you could. The past few days, it felt like it had been all you had been doing, running to and from things, running after something without even knowing what you were looking for, but now you knew. You ran until your lungs began to burn from the warm and dry air. Until your feet were ready to give in and until you reached the sandy beach. 

As much as you wanted to scream and shout, you kept quiet. You walked carefully up to the two figures at the shore until they noticed you next to them. It happened when you were only a few feet away; they heard the scuffle of your feet or your shaky breath and pulled their guns out. They were ready to shoot, but the second they needed to notice you in the dark saved your life. That is when you locked eyes with the man in front of you.

‘Eddie?’ you cried. Before he could say anything, you took the final few steps and closed the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. Just to know it was real. Just to make sure you had not gone completely mad. You pressed yourself against every inch of him that you could. 

With the need for air, you pulled back, and instinctually, your palm met the side of his face. ‘How? I saw you—’ You both breathed heavily, chests raising drastically as he turned back to face you with a smile and press his lips against yours again. Like the last pieces of the puzzle, his hands fit on your body perfectly. 

Then he pulled you apart, with his hands on your face, wiping away the tears that had formed along the way. ‘I know,’ he whispered, but the words were so close you could feel them. You could feel him. Just the feeling of his fingertips on your cheeks assured you that this was real and that it was really him. ‘And I’m so sorry.’

‘But why?’ You were trembling in his arms. 

‘I had realised very early on that the only way to truly escape this place was to die,’ he smiled the smile you thought you would never see again, ‘but, well, I was not ready for that just yet.’

‘But I saw you— I watched it all happen there—how did you—’ his being broke you. You could not stop staring at the man in front of you. At all the little knicks and cracks in his skin. The fading bruises, the scars, and the long red gash along his neck that proved everything that much more. 

‘I told you everything would be alright, didn’t I?’ And he never broke his promise. But still, as the truth settled in around you, it opened up a space for a new kind of hurt. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why let me believe that you were gone?’

‘It was the one thing that actually killed me, believe me,’ he pushed the loose hair out of your face, ‘but I needed you to believe it like anyone else. If you believed it—it would make everything so much easier.’

You wanted to ask him what on earth that was supposed to mean, but that is when you remembered the boat at his side. And when you noticed Steve waiting impatiently behind him, the oar already in his hand.

 ‘You’re leaving.’ It wasn’t a question. Of course, he was. He couldn’t hide here forever. Out there, in the waters, he would be genuinely free. 

‘It’s all for the best, and with me gone for good, you could live on; move on,’ he said somberly. 

‘Do you think I could forget about you that easily?’ Your fist had clamped onto the material of his shirt. ‘Do you really think I think so little of you? That I had not spend every minute of the past days mourning you? Missing you?’ and now you had him… just to lose him again.

‘But it would all pass. You can find someone else, someone better, and be happy.’ He looked down at your hand to see the ring you had kept on your finger for the past few days. He kissed his ring and then looked back up at you. ‘Let me go, darling.’

‘No,’ you shook your head, much like you had in the dungeon, but this time, you were more adamant this time than ever. ‘I won’t let you. Not this time.’ 

He mumbled your name, trying to argue, but you were ready with a rebuttal before he even said anything.

‘I do not want to spend another day without you. Not if I know you are somewhere out there—’ you had been looking at the ring too, but then looked at him again as an idea formed in your brain. ‘Take me with you.’

‘I can’t do that,’ his smile was airy and light but filled with regret. ‘You belong here.’

‘No, I don’t. Remember what I told you when I came to see you?’ You pleaded with him. ‘Do you remember?’ You pushed the words out when he didn’t say anything. 

‘Yes.’ 

‘So, please, don’t leave me. Not again.’ At this point, you punched every word into his chest weakly as you began to cry again, and he let you. Then, when you were finally done, he held you, telling Steve off when he tried to put this to an end, even though he was right. There wasn’t much time left. The sun would come up soon again, and people would awake and see you, and it would all have been for nothing.

‘I wish I could give you the world, darling,’ he said, ‘I call you a princess, but we both know you should be treated as a queen and get anything you ask for, but I can’t do that for you. I am not the man you should be with.’ He kissed the top of your head. ‘Please, forgive me.’ And with that, he let you go. 

You had let him do many things in the past, but not this time.

‘Well, I don’t forgive you.’ He had already turned around to get to the boat, but you just stepped past him, stunning him and poor Steve, as you got in. ‘If you wanted the easy way out, Munson, you should have thought twice about who to kidnap.’ 

The two men looked bewildered momentarily, too stunned to respond, but Steve was the first to respond. ‘She’s right,’ and he followed you in. The boat rocked from side to side. You sighed as you looked at Eddie as he stood in the sand. 

‘I’m not scared, Eddie.’ you reached out your hand to him. ‘I want this.’ You wanted him. You wanted this life with him. You wanted to travel the world and have a life of adventures. You wanted to be free.

Eddie looked at you, still in apparent shock at your sudden assertion. You might have thought you had changed so much, but he still saw the same stubborn woman as that cursed day when you were hauled aboard his ship. On the contrary, he had been the one that changed, and he realised that as he cursed himself there on that beach. He knew he might come to regret this, but he thought he had regretted most of his choices, most of what he had done in the past months, and yet, he could not have been happier with where his life had led him, as it all led him to you. So, he took your hand and pulled himself into the boat.

You dropped the weights that had kept you anchored and made your way out into the sea where the Hellfire lay by patiently, waiting for her Captain and his Princess—despite what their titles actually may be—to return home.

The End.

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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[blundering-owl]

The will / mike / el love triangle has a lot of parallels with other love triangles (specifically touching on the media the Duffers referenced in ST).

Luke / Leia / Han Solo — there are a lot of misconceptions about the dynamics of this trio. I’ve seen others say Will = Han Solo, Mike = Leia, and El = Luke; but! this is only because Mike is the center of his love triangle, and has little to do with how the individual characters relate to each other. Obviously, the Duffers take huge inspiration from the og Star Wars trilogy, so these characters being similar to their counterparts in Star Wars is intentional.

In actuality, Will = Leia, Mike = Han Solo, and El = Luke. Let’s imagine, for a second, that Han Solo is the center of the love triangle (and that the incest subplot didn't happen).

El Byers-Hopper = Luke Skywalker Let’s start with the obvious: El and Luke both have telekinetic powers (although El’s extend to seeing into other people’s minds). Both characters start off as “orphans,” (with El being told by both Brenner and Hopper that her mom is dead — and, I’d assume, her bio dad as well) told by mentors and / or parental figures that their respective parents are dead (Obi Wan tells Luke that Darth Vader killed Anakin Skywalker, when they were one in the same) and Luke and El later find out that this is a lie. Also, both Hopper and Obi Wan say this because it’s an “easier” explanation. Like Luke, El is also a fraternal twin (although she and Will aren’t biologically related, they very closely resemble fraternal twins, so much so that they are known in-fandom as the Wonder Twins. They were likely mistaken for twins in Lenora, and several people have pointed out how closely El resembles Joyce in ST4 before her head is shaved).

Also, and this isn’t an in-show thing (nor was it an intention by the writers), but when ST4 dropped so many people were in denial about Will’s sexuality that they genuinely believed (or at least said) that Will was “in love” with El (his SISTER). So. George Lucas would probably find that funny.

Will Byers = Leia Skywalker / Organa Like Leia, Will is a leader in his own right (think: Will and Mike often make decisions together, and it’s implied this is something they’ve likely done as long as they’ve known each other). Leia and Will also exhibits more “masculine” or tomboyish traits than either El or Mike. Leia also starts the trilogy needing to be rescued (like Will in ST1). Will tends to be put in this position a lot, but like Leia, he’s competent in his own right (either by holding his own and surviving until others rescue him, or, as well hopefully see in ST5, he’ll be the one doing the rescuing). Will and Leia are also the twins not born with powers (although Will gains True Sight as a result of his time in the Upside Down, which he uses to spy on the Mindflayer, and Vecna through him, in ST2). This is also a smaller detail but both characters have a tendency to be sassy, usually with their respective love interests (Will with Mike, Leia with Han Solo). Both Will and Leia are also warriors, aside from being diplomatic, and have both used guns (or “blasters” in the case of Star Wars).

Mike Wheeler = Han Solo Starting with character traits: both characters are extremely loyal to their friends. They’re both sarcastic and snarky, and have a tendency to come off as an asshole. Also, Mike has heroic tendencies (although, it’s due to survivor’s guilt) and tend to be the de facto leaders of their respective groups. I wanna point out another similarity: specifically, the fight between Han and Leia in The Empire Strikes Back (1980). Below, I’ve transcribed it as best as I could, and I’m gonna go over the similarities between it and byler’s fights.

[Han Solo] “Come onnn. You want me to stay because of the way you feel about me.”

[Leia Organa] “Yes! You’ve been a great help to us. You’re a natural leader.”

[Han Solo] “No! That’s not it.” [pause] “C’mon. Ehh? C’mon!”

[Leia Organa] “You’re imagining things.”

[Han Solo] “Am I? Then why are you following me? Afraid I was gonna leave without giving you a goodbye kiss?”

[Leia Organa] “I’d just as soon kiss a wookie.”

[Han Solo, angrily] “I can arrange that!” [off-screen] “and it’s YOU they’re gonna kiss!”

In this scene, Han is projecting about his feelings for Leia. Also, if I remember correctly, Leia had already developed feelings for Han at this point. As we’ve established, Mike was projecting during both the rain fight in ST3 and the Rink O Mania fight in ST4 (“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls” and “We’re friends! We’re friends!”) both being examples of Mike’s internalized homophobia. Mike is obviously paralleling Han here (they’re even on the same side of the screen during most of their respective fights). Although both Will and Leia have feelings for Mike and Han respectively when these fights take place, it is Mike and Han who bring up romantic implications / view the interaction as romantic (although obviously Han is more cavalier about this). Also, in both cases, Leia and Will genuinely mean what they’re saying platonically, regardless of their preexisting feelings for their love interests.

[beautysamour]

Jealousy, jealousy

Pairing/s: Kenji Kishimoto x reader, platonic!Aaron Warner x reader, Juliette Ferrars x Aaron Warner

Characters: Kenji Kishimoto, Juliette Ferrars, Aaron Warner

Summary: Kenji doesn’t understand how Aaron Warner could be your best friend and not him.

Warning/s: none

a/n: veryyy inspired by aaron getting upset over not being juliette’ best friend so I thought it would be interesting to see Kenji in that position

“Aaron!” you yelled out from across the training room.

You shoved Kenji, who was previously just above you-for training purposes of course-to get up and run over to your best friend.

Aaron let out a sigh and closed his eyes, as if a headache overcame him, before you reached him and started a conversation.

“You know I hate it when you call me by that,” was the first thing Aaron said before you brought up the topic of what you wanted to talk about.

Recovering from getting harshly shoved-and abandoned might he add-by you, Kenji watched as you and Warner fully engage in conversation. All your attention on him.

Kenji was jealous, he’d admit it, it’s a platonic jealousy so there was no reason to hide it. He wanted to be your best friend. He found it the biggest mystery in the world how you and warner became friends, and best friends at that. Kenji would describe you as a sunflower, full of loyalty and someone that everyone adores, just the sight of you is enough to make Kenji feel as if he won the lottery.

And Warner was like a raincloud, dark and violent. So it didn’t make sense.

Finally getting up from the ground, Kenji glanced around the room looking to see if Juliette came with Warner. Once he found her, he walked over to his best friend.

“Hey J,” Juliette was currently stretching, getting ready to start training. She brought her head up at the sound of his voice and a small smile started forming on her face.

“Did you have a nice training session with Y/N?” Kenji immediately regretted coming over. “Same as always,” he says with unneeded confidence, as if he was trying to convince someone that he wasn’t flustered, “Y/N still can’t beat me.”

Juliette snickered at that, “Yeah, that’s why you were on the ground and she wasn’t, because she can’t beat you,” sarcasm obvious in her tone.

“Yes, you’re exactly right,” Kenji replied with the same sarcasm given to him. Suddenly your laugh rang through the entire training room, causing Kenji to tear his gaze away from Juliette momentarily forgetting she was there. Apparently Warner said something hilarious.

“J.”

“Yes?” Juliette paused her stretching to look up at him, he was still looking off to the side to which Juliette followed his gaze to find you and Aaron talking. She stifled a giggle before talking again, “Kenji, are you alright?” This time Kenji looked back at Juliette.

“Yeah, I was just wondering how they,” he gestured towards you and Aaron, “became so close. Has Warner told you anything?”

Juliette gives him a curious look before standing up to speak to him face to face, “No. Never bothered asking, just assumed that, you know, they became friends normally?”

“You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“You never asked? Shit Juliette, you really know nothing about Warner-“

“I know plenty about him,” Juliette interrupted, they’ve had this conversation before, Kenji only uses this as a joke now, “Anyways, just ask Y/N, I’m pretty sure she’ll tell you.”

Kenji let out a snort, “Oh hell no. Absolutely not. We aren’t even that close.” He diverted his gaze from Juliette and forced himself to focus on something else in the room that wasn’t her or you.

Juliette on the other hand kept staring at him in confusion before shaking her head, “Ok…” figuring that this conversation wouldn’t get anywhere, Juliette walked up to you and Aaron; whose conversation just ended.

“Hey Juliette,” you diverted your attention to her as you saw her walking towards you and Aaron and gave her a smile, “we just finished our conversation.” Aaron wrapped an arm around her waist as she came to a stop and pulled her closer to him, you internally rolled your eyes because you loved them together but damn, they really made you feel single.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” said Aaron before unwrapping his arm around Juliette’ waist to wrap is hand in Juliette’, “Oh, and make sure to communicate with Kenji. His jealousy is starting to irk me.” Juliette let out a small laugh before the two walked away leaving you alone.

You raise an eyebrow at Aaron’ words slightly taken aback at hearing that Kenji was jealous. You knew Aaron had a gift where he could feel people’s feelings but you weren’t sure how accurate it was. He was always able to tell how you felt though, so you assume it’s pretty accurate.

You flinch when you feel Kenji put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to get something to eat, wanna come with?”

—

“So,” Kenji began as you two sat down on a small picnic blanket you brought, “How long have you and Warner been friends for?”

You hide your teasing grin slowing forming on your face as you keep your head down, focusing on unwrapping your food, “About a decade now? Anderson took me in.”

“I know that,” Kenji said feeling slightly competitive towards Warner, he wanted to prove himself to be the better friend, more worthy of being your best friend.

“How’d you two become close?”

You took a bite out of your food, “Well, with both us being kids and under Anderson’…supervision, we’d naturally find some kind of comfort in our shared trauma.”

You started to go on a tangent, revealing your childhood with Aaron and reliving the memories as you spoke. Kenji found himself forgetting about his food and directing all his attention towards you, wanting to hear more and learn more. The more you spoke, the more he realized that he didn’t know much about you, compared to Warner.

He didn’t know that you spent multiple nights alone with Warner when you two were kids, using that time to clean each other’s wounds. He didn’t know that even though you both had a terrible time under his father, Anderson favored you over him. He didn’t know that there was a time Warner hated you for being able to conceal your emotions completely. He didn’t know your last name, your favorite book, your shoe size, your clothing size-he didn’t know what Warner knew.

It made sense to him now, why Warner was your best friend. But instead of the “platonic” jealousy subsiding, he felt it getting worse.

No matter how much you’d tell him, he would never understand like Warner, he would never have that connection that Warner had with you, and it pissed Kenji off to no end. He’d like it blame it on his platonic feelings towards you, that he simply wanted to be the one who knew you most as friends. But he knew that wasn’t the case. He’s had multiple talks with Warner.

“Are you going to eat your food,” you asked when you finished talking. Kenji wondered how many times you’ve asked Warner that.

“I’m offended that you’d even ask,” he took a bit out of food before returning his attention to you.

“Have you ever liked him?”

“Well yeah, he’s my best friend.” Kenji deadpanned at you before shaking his head.

“No- I mean, have you ever liked him.”

“Romantically?”

“If not platonically then how else?”

You rolled your eyes at him before your teasing grin appeared on your face again, “No, never liked him like that. Not my type.”

Kenji internally sighed in relief, “Not your type? You must be picky.”

You chuckled at his words, “Yeah, guess I am.”

Neither of you said another words for a few minutes, simply not knowing what to say next. Based on how this conversation started, you assumed Aaron was right, that he was jealous but if he was right with this then this meant he was right about another thing.

About Kenji’ more romantic feelings for you.

Kenji cleared his throat, catching your attention, “So what’s your type?”

There it is.

“Since when were you so nosey,” you teased, he rolled his eyes and leaned away from you which got a giggle out of you. “I prefer dark hair.”

When he didn’t answer you just assumed he wanted you to continue, so you did, “Saracstic-“

“Warner is sarcastic-“

“Someone who comes off comedic but actually takes things seriously. Someone who people depend on and trust, both kids and adults. Someone who’s always there for other people and fails to be comforted by others because they put on a strong and humorous facade, convincing most people that they don’t need comforting. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

Kenji stayed silent, opting for you to continue. You turned your body towards him and continued, “Someone who, for the life of them, doesn’t know how to communicate properly with the girl they like. They make flirty remarks and act confident but it all comes crumbing down as soon as the other person is serious,” your eyes fall down to his lips, you regret doing so.

You’re taken out of the moment when you hear your name being called. Seeing Castle running towards you two, you stand up immediately creating some distance between you and Kenji. You clear your throat before speaking again, “Yeah, I guess I am pretty picky.” Flustered, you give Castle a stiff nod when he reaches you two before walking off.

After you fully disappear into the distance, Kenji lets out a groan as he palms his face.

—

Aaron began to laugh as you explained the situation.

“It’s not funny.”

“Most definitely is. You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You glared at Aaron as he said that sentence, “What was I supposed to do? Castle was there!”

“You were supposed to tell him to come find you,” Aaron sent you a sarcastic smirk before drinking out of his cup, “So you could finish confessing.”

You buried your face into your hands as you groaned at the memory, regretting not telling Kenji to come find you, “I fumbled.”

Aaron hummed in agreement. “Want me to go get him?”

“No,” you yelled out, panicked. “I don’t want to make the situation more embarrassing as it already is-“

A sudden knock on your door interrupted you mid sentence, “Coming! I’ll be right back.” You jogged to your door, reaching for the door non before you fully reached it. You were glad you didn’t take a sip out of your drink before opening the door because you were sure you would’ve spit it out at seeing who was there.

“Hey,” Kenji said as he stood awkwardly in front of your door, “could I come in?”

As if prepared for this, Aaron slapped a hand down on your shoulder, slightly shaking you, “See you tomorrow, Y/N,” he leaned his head down to your ear to say, “Don’t mess up,” before walking out of your room.

You two stayed standing in front of your door, the silence extremely awkward before you stepped to the side; gesturing for Kenji to come in.

—

“He didn’t even acknowledge me,” you heard Kenji mumble under his breath before turning back to you, watching as you closed your door.

Awkward silence filled the air once again, making you cringe. You weren’t looking at him, you hope that he was here for professional reasons.

“So,” he began, “Warner in your room? Thought he wasn’t your type.”

“He’s not,” you replied brusquely, “Too much like a brother.”

Kenji scoffed, annoyed. You tilt your head up to look at him; confused at his attitude. Did he not catch on to what you were implying when you described your type?

“You know, he’s with Juliette. Having a man, who’s in a relationship, in your room is pretty inappropriate, yeah?”

“Why are you here,” you said trying to change the subject. You heard Kenji mock your sentence. He didn’t answer.

“Kenji,” you walk up to him now standing in front of him, “Why are you here.”

He stared at you for so long you think that he unintentionally was having a staring contest with you. You were tempted to drop the conversation, ask if he wanted dinner and to stay the night as you stared into his eyes. But then you remember that he just accused you of having an affair with Aaron Warner, while yes he’s your best friend, he’s also the guy you fought with after hearing what he did to Kenji.

“Why was Warner here?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“You keep using that as an excuse.”

“What?” You scoff out, quickly getting agitated.

“You look at him as if the sun couldn’t compare to him, you speak about him as if you have a little girl crush, and he’s the only one who knows you-“

“You know me. And you know what he and I have been through.”

Kenji had a smile on his face but it wasn’t endearing at all, no, he looked pissed. On the surface he looked pissed, but in his eyes, his pretty eyes, was a hint of betrayal?

Somehow that only pissed you off even more. What was he feeling betrayed for? He’s never explained anything about him to you, you didn’t know him, and he was upset that Aaron knew a little more about than him?

“Kenji,” you say again, “I’ll only ask this one more time before I kick you out, why are you here.”

It seems that Kenji couldn’t control himself anymore as he dropped his nonchalant asshole persona, “I’m here because I wanted to know what you meant! When you described your type and it was me. I wanted to know what goes through your head every time you see me, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what Warner didn’t know.”

He took a step forward but that backtracked immediately, slowly regretting what was saying, “I’m jealous, ok,” he paused, trying to figure out the best way to say this, to tell you that seeing Warner come out of you room pushed him off the edge because why the fuck was he in your room.

He failed to notice you trying to hold back a laugh as he got lost in his thoughts, “I don’t get how Warner could be your best friend, I- it didn’t make sense until you explained your childhood with him and knowing that I’d never know you like he knows you pissed me off. It pissed me off knowing that it made sense and that I didn’t understand why you didn’t have a crush on him,”

He stopped for a second, a small pang of jealousy coursing through his veins before continuing, “because it would’ve made sense if you did.”

He looked at you again, waiting to see if you had a response. He fought the urge to throw up when he heard you laugh.

“You’re a fucking idiot Kenji. He was only here to pick up a report from me.”

With your own emotions getting too much to control at finally getting confirmation that he was indeed jealous, you close the distance between you two and connected your mouth with him.

Kenji’ lips were soft. You wanted to keep your lips on his, if you died right now you’d be ok with it as long as the last thing you felt were his lips, and you would’ve stayed like this forever if you didn’t need to breath.

This disappointment was evident on both of your faces when you pulled away.

“You really are terrible with feelings-” he cut you off by bringing you into another kiss, getting a small moan out of you at the feeling of his lips on yours.

He pulled away sooner that you’d like, a frown immediately shows up on your face while a smirk forms on Kenji’.

“You know I may understand why Warner is your best friend, but I definitely don’t like it.”

You laugh again, “Why, you want to be my best friend?”

“Well you kissed me. I’m assuming that I’m more than that.”

“You assume too much then,” his smirk immediately disappears at your words while a smile shows up on you.

You lean in for another kiss; softly pressing your lips onto his. “Kidding, I want you to be more anyways.”

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 4

Well, @forgottenkanji​ was the only one that suggested a name, but it was really cool, so I decided why not?   Do you know what shovels dig? Graves

Welp, this part has reached over 3k so it’s getting split up. And maybe even an epilogue with that anon’s idea. I know I keep saying we’ll see. But this story has taken life of its own at this point and I’m just putting it out there as it comes.

 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

And here we get to the party apologizing and Eddie bitching out his friends.

*

Eddie had band practice after dinner so he kissed Steve on the cheek a little bit before half-time and left. Steve furrowed his brow a bit when he saw Eddie leave but didn’t say anything.

Eddie arrived at Gareth’s house and hopped out of his van. He was pleased to see that all of the other members of Corroded Coffin were already there. He walked up to them grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Eddie!” Gareth greeted. “You ready to start, man?”

Eddie just stood there with his hands on his hips, rocking back on his heels.

Jeff looked around Eddie in confusion. “Hey, dude, where’s your guitar?”

“Oh I didn’t bring it,” Eddie replied cheerfully.

The other three shared glances and the muttering began.

“You see I just recently learned that my best friends gave my boyfriend the shovel talk,” Eddie said brightly. “Best friends who really should have known better considering they know my past and that Steve is a hopeless romantic who is a serial monogamist.”

The muttering stopped and silence fell.

“So I’m just stopping by to let you know that because you and several others made my boyfriend so upset he had a breakdown,” Eddie continued in the same cheerful tone, “that if I hear even one word against Steve...” his voice dropped to the dark and wicked tone he used for his villains, “I will gleefully murder your characters in increasingly violent ways and then burn the character sheets. Mm’kay?”

They all nodded vigorously.

“Great!” Eddie said. “See you on Saturday!” And then turned on his heel and hopped back into his van. He drove off with a cheery wave.

Once he was gone they all looked at each other in shock.

“Wait, did Eddie say several other shovel talks?” Jeff asked after minutes of stunned silence.

“Did he say breakdown?” Gareth asked.

“Shit.”

*

Steve got into work the following morning only for Robin to throw her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “You just always appear so confident and cool when you’re actually dating that I forgot I know you better than that.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “It hurt Robs,” he murmured. “I thought I was your best friend and you were telling me not break his heart. I just don’t understand why.”

Robin sighed and let go of him. She hopped up onto the counter and crossed her ankles. “Being gay isn’t the same as being bisexual. You have other options if it goes to shit.” Steve’s face soured and she started waving her hands. “Not that I think it will. Of course I don’t! It’s just hard. Not harder. Because believe me I have heard some pretty nasty things people have said about bisexuals from both sides of the aisle. And I just got so wrapped up in the gay aspect of it all that I forgot you have it just as hard.”

He just shrugged and half turned away.

“Shit!” Robin said. “I’m supposed to apologizing and I’m making it worse. I am sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have been dismissive when you asked about Eddie breaking your heart. Because of course you’re concerned about that. Especially after Nancy. I just didn’t think it was possible, because Eddie loves you so much.”

Steve nodded.

She jumped off the counter and threw her arms around him again. “You’re my Platonic soulmate and I love you so much. You deserve people looking out for you, too. And I promise that will be me from now on.”

“I love you, too.” He put one hand on her arm as she held him. They stayed like that until a customer came in.

*

When Steve got home from work Will was sitting on his front steps.

“Hey, Will, you been waiting long?” Steve asked as he unlocked the front door.

Will stood up and dusted off his pants. “Nope. I knew when you got off and before you ask, Eddie told me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to just drop by. His was one of the few houses among their friends with air conditioning and the only one with a pool.

“Dustin mentioned he’d be stopping by to apologize,” Will said as he wandered through to the kitchen, “and me and El decided that since you are too nice, one of us will be here to make sure the actually apologize and not hand wave what they did away.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so.”

Sure enough about ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Steve when to go answer it and Dustin, Mike, and Nancy stood there looking sheepish. Will came out and shook his head.

“That just won’t do,” his said. “Two of you will wait in the front room while one apologizes to Steve. I won’t let you cheat with one person apologizing and thinking it counts for all three of you.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, Will’s my favorite.”

Dustin looked devastated. “I’ll go first.”

Will nodded and followed Steve and Dustin to the kitchen and Mike and Nancy went to wait in the front room.

Dustin sat on the bar stool at the counter and Steve got him a soda. Will leaned up against the sink and watched.

Dustin wrapped his hands around it and sighed. “I didn’t know anyone had given you a shovel talk because when we talked about you and Eddie I thought it was just a joke. And I thought, ‘hey I should tell Steve to go easy on Eddie after the bats because he was still healing’ you know. I didn’t realize that you had taken to me that I didn’t trust you with Eddie, honest!”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “All right so maybe yours wasn’t a shovel talk, but you can see why I might think it was, right?”

Dustin nodded. “You’re a good friend, Steve. And I know we don’t tell you enough, but we really do love you.”

Steve pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin cried. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Steve looked over at Will who gave him the thumbs up. Dustin’s was a miscommunication on both their parts.

Dustin exited the kitchen and Nancy came in. She spotted Will standing at the sink and turned to Steve.

“I would rather he not be here for this,” she said, her tone clipped.

“And I would rather have not gotten several shovel talks that took an intervention from your boyfriend to get you people to realize you’d hurt me,” Steve replied. “But here we are.”

She pursed her lips and Will raised an eyebrow at her daring her to press the issue farther.

Nancy decided to take the high road and ignore Will instead. “It was wrong of me to threaten you with my gun collection. I realize that you and Eddie are adults that can make their own decisions.”

Steve and Will looked at each other in disbelief.

“What?” she asked.

“That wasn’t an apology,” Will said.

“I admitted to being wrong,” Nancy said with a frown. “That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, right?”

Steve sighed. And that right there was why they never would have worked. “You’re supposed to be sorry that you hurt my feelings, but I’m getting the impression that you aren’t.”

Nancy sighed. “Your feelings were only hurt because there were so many of them. If it was only me or me and a couple of others, you’d be fine.”

“What?!” Will squawked. “That’s not the point!”

“Nance,” Jonathan said from the doorway. They all turned and looked at him. He was leaning against the doorway, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. “This isn’t what we talked about and you know it.”

Nancy looked defeated. She turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry about how I treated you. For all of it. Not just the shovel talk thing. You’re a good person. You deserved better than me and when you got him, I was jealous. Of course I love Jonathan.” She turned to him. “I do!” She turned back to Steve. “But you and Eddie have something so special and...” she threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know.”

“So you gave me the shovel talk about not hurting Eddie,” Steve said, “because you were jealous that I was able to find someone better than you?”

“That makes me sound like a horrible person,” she whispered.

“It really does,” Will agreed.

Nancy crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “I just wanted you realize how special what you have with Eddie is. And instead of talking to you like an actual adult, I threatened you instead. That was wrong and I am sorry. You don’t deserve it.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug, too. “I think this is why we would have never worked out, Nance. I love you and I think I always will. But sometimes you get lost in your head and let it do all the talking. Which means the people around you get hurt.”

She nodded. “I just want people to hear me that I forget they have feelings, too.”

“Just remember that,” he murmured, “and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay...” she said softly.

Steve gave Nancy a squeeze and then let her go.

Jonathan turned to Will. “El’s here, too. Why don’t you go keep her from murdering Nancy and Dustin while I handle the next one?”

Will wavered and then nodded, following Nancy out to the front room.

Steve watched him go with a frown. “What was that about?”

And then Mike walked in and Steve’s eyes went wide and he mouthed, ‘Oh.’

Mike stood there between Jonathan and Steve looking at the ground and Steve was struck by how much alike the two Wheeler siblings were.

“This should be by far the most interesting of the apologies,” Steve said. “Whatcha got, Wheeler?”

Mike looked up at him a little stunned. “At the meeting...intervention? Fuck I don’t know what to call it. But Jonathan said something that stuck with me. That you haven’t been that stuck up prick in years.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Jonathan who just shrugged.

“And it got me thinking,” Mike continued. “Why am I so hostile to you? Because you dated Nancy? But that doesn’t makes sense because I don’t treat Jonathan that way.”

“Did you find an answer?” Steve asked.

Mike shook his head. “And that’s when I realized that I was doing it out of habit.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Being a dick was a habit?”

“Being a dick to you was a habit,” Mike corrected. “And that’s not right. Holding a grudge for something you did so long ago and getting mad at you when you said it bothered you? That’s not fair.”

“Life rarely is,” Steve said softly.

Mike cocked his head. “True, but that doesn’t mean I have to actively make it worse.”

Steve nodded appreciatively. “Also true.”

Mike stood up straighter and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. But I also was only joking about Eddie. For me it wasn’t serious, but hearing that everyone had given you the shovel talk? Holy shit, man, that wasn’t right. The reason I thought it was a joke was because anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with Eddie knows he doesn’t take shit from anyone. If anyone was going to bury you for being a dick to him, it would be Eddie himself.”

Jonathan and Steve glanced at each other and nodded.

“But after I heard that everyone else had done it and meant it?” Mike continued. “Yeah, that was bullshit. So I’m sorry it got out of hand. I’m sorry if my joke added to your suffering. Because I never meant it hurt. Honest.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I see where you’re coming from and I accept your apology.”

Mike stood there awkwardly tugging at his shirt hem. “Can I get a hug, too?”

Steve smiled and stepped up to wrap his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike sighed and leaned into the hug. He didn’t return the hug, but just stood there enjoying the warmth.

After a few moments, he took a step back and cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He sniffled and then turned to Jonathan. “You won’t tell Nancy about this, will you?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Steve nodded. “I’m not going to tell anyone shit, man.”

Mike relaxed. “Right. Thanks.”

And he shuffled back to the front room, still sniffling.

“That was certainly something,” Jonathan said after a moment.

Steve chuckled shaking his head. “Those Wheeler kids, whew.”

Jonathan laughed. “Happy to have dodged that bullet?”

“You have no idea, man,” Steve said. “You have no idea.”

***

Part Five  Part Six

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03

[holdy-caulfield]

My review on Star Trek book.

Dreams of The Raven by Carmen Carter

Genre: Sci-fi, drama, psychological, thriller elements

Pages: 255

Key words: amnesia, physical traumas, self-identity, character study, medicine, friendship, body horror, angst

TW: gore

Highlights: plot, mystery, atmosphere, very canonical characters, accuracy, dialogue, depth, drama, villains

Downsides: lack of some details, the reason of amnesia (far-fetched), McCoy being useless without 25 years of experience (exaggerated)

Vibe/tone: dark, serious, realistic

First, huge thank you to @very-bad-poetry-captain for their book review, because the amount of ST TOS books is a bit overwhelming so I follow mostly recommendations/reviews to choose what to read next. I will probably compare this book to Doctor’s Orders by Diane Duane, because it’s only a second ST book I read and both books are about Doctor McCoy, who’s my favorite character, so my excuses if you find it a weird comparison. Minor spoilers.

To put it shortly it’s probably one of the best ST TOS things I’ve read so far if I count fanfics. It is very good. Probably I will change my opinion ‘cause actually I have nothing to compare it with, but after reading it I felt pity it was finished and did not know what to do with my life for a few moments. You know that feeling if you a reader.

The story follows two plotlines: McCoy suffers amnesia (big amount of stress + alcohol + exhaustion + head trauma) and forgets everything that has happened for the past 25 years, so in his head he’s 23, and also a few ships Enterprise included were attacked by mysterious (and horrifying) aliens, so there’s Kirk & Spock dealing with those two problems.

First and foremost, the characters. They are very canon. And even more canon then in Doctor’s Orders. Spock and McCoy behave exactly like in the show, their relationships are ambiguous and not bubblegummy, as it shouldn’t be. It’s very much what you see in TOS.

And Kirk & Spock. One of the things I didn’t like about DO was that Spock got kinda lost in the background and it either was McCoy with Kirk or Spock and McCoy. Here Kirk & Spock have all these small details about them going on, like Kirk understanding Spock, caring about his feelings, Spock touching Kirk and very domestic scene of Kirk taking a shower while discussing with Spock matter of things while Spock is thinking about the next move of 3D chess. It was just very… Cute. Very TOS-y. Very t’hy’la. You can feel they are so at ease with each other.

Kirk & Bones dynamic is also amazing. Kirk experiences a lot of angst with the loss of his friend, there are a few cute moments between them when Bones is Bones (because Bones McCoy and Leonard McCoy felt like two different people to the characters). Kirk is just so in character, even the small details of him hitting the turbolift doors out of frustration (he does it a lot in TOS), his endless questions, his battle tactics.

There’s also I have to admit enough presence of Scotty & Uhura, they both have good amount of scenes (separately), Uhura is just such a vibe and mood there as well. Also there’s a few scenes with Sulu and Chekov. Nobody was forgotten, everyone had their moment.

And then, let’s discuss Bones.

He is 25 years younger in his head, so he is slightly out of character obviously, but it’s just so realistic, recognizable, that I believed wholeheartedly that it is exactly how Roddenberry would direct/write him being 23 y/o. I can’t name it OOC even. Well, he acts like a 23 year old. He is a drama queen even when he’s older, so you can imagine how dramatic he acts thinking he’s younger (complaining also all the time that he’s old, like, boy, you’re 48) it all just feels very natural.

All the interactions and dialogue feel very natural, I must say, and I often noticed that in TOS too. So the author did an incredible job making such an accurate, emphatic and believable portrayal of my favourite character.

And I felt very sorry for McCoy. I sympathized with him completely. I actually felt a little bit sad when he regained his memory, but it is also thanks to the writer. The way it is worded is beautiful and bittersweet.

About an elephant in the room - romance. Well, I actually liked and understood it. At first, have you seen Bones? Second, those two are both in their 20s technically speaking, well, I understood she is (and if she was hitting her 30s because I am not sure about her being in her 20s, still point stands) so it was natural, the chemistry was there. Third, characters are allowed to act stupid, and Dyson acted stupid and she fully knew she was acting stupid, but she just wanted to have sex with him for a long time, so I understand and wish it was me. So it didn’t bother me at all and I actually awaited them to kiss. It is a flink, obviously, and Dyson knew that. So even if she’s heartbroken she should be fine, I think, plus she did act like she was half-expecting to not continue it with him. I hope though Bones never finds that out. So it is a good believably written part in my very humble and probably unpopular opinion. Good for her even.

The plot and the atmosphere. The plot, the mystery is amazing. It doesn’t let you put the book down. Also, the atmosphere of the book… Well, it is grim. Because the whole situation is not very fun. And also it has gore. Even though @very-bad-poetry-captain did mention the gore I didn’t expect it in so much detail, and at one point I was reading with such expression: o_O (I low key love horror, so it didn’t bother me). And then the aliens themselves… They are terrifying. They stepped out of some sci fi horror, and the author doesn’t hesitate mentioning dark details and I LOVED it about the book. I like when the villains are actually scary. I don’t wish those monstrosities to exist. There’s literally body horror elements in this book, and it’s one of my fave horror sub genres for some reason, so it’s also a positive point. TOS also has some very dark stuff going on, and the serious, darker tone suits it very well especially in the book form. The style of the author is nice. It’s straight to the point.

So it does feel like TOS but the sadder/darker episodes. And I liked that the book doesn’t feel short. It has a lot going on both plotlines are equally interesting. I wouldn’t mind book being even longer actually. Even more details. So if you enjoy a good mystery I recommend it.

Well, I guess I also have to point out some downsides. Well, the dreams in the title. Why dreams? No, literally, why? If it was like living in a dream then yeah, McCoy kinda lives in a dream, but what Ravens have to do with that? Book mentions nightmares, but give me those nightmares. Nightmares although are a cliche they work for showing character’s fears, doubts. So it felt like some portion was cut out. Because nightmares are mentioned a few times. Well, you could argue that the nightmares are because of the trauma. I guess. For me also the reasons of amnesia felt a bit far fetched. I would personally add some near-death experience of Kirk, to add to the stress or Bones seeing Raven do its thing (won’t spoiler it), just to make it really horrifying for him. He also is called “doctor” when he’s thinking he’s 23, so it means he would be able to still… Be a doctor. And he acts as if he’s in the second year of med school. Which according to the medical doctor isn’t realistic. Also, the ending feels a bit rushed. I wanted a bit more disorienting from returned McCoy. And some hello from Spock, maybe a surprise for Bones on why Spock is acting extra enthusiastic or friendly or smh like that. But on the other hand I didn’t feel like the book lacks something. It was actually more than I expected.

Hugely recommend, also wish the writer wrote more TOS books :(

And I also want to read more darker/serious TOS books like this :)

[sitp-recs]

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy. Or: this is not an AU! It's just Harry and Draco meeting by chance in an imported food shop in Connecticut and going on a road trip together. Featuring motels, cacti, Americana, and a hefty dose of pining.

In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.

It’s been ages (or 2 years) since I last wrote a rec for Tacky (I usually write for other readers, except when I’m reccing friends - then I write for them) and their birthday was the perfect excuse to put my reccing muscles back to work. I almost bailed out because I know this is one of T’s own faves and “what if I don’t do it justice?” but that tired angel banner has been sitting in my drafts for 3 long years and it deserves a proper rec!

Where to even begin? Anyone who knows Tacky is aware of their superb prose - rich and nuanced, compassionate, effortlessly funny, with a strong sense of place and a soft spot for suds scenes and filthy m-rated sex I mean devastating romance. Their writing breathes heart and personality, very much like Tacky themself. So knowing that this fic came out exactly as they intended it to should be enough to make you go read this right now, but in case you need further incentive, see below all the reasons why this oneshot is so special to me:

1. The *vibes*: if you thought that 3k is nowhere near enough to build the sexiest, most intriguing Americana atmosphere you’ve seen, think again. The aesthetics are impeccable here, decorating the beautiful and strange landscape - cacti and cheap motels included - into something peaceful and desolate, an overarching melancholy making it even more compelling. The dialogue is brilliant but the silences are just as loud and meaningful, with a quiet intimacy and a dreamlike quality that make you feel as if you're intruding a memory.

2. The romance: at this point everyone and their dog know that pining!Harry is Tacky's jam - they luxuriate in making us all suffer with him until the realization that Draco has been loving him back all along slaps us in the face. Harry is so stupid and desperate and wanton, I love it. And the way Tacky reinvents this delicious trope to make it work in new angsty ways blows my mind. Imo the slow burn is particularly effective here, a feat in any 3k story, because the narrative gives us so much character insight. We learn all the little things that make these two lonely boys tick as we watch their ever-changing perception of each other evolve from a tentative truce to reluctant confidants to a comfortable, easy love that comes naturally and earned. We often get those bits of information from imagery and emotions alone, no dialogue needed, and a road trip is the best way to explore those dynamics in a smooth, unhurried pace.

3. The journey: this is truly an immersive journey, not only physical as we keep jumping from one destination to the next, but also emotional, as we learn more about their vulnerabilities and desires the more they gravitate towards each other. This story shows that being far away from home can be both freeing and grounding, when you’re stuck with your hot enemy someone who knows about your darkest hour. It gives you the chance to heal and visualize a different future without forgetting your past or letting go of that which has shaped who you are. I love their chance encounter and how this poignant 30k love story is told in such impressive economy of words.

TL;DR: if you’re a short form fan and prone to melancholy like me believe me when I say it doesn’t get any better than this. The whole road trip shebang mixing grief, romance and nostalgia wrapped in Tacky’s lush writing is a gift to any reader and an elegant work of art. Enjoy!!!

[skinandscales-if]

S&S Anniversary

Today officially marks the 1 year anniversary of the demo release Skin & Scales! The first of many, I hope! I’m so very lucky and fortunate to have such cool people interested in my work, and I’m so delighted to see where the future takes us.

The story is still a baby, with much more to go, but I feel so honored to have built up exactly what the story sets out to create: community. You all have been an incredible part of this journey, and I could not be more grateful, especially to those who send me messages and take the time to interact, big or small. I want to do you justice, and I want to create the best product from everyone’s patience and love over this past year and onwards. This world and the characters have always been a welcome place to return to, and that’s thanks to you all. Thank you so much and here’s to more years to come. ❤️

To celebrate, here’s a little lore tease :)

BELOW IS THE WRITTEN TRANSCRIPT OF PRIVATE POLICE QUESTIONING. DO NOT REPLICATE.

REPORT BY OFFICER LEWIS BRANDY

SEND TO INSTITUTE IMMEDIATELY

DATE: 02/29/1990

QUESTIONS START 09:32

OFFICER BRANDY: Can you state your name for the record?

DARLING: Yes, of course. My name is Samantha Darling.

B: Great. Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Darling. I'd like to start by asking you a few questions regarding last night, the twenty-eighth of February.

DARLING: Ash Wednesday, yes.

B: That's actually what I'd like to start with. You’re a member of St. Cadoc’s Church in the western district, correct?

DARLING laughs.

DARLING: Yes, though I suppose that doesn’t matter too much anymore. I hadn’t visited in a while after the… new management.

B: Right. You were present at the incident, correct?

DARLING: That is correct.

B: Mind stating where you were in relation to the incident?

DARLING: I was checking in on a neighbor of mine down the street across from the church. I live in a small apartment a few blocks down, meaning I crossed by right as things got intense.

B: You saw the smoke?

DARLING: Easily. It hadn’t reached my house yet, but the smoke was already taller than all of the nearby buildings. It was… it was pretty horrible.

B: Understandable. I’d like for you to detail all that you saw when you arrived on the scene, Mrs. Darling. If you’re able.

DARLING: Of course. When I could see the ashes I pivoted from my street to get a better look, and by the time I could see other people, it was clear that the church was burning into nothing. It was… really hot, and pretty suffocating up close like that. But the fire didn’t look normal it was…

DARLING stops talking and folds her hands into her lap.

B: Blue.

DARLING: Blue. And hot white, but it wasn’t as significant to me at the time. It wasn’t like any other fires I had witnessed.

B: And what did you see around you?

DARLING: Around me? A handful of other folks, mostly shifters, all really scared and confused. I thought maybe one of them would know, but they were all either speechless or just as perplexed as me. It… it was pretty horrific to see, even if we didn’t hear screaming or anything.

B: Was anyone fleeing from the scene? Or anyone around looking suspicious?

DARLING: I… um… no? Not really? I wasn’t paying that much attention, but I saw shadows flickering in the fire, along with some noises from within. Not anyone who sounded hurt though.

B: Yes. And no one around you who saw anything either?

DARLING pauses.

DARLING: I didn’t ask…? It didn’t seem like it. We were all a bit preoccupied. I think someone ran to get a firefighter.

B pauses and shuffles his papers.

B: Right. You mentioned hearing noises inside the church, correct? Could you make any of it out?

DARLING: No. I thought it was just the fire at first, but then it sounded like… well it might sound odd, but it sounded like a conversation. Probably something closer to an argument. I might have heard a roar.

B doesn’t say anything right away. DARLING frowns then leans in a bit.

DARLING: I know Firespitters can withstand extreme heat longer than most but do you think there really could have been someone in *that*? I heard the priest perished in the fire, he may have been one of the voices inside, but I’d never been to a sermon of his. He was one of those, though.

B: Mrs. Darling, please remember I’m asking the questions here. This is a very intense case, and we are taking all possible precautions to make sure this can’t happen again. You understand that, right?

DARLING is quiet for a moment.

DARLING: Right. Yes. Sorry.

B: It’s alright. You’ve given us a lot of important information today, ma’am. Before we wrap up though, are you sure nothing else caught your eye?

DARLING goes quiet again.

DARLING: Well… I did see a larger man leaving right as I arrived. He didn’t look suspicious, he was helping a woman around his size leave the scene, but they traveled down a back alley before I could get a good look. I don’t think they were responsible though, I was worried they were hurt it looked like the woman-

B: Thank you for your time, Mrs. Darling.

DARLING straightens up.

DARLING: Ah- sorry?

B: You’ve given us a lot of valuable information today, ma’am, and the city thanks you for your service. It cannot be understated. Outside, we’ll just gather a quick survey of information in case we need to contact you again, but you are otherwise free to go.

DARLING: Oh- okay… alright, thank you for your time, Officer.

DARLING stands.

B: Be careful out there Mrs. Darling. Plenty of people who’d love to take advantage of the good folks in this city. Give us a call if you need it.

DARLING leaves.

QUESTIONS END 09:40

OFFICER NOTES: Follow up with Director about sent special forces. Include report on spotted witnesses. Question at further radius. Don’t press peculiarities.

[holylulusworld]

Rebel in heart

Summary: The resistance is dead, long live the resistance.

Pairing: Master Chief/John-117 x GN!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of characters death

A/N: A little story that came to my mind while watching the show.

The Master Chief. John-117. Out of all the people they could have chosen to interrogate you, the UNSC chose their best weapon. A man without feelings and wit. Their blunt tool to torture and kill.

“Whatever you want to know, I won’t tell you,” you dip your head to look up at the giant they sent to you. “I didn’t break for the others. I won’t break for you.”

He watches you without saying a word. If not for your training, the silence and his stoic behavior would be unsettling and scary. He’s dwarfing you with his suit and his sheer size.

“I see, you want to stare me to death,” you chuckle lightly. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors, but you are indeed a beast of a man.”

He dips his head at your words but remains silent.

“Ah, you are the kind of person waiting for me to spill everything by unnerving me with your silence.” You huff. “You’re not the first person trying to scare me.”

The master chief walks around the chair you’re sitting on. He leans against the wall and watches you fight against the restraints holding you to the chair.

“If you want me to rat out my friends and allies, you are dead wrong,” you glare at him. “I know you know nothing about friendship and honor, but I try to explain the complexity of fuck yourself to you.”

He takes off his helmet and carefully places it on the metal table in the room. If you didn’t know better, you’d believe he gave you a half-smirk.

You watch him for a moment. His face is bruised, and there is a little blood on his temple.

“I cannot tell you anything about the others because I don’t know them. We don’t know each other, only the people in the same cell know each other,” your features sadden. “But your fine friends from the UNSC already killed all of them. No prisoners, and such…”

There’s something in his eyes for a second. Sadness, maybe. It’s gone so fast that you don’t know if it has been there at all. 

“What was your plan? You came here, sneak inside the building to do what?” Oh, it speaks. His voice is deep and rough. If not for the person he is, it would lull you in.

“Kill Parangosky,” you shrug. “She had it coming. A monster always waits for its slayer to come and find it. She felt safe for the longest time. Her end is near. Even if I didn’t make it far enough to kill her.”

He watches you shift in your seat. “She left all of us there to die,” you sniff. “The UNSC knew the alliance was on Reach. She saved only the people important to the UNSC and left the rest of us to die. How can you stand there and work for a monster? You swore to protect the people! All of them!”

You raise your voice and scream when memories of the people fighting alongside you flash up in your mind. They fell. One after another. The alliance knows no mercy, neither does the UNSC and its rotten members.

“They left us all to die on Reach,” John-117 finally says. He pushes off the wall and stalks toward you. “They even took our suits to make sure we die. We are not so different.”

You frown deeply. Why is he telling you this? Is this a tactic to get information out of you? The rebellion is dead. Your fight died on Reach, alongside your friends and allies.

“What do you want if you know what happened on Reach?” You sneer at him. “Ah, I get it. You follow orders without thinking. No feelings or wit keeping you from torturing people who are already lost.”

“We need allies,” he simply states. “You’re a strong ally. A reliable one not wanting to take advantage of the people fighting alongside you.” The Master Chief breaks the restraints without effort. “Humanity is on the verge of destruction.”

“An ally,” you cock a brow. “Who are you trying to kid here, Master Chief? You’re their favorite poster boy. I don’t think you want to rebel against them. This is not your fight.”

“It is now,” he stares down at you for a moment. The Master Chief considers your words and turns around to get his helmet. “You can fight alongside me or surrender to your grief and fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” you jump up and size the Master Chief up. “Not of you, nor the UNSC. If you want to kill me, do it here and now.”

He looks tired, and a little sad when his eyes meet yours. “I don’t want to kill you,” he says. “I lost two friends within a few days. One dead, the other…” He looks away. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. I broke into the room to get you out.”

“I don’t believe you,” you side-step the Master Chief, aware he can snap your neck in the blink of an eye. “If so, let me go…”

“Where do you want to go?” He questions, surveilling your reaction. “Reach got destroyed, most of the outer colonies too. There isn’t much left of the resistance. If you want to fight back, come with me.”

You take a step toward the door and another. “Not in this life, Master Chief. Maybe the resistance died on Reach, but…I’d never willingly fight alongside the poster boy of the UNSC.”

He watches you leave, shaking his head. Of course, you’d never join his fight. All your life you had to fight the UNSC.

How could you believe for one second that the great Master Chief told you the truth?

Tags in reblog.

[everrainrp]

TORRENTFALL CLAN OPENINGS

Wow, what a week with the Shoreshimmer Applications! We were very impressed by what we saw, and will be sending out invitations as this week progresses! Do not feel disheartened if you did not receive an invitation, there have been a surprising amount of applications and while we would like to pick all that we can, we still have four more Clans to go! That's a huge number of potential applicants for us to go through and we don't want to end up with more than we can chew in regards to how many people are accepted!

As for those of you who have been waiting for Torrentfall Clan, it is your time to shine and get an application in! If there are any questions regarding the Clan, do not hesitate to reach out!

Tinyfish is available as the Deputy Adoptable for this round of applications.

Leader and Apothecary are both available to be applied for as original characters!

Below you will find both of the application forms, be sure you are filling out the correct one when you begin! We are very excited to get these under way and cannot wait to see everyone's characters in this opening and upcoming ones! Thank you everyone for your patience once again!

Do not rush, fill out the form to the best of your abilities. Remember that you are not being viewed on how much you are presenting in the submission, but how much heart you have put into your character or concept!

GENERAL FORM

HIGH RANK FORM

Same as Shoreshimmer Applications, accepted applicants will receive a message during the following week post closing of this opening, as well as an invite to the server! So be sure that you put down a social media that is easily accessible in the event we cannot reach you on discord!

Thank you all for your interest and we cannot wait to see what you've cooked up once again!

AND as a very special thing, Mod M has written up some prompts to get those creative gears turning that can be found below!! They will be found below, and added to the site shortly! They're Very fun, so be sure to take a look!

Earthshaker, Stormbringer. Torrentfall cats are known for their ability to navigate dangerous rivers and waterfalls, but you take this to the extreme. See, you’ve always been a cat who thrives in chaos. When the weather worsens, when storms roll in, and the riverbanks threaten to flood… oh, that’s when you come alive. You prefer life on the move, constantly testing your skills by racing down treacherous rapids and venturing into uncharted waters. Some say you’re reckless for seeking danger, while others admire your courage. Do you seek the thrill, the knowledge, or something deeper? And when you stand in the eye of the storm, will it give you what you seek– or leave you stranded in its fury?

From the Riverbed. If your kindness is born of repentance, you must be making up for something terrible. Once, you lost someone dear to the river– perhaps kits, an apprentice, or a close friend who drowned. From that moment, you vowed to ensure no cat would be taken by the waters again. You’ve dedicated yourself to becoming one of Torrentfalls' best swimmers, and now you want to teach others to navigate the treacherous currents. But you have a complex relationship with the rapids. Do you fear the river? Or have you grown obsessed with mastering it, refusing to let it defeat you again? Most of all– does the water still feel like home?

Colors of the Wind. After the rain, when sunlight hits the water, Torrentfall is occasionally treated to brilliant rainbows arcing across the sky. While most cats admire their beauty from afar, you’ve set your sights on something more: capturing them, and infusing them into your paintings. You fashion delicate nets and containers from shining river stones, believing that if you capture a rainbow, you can harness its color and beauty forever. No one in Torrentfall has ever seen such a feat accomplished, but you? You're certain you’re close to success. Will you bottle the colors of the wind?

Sky’s the Limit. Torrentfall’s winds can be fierce, but where others see danger, you see opportunity. Inspired by the birds that soar high above, you’ve taken it upon yourself to craft what some may call “kytes” – using river reeds, fish bones, and leaves, you want to create constructs that can soar. You’re… a long way off, your creations haphazard and flimsy still, but you can imagine them one day catching the wind and dancing freely in the sky. Some cats are baffled by your obsession, but you’re convinced that once they see it in action, they’ll understand the beauty of flight. Will you launch Torrentfall’s first flying craft?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You get a mouthful of grass as you struggle to wriggle free of the sheriff’s weight. Your arms strain, caught in the metal cuffs, as you grunt and kick your feet desperately. Helplessness coils around you, flurrying your nerves and rippling through your muscles. No matter how you fight, you know it’s a losing battle. 

It isn’t just the physical difference, but everything else. You’re just some aimless girl working at the hotel for minimum wage and he’s the sheriff. He has a badge behind every word he says. How easily had he convinced your parents of your alleged criminal leanings? 

“Sheriff, sir,” you puff as you turn your head and he pins your shoulders, forcing your cheek to the ground, “you don’t have to do this--” 

“Mm, don’t gotta do what?” He taunts as your shoulders ache beneath his grip. 

“Whatever you’re... thinking,” you rasp, “please, I’m sorry. For whatever I did,” your adrenaline quavers in your voice, “please, just let me go home.” You close your eyes and heave, “I want to go home.” 

He snickers and leans over you, rolling his pelvis against your ass until you yipe. You can feel him through his pants. That firmness wipes away every doubt and hope you had left. 

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do?” He snarls. 

You whimper, “please, no. Please, I didn’t do anything--” 

“Sure ya did,” he slides a hand over and fists a clump of hair, yanking your head up, “you got my attention.” 

“No, please,” you snivel as your eyes singe, “sir--” 

“You keep calling me sir,” he purrs, “it’s making my balls throb.” 

You can’t help the grimace that twists your face as you open your eyes. You peer down the ditch, the overgrown grass patched across the dirt. You dig your toes into the ground and try to push yourself forward. He snorts and pulls your head higher. 

“You keep wiggling around like that, and you’re really gonna get it,” he sneers as his other hand crawls down your back. “Don’t worry, girl, it won’t take long. Not with the way my dick’s hurtin’.” 

Your lips quivers and you heave in air. Why is this happening to you? Why can’t he just go bug Greta or anyone else? Why you? You’re a good girl, you mind your business, you never hurt anyone. 

You gulp down a sob, your body lurching with horror. You can’t suppress the next one. Your body wracks as you’re overtaken by futility. Your head hangs limp from his grasp as your tears spill over and drown in fear. He pets your back, hushing you as his thick fingers delve beneath your shirt. 

“Come on, kitten, y’ain’t gotta make it bad,” he coos, “ya know, isn’t how I wanted it to be neither.” 

He drags his hand down to grip the top of your jeans. You gnash your teeth as he pushes your head down into the dirt. You shudder as he lifts himself and rips your pants down your ass. Your underwear twist up under the denim and a tremor rolls through your body. 

“See, ya shaking for me, baby,” he growls and leans onto your skull as his shifts on his knees. 

You hear a wet noise, the suck of his mouth and he pushes two wet fingers along your ass. He delves between your cheeks and feels your puckered hole. You clench and spasm, crushed beneath his immovable weight. You whine. 

“Sheriff, sheriff,” you plead into the dirt, “sheriff, please. You can st--” 

He prods until his finger dips inside you, chafing against your tautness. You croak and another sob bubbles free. The burning is unlike anything you’ve felt before. He pushes further, to his knuckle, then the next, until he’s bottomed out. He wiggles his finger and you whimper. 

“See, I knew by the looks of ya, you had a nice ass,” he grits out, “thing is, I don’t wanna dirty ya, sweet little virgin like you. I'll leave ya pussy be.” He slips his finger out slowly, “for now.” 

He chuckles as he shoves his finger into you again. He thrusts in and out, your back arching as your ass squeezes around his intrusion. He groans and rolls his hips, simulation more in tandem with his hand. 

He puts a second finger to your hole and wiggles his hand, easing both inside. You holler and he pushes your head harder into the ground. He hisses for you to be quiet as he buries his fingers in to his knuckles. He rams his hand harder, jolting your body as he works his wrist steadily. 

“Fuck, kitten, the way you’re clinging to me. How long you been waiting for a man?” He snickers and once more shifts his weight over you. 

You twitch and babble as he slides his fingers free, leaving your hole fiery. He huffs and his hand moves down to your neck. Your bones strain under him as he leans on you and you hear a clink and the subtle whisper of metal teeth parting. The fabric of his pants slacken against your ass and he angles down over you. 

“Sheriff,” you squeal as his fingertips pinch your neck. “Please--” 

“Shhhhh,” he lays his torso against yours as he lines his tip up between your cheeks, “I told ya, I won’t be too long.” 

He rubs himself up and down, teasing your hole as it puckers, and nuzzles the back of your head. Your shoulders brace as you try to buck him off. You don’t do much more than spasm. He pushes against your ass and stretches you, a dull pain radiating through your tailbone. 

He rocks against your body’s resistance. He grunts as he pulls his hand back, wetting his fingers in his mouth and smearing his spit around your hole again. He presses his tip once more to your ring and dips his hips. He tears through your last defense. Just the head and you can’t help but shriek and flail your legs.  

You curl your fingers, your bound hands trapped beneath his stomach as he rocks his hips slowly, working his way deeper and deeper. You shudder and shout, weeping into the dirt as it sticks to your cheeks. Every inch spreads the pain, hips, tailbone, legs, spine. He flattens you in the ditch as he scrapes in and out with long strokes. 

“Mm, you hugging on me so good, kitten,” her snarls and nips at your ear, “how about... after...” he puffs as his motion builds to a rut, “I take you for a cone, huh? For being such a good girl.”