#sucking it up and going out to weed the garden for the length of one soundtrack

[rainintheevening]

How do you build new plans for your life without giving up on the old dreams?

[hyufucks]

HOW MANY SECRETS CAN U KEEP?

pairing ➳ choi yeonjun + fem!reader

c. warning(s) — university!au, public sex, degradation, overstimulation, unprotected sex, dirty talk, age gap.

w. count — 6,024

✦ minors do not interact.

there are a couple of secrets that, of course, only you know.

first secret: at the age of fourteen, you smoked weed for the first time on the wall that was left in the schoolyard together with other guys. yes, you were too young to try that, but everyone in your class and in your school itself had already tried weed.

second secret: you ran away when you were sixteen to go to a party that was far from your house. Honestly, you didn't have a great time.

third secret: you stole and modified an exam because you had forgotten to do an exercise.

and finally, the fourth secret: you are in a kind of sexual relationship with the captain of the university basketball team, choi yeonjun.

why do you have a secret relationship with him? you see, a few months ago you and him had agreed to keep whatever you have a secret for both of your sakes, since girls would be shocked and lash out if they found out that the most handsome guy in university is having a relationship with someone, and your teachers would really care about your grades and reputation, possibly blaming your relationship if you do poorly on a test.

most of the sexual encounters take place on the campus, the toilets, the small garden in the back, the parking, etc.

of course the current situation in the teacher's room is not far behind.

your legs are wrapped around yeonjun's waist as he hits you deep in all the right places, squeezing and digging his nails into the skin of your shaped thighs.

his head is thrown back, sighing and breathing loudly just for you. his dark hair is messy and slightly wet, leaving a few strands of hair clinging to the skin on his forehead.

you try to keep quiet so as not to be catch, but he is fucking you so good that it is impossible to keep your mouth shut against the stimuli that you love to receive only from him.

you grip his jacket tightly with one hand and with the other you scratch his neck, leaving visible scratch marks that will soon turn dark red.

“y-yeonjun…” his hand quickly covers your mouth, squeezing it tightly to keep you quiet.

"shhh, don't be so loud" he begins to speak in a low tone, looking into your eyes "you don't want us to be catch out and everyone finds out what a slut the model student is, do you?" he asks amused. you nod quickly as you begin to feel tears welling up in your eyes, wetting the older's hand.

the truth is that yeonjun is a year older than you. you were in first year when you first saw him, and now you are in your second year while he's in his third year.

he was a dream, or rather, he is a dream for you and every other student at the university. you really never thought that you would have the opportunity to have secret sex with the perfect choi yeonjun, much less that he would only notice you among so many pretty girls.

"you look so beautiful today…did you really wear this pretty skirt for me, mmh?" "did you want me to see you walk down the aisles looking so cute to fuck you so hard at this table?" his lips come up to your ear, lightly biting your cheekbone "or did you want me to kneel down to eat your pretty and sweet pussy?"

"i bet you want to cum in my mouth and squeeze my hair like you always do" he licks your neck slowly, smiling as a soft moan stifles his hand "i'm really dying to eat you, but you're going to be as loud as you are right now. .."

his words have an huge effect on you, causing your velvety walls to tighten in length. a satisfied growl slips from his lips before biting and sucking on your neck, leaving marks.

your saliva begins to fill his palm, making your mouth water and your eyes roll at the brief memory of yeonjun desperately eating you in the toilets. but the reality is that no matter how good he is with his tongue, his cock is a thousand times better and you prefer it much more than anything else.

without you realizing it, your interior begins to heat up and form a whirlpool of almost satisfaction. your juices slowly begin to leak from your battered hole, making you moan at the feel of the cold threads slipping through your folds.

your thighs press much closer to yeonjun's waist, desperately moving to pleasure yourself and reach the orgasm you long for.

he can knows that, so he quickly deepens his thrusts before thrusting hard into you, causing the table beneath you to jerk.

"what a desperate whore. who would have imagined that the role model of this institution would be a little slut hungry for cock" his words come out broken as he still feels that you suck him at the way he fucks you crudely "even i'm surprised that you squeeze me incredibly good" he holds your inner thigh with his free hand, feeling it get drenched by your juices "i'm going to fuck you so many times until you pass out"

and that is literally enough for you to cum hard on his cock, lifting your chest, making your hard covered nipples crash against his chest.

you see stars collide in your brain, dizzy from possibly one of the best orgasms the dark-haired man has ever given you.

you hug him from his neck to pull him towards you once he releases your mouth, placing your lips on his ear.

"please, cum inside of me" you beg tenderly knowing that he loves that you beg him that way "fill me with your cum and fuck me so much that i can't resist it anymore".

his hands go to your lower back to hold you as he continues to fuck you to his own release, biting your shoulder to hold back the moans.

after a few more thrusts, yeonjun finally cums inside you hard, still squeezing your back, filling you with his thick liquid.

your eyes begin to close as he gently holds you against the cold table, placing kisses on your jaw and neck as he grabs you around the waist again, resting one of your legs on his shoulder.

you look at him more awake than ever and with curious eyes. he smiles at you without showing his teeth and he thrusts his cock into you for the second time that day, making you grab the edges of the table.

"what's wrong, mmh? did you forget that i'm going to keep fucking you as many times as i want?"

© hyufucks, 2022.

[seiyasabi]

A Farmer Boy’s Crush

(This is a Yandere Ushijima x Female Reader story! I’m sorry in advance, because I think this man is scary ;(( Also, there will be no part two of this, and I’m sorry if it sucks lol.

TW: !Noncon!, Stalker Ushi!, Size kink!, Cumflation!, Spanking!, Dacryphilia?, Choking!, Breeding Kink!, Cockwarming, Threatening behaviour!, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!)

“I’m sorry, Ushijima-san, but I’m not interested in you. I’m focusing on my career, so I don’t have time for a relationship.”

It started when you were in highschool. 

The volleyball player confessed to you on Valentines Day, equipped with handmade chocolates and roses from his Mother’s garden. At the time, you had no interest in boys. You were way too focused on your future career, viewing a significant other as a distraction. Ushijima, to his credit, didn’t lose his temper when you turned him down. He nodded, silently stalking off to the gym, his posture perfectly straight. 

You’d brushed the entire event off, feeling guilty for turning him down so nonchalantly, but also standing your ground. The large man has a harem of girls, and you were sure he’d find a girlfriend that would treat him right. 

But, what you didn’t know, was that all he wanted was you. He could never go for another girl, because you’re one of a kind. 

He loves how you pick weeds out of the pavement, loves how you help old people bring their groceries to their car, loves how you’re YOU. 

So, in his spare time (aka, when he’s not playing volleyball), he watches you. He’d followed you home one day, and he spotted you through your curtainless window. 

That’s how it started; watching. 

But watching wasn’t enough.

Soon, he’d break into your home, snagging a worn t-shirt or panties, a chapstick on your desk, a polaroid you recently took, etc.. Once in his possession, he’d stalk off home at a leisure pace. Ushijima would then place the item in the shrine in his closet, relishing the new item in his collection. 

This went on for years, up until today. Today, he’d had enough. He’d heard from your friends on campus that you’d scored a date with a boy named ‘Kane,’ causing the large man to drive like a mad man in the direction of your home. 

Seeing you from your room’s curtainless window, his nose flares in anger. You’re in a cute cherry patterned dress, (applying makeup/doing your skincare routine) in your vanity table’s mirror. 

Stomping up your concrete front stairs, he grabs the hidden key in your potted plant outside, and slips inside. Wakatoshi makes his way up your house’s steps, creeping towards your closed door. He can hear music playing, most likely from your phone, and can see your shadow moving from underneath your door. 

Grasping your metal door handle, he steps inside your air freshener infused room. His presence startles you, and he can’t help but feel pleasure at the look of shock on your face. 

“Ushijima-san? What the hell are you doing-?” His large hand grips your throat, dragging you to your lilac coloured sheets. The olive haired man forces you onto your mattress, large body stradling your smaller form. Your weak attempt at freeing yourself is heartwarming, your spluttering and hits seem kitten-like. 

“Why would you go to someone else?” You try to respond, but are unable to, his ministrations not allowing you to breathe. Noticing this, he releases his vice-like grip, merely hovering his calloused hand over your throat. 

“What-” Your voice cracks, causing you to clear your throat, as tears drip down your pretty face, “What are you talking about? Why are you in my house?” 

He ignores your questions, steely gaze glaring down at you, “Kane cannot provide for you. I have a stable income, he does not. I have my own home, he does not. He has no redeemable qualities. I cannot understand why you would wish to date him, when I am already in the picture.”

You start to sob pathetically, not understanding why your scary ex-classmate is assaulting you verbally and physically, “Ushijima, I don’t understand what you’re talking about! I haven’t spoken to you for years-”

His grip around your throat tightens once more, as he speaks through gritted teeth, “We may not have spoken, but I’ve kept a close eye on you. What happened to you ‘focusing on your career?’ You were such a good, hardworking girl until this point, but now you’re suddenly whoring yourself out to an unimpressive boy. Let me show you who you belong to, (Your Name), because it seems that you’ve forgotten.”

 Smacking at his muscular arms, you try to struggle out of his grip. Wakatoshi’s thick fingers tug at the zipper on the side of your dress, slipping it open with ease. He slides the thin straps off of your shoulders, forcing the straps up over your hands, and sliding the entire garment off of you. You’re left in your unmatching strapless bra and panties. He hums in delight at the sight; this must mean that you weren’t going to open your legs for that boy. 

“You look beautiful,” He releases his grip just enough for you to breathe with ease, before ragdolling you over his muscular thigh. Your cute ass is on display to the olive haired man, his warm palm ghosting over the fat, “It’s a shame that I must put you in your place.”

Without warning, he slams his hand down, all whilst his free one covers your mouth. A scream rips from your throat, only to be muffled by your ex-classmate. Raising his previously used hand, he spanks you once more, the skin on your ass feeling like it’s on fire. 

“I’m going to spank you twenty-five times, don’t try to struggle. If you do, I’ll increase it to fifty,” All you can do is sob in response, causing the large man to continue his assault. The ex-volleyball player doesn’t hold back in the slightest, bruising your ass down to the muscle. By the time he’s finished, your entire body is shaking, face slick with snot and tears. Ushijima can’t help but grow hard at your pain fueled expression. You’re just too cute, “Good. Now, let me reward you for your behaviour.”

You shake your head no, muffled pleas of ‘stop’ just barely heard. Your ex-classmate refuses to acknowledge your words, instead pulling your bruising ass against his hard cock. He unbuttons his trousers, pulling out his long, thick cock. It slaps against your bare stomach, as Ushijima shucks your panties and bra off of your body, exposing you fully to him. Removing his hand from your mouth, you’re finally able to speak as he gropes the fat of your tits, “Please stop! Don’t do this! I’m sorry that I refused you in highschool! Why don’t we go on a date right now? I-if we do that, then we can wait-” 

“Shh, there’s no need to panic. We can go to dinner after this; I’ve waited too long for this,” Long fingers reach down to play with your clit, rubbing and squeezing the bundle of nerves with two fingers. His ring finger dips into your opening, forcing your dry walls open. 

“Ushijima, please-”

“Call me Wakatoshi. We’re dating, afterall,” forcing his finger in and out whilst rubbing your clit, making your walls slick without your consent. 

“Wakatoshi-” He removes his finger from inside of you, before quickly replacing it with the tip of his red, precum slicked cock. Without warning, he slips inside, spearing you open painfully. A loud yelp leaves your lips, as more tears drip down your face, “Take it out! Take it out! It hurts so bad!” 

He relishes the way your slightly moistened walls knead him, practically sucking him in. He rubs your clit with quick, small circles, trying to help you accommodate his size. This, in turn, allows his wrist to lay against your tummy, feeling the way your tummy distends with his cock. 

“You’re so tight. I always knew you were perfect for me,” He starts to bounce you on his prick, making it feel like your pussy was being ripped from your body. A small scream leaves your lips at the feeling, only for you to be silenced by a heated kiss. Waka’s body curls into your own, forcing you further onto his cock, and making it even harder for you to get off of him. 

He bucks up into you like a mad man, fucking you on his length at top speed. The pain you previously felt slowly turns into pleasure, as the pressure on your clit increases. A few small moans escape your mouth into his, as he swallows them whole. 

Wakatoshi lightly smacks your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. He releases you from the kiss, choosing instead to suck hickies onto your lolling neck. He grunts at the feeling of you tightening with an oncoming orgasm, as he rubs your clit as hard and fast as he can. 

“Cum for me, cum right now. Let your womb swallow my seed, (Your Name), it’s clear that you need my baby to set you straight,” More tears drip down your face as you try to stop yourself from cumming. 

“No! I don’t want a baby!” Waka doesn’t respond, only slapping your clit one last time. A strangled scream erupts from your throat, as you squirt all over him and your light coloured sheets. The force almost knocks him out of you, but he presses you down completely on his cock, allowing him to cum directly against your unprotected cervix. 

Your body shakes with your sobs as you wrap yourself with your arms, and you try to get off of him. Wakatoshi wraps you in a constricting hug, keeping you completely enveloped by his large frame. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, (Your Name). Now, let’s get you home, you clearly can’t be independent. Just rely on me, and I’ll keep you well fed and happy.”

You shake your head no, trying to escape his arms, but it’s no use. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, making it virtually impossible for you to escape. 

Grabbing your blanket, he wraps you with it, before standing to his feet. His cock is still inside of you, as he walks out of your house, and towards his parked Kei truck. He opens the door, and slips inside, you still cockwarming him. He sets a hand on your distended, cumfilled belly, and sighs in content. 

“Everything will be alright. Let’s get back to the farm, and I’ll make you a nutritious meal. After all, you need to be strong for our growing baby.” 

[whaleofatjme1920]

Can I ask for an scenario were the proxies have to interact with Charlie? Like, maybe for example the boss sends the 4 of them to Kate’s old house for some reason, or Charlie just wonders into them because he’s scared

Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

[Proxies and Charlie]

[Warnings: like, none?]

[This is like full fic length bc I kinda liked the idea]

“Kate?” Tim’s soft voice called out from the driver's seat. He sees that she’s gazing out the window, lost in her thoughts. A small sigh escapes his lips as he leans back, hand gently patting at Kate’s shoulder. “Kate, we need to go.”

The dark haired woman stirs, blinking rapidly in response. She pauses. “I’m sorry?”

The men in the car laugh, Toby devolving into giggles as he clicks her seatbelt. “We’re h-h-here,” he smiles.

Kate shifts, slightly uncomfortable in her seat as she reaches to unlock the door. There, down the driveway is the house that used to be hers. She slides out, listening as her teammates do the same. Her shoes rest on the gravel and gently press against the earth. She hasn’t been able to see her house in the daylight for goodness knows how long. In fact, most of the time she’s here, it’s nighttime.

“You okay?” Brian asks as he rests his hand on her shoulder before moving to her upper back. He’s gently guiding her to the house.

She shrugs ever so slightly, a cloud overtaking her eyes. “Not sure.”

Brian hums and gently rubs her back as they walk up to the house. “We’ll be in and out, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tim suddenly cuts in.

“W-Why exactly a-a-a-are we h-here?” Toby asks as he catches up to his three group members, stretching his arms and cracking his neck as he does so.

“Operator said we needed some files or something,” Tim answers. “Shouldn’t be that hard, yeah?”

Kate feels a little on edge and nostalgic when she sees the brick walls that surround her home. She takes a glance around. The yard needs to be done as there’s tall grass and weeds that have overtaken the once pretty garden. Ivy and vines grow over the windows, the brick needs some upkeep - it’s a mess. But surprisingly enough, the swingset is still intact. She walks down the path to her front door and reaches out for the doorknob, opening it and raises her brows to see that it’s open. “Huh,” she murmurs. “Wonder if there have been any squatters in here.”

“Sure hope not,” Brian says as his gloved hands trail the tall grass’ edges. “Means we gotta go out there and hunt them down.”

Tim and Toby both sigh in agreement, grimaces crossing over their faces. This house is practically a time capsule into Operator behavior and the like. It reeks with his energy. This place is only open to proxies, and even then, they have to be cleared proxies. If any humans made it in here, that means they have to get killed. That’s just how it is.

Kate steps into her old house, slightly displeased to see that the house looks eerily similar to how she left it with the minor additions of Lauren’s snooping as well. It doesn’t feel or smell like someone has been in here for a while. She begins to explore the place, her hand on her weapon just in case as her teammates file in.

‘So,’ Tim begins in the back of his proxies’ heads, ‘just a few files. Apparently we’ll know ‘em when we see ‘em.’

Toby snorts slightly. ‘You don’t have anything more solid than that?’

‘No.’

‘They’re bound to have Lauren on them,’ Kate says. ‘It’s uh, just the feeling I get.’

Hums echo throughout the house from her teammates as they split and scope out the house. Kate stands in the kitchen, looking for the files. Nothing so far. She sighs. She was hoping they’d be in and out.

“Any luck?” Brian calls out after deeming the house safe.

“Nope,” Tim calls out from the TV room.

“N-Not here either,” Toby says from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Kate hums as she opens up the drawers. “Empty,” she says.

Tim sighs and runs his fingers through his hair as he rounds the house, mindlessly looking for the things the Operator asked of them. He’s a little upset that they’re just not out there in the open, but that would be convenient, far too convenient. He begins to look out the window, watching for the birds and other things, anything to just calm down. He pats absentmindedly at his pocket, feeling his pack of cigarettes. “Goin’ out for a smoke,” he says over his shoulder to Kate who is still searching the kitchen.

Tim steps outside and lights up a cigarette, placing it between his lips before sucking in a slow breath. He watches the clouds as they swim in the sky, the sun as it passes overhead. What a beautiful summer afternoon. He’s honestly zoning out when he hears a rustling in the grass. What is that? His head turns and so too do the hairs on the back of his neck. Something is on the grounds and it doesn’t feel human. Tim immediately drops his cigarettes and crushes it under his boot before palming his gun.

Dark eyes begin to scan over the tall grasses as he remains planted at the doorstep. He’s about to call for his teammates in what they lovingly call ‘head talk’ before he sees something peeking out of the tall grass, just outside the brick gates. It has dark hair and sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the lush green. Before Tim can even make any plan of action, it’s up and stalking towards him. He swears under his breath, raising his gun towards the creature.

It hisses, making clicking noises and snarling as it keeps a distance, large hands get held up defensively as Tim growls back.

Kate, in the kitchen, hears this and internally panics. At first, she thought it was some rabid raccoon or something, but she recognizes those clicks. That’s Charlie! She slams her drawer and then rushes out to the front where Tim, Brian and Toby are locked in a standoff with the poor thing.

“Woah, woah!” She cries out, extending her hands as she does so.

“Kate, get back,” Tim hisses, hand reaching out to grab at her collar. He grows in disapproval when she pushes off of him, quickly coming to the zombified proxy’s side.

Upon seeing Kate, the creature pauses. It purrs lowly and lowers his head.

Kate stands in front of him, arms out. “He’s not gonna hurt you.” She gently pushes Charlie back, wanting to get him as far away from her teammates as she can.

“It c-c--could be an o-outlier,” Toby says with narrowed eyes, hand not loosening its grip on his hatchets.

Kate takes in a deep, frustrated breath and shakes her head. “His name is Charlie.” She explains. “He’s what we are.”

“What we are?” Brian asks with a tilt of his head, brow raising, but gun still pointed. “He can’t be.”

Toby nods in agreement. “P-Proxies don’t l-look like t-t-that,” he murmurs with uncertainty.

Tim sighs deeply as he lowers his gun, holstering it. “This is what happens to proxies if the Operator wills it,” he explains, a small grimace on his lips. “It’s the radiation.”

Uncomfortable chills run up and down the spines of Tim’s teammates as they slowly put their weapons away, frowns on their faces.

Charlie tilts his head, though his body language conveys that he’s clearly still distressed over what’s happened. His hands are waving, ready to strike should he need to, teeth bared and ready to snap.

Kate runs her fingers through her hair and waves off her other teammates. “Go back inside, let me handle this,” she commands. “He’s harmless, but you’ve made a bad impression on him.”

“He shouldn’t have been poking in the grass,” Tim says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Kate sticks out her tongue at him. “Get inside, and bring me two sandwiches.”

“Excuse you?” Tim says in slight surprise.

She looks over her shoulder as she gently grabs Charlie’s large hand, leading him to the swingset that is surprisingly still intact. “Go take a seat buddy,” she guides in a warm tone, watching as Charlie slowly slumps back over to his most natural pose, quietly walking towards the swingset. “You heard me,” Kate calls back over her shoulder.

Tim rolls his eyes and heads back inside, mentally telling Toby to make two sandwiches.

Toby, who is watching as Charlie sits on the swingset, rolls his eyes at Tim’s command before sauntering off to the kitchen. He’s admittedly surprised to pull open the fridge and see it’s stocked with food and there’s fresh bread. ‘What kind of sandwiches did you guys want?’ Toby hums as he rummages through the fridge.

Kate pauses swinging. ‘PB&J would be fine,’ she replies. ‘Really anything goes though, Charlie just looks hungry.’

Toby obliges and frowns for a moment. ‘Do you think you and Charlie can wait a second?’

‘Why?’

‘I have something special in mind.’

Kate hums and then nods. ‘Yeah, take your time, Tobes.’ With Charlie at her side, Kate begins to talk with him, buying Toby some seconds. “So, you feeling alright, buddy?”

Charlie chirps quietly, swinging beside her.

“Did the big guy send you here?”

Charlie nods.

“Is he being mean again?”

Charlie’s eyes lower as he shivers slightly, another solemn nod dragging his head downwards as he focuses on the pretty flowers that grow up from the ground.

Kate furrows her brows with a small frown and stands up from the seat, peeling off her hoodie. She drapes it over Charlie’s shoulders before sitting on the gravel just in front of him, pulling at the pretty pink and blue flowers. “I’m here now, yeah?”

Charlie purrs as he holds the arms of her hoodie, a small smile curling upwards on his face.

Kate hums softly as she weaves him a flower crown.

Inside the house, Toby is almost done with the grilled cheese sandwiches. He’s melting the cheese on the second one when Brian and Tim stroll in, a tad bored from watching Kate and Charlie.

“That’s surprisingly nice of you,” Brian lightly ribs. “Smells good though.”

“Why don’t you ever make these with us?” Tim inquires with a small chuckle.

“I c-c-can make them n-now for u-u-s,” Toby begins, flipping the sandwich. “B-But my s-sister used t-t-to make these w-when I was u-upset. F-Figured C-Charlie needed a p-pick me up,” he explains, a small smile on his lips as he turns off the stove. Toby places it on the plate and grabs it before heading to the front door.

In the front yard, Kate is just finishing placing a flower crown on Charlie’s head. The colors compliment his hair and Kate giggles softly as he coos. “You’re so pretty,” she compliments, gently tapping where his nose should be, making him giggle in response. Her nose picks up the scent of Toby’s cooking and a warm smile spreads over her lips. There he is, in the doorway.

“T-Thought you g-guys would l-like these,” he says as he meets Kate halfway.

“You’re so thoughtful,” Kate smiles as she takes the plate into her hands. “You wanna come say hi to Charlie?”

“I-Is he o-okay with it?” Toby asks, wanting to ensure Charlie won’t get wound up again.

Kate glances over her shoulder to the large cryptid like proxy that is currently playing with the flowers that adorn his head. “He’s fine,” she hums, leading Toby to the swingset. “Hey buddy,” she quietly greets. “Toby made some sandwiches for us.”

Charlie tilts his head curiously at the new scent, both Toby and the grilled cheese. He pokes at it before lifting it.

“It’s s-s-still a little h--hot,” Toby warns as Kate sits him down on one of the swings.

Charlie tilts his head again.

Toby blows a bit on his hand.

Charlie follows in suit before chomping into the sandwich, mouth opening and closing like a dragon due to how hot it is.

Both Kate and Toby laugh.

Brian and Tim watch from the windows as Toby, Kate and Charlie begin to get to know each other, giggles and positive energy flowing between the three of them as they do so.

“Should we let them stay?” Tim hums.

Brian nods, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, let the kids play.”

Tim chuckles, patting Brian on the back. “You check the basement for those files yet?”

“Nah, did you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I did,” Tim grins.

Brian rolls his eyes. “Be right back,” he informs, hazel eyes reluctantly leaving the vision of the swing set.

[rockscanfly]

the stars are not wanted now

The headline was several days old by the date in the corner. The cheap paper was peeling at the corners from the wall it’d been pasted to when Charles ripped it down. His mind was carefully blank as he hitched Lenny’s canvas-wrapped corpse higher on one shoulder. He stuffed the ripped page into his pants pocket. 

It stayed there, smouldering, as he loaded Lenny onto Taima. Sadie was already seated on Bob, Hosea laid carefully behind her. Her eyes caught his, red and shining.

Charles was an hour into digging Lenny’s grave when it hit him: He was never going to see Arthur Morgan again.

Death’s messenger arrived in the form of the front page of The Saint Denis Times. TRAGEDY AT SEA! CARGOSHIP THE OQUENDO SUNK FIVE MILES OFF GUARMA COAST!

or,

Charles Smith, Sadie Adler, and the two deaths of Arthur Morgan.

Read below or at  AO3. 

                                                  ----------------------

In the life of Charles Smith, death’s messengers had come in many forms. 

The first was in the navy blue uniforms of American soldiers, their ghost pale hands wrapped tight over his mother’s arms as they dragged her from their tent, screaming and kicking. 

Ten years later it was in a letter, sent by an old neighbor. It contained his father’s wedding ring, a family photo, and no explanation. 

The way the whiskey had wafted off his father’s breath the night Charles left? There was no need for one. 

Then it had been the sharp crack of a gunshot—one, two, three. Sean, Hosea, Lenny. There was the frightened whinny of a horse mixed in, and the sick, rotten-fruit plop of Kierran’s head as it fell from his cupped, bloody hands.

This messenger arrived in the form of the front page of The Saint Denis Times. TRAGEDY AT SEA! CARGOSHIP THE OQUENDO SUNK FIVE MILES OFF GUARMA COAST!

The headline was several days old by the date in the corner. The cheap paper was peeling at the corners from the wall it’d been pasted to when Charles ripped it down. His mind was carefully blank as he hitched Lenny’s canvas-wrapped corpse higher on one shoulder. He stuffed the ripped page into his pants pocket. 

It stayed there, smouldering, as he loaded Lenny onto Taima. Sadie was already seated on Bob, Hosea laid carefully behind her. Her eyes caught his, red and shining.

Charles was an hour into digging Lenny’s grave when it hit him: He was never going to see Arthur Morgan again.

For twenty-seven years, careful restraint of his emotions had allowed Charles to survive. He’d never had the luxury of anger, of rage. An outburst from most members of the gang meant getting kicked out of the saloon, a fine, or a night in jail at worst. 

For Charles, a length of rope looped over a tree branch was never far. America hated nothing more than a mutt, and to her people Charles was a rabid dog best put down at the first snarl.

So Charles learned control and calm. He learned to bury, to smother, to take everything burning in him and shove it somewhere safe. To put his feelings aside until he was alone and could take them out and look them over with no nervous trigger fingers or hateful eyes waiting for the first excuse—the first bitter word, sharp gesture, first hateful look. 

Charles didn’t know what did it, what final burning hurt snuck into the tinderbox of his chest and sparked the blaze. If it was the seventh rock his shovel struck in the soft, sucking dirt, forcing him to fumble in the dark until he could haul it free and cast it out. If it was the heat, the chafe of sticky cotton on his damp skin. Could be it was the flies buzzing in his ears, or the way the sweat from his brow stung his eyes. 

Maybe it was the sickly smell of rotting meat already coming from the sacks wrapped around Lenny and Hosea’s corpses, or the way there was no money for coffins to bury them in. 

One moment Charles was digging side by side with Sadie, knee deep in the grave that would hold just one body of the second family that fate had torn from him.

And then he was kneeling in the sucking mud, hands fisted uselessly in the torn roots and crawling worms. Anguish tore howling from his throat, muffled against gritted teeth. Charles could taste copper coating the backs of his gums as he hunched in the dirt. His eyes clenched tight as his heart did its level best to tear itself from his chest, to strike out for a life less riddled with bullets, one that didn’t bleed loss like a butchered carcass or burn everything good up to ashes.

Charles was dimly aware, under the pounding of his own pulse in his ears, of Sadie’s soft cursing as she threw down her own shovel and climbed into Lenny’s half-dug grave beside him. The darkness behind his eyes became complete as she shuttered the lamp, plunging them into night. He flinched away as Sadie’s firm hand gripped his shoulder. “Don’t,” he growled. He didn’t want comfort. He wanted exorcism. 

Sadie just gripped him tighter, blunt nails digging hard into the hunched muscle of his shoulder. “I know,” she rasped, kneeling before him, sharp knees pressed to his own. A choked cry strangled in Charles’s chest as her skinny, whipcord arms wrapped around him, pressing him to her chest. 

“They’re gone,” he managed, gasping through the tightness in his lungs. He couldn’t get any air. “Lenny, Javier, Hosea—Arthur.” Charles made a fist, pounding senselessly at the dirt. “He, we—” Charles cut himself off, dug his nails deep into the flesh of his knee, and tried to claw the pain into his own skin. 

A beat passed. One of Sadie’s palms gripped Charles at the back of his neck, cupped the back of his head gently. “Charles,” she said, voice rough and small, gentle. “Charles, I know.”

And it’s possible she did. She was one of the more observant folks in the camp. He and Arthur hadn’t really been very careful. Nothing too blatant, no. But anyone could have read into the casual ease with which Arthur touched his shoulder, the way their knees almost touched as they sat by the fire. The way Charles would return from guard duty with his hair mussed, leaves of grass clinging to the back of his shirt, the trailing ends of his hair. How Arthur would sit on a stump, failing utterly to conceal that he was sketching Charles as he chopped wood or hauled water. 

Arthur was not a cautious man by nature. He often made Charles foolish. 

More important than any of their thousand tiny, dangerous indiscretions was the fact that Arthur had trusted Sadie. It was possible the big, soft-hearted idiot told her about them. Maybe one day Charles would have it in him to be angry about that, at Arthur for putting them both at risk without asking him first. Reckless, impulsive, trusting. 

Gone.

Charles leaned heavily into Sadie’s grip, buried his face in the sweat and dirt streaked cotton of her shoulder. “How did you live through this?” He hissed, breath hitching. It felt like nettles had grown in his chest, wrapping around his lungs, choking like weeds to a garden. 

Sadie’s arm tightened over Charles’s shoulder. “Sun hasn’t dawned on a single day I’ve wanted to live through since they killed my Jake.” A filthy hand pet his hair back from his face, streaking dirt through the sweat on his brow. “Two reasons I go on. I gotta put every O'Driscoll on this green earth into a hole in the ground. And ‘cause I got folks as need me, now.”

Charles buried himself tighter against her, hiding from the pain that wracked him. It was ridiculous. Sadie was half his size, if he was being generous. But pressed against her, her clumsy hand in his hair, her skinny arm not even half over his back—he felt safer. Smaller. “They don’t even want me.” 

Sadie laughed, a hoarse, half-hearted thing that shook her chest more than it did the air. “You think those boys are lining up to put me in charge? Or, hell, Grimshaw? It don’t matter what anyone wants, Charles. They need us.” 

“I needed him,” Charles keened. He sounded like a child. He felt like a child. And he’d never felt so helpless, so lost, since he’d been torn from his mother’s arms. “All of them.” Charles bit back a breath, forced it down. He grasped a handful of Sadie’s shirt, pulling her closer. “I feel like the only part of me that’s good died with them. I don’t. I don’t think I can keep doing this.” 

“John ain’t dead yet,” Sadie whispered fiercely. “And neither is Tilly, or Mary-Beth, or me. Even the rest of ‘em. They’re all the family we got, Charles. So cry it out. But then you gotta pull yourself together. I need ya.” 

No one had ever needed Charles Smith. 

No one who lived. 

Charle’s head was going fuzzy, light, in a buzzing, burning way. Maybe he wasn’t getting enough air. Maybe he was choking on his own pathetic sorrow. 

Maybe the pain of losing so much was finally going to kill him. 

“I should just leave,” he mumbled into Sadie’s filthy, mud spattered shoulder. “Suffering follows me, I think. Maybe if I just go you won’t die, too.” 

Sadie’s blunt nails dug hard into Charle’s shoulder. “You leave and you’re yellow or you’re a fool,” she said, shaking him. “The world doesn’t give a shit about any of us, Charles. You know this life we’re livin’ ain’t meant to be a long one.”

Something in that tickled him, in a sideways sort of way. He laughed, a weak, hacking thing that was half-cough. “How the hell is Uncle still kicking?” 

Sadie’s shoulder moved under his forehead as she gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Can’t die if you never do shit.”

“You’re right,” Charles admitted. The stupid joke had shaken something loose in his throat. His chest still hurt, but he wasn’t choking on air. “I’m sorry. I just—” Charles sucked down another breath. “I wasn’t ready to live without him.” 

Sadie just pulled him tighter, tucked his head up under her chin. Charles wondered, vaguely, what she saw when she looked out into the dark of the Lemoyne night. “I know, honey,” she sighed. “But you will. You have to.” 

                                     _________________________

Traditional Kotsoteka mourning is an involved process. Done right, Charles should have burned Arthur’s wagon and killed Peachblossom, Arthur’s white Roan mare, so he would be well equipped in the afterlife. 

But there was no body to bury. No grave in which to throw Arthur’s guns, or the bow he’d left strapped to Peachblossom’s saddle on that final, bloody day at the bank. It would have been a shame to snap into pieces, anyway. Charles had made the bow for Arthur, so the other man had always taken excellent care of it. 

Fact was, Arthur’s body lay somewhere at the bottom of the sea, and they were too strapped for resources to go burning wagons and wasting supplies for traditions Charles had never been all that good at following. So instead Sadie helped him shave the sides of his head—the left side, to mourn a fellow warrior. The right, because a fellow warrior wasn’t all Charles was mourning. 

Together, Charles and Sadie burned one of Arthur’s shirts. There was no wailing, no cutting of arms and chests. As the last few patches of blue cotton caught fire, Charles resolved that, a year from then, he would never again speak the name Arthur Morgan.

                             ______________________________

Six years and too many graves later, Charles was resting on a freshly hammered fence post when a giant, mean-looking mustang rode up the road to Beecher’s Hope. Charles was half-way to drawing his sawed-off when its rider called out to him. “Charles! Charles Smith!”

Charles would know that hoarse drawl anywhere. 

Charles jumped the fence, jogging towards the black-clad woman on her suitably terrifying horse. “Sadie? Sadie Adler?”

Sadie swung down from her saddle, running forward. Charles caught her around the middle, swinging her excitedly. 

“How are you?” Charles asked as he set her down, hands moving to her shoulders to get a look at her. She’d picked up a few fresh scars, some weather to her skin from sun and wind. But her eyes were just the same as they’d always been, lit with an inner fire.

Sadie smiled, that same bitter half lift of the mouth as six years ago. “Alive,” she shrugged, patting Charles roughly on the shoulder. “You?”

Charles shrugged back. “Better, now. A few months back? Not so well.” 

Sadie nodded, walking back to her evil looking mustang and leading it gentle as a kitten to the hitching post. Charles leaned back against the fence, digging around in his jacket pockets for a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He lit one, settling it in the side of his mouth. Demon-horse secured, Sadie settled beside him, leaning forward over the fence to survey the homestead. Charles passed her a cigarette, holding the lighter out and flickering as she lit a burning ember in the early morning light. 

Sadie inhaled, brown eyes sharp and considering as she surveyed the half-built ranch. “So. You’re, uh. Livin’ with the Marston’s?”

Charles nodded, tucking the lighter back in his pocket. “Just John for now.” He caught himself, laughed. “Well, and Uncle.”

“That old fool’s still alive?” Sadie whistled. “Bless his heart.” Silence stretched out between them. Maybe it should have been uncomfortable, the way it would have been between any two other friends who had parted in bloodshed and hadn’t seen one another in six years. 

Instead, it was like a well-worn blanket, warm and comforting in the early morning chill. Charles hadn’t shared a peaceful silence in a long while. John and Uncle always seemed to need to fill the air with talk. The folks in Saint Denis too, and theirs had been a lot less friendly. 

Their cigarettes burned down to embers before Sadie broke the peace. “Any clue where John’s at?” she asked. “I got a job for him.”

Charles grunted. “Bounty hunting?”

“Only kinda jobs I run. For now, anyway.”

“He’s in town grabbing supplies. Won’t be back until late.”

“Well, shit.” Sadie cursed, scuffing her boot in the dirt. She frowned, kicking up little clouds of dust while she chewed on her lip. Charles turned, tucking his arms up atop the fence, settling against the sun-warmed wood. Sadie leaned in beside him, shoulder to shoulder, so the fringe of her leather duster brushed against his knuckles. They watched the horizon together for a few long moments, the sun slowly rising higher in the sky. 

Sadie let out a long breath, shifting restlessly next to him. In the corner of his vision Charles caught brown eyes flicking consideringly over at him, measuring. “You busy?”

Charles let out an inaudible sigh of his own. “I don’t do that anymore, Sadie.”

Sadie laughed, a little bitter, a little sharp, like a sip of bark tea. “You too good for bounty hunting? Well, excuse me.”

Charles groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Isn’t like that. I just. I’m trying something new.”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Ain't no reason you can't help around Marston’s ranch and earn yourself a little money.” She gestured to the half-built house, the piles of timbers and sacks of plaster. “Hell, how you think John’s paying this place off? I know y’all ain’t making any sort of profit yet.” 

Charles massaged his temples, willing away the oncoming tension headache. Sadie wasn’t wrong. Charles loved John, knew he needed to look after him for Arthur—at least until John was settled in with his family. But there would be an after, one day. Charles had learned one thing in his thirty-three years: no one stayed. 

He’d be watching his own back again, probably not too long from now. And it's a lot easier to do that when you had money. 

Charles sighed, pulling his hands from his face. He hooked his thumbs through his belt. “What’s the job?”

Sadie grinned, bitter and mean. “Man murdered his family, looks like,” she said, pulling away from the fence. “He’s wanted in Strawberry. Not even that far of a ride from here.”

Charles walked over to the little campsite, pulling his rucksack from his tent. It was already packed. He hesitated. “Kids?”

“A little girl, around ten. And a boy, round three.”

Charles pulled his tomahawk from under his bedroll, tucking it into his belt. He grabbed some of the nastier arrows—the poison wouldn’t kill a full grown man, but it’d make him suffer. 

Some men deserve to suffer. 

Charles stalked over to Falmouth, mounting him in one swift motion. “Lead the way.”

Sadie swung up onto her monster. “Good man,” she said, kicking her boot against Charles’s own as she trotted by. “Let’s see how rusty you’ve got, Mr. Smith.”

As they rode, Sadie interrogated him. 

“Talked to John a little, ‘bout you,” she yelled over the thundering of hooves. The earth was hard-packed and dusty in the Texarcana heat. “Heard things weren't going too well down in Saint Denis.”

“They weren’t,” Charles called back. “I’d only been there about a year, anyway. Job was going sour.” 

“How so?”

Charles laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “Folks were only going to put up with me beating up white men for a living for so much longer.”

Sadie tossed a grin over her shoulder, knowing and vicious. She and Charles had different struggles in their lives. But there was a baseline understanding between them. Most of the gang had been dangerous for what they did. Of the ones who lived, Charles and Sadie were dangerous because of what they were. “Novelty was about to wear off, huh?”

Charles shook his head, whipping wayward hair from his face. “Yeah.”

Sadie turned back to the road, steering Hera around a sharp bend. “Before that?”

The road widened out. Charles urged Falmouth forward, riding till the two horses were running abreast. “Was up in Canada. Helped relocate the Wapiti after...” Charles paused. He had left with the Wapiti immediately after the attack on the oil refinery. Hadn’t even gone back to camp for the rest of his belongings, just taken what was on Taima’s back and. Left.

Charles had no idea if Sadie even knew why Charles had gone, what Arthur had told her.

“That kid,” Sadie asked, breaking Charles’s train of thought. “He died, didn’t he?” 

Charles swallowed, the dust from the road cloyingly sweet in his mouth. “Yes.”

Sadie steered Hera over a wooden bridge, hand on her rifle as she scanned each side for signs of an ambush. “I don’t think I understand what all happened with them,” she said. “There was so much going on, towards the end. Folks leaving, Arthur sick, that damn fool plan with the train—How did Dutch even get those folks wrapped up in our mess?”. 

“Same thing that happened to all of us,” Charles offered. “Dutch talked a good game, riled them up over things they were already angry about, got everyone in over their head, and was the only one who didn’t pay for it.” 

The rest of their ride continued in contemplative silence, broken only by the necessary shouts and calls needed to wrangle their bounty. The murderer was holed up in an abandoned cabin just a little north of town. Hardly worth hiring bounty hunters for, really. Except that the Strawberry sheriffs had always been corrupt, not to mention lazy. Some things don’t change. 

Still, working with Sadie again was worth it. It’d just been them those long months Arthur and the rest were lost in Guarma, presumed dead. Sure, the rest of the girls were still around and they pulled their weight. But none of them were as talented in violence—save Karen, maybe. 

 But she was too far gone over Sean to hold herself together, let alone anyone else.

It’s when they’d divvied up the bounty and stepped into the Strawberry saloon that Charles remembered why those months had been so damn stressful. Besides the Pinkertons, the hopeless fate of half their family, the deaths, John trapped in prison—

Sadie Adler’s temper had always been on a short fuze. 

And Charles, fool that he was, had always had a weakness for brave, impulsive idiots.  

A big, mean white man took exception to Charles drinking at the same bar as him. Sadie snapped off a sharp warning, stepping around Charles and squaring up to the man twice her size. Then the mean bastard took exception to Charles traveling with, being familiar with, a white woman. 

Sadie took exception to his exception, and her exception took the form of a knife straight through the man’s hand and into the scarred oak of the counter. 

They were riding hard out of town, ducking the odd shot from the posse riding too slow behind them, Sadie whooping wildly and shooting flawlessly over her back when Charles realized: he hadn’t had fun like that in six years.

They lost the posse in the hills by turning off on a razor thin trail, stashing the horses under an overhang and laying down in the tall grass. 

They lay there, panting, laughing, exhilarated. The stars were bright in the sky, glaring down through the clear West Elizabeth sky.

Eventually Sadie sobered, hoarse laughter falling silent. Charles could see her from the corner of his eye. She was still staring up at the stars, hair limned silver in the moonlight. She chewed on her words before breaking the peace. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

Charles took a breath, held it. “We had to leave before the Army arrived,” he said. He picked absently at the grass, crushing it dry and summer-sweet between his fingers. “The Wapiti. They were mostly women and children, the elderly. The sick.”

Sadie huffed, turning on her side, propping up on her elbow to glare down at him, hair frizzled into a messy halo behind her head, all lit up by moonglow. “Ya could of wrote,” she insisted. 

Charles kept his eyes fixed on the night sky, on the stars in their cold, beautiful distance. “To who?” he scoffed. “We all knew the gang was on its last legs. By the time we crossed the border into Canada I’d already seen the papers. Interesting, how they left you out of it.”

Sadie went quiet. She collapsed back beside him, thumping softly in the bent grass. “Is that how you found out?” 

A copy of The New Hanover had been pinned to the wooden wall of the trading shack where Charles was selling pelts for food and medicine. He’d left for Beaver Hollow the next day. “Yes.”

Sadie sucked air through her teeth. “I went back, few years later,” she muttered. Her boot knocked against his, a rough comfort. “You uh. You did a good job, Charles,” she said. Her fingers sought his in the tall grass, brushing against his lightly. Like she was scared to spook him, maybe. “We watched the sun come up together. He woulda liked it.” 

Charles drew his hand back, pressing it over his heart. The hollow, dull ache that lived in his heart sharpened, brightened. A fresh cut on an old scar. “He’d have liked it better if he’d lived.” 

Sadie made a noise, propping back up on her elbow to lean over him. “You know that ain’t his fault,” she frowned at him. “The man was sick, Charles.” 

Charles’s head hurt. His whole body did, in a cold, numb way. This wasn’t the burning, searing grief at the bottom of Lenny’s shallow grave. It was older, rooted deeper down. “Don’t,” he rasped. Grit from the road coated the back of his throat. “Just, don’t.” 

Sadie charged on, implacable. “You know he wasn’t gonna leave without John.”

The stars were so bright. Charles could feel the headache building, like a creature clawing out through his temples. “They could have left together,” he snapped at her. “We all could have left together, before the bank. All of that mess in Lemoyne—none of it had to happen. Arthur didn’t stay for John—he stayed for Dutch.” 

Sadie scrubbed her free over her face. “The man raised him,” she tried. The excuse was hollow, empty. Even she didn’t buy it.

Charles turned on his side, faced Sadie properly through the tall grass and moonlight. “Don’t give me that, Sadie. Not you.” 

“Fine, Charles! He was a fool!” She threw her hand up in the air, exasperated. “He was scared, he was foolish, and he loved Dutch because he was an idiot.” Sadie fixed him with a glare. “There, did that make you happy, big man? Speaking ill of the dead?” 

It didn’t. “I shouldn’t be speaking of him at all,” Charles said instead. “That’s not how—we’re supposed to let go. It’s been years.”

“You loved him,” she insisted.

“Look at how much that mattered,” Charles said, anger furrowing his brow, burning low in his stomach. Had he ever let himself be angry, with Arthur, with the choices they made? “What did loving him buy me, besides a heart that broke twice?”

Sadie’s eyes softened, understanding dawning warm and terrible. “I know that’s not how you really feel,” she said. Sadie reached out, again, with careful fingers. When Charles didn’t stop her she tucked the hair plastered to Charles sweaty forehead back, away from his eyes.

It was the first gentleness anyone had touched him with since he left the Wapiti for Saint Denis. Charles’s breath caught in his throat, trapped, terrified. Vulnerable. 

It would have hurt less if she’d socked him in the stomach.

“You don’t ride back from Canada, on your own, to bury a man who you hated,” Sadie continued. Her calloused hand settled on his jaw, thumb behind his ear. She held him steady, made him look her in the eye. “You don’t spend a year of your life helping his kid brother get his family back.”

“Arthur didn’t need me, at the end,” Charles managed. “Rain Falls needed me—and then they didn’t. No one did.”

“Why Saint Denis, Charles? You hated it there,” Sadie asked, resigned. She already knew the answer. She was being cruel, making him face it out loud.

Charles swallowed. No one had ever accused Sadie Adler of being kind. 

“I was waiting to die.” 

Sadie nodded. Yes, of course. “And all this with John? What next, once he doesn’t need you?”

Charles glared at her, mouth tight and stubborn. 

Sadie laughed in his face. “You and Arthur,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You were made for one another, weren’t ya? No understanding how to live in this world for yourselves.” 

“You’re one to talk,” Charles shot back. 

“I’m happy with my life,” Sadie said firmly. “I had love, but I never wanted a family. I just wanted Jake. He’s gone. So I’m doing what makes me happy.” She paused, staring down at him, considering. “What makes you happy, Charles? You’re the most competent, most stubborn man I know. What do you really want? You know no one could stop you from getting it.”

Charles shook his head. “I have no idea,” he admitted. He climbed to his feet, offering Sadie a hand. She accepted, pulling herself to her feet. She kept hold of his hand, squeezing tight.  

“Don’t stop looking,” she commanded. “What you were doin’ in Saint Denis, waiting to die? You’re better than that, Charles Smith.”

Charles shook his head, pulling Sadie into a one armed hug. Grief, Arthur, his life—they hadn’t solved any of it, laying out in a field and snapping at one another under the stars. 

But the wound hurt a little less, like a lanced infection. 

“I hope so, Mrs. Adler,” Charles said into the mess of Sadie’s hair. She chuckled into his chest, punched him half-heartedly in the arm. They separated, fetching and mounting their horses. 

They separated at the fork in the trail. Sadie headed east, back to her base camp just outside Valentine. She had work to do, bounties to catch. The world may have been more ‘civilized’ in 1907 than it was in 1899, but work was still plentiful for a rider and marksman of Sadie Adler’s skill. 

Charles rode west towards Beecher’s Hope, sun rising over his shoulder.

                                             --------------------------------

A/N: Charles and Sadie are my favorites, and they should have spent more time with one another. They're not exactly similar people, but they've been through many of the same trials. 

I also think they were both done a disservice by the epilogue. Charles's feelings regarding the gang's collapse are largely unexplored, despite him canonically being the one to have buried Lenny, Hosea, Mrs. Grimshaw, and Arthur. 

We also don't get a good explanation for why Charles ended up in Saint Denis as part of a fighting ring. Certain lines from Charles--"It seems like I was put on this Earth to hurt and to suffer myself"--have always led me to believe that he suffers from suicidal ideations. Him ending up in Saint Denis, surrounded by people who wish him harm, reads to me like a sort of 'death by cop' form of suicide.

On the subject of Charles's heritage: Rockstar is a trash fire, so beyond being half-Black and half-Native we have very few clues about Charles's culture and his history. I settled on a particular band (the Kotsoteka, or 'buffalo eaters') of the Comanche who would have had a decent amount of contact with Black Freemen post-Civil war. They live in Oklahoma and Texas, buffalo are a central part of their traditional lifestyle, and one of their mourning traditions involves shaving their heads in a manner similar to Charles's hairstyle change post-Guarma arc.

 I'm white and if anyone has constructive comments about my inclusion of Kotsoteka funerary traditions I'm happy to hear and act on them.

The Oquenda was the name of a Cuban trading ship from the 1870's. It was primarily used to transport indentured Chinese workers to the Cuban sugar plantations.

[romanceimp]

heyy can you do a shikamaru x reader where they smoke weed and they like shotgun and stuff and then they just end up fucking lol

Dude, I’ve been thinking about writing this fic for a hot sec so I’m really glad you requested it <3 I will always write for this man, hope u likeee it haha!

WARNINGS: drinking, smoking weed, ownership kink, dom Shika

It was Choji’s birthday party and you sipped on your drink nervously, talking with a few of your other friends and colleagues, trying to keep you eyes away from where Shikamaru was standing. He was talking and joking with Ino and Choji. Why had you made things so complicated?

It was a few weeks prior and Shika had been assigned to a mission with you. It had just been the two of you and you’d spent a lot of time talking together. It had started with simple things, about the mission mostly, but then it grew into asking about favourite foods, childhood memories, and questioning things about the world as you knew it. You’d developed inside jokes and started to really enjoy each others company. So much so, that you two had slept together on the way back from the mission. 

It had happened so naturally, you’d just been conversing before going to bed as usual except you somehow ended up underneath him, as he pounded into you instead of sleeping. “That was...” he’d started to say, stroking up and down your back. “I know,” you’d responded. You didn't want him to talk about it. It was good, so good, but you knew he had feelings for someone else, that girl from the Sand Village. You didn’t want to become just his fuck buddy and you certainly didn't want to catch feelings for someone who was not emotionally available to you. So you’d got dressed and chalked it up to being a one time thing. Until he’d called you the night you returned to the village, and yet again a few days after that. 

The one time thing, was become something of a habit and while you loved it, you’d hated it equally. So tonight was the night you were going to show him how much of a bro you were. Drinking beers, you’d even worn your baggiest jeans and a T-shirt from a Ramen shop from the Hidden Mist that you’d had to buy when a rogue fireball jutsu destroyed your clothes (long story). 

   You wanted to break the ice, get him back to seeing you as “one of the guys”, so naturally... shotgunning challenge. “Ayo, homie, wanna shotgun?” you punched his shoulder lightly for good measure. He accepted, eyebrow raised in confusion but sauntered after you to the back garden. He watched, a smirk on his face while you shook the can, poked the hole, then downed the beer rather quickly. “Now you,” you tossed him the pocket knife so he could poke his can. He repeated your movements exactly until he came to the drinking of the beer. He spit, and choked on the carbonation. He wiped the remnants of the alcohol that dripped from his chin and then looked at you a little embarrassed. He was so cute and the buzz of the alcohol through your blood was just making him cuter. You bit your lip remembering how his hands felt gripping your hips as he whispered for you to cum around his length. “You’re a baby,” you teased trying to push the image from your head. He was amused with your attitude but still tried to defend himself. “Listen, I’m not a big drinker,” he produced a small tin from his pocket, “but I know how to smoke.” 

You watched as he pulled a joint from tin and lit it with his lighter. He inhaled deeply, and you watched as his body relaxed.  When he exhaled, the curls of smoke framed his face and he looked at you with darkened eyes. “Here,” he offered you the joint. You stared at the red hot end and then the tip, the paper slightly wet from his lips. “I guess I’m a baby too then,” you started, “Yeah, you are,” he agreed as his fingertips met your waist. His fingers trailed down to your hips and his grip tightened. Your eyes grew wide and you turned away, “I meant, I was a baby because... I don’t know how to smoke.” He chuckled and placed the joint between his teeth again. “Oh,” he said as he exhaled, “well... do you wanna learn?” You turned back to him, seeing his familiar lustful expression. The alcohol was crippling your already weak resolve. “Yes, teach me.” 

He smiled devilishly and inhaled the joint once again. You were waiting for him to give some sort of instruction but instead, he traced his thumb on your bottom lip which caused you to relax your mouth. With that, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed your open mouth. You felt him exhale the smoke into your mouth and you groaned in pleasure. You sucked the smoke that he gave you and then quickly pushed him away as you choked on the hot, dry air. “Now who's the baby?” he rasped as he watched your crouched form trying to stop coughing. You stood up, far too quickly and stumbled slightly. He caught you arm and pulled you into him. The high was settling in as you noticed his face looked brighter and his eyes more intense. “You’re my baby,” he said as he smirked down at you. You swiped the joint away from him and inhaled deeply. You started to choke again but you held it down. “Don’t say thing like that,” you mumbled. He came behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. “What? You don’t wanna be my baby?” He took the joint back and inhaled. He spun you around and kissed you again, blowing the smoke into your lungs. You sucked the smoke willingly, trying to ponder what he was getting at. “You wanna be my kitty cat?” You scrunched your face in confusion. He puffed the joint once more and thoughtfully blew out the smoke, “ah, I know, you wanna be my good girl.” You froze. He only called you that when he was balls deep inside you. Your resolve was officially broken as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, your tongues tangling together. “Yes, God, yes, please I wanna be your good girl Shikamaru.” He laughed and pulled you back in the house, winding his way to the guest bedroom. 

“This is the-mmm- last time this happens...” you tried to get out between kisses. He laid you on the bed, “yeah, okay,” he retorted and went back to kissing you. You grabbed his head held his gaze to yours, “I mean it this time.” He sighed and wiggled his head from your grip, moving his kisses to your neck. He kissed up your neck, “but why?” he bit down on your earlobe, “when it feels so fucking good?” He was right, it felt amazing, and the combination of drunk and high had your nerves tingling with every brush of his lips on your skin. His hands trailed down to your thighs and slipped under your dress. His fingers were slipping below the waist band of your panties, your breath hitched in anticipation but he stopped. “If you want this to be the last time then we should stop now.” He sat up, his legs hanging over the bed. “We’re both kinda fucked up and I want you so bad but, if you wanna stop then we should stop now.”  You sat up and crawled into his lap. “I don’t wanna stop... it’s just that, I-I” you high was gonna make you say it. “I like you, as more than my friend and so it’s just hard to do this with you if you don’t-” He stopped you by pulling you on top of him, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “You’re my good girl right?” he asked. You nodded, unsure where he was going with this. “You’re my good girl. All- Fucking- Mine.” 

You moaned at his words which just encouraged him further. He unbuckled his belt while he spoke, “see, the real question right now, before we do anything is do you want to belong to me, because the second I slide my cock inside that tight little pussy, you’re mine, and I am yours, and theres no going back.” He pulled the leather out from his belt loops and tossed it to the floor. You were sure your panties were soaked, the relief you had felt at knowing that he wanted you too had melted down into pure desire. “Make me yours, Shika, please,” you begged reaching for his shoulders. You pulled him closer but he broke free of your grasp. He moved lower before slipping your panties to the side. He plunged his middle finger into your core, “fuck you’re so wet... so what was it hmm?” he growled, “is it cuz’ you’re high? Cuz you like how it feels when I touch you like this?” he was stoking against that one special spot. “Or is it because I fucking own you now?” You groaned in response. “Mmm,  yeah I knew that was it, you wanna be fucking owned don't you?” You mewled in response to the emptiness of him removing his finger. He rubbed small teasing circles around your clit. “I wanna hear you say it,” he growled.  He unbuttoned his pants with his other hand and stroked up and down on his shaft. You could see his dripping cockhead in the low lighting of the room, a small whine of need leaving your lips. “I-I you own me, Shikamaru, I’m yours, all fucking yours.” “Good girl,” he praised as he plunged into your core. 

His cock was thick and it bordered painful as he didn’t give you anytime to adjust to his size, but as he started to thrust your body turned to fire, your high feeding the flames. The white hot orgasm washed over you suddenly and Shikamaru had to hold your leg against his shoulder to steady your shaking form. “Such a good girl, cumming for me so soon, but I know you got more for me,” he growled down at you. His holding of your leg, deepened his thrusts, and each time his cock hit your cervix you were propelled towards your second orgasm. Your mouth hung open in pleasure and drool started to pool on the mattress below. “Gonna milk my cock for me sloppy girl?” You couldn’t respond with full formed words, but instead a series of whines and moans. He moved his thumb down to rub at your clit. “Cum again, right fucking now, I own you now and you’ll cum when I say.”  You came hard around him, crying out, your cunt squeezing around him. “That’s it, that’s a good fucking girl, I’m gonna fill you to the brim as a reward, ” he growled.  His thrusts slowed as he shot hot ropes of cum deep inside you. “You’re all mine,” he cooed as he laid on top of you, kissing your neck softly. “All yours,” you replied sweetly, then cupped his chin with your hand, “and you are mine.” Now, all that’s left to do was leave this party... you were both hoping that everyone else was more fuck up than you both were and hadn’t noticed the sounds of passion coming from the guest room. But the knocking at the door made you both think that was unrealistic. At least you were in it together. 

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag Royalty Au

A few months passed by comfortably and Kagome felt settled into her new role. She felt so much happier than she’d been in a long time, enough to rarely think about what brought her there in first place. Being a Lady in Waiting came with responsibilities, but Rin never felt like work. If anything, Kagome treated her like her own daughter or thought of her as the little sister she never had. Maybe even a bit too comfortable... If she wasn’t with Rin, she was with Inuyasha. They talked a lot and a crush had developed. She could tell he liked her too, but they both knew it wouldn’t work because he believed she was just a servant, and he was already spoken for. So, Kagome did her best to push away those sadder feelings and focus on the positives. She was in a safe environment, happy, and living freer than ever. It wasn’t worth stressing over.

“Where’s Rin?” Inuyasha asked Kagome when he found her sitting in the garden alone at mid-morning.

“Oh, hello Inuyasha.” Kagome looked up from her book. “This morning Rin decided to go with her mother to the neighboring city for shopping. They told me I didn’t need to accompany them, kind of like a mother, daughter fun day, I assume.”

“So that means you’re free right now?”

“I guess you could say that,” she chuckled. “They’ll probably be back around dinner time.”

“In that case, would you like to join me for a horseback ride? You haven’t had a lot of chances to see the surrounding areas, right?”

“No, I haven’t. But I guess Buyo wouldn’t mind getting out of the stable either. He hasn’t been worked much lately since I’d arrived.”

“Then it’s settled.” Inuyasha held out a hand to help her to her feet. “We can grab some lunch from the market before heading out.”

Within the hour, the pair were on horseback trotting along the road that led away from the castle city. There were a few areas close by that Inuyasha thought Kagome would enjoy seeing. For him it was days like this when he could forget that he was a Prince and just enjoy life. The woman had truly brought out a new side of him and it wasn’t going unnoticed, but so far, the palaces gossip mill didn’t dare to make it publicly known. It had steadily grown harder and harder to remember life before Kagome’s arrival and Inuyasha didn’t want to think about the day he’d have to leave her behind for some Princess he didn’t even know. Ugh! Before Kagome, he’d accepted his fate subserviently to his fathers will, but now, the frustration grew like a weed in his heart. He’d rather die alone at home, in the castle with Kagome around then be married in an unfamiliar kingdom on a loveless throne.

“Where’s Miroku?” Kagome asked after some time. “Isn’t he supposed to be with you when you leave the castle?”

“Yeah…” Inuyasha smirked with a glint in his eye. “But I ditched him. He’s probably still looking for me,” he laughed. “Wouldn’t want a third wheel when I’m with you.”

The comment brought a blush to Kagome’s cheeks as the man’s tone hinted more than an innocent rambling. “Oh…” she ducked her head in embarrassment. “It is nicer without anyone else around. So, um, where are we going?”

“There’s a pond,” Inuyasha pointed in a general direction. “It’s not much farther, with a small waterfall where we can relax and eat our lunch.”

“That does sound really nice! I’ve never seen a waterfall before,” she sheepishly admitted.

“Wow… you really haven’t seen much, have you?”

“Let’s just say I was… sheltered for most of my life.”

“Because you’re a girl?”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t let me go anywhere by myself.”

“I see. So, after they passed away you decided to do the opposite?”

“I know it’s odd for a woman to travel alone, but I didn’t have anyone to turn to and I just… needed to get away.”

Inuyasha leaned back a little in his saddle using his legs to steady himself. “I can completely understand that. Everyone wondered why I used to be so irritable before Rin came along. She gave me a reason to stick around, but I really don’t enjoy being a prince.”

“You don’t?” Kagome spoke slowly to hide the tremble in her tone. It was nice to hear someone else unhappy with that kind of life.

He shook his head. “So many rules and traditions to follow. Everyone thinks our life is easy but the pressures… and being told what to do, being watched constantly— I hate it and then the whole arrangement—… never mind.” His ears folded back as he glanced skyward. “What I wouldn’t give to be free from all of it.” He turned to look at her. “Like you— oi, did I say something wrong?” Inuyasha questioned when he saw the moisture filling Kagome eyes.

“No, no,” she shook her head and smiled. “I get it. Freedom to choose how we’ll live our lives is just, such a wonderful thing.”

Ever have a sense of connection while time stood still? Just for moment as the pair trotted side by side, their eyes holding a gaze like the world could fall away at any moment, but it wouldn’t be noticed. Inuyasha didn’t know how, and despite coming from such different worlds this woman… he knew she spoke the truth. She was feeling the same longing emotions as he was, the same which had driven her to leave home. What a strength to possess in standing up to traditions! Inuyasha let out a held breath. Kagome truly was one of those once in a lifetime meeting, he’ll never find again. If only…

Inuyasha snapped out of the daydream when he realized they’d reached their destination. “F-follow me, it’s right through this tree line.”

He led them through a thicket of trees with the sounds of moving water guiding him towards the source. This hidden gem was easy to miss from the road, but it made for a perfect hideaway. Inuyasha would sometimes slip away from the castle and go there whenever he was upset. Not even Miroku knew about it and the prince wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. They tethered the horses near the water on a patch of grass, before finding a flat rock outcropping to sit down. Inuyasha then laid out a blanket he’d brought, and Kagome unpacked a travel basket of food.

“This really is a beautiful place,” Kagome commented. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad you like it.”

Kagome stretched out her legs and held herself up with her arms behind her relaxing and listening to the sounds around her. The pond was maybe four or five horse lengths from one side to the other, with a short waterfall that fed the pond, but it had no visible outlet. Perhaps it was connected to an underground stream that came out elsewhere. Not that she cared about such details. What mattered was the serenity of the area, so calming, soothing, the gentle rumbles of the waterfall, the birds in the trees, even the frogs croaking, or water bugs buzzing around in a strangely harmonious cacophony. As they ate their lunch amidst this entertainment, she couldn’t help but think about coming back here again.

“I bet Rin would love this place,” Kagome sighed in contentment.

“She probably would, if I was willing to share it with anyone else.”

She turned her head and was about to respond when she realized what Inuyasha was insinuating. “Oh… so no one else knows about this place?”

Inuyasha shook his head no. “Just me and you. Only special people allowed,” he smiled.

As she adjusted her body to sit up, Kagome’s voice quieted with hopeful undertones. “You think… I’m special?”

“Kagome, look at the effect you’ve had on my entire family. Rin loves you. My parents think you’re great, even Kagura likes you and that says a lot. It’s pretty clear that you’re a very special person.”

“Ah, I see,” Kagome breathed out a sigh mixed with relief as well as disappointment. “Everyone has been very nice to me, and I’m blessed to have been so accepted.”

Inuyasha didn’t respond immediately and when Kagome glanced up to look at him, she noticed he was staring at the water with a serious, almost pained expression. His brows were slightly furrowed, and jaw tightened. Should she say something? Maybe he was thinking and wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Minutes ticked by, but the prince kept his eyes trained on the water. So, Kagome pulled her knees up and rested her arms on them to wait, letting the scenery pull her back into a daydream.

It frustrated Inuyasha that he kept having to reign in his emotions like this. He wanted to just tell her the truth, not cover it up with truthful lies. His family did love her, just not in the way he was beginning to. She was special to him, but it would be wrong to lead her on when there was no hope of developing anything more. He’d do anything to make her happy and feel special every single day for the rest of her life. Finally, after several awkward minutes, he spoke up. “Someone like you deserves the world Kagome, and if I could give it to you, I would.”

The comment made Kagome’s heart melt, for she knew those words were coming from his own. Now she understood the turmoil lying just below the surface but appreciated Inuyasha trying to keep things platonic for both their sakes. She smiled softly as she fidgeted with her fingers. “I know you would, Inuyasha, and I’d do the same for you if I could. These past few months have made me happier than any other time in my life, but even if this is all I get, I’ll still cherish the memories.”

Inuyasha let out a drawn-out exhale, his head hung, and ears drooped. “And I still wish things could be different. Fate sucks sometimes.”

Kagome surprised him by reaching over and placing her hand over his. “Let’s focus on the good stuff while we can.” She genuinely smiled although behind it there was a hint of sadness to it. “At least we got to meet each other, and we get to enjoy moments like this one. That’s something no one can ever take away from us.”

He flipped his hand over and took hold of hers, giving it a small squeeze. “I don’t know how you do it,” Inuyasha chuckled quietly. “But I know you’re right. For you, I’ll hold out hope that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.” And he meant it. Anything to keep a smile on Kagome’s face.

Once Inuyasha noticed the sun had moved halfway towards the horizon, they decided it was time to head back to the palace. The pair trotted out of the tree line but pushed the horses into a light gallop after making it back to the main road. It was fun, albeit disruptive to Kagome’s hair as it came undone and flowed behind her. Inuyasha had to hold back his admiration because she simply looked breathtaking like that. They slowed down as they neared the castle gate and he instantly saw a very annoyed Miroku standing next to his horse waiting for them.

“Where the hell have you been!” Miroku flailed his hands at the prince. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?!”

Refusing to acknowledge the man’s tirade, Inuyasha just rolled his eyes. “What’s the big deal. Did my dad come looking for me or something?”

“No—”

Inuyasha cut him off. “Then where’s the fire? What’s got you so damn riled up?”

“Because it was only a matter of time. And what are you doing with Ms. Tanaka?” Miroku questioned with an accusatory tone.

“Look, she hasn’t seen much more than the castle, so I took her out riding. Nothing wrong with that, so don’t be projecting your sick perverted mind on me,” Inuyasha growled back. “Now are you done grilling me cause we’d like to be on our way.”

“One more thing.” Miroku moved closer so he could keep his voice low. “A visiting King from a small kingdom will be here by dinner time, so your father may call on you to greet the guest.”

“What king?”

“Naraku, from the Komorigumo kingdom.”

“The creepy one?”

“Yeah, that one. He’s supposedly just passing through for the night on his way to the coastal port city and stopped out of respect.”

“I never did trust that guy.”

“Neither does your father, so that’s why he’ll probably ask you to greet him and keep an eye on him.”

“Alright… thanks,” Inuyasha mumbled. “Now if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Miroku then winked at Kagome. “Ma’am.”

“Mr. Hoshii,” she nodded her head.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Inuyasha grumped and drove his horse forward. “We should get inside.”

“Okay,” Kagome responded and followed along.

After putting away their horses, the pair parted ways. Kagome went straight to her room to freshen up before Rin arrived home and Inuyasha went looking for his father. He wanted to find out if there was more to this visit than Miroku had known about, because King Naraku had a sullen and untrustworthy reputation. It was customary for visiting guests to stay in the palace, but Inuyasha wondered if they should increase the guards or put them on alert for mischief. He found the Inutaisho in his war room, but after several questions, Naraku’s visit appeared to be for a benign reason, just like Miroku stated. But he still didn’t trust the man.

“Fine,” Inutaisho acquiesced. “I’m not increasing the guards but have them instructed to watch for anything suspicious or unusual and to notify you immediately if they come across something.”

“Thanks, I’ll make sure it’s done. Oh, will Naraku be at dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure he’s on the opposite side of the table from Ms. Tanaka. Wouldn’t want him making her uncomfortable.”

“Inuyasha, I still think you’re being paranoid.”

“Better paranoid and be wrong, then miss something and bad things happen.”

Inutaisho laughed. “I guess I can’t fault that logic too much. See you at dinner son.”

With Miroku’s help, the palace guards and staff were put on notice under the guise of simply being on the alert with such a high-profile guest at the palace. When King Naraku arrived shortly before dinner, Inuyasha merely watched from the dining room doorway as his father and brother greeted the fellow king. His concern was intercepting Rin and Kagome as they arrived for dinner to make sure they avoided contact.

“Uncle Inu!” Rin bounced up and hugged him.

He picked her up, holding her with one arm. “Did you have fun shopping?”

“Yeah! I got some pretty new dresses!”

“That’s awesome,” Inuyasha smiled. “And good evening Ms. Tanaka.”

“Good evening, your highness.”

“Due to a guest, the normal seating has been slightly rearranged,” he gestured for her to follow him. “I’ll show you both to your seats.”

“That’s kind of you,” Kagome smiled and did as she was told.

As the trio walked through the dining room. Inuyasha kept his side gaze trained on Naraku to see how he would react to an unfamiliar face. The man was already seated next to his father and brother chatting, but clearly aware of their entrance. For just a brief second Inuyasha swore Naraku was staring hard at Kagome but caught himself quickly once he saw Inuyasha looking in his direction and pretended not to notice Kagome at all. ‘Weird,’ Inuyasha thought to himself. With human curiosity it’s normal to react to a new face, but not to ignore, especially a pretty one like Naraku had just done. He knew he couldn’t say anything out loud about it, so he just stayed observant.

The rest of dinner went without incident until the Inutaisho invited Naraku to join he and Sesshomaru in another room for more official business. Inuyasha watched carefully as the three men left the room, but just outside of the door and his hearing, he saw Naraku stop his personal guard and whisper something in the man’s ear. The guard then glanced back at the dining table where the rest of them were still seated, and yet again he could have sworn the men were looking at Kagome!

Inuyasha leaned over and whispered to Kagome. “Once you put Rin to bed, stay in your room and keep the door locked.”

“Is something wrong?” She whispered back. “Is it because of who you and Miroku was talking about earlier?”

“Yeah. I’m probably just being paranoid, but he just gives me really bad vibes.”

“O-Okay. Sure, I’ll just stay in my room reading.”

“Good.”

The following morning, Inuyasha woke up early to watch Naraku and his entourage leave. According to Miroku, no incidents were noticed, so he could breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps he had been a little paranoid… that is until his father mentioned something. Naraku had asked the Inutaisho about Kagome before leaving. Inuyasha’s father assured his son that it was just an innocent question since Rin had a different attendant the last time the foreign king had visited. Innocent or not, why would Naraku care about a servant? Inuyasha chalked it up to the fact Kagome was a beautiful woman, so it must have just gained that kings attention. But since nothing more came from it, he filed it away in the back of his mind for future reference.

[vangoghmusings]

writing session- art trade

rating: 18+ [use of drugs and sexual intercourse]

word count: 2k 

for: @melanimed​ <3

a/n: this is for an art trade sweet tay and i decided to do today!! this is a musician au and some very filthy smutty smut under the cut :)) enjoy~

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”  

“Tay, you haven’t shut up about this collaboration since the day he agreed.”  

Tay huffed, brown lashes fluttering down as she looked at her lap. Her knee bobbed in anticipation as she sat in the Uber beside her manager.  

“I know but, I’m still nervous.”  

“Just think of it as another step towards becoming the ultimate A-Lister, okay?” Her manager chirped, not once looking up from their phone, typing quickly. Tay sighed and nodded.  

As a singer who was set to perform at Madison Square Garden the next year, Tay, who went by the stage name Pisces, had made quite a name for herself in the R&B scene. So much, that Dabi, the modern-day prince of bedroom pop with R&B influence asked for her to collaborate on a song. While it seems like a simple career orientated step, Tay couldn’t believe her idol and celebrity crush knew she existed. As for Dabi, she was clueless to the fact that he was her biggest fan too. A guilty pleasure, so to speak.  

As the Uber came to a halt, Tay let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  

“Relax, you won’t get any good writing done with all that damn anxiety.”  

Tay rolled her eyes, gave her manager a thank you and hopped out of the Uber, which zoomed away quickly. The sun was setting, as Dabi specifically told her the best time to write music was at nightfall.  She walked to the large building, checking the street to make sure no paparazzi were following her, and stepped inside. A worker quickly greeted her, offered her water or tea (which she declined politely), and thus led her to the studio. Tay thanked the worker as she entered the studio room. It was dimly lit, the smell of incense filling her nostrils as she stepped inside.  

Sitting at an oval shaped table sat Dabi, a joint hanging from his lips as he scrolled lazily on his phone. He turned slowly, a smile creeping on his face as he saw her.  

“Pisces,” he said, almost like a purr, nearly sending a shiver down Tay’s spine.  

“O-oh, that’s just my stage name. You can call me Tay if you’d like.”  

He nodded, standing up and setting his joint down on the ash tray set in the middle of the table.  

“Guess that you shouldn’t have to call me Dabi then. The real name is Touya.”  

He extended a lazy hand out to her, his height looming over her stature.  

She gave a shy smile, shaking his hand, his palms practically engulfing her own. 

“Shall we get started then?”  

The night was spent with sheet music scattering the table, joints being passed between the two, and light laughter and cheers whenever a lyric was completed. As time passed and smoke filled the room, twirling between weed and incense, the two artists sat closer and closer together. The only thing in between them was Dabi’s guitar which sat on his lap.  

Dabi pinched the joint between his fingers and inhaled before blowing the smoke out his nostrils and turning to Tay with a proud smile. His eyes crinkled slightly, covering up the redness that came over them.  

“I think we’ve got a pretty good base for this song. We can edit it again next time we meet but for now I think it’s all set.”  

Tay grinned and raised her arms up happily, elated to have finished successfully. Dabi set his guitar down and stood up to stretch. He elevated his arms in the air, stretching up to the ceiling, his shirt lifting slightly to give a view of his toned abs. His eyes shut gently as he let out a soft groan while reaching up.  Tay blinked, watching his stance as he lowered his arms, his abs disappearing under his shirt. 

Dabi looked down at her, a small pout forming on her face. Dabi chuckled and leaned down over her, swiftly cupping her face in one hand. Before her pout could diminish into shock, he dragged his thumb over her bottom lip, a smirk covering his face. Tay froze, her heart starting to feel like it was going to beat out of her chest as Dabi continued to run his thumb over her lip, before giving it a gentile tug. Tay let out a small whimper, the unexpected pull causing her to pinch her legs together. Dabi let out a small chuckle before letting go of her lip and standing back up.  

“Such a filthy liar.”  

Tay blinked at his remark, taken aback from his words.  

“E-excuse me?”  

Dabi ran a hand through his hair before continuing, a sadistic smirk growing on his face.  

“You always act so innocent. For the cameras and media. You’ve been trained well.”  

Dabi stood before her, his gaze hovering over her figure, taking in and analyzing every curve. Tay crossed her arms over her chest.  

“I am not innocent.”  

“Oh yeah?”  

Dabi dropped to his knees in front of her, resting his head on her thighs before hissing out, “Let me break you.”  

“What?”  

If Tay didn’t think her heart was going to break through her rib cage, she was sure it would now.  

“Let me break that innocent façade of yours, babygirl,” Dabi said, his eyes full of lust as his words came out like velvet.  

Tay couldn’t believe what was happening. She had to be dreaming, or at least way too high for her own good. But with Dabi resting his head on her thighs, massaging them with his large hands as he batted his lashes, how could anyone say no? Unable to muster any words, she simply nodded and gulped. Dabi lifted his head from her lap and grinned, licking his lips hungrily and craning open her legs, pushing her skirt back.  

“Good girl,” He growled lowly before burying his face between Tay’s thighs, causing her to gasp.  

Dabi ran his tongue against the thing fabric of her panties, his piercing gliding over it smoothly. He pulled away after a few gentle licks, then tugged the fabric and letting it slap against Tay’s increasingly wet cunt, causing her to yelp.  

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” Dabi said with a smirk as he removed her panties. Once the panties dropped to the floor, he paused and sucked his teeth in concentration. “Yeah, no,” he said before picking her up with ease and setting her on the table. Tay let out a small squeak of embarrassment after he plopped her on the cool wood, gripping her thighs firmly in his hands before spreading them apart. Dabi watched in sadistic glee as Tay’s pussy pulsed at nothing, desperate for attention.  

“You’ve got such a pretty little cunt there babygirl...I’m going to fucking wreck it.”  

Tay’s eyes widened as Dabi stared at the heat between her legs hungrily, but too scared to dive in, as if the girl he’d secretly been pining over for more than a year would dissipate into thin are if he did. Tay let out needy huff, bringing Dabi back down to earth.  

“If you’re going to wreck me, then just fuck me already Touya.”  

Dabi grinned once more before stepping closer to her, standing between her spread legs that hung over the table.  

“Such a desperate little brat hm?”  

He gripped a fistful of her curls, yanking her head back and exposing her neck, causing Tay to gasp softly. Dabi smirked before running his tongue up the side of her neck, the cold of his tongue ring causing her to hiss from the unknown sensation. Swiftly, he leeched his mouth onto her neck and sucked hard, nipping and biting at the sensitive crook of her neck every so often. Tay whimpered and gripped the edge of the table in pleasure, Dabi’s sharp teeth eliciting soft moans. He ran his tongue and gently kisses the new bruises before pulling away, towering over Tay as he licked his lips. With a firm grip, he cupped her face in one hand, placing a feather-like kiss on her lips, contrasting from his harsh hold on her. He gently dropped his hands before pushing her back onto the table. Tay propped herself on her elbows, watching Dabi’s every move with lustful eyes.  

Dabi pulled his hard lengths out of his black jeans, pumping it a few times in his hand before leaning down and spitting harshly on Tay’s cunt. She gasped and writhed at the sensation, knuckles white from gripping onto the table. Dabi chuckled darkly as pushed Tay’s legs open once again, exposing her wholly to him.  

“So pretty,” He mumbled to himself. He quickly pushed his hair out of his face before gripping unto his erect length and pressing it against Tay’s wet clit. Slowly, Dabi teasingly ran circles over her needy bud with his tip, moaning softly at the feeling. If he had to be honest, he could do this for hours, watching her squirm at the feeling of his cock rubbing her wet clit.  

“Touya,” Tay whimpered, looking up at him with desperation.  

“Beg for it slut. Beg for my cock to stuff you full and prove to me you're not an innocent little girl. Beg-”  

“Touya please! Please I need your cock so bad, I know you’d fill me up so good, please, I need you so badly!” Tay cried out, exhausted and taut from squirming under the pressure of his dick on her clit.  

Dabi nodded and without hesitation, plunged his hard cock into her tight cunt. They groaned together at the feeling, as Dabi slowly pushed more and more of his length into her tightness. He paused in concern and looked down at his cock only halfway inside.  

“Are you sure you want me to-”  

“Yes, please just stuff me Touya!” Tay pleaded, reaching out to grip his shoulders.  

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Dabi smirked as he snapped his hips, stuffing her full of his thick cock. The room soon filled with moans as a rhythm was found, Dabi harshly fucking deeply into Tay’s tight cunt. A series of praise falling from his lips...

“Oh, fuck you feel so good around me babygirl.  

Such a good dirty little whore for me, hm? You just loved being stuffed full of my fat cock.  

I’m going to fill you with my cum babygirl, paint your insides completely white.”  

That last phrase was more of a promise than a statement as Tay came to realize. With her cunt clenching tightly around Dabi’s swollen dick, they were both close.  

“Please Touya please cum in me!” Tay begged, her legs shaking at the impending high that was about to crash over her. Dabi grunted, snapping his hips into her roughly, trying not to get sloppy despite how close he was. He began to pant hard as Tay’s nails dug into his back, eliciting a blissful groan to vibrate from his chest. With one final hard thrust, he shot hot ropes of thick cum into her quivering pussy. Tay cried out blissfully as she came hard, shaking under neath Dabi as he continued to slowly thrust into her as they rode out their climax’s together.  

Dabi let out a light sigh as he pulled out, watching as Tay’s pussy pulsed with cum dribbling out.  

“Well that just won't do,” He hummed as he took thumb and pushed the juiced back inside of her. “Here,” he said while pressing a soft kiss on her forehead and picking up her panties, handing them to her. “You keep that cum inside of you so when we get to my place, I can fuck it further into you, got it babygirl?”  

Tay’s eyes widened as she nodded quickly, eager to have Dabi stuffing her full once more. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her jawline, mumbling a “good girl” against her skin.  

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

The Sparrow

Green light filtered through the window. It made the room feel like it was under water, or on some foreign planet. Andrew dropped his arm over his eyes trying to block it out, trying to will himself back to sleep for another hour. Or three. Nobody was counting.

A sharp pip sounded from somewhere outside. A minute passed, and it sounded again. And again. Andrew dropped his arm and glared out into the greenish dawn. A little bird hung from one of the branches of the giant vine that clung to the side of the house. It stared at him, cocking its head to the side, bright eyes considering. Pip!

“You’re an asshole.”

The bird gave a self-satisfied pip and flew off. Bastard. Just what he needed, an alarm clock with a mind of its own.

He yawned and stretched, taking inventory of what hurt. Knees. Left thumb. Right hip. Better than yesterday. He left his cane where it was, leaning against the wall.

Going down the narrow stairs that his physical therapist had assured him were a terrible idea, he entered the tiny kitchen and grumbled at the landscape of boxes he could see stacked in the living room. The coffee maker was the one thing he had set up yesterday, and he listened to the gurgling sounds as the water dripped through while he looked over the boxes. Finding the one labeled Dishes, he dug through and pulled out a bowl and a mug.

He took his meager breakfast out onto the patio. The cracked concrete was shot through with weeds; the abandoned furniture peeling and rusted. The little pipping bird was back to sitting in the vines. He couldn’t figure out why it was there; other than the vines that were assaulting the house and a few coarse weeds, the yard was bare dirt, hard and unwelcoming and littered with junk. It was ugly as hell, but Andrew didn’t really care. All he had to do was lift his head, and the view was spectacular: rolling mountains, the caps slowly baring themselves to the spring sun, the slopes a mix of trees and green expanses that he knew from photographs were covered with flowers. Someday, he’d walk there. Someday, he’d reach the top.

Scoffing at himself, at his stupid impossible dreams, he creaked to his feet and went in to take his medications.

~

Andrew’s house was full of strangers. If he hadn’t just bought the thing two days ago, it would’ve been tempting to set it on fire.

They weren’t technically strangers, as Allison had pointed out, given that he worked with them. But when Renee had said she’d be stopping by to help him unpack, he would’ve preferred it if she’d mentioned she’d be bringing half the town. He glared across the room at Renee, who pretended not to notice while she helped her girlfriend unpack cooking supplies. There was banging overhead where Kevin and Matt were putting together his bed. On the one hand, he was glad he was going to be able to stop sleeping on his mattress on the floor. On the other hand…

Movement outside caught this eye, a flash of reddish brown in his front yard. “What—”

Renee paused in her silverware sorting and followed his eyes. “Oh good! Neil came.”

“What, you hadn’t brought enough people?”

His words were punctuated by a crash from upstairs, followed by Matt’s voice calling a strained, “Everything’s okay!”

“Neil’s a gardener,” Allison said, as if that should have been obvious.

“Great.” More help he didn’t want. He made his way outside, but Neil had disappeared. Grumbling, he walked around the house, only stumbling twice. A slender man stood at the edge of his backyard, facing the mountains. Andrew tried to pretend that the man didn’t improve the view considerably, and stepped up to his side.

The man gave him a slashing glance, then a matching smile. “You must be Andrew.” He held out his hand, shrugging when Andrew didn’t take it. “Neil. I’m a friend of Allison’s.”

“What fresh hell do you have in store for me?”

Neil laughed easily. “Depends on what you want. Clean all this trash up to start; after that it’s up to you.”

“Up to me.” So far not a damn thing had been up to him, despite Renee’s lip service. “In that case, can you get rid of the assholes who have taken over my house?”

“Sorry, no,” Neil said, grinning. Andrew couldn’t take his eyes off of him, and he cursed himself for his weakness. “You know how it is. Once you’re in Renee’s clutches, you will help people and you will like it.”

“I most definitely will not.”

Neil laughed again and turned back to the yard, picking up one of the discarded plastic buckets that littered the space. “I better get started.”

It was rapidly becoming familiar, getting dismissed in his own house. He would have stayed just to watch Neil work, but Dan called his name and he headed back inside to prevent a book-arranging disaster.

~

The rumble of a truck pulled Andrew out of the mental cocoon he went into whenever he started working on his book. The week had been blessedly quiet, save for his avian alarm clock, but it appeared that was at an end. Grumbling, he forced himself to his feet, leaving his cane leaning against the couch.

Neil was standing on his front walkway, rubbing a hand sheepishly through his hair. “Morning.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m here to figure out what we’re doing with your yard. Didn’t Allison tell you?”

Andrew thought of Allison’s parting words on Friday. “You’re welcome!” He hadn’t known what she meant and hadn’t cared. Evidently he should have. “Why?”

Neil looked at him, nonplussed. “Because having that yard basically being a wasteland of dirt is criminal?”

“Hey, it’s my wasteland of dirt.”

That damn smile made a reappearance. “You deserve more than that.”

“That’s such bullshit. Nobody deserves anything.”

Neil cocked his head to one side. “Do you really believe that?”

Andrew studied his face, the faded scarring across his cheeks, the stubborn set to his jaw that made the smile a lie. “How much is Allison paying you?”

He looked genuinely startled at that. “Nothing. I volunteered.”

“Why? What do you get out of this?”

Neil looked away, color staining his cheeks like a sunrise. “Everyone deserves a little beauty in their lives.”

Andrew wondered what it was like, going through life with the evidence of other people’s viciousness on your face, and believing in beauty anyway.

~

Slowly the garden took shape, each Sunday adding a little more. When Andrew greeted him the third Sunday leaning on his cane, the truckload of gravel went back to where it came from without a word. The next week, he came outside to find Neil laying out paving stones in a sunburst pattern where the concrete had once been.

Neil was interesting and unpredictable, some days working for hours in silence, others chattering at length about plants and birds, on this continent and others. Sometimes Andrew helped, raking the dirt in the raised beds, then setting the native perennials Neil had picked out gently into the sun-warmed soil. Sometimes his hands wouldn’t close on the tools, and he sat in the shade of the house and talked or read aloud from the book he was writing. Once he stopped, uncertain if Neil was even listening; his friend raised his head from where he was setting out a bird bath. “Is that it?” Neil asked, disappointment coloring his voice, and Andrew bit back his smile as he turned back to his book.

Neil arranged shrubs around the house and planted a couple of flowering trees for shade. Soon Andrew’s little pipping bird had friends of his own, and he woke to a melodic cacophony each morning. One afternoon, they sat in silence on the new furniture Andrew had ordered, sipping lemonade and watching fat bumblebees tumble in and out of hot pink flowers. The garden was almost done; the summer had already passed its peak. Andrew looked at Neil, at his summer-sky eyes and his autumn hair, and he swallowed back the grief as he realized these Sundays were drawing to a close.

~

The singing was not enough to stir him. He heard it, dimly, through the haze of pain, but he closed his eyes and drifted back into the darkness.

~

“Andrew?”

He knew that voice; it wrapped itself around his heart and pulled, forcing him into consciousness. Stifling his groan was impossible, and Neil was at his side in a flash. “How can I help?”

“I need to take my meds.” His voice sounded like gravel, and he tried to clear his throat but it was too dry to make a difference.

“Bathroom?”

Andrew hummed, and Neil disappeared, only to reappear in a second with his pill case and a glass of water. “Can I?” Neil asked, hovering an arm over Andrew’s shoulders. Nodding didn’t hurt, at least, and Neil slipped an arm gently behind him and coaxed him into a sitting position against the headboard. He held the glass so Andrew could suck some water through the straw, then handed him the pills, one at a time. When he was done, they sat there like that for a while, Andrew avoiding Neil’s eyes. He hated this, hated that Neil found him like this. Hated that this was the new reality of his life, where he could be going along okay and then suddenly be incapacitated by pain.

It hadn’t struck him down like this since he first got sick; he would never forget that panic, being alone and unable to move without screaming, having to drag himself to the bathroom. Then the weeks of doctor’s visits and tests, the medications that helped the pain but messed him up otherwise, until they finally found a cocktail that worked, more or less beating his immune system into submission. He had moved here out of sheer stubbornness; maybe he should call it stupidity. But he needed this. He needed the mountains out there, calling to him. He needed to believe that one day he would climb up there.

“Why are you here?” he asked, shattering the silence.

“It’s Sunday.”

But the garden is finished, he wanted to say; you are wasting your time with me.

Neil reached out like he was going to touch his hand, but refrained when he saw the red, swollen joints. “Did you think I was just coming for the garden?”

“Why else would you bother?”

“Andrew…I could have finished that garden in two weeks, if I’d wanted to. That was my plan, at first.” He laughed, shaking his head as if at himself. “But then you wouldn’t let me cut down that damn vine because that sparrow likes it…”

Andrew closed his eyes, hearing the unspoken words behind Neil’s soft tone. “I will never be more than this, Neil.”

“You’re Andrew. What more do you need to be?”

~

There was music in the trees. A symphony composed of wind through tree boughs, of the singing of birds, the chattering of squirrels, the baseline of leaves crunching underfoot. Andrew paused for breath, gulping down some water. The early springtime air traced cool fingers through his hair, and goosebumps erupted down his arms.

Recapping his water, he followed the sound of footsteps in front of him. His walking stick was worn smooth where his hand rested, and he rubbed his thumb in the glossy spot as he negotiated his way over some roots.

“It’s just up ahead,” Neil’s voice called from somewhere out of sight. Andrew took his time, even though he knew he would follow that voice anywhere. He had waited a year for this; he could wait a few minutes longer.

The trees finally opened up to a scene out of a movie. Flowers, blue and purple and white and yellow, all bowed before the wind that tore across the meadow. Neil stood on a little rise, one hand shielding his eyes, staring west. Andrew climbed up to stand next to him. He could see their house from here, the windows glinting in the sun. When he squinted, he could discern the blossoms on the flowering cherry Neil had planted near the bedroom. The tree was still small, barely taller than they were, but it bloomed with reckless abandon. Warmth crept through him that had nothing to do with the springtime sunshine as he thought of their tiny tree, and the nest the sparrows were building in its branches.

Neil bent down and kissed him, soft and lingering. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Andrew nodded, looking at the riot of color all around him. Up above, he could see the peak of the mountain looming white; once, he had longed to reach the very summit. Once, he had thought he would never set foot in the woods again. His free hand found Neil’s, tracing the familiar calluses and scars. “Beautiful.”

[wanderingcas]

@trenchcoatandfreckles prompt: “bucolic” or “bungalow” in other words: cas moves to the idyllic countryside and meets dean winchester, who owns a garden shop down the road. destiel. 1.7k. fluff. undercurrent of a quiet desperation to escape one’s life.

“So, where you gonna go?” asks Cas’ nosy, but well-meaning, landlord, holding out his hand.  

Cas drops the keys into his open palm. “Somewhere bucolic,” he replies.

Frank wrinkles his nose. “What is that, some kind of sickness?”

Cas picks up the remaining box off the floor, rendering the tiny apartment officially empty. “Sure,” he sighs.

“Well, good luck,” Frank says, wiping his hand on his jeans. “You were one of my best tennants. Hope the next tenant is as dead quiet as you. It was like a tomb in here the whole ten years you were renting, you know.”

“Well. Thank you. I think.” After a tentative handshake with Frank, Cas sees himself and his box of records out.

Two weeks ago, it seemed like a good idea. He was on his stiff couch, wine glass in hand, browsing available bungalows to rent in a rural part of New York that he’d never heard of before. His eyes scanned an available cottage: the honey wood floors, the tucked-in ceilings, the herbs dangling from the kitchen ceiling, sunlight streaming. He looked around his sterile, hyper-modernized studio apartment and there was no contest.

He sent an application for an available house to rent in the same breath that he sent a move-out notice to Frank.

The commute to his current job, of course, would be an hour’s train ride, compounded with the fifteen minute drive to the station. His sister Anna called him last week to inform him that he was possibly having a mid-life crisis.

Now with his apartment all boxed up, and sitting on a train with his box of records and the moving truck a day in front of him, Castiel is beginning to agree with her.

The bungalow Cas rented is nestled between two cherry blossom trees. He feels like he’s read about it in a book somewhere. There’s a daily farmer’s market a mile away, with another empty and unrented bungalow in between. Apart from that, he’s alone but for the birds and fields and sunshine.

He loves the isolation more than he should. He calls in sick to work the first week. Then the next. It morphs into him writing a truncated email to his boss announcing his resignation. He deactivates his email after that.

There’s enough in his savings to get him by, he assures a hysterical Anna over the phone after he breaks the news, and he’ll find a job closer to where he lives. (He again refuses to tell Anna his new address, knowing it’ll only end up in her showing up with a small army to drag him back to the city)

With his self-imposed free time, he starts a garden. The lofty dreams of cooking with fresh herbs and vegetables fill his mind for days, until he’s greeted morning after morning by empty soil with no sprouting green.

He gives up after a week. Googling nearby garden shops points him to the only one within a forty-mile radius: Winchester Hardware & Garden. He rides his bike a couple of miles down the dirt road, past the farmer’s market, to the small, unassuming green building that’s only slightly bigger than his own bungalow.

A bell obnoxiously announces his arrival as he pushes open the rusty screen door. He’s greeted with shelves upon shelves of sloppily organized garden supplies, seed packages, and planters. There’s a counter tucked into the corner with a cash register valiantly craning its neck up from the cluttered mess that surrounds it.

“Just a second!” calls a voice from somewhere amongst the shelves. There’s a crash that follows.

Castiel cranes his neck around one of the shelves, looking for the source of the commotion. “Do you need help?” he calls back.

“Nope, should be good,” assures the disembodied voice, “just this goddamn—” There’s no elaboration as another, louder, crash punctuates the end of the sentence.

Castiel stands awkwardly in the door frame, unsure of whether to help or flee a potential crime scene, when a tanned and dirty-blonde man rounds the corner. He’s clutching something white and pissed off in his arms.

“Sorry about that,” the man says, breathing heavily. He locks his arms tighter against the cat struggling in his arms. “Can I help you with something?”

Castiel stares at the cat. “Was that what all that banging was?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” The man playfully jostles the cat, eliciting a low meow. “She gets into the back of the shelves where all those dangerous tools are, and I have to make sure she doesn’t cut her own head off.”

Castiel doesn’t point out the issue of housing a cat in a store with dangerous tools in the first place. Instead: “I see.”

“Her name’s Fluffy,” the man offers.

“But she has no fur,” Castiel says as Fluffy proudly swishes her naked tail.

“Yeah. It’s hilarious.” The man grins. “My brother picked her up from the side of the road. Kid has a bleeding heart for helpless animals.” Fluffy is deposited on the counter, where she sits and glares; the man turns and crosses his arms. “So, anything you need?”

Castiel rips his gaze from the man’s very piercing, very green eyes. “Yes. I’m having a problem with my garden. I think it needs fertilizer.”

“Elaborate on your problem,” the man says.

“Well, nothing’s growing,” Castiel explains, trailing off uncertainly as the man once again disappears around a corner.

“Any pets?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Any pets,” the man says impatiently behind a shelf, “any pets that would get into your garden and eat stuff when you’re not looking.”

“Well… no. No pets. Although I was thinking of getting a cat.” Castiel glances at Fluffy, who is grooming a naked paw. “One with fur.”

The man barks out a laugh. He comes around the corner, holding a large box propped on his hip. “And you’ve been watering them? Pulling any weeds around them?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure that you’re not pulling the plants accidentally instead of the weeds?”

Castiel fixes the man a look. “I’m not that stupid.”

Raising a hand in surrender, the man says, “Hey, you’d be surprised the stories I get from other customers.” He deposits the box onto the counter. “Well, this should help—good old fashioned plant food. Works for most things you’re trying to grow.”

After doing a quick calculation of measurements in his head, Castiel decides, “I don’t think I’ll be able to take that today. I rode my bike here and I’m not sure I can fit the box anywhere…”

“Relax, the bags are inside.” The man pulls apart the box’s top and hoists out a much smaller bag, one that will undoubtedly fit into Castiel’s backpack. At Castiel’s confirming nod, the man rounds the corner and types a number into the ancient cash register. ‘Fluffy’ rubs against his hand, slowly the process. The register inexplicably dings. “It’ll be 25.50,” he announces.

Castiel fishes his wallet from his back pocket. “Do you take a credit card?”

“Yeah.” The man chews at the bottom of his lip, frowning down at Castiel’s fingers that are fumbling to get the credit card out of the tight wallet’s pockets. “You said you biked here?”

“Yes,” Castiel says amidst the struggle, “why?”

“Nah, just that… you can’t live very far from here, then?”

The credit card finally emancipated, Castiel hands it across the counter. He notes the dirt caked underneath the man’s fingernails as their hands brush. “I just began renting a house a few miles down the road. Just a week ago.”

The man grins. “You’re one of Benny’s tenants?”

“I think that was his name.”

“I know him. Nice guy. Runs a diner when he’s not landlording way too many properties.” The man slides the credit card through a small attachment on his phone, frowning again in a thoughtful way. “This might not work, you know.”

“The credit card?” Castiel asks.

“No, the plant food. This whole area used to be a swamp—so the soil sucks.” He pets Fluffy’s head distractedly. “So you might have to come back anyway.”

“I did notice that the soil was sandy,” Castiel agrees. “Should I… Buy anything else in lieu of this?”

The man rubs the back of his neck; Castiel is momentarily distracted by the way his fingers leave imperceptible tracks in his tightly trimmed blonde hair. “Well, if this doesn’t work, I’d have the examine the soil. See if the acidity is right, if the plants are getting enough sun, that kind of thing.”

“So you’d have to come over?” Castiel asks, taking the card that the man hands back to him.

“Well, yeah.” The man clears his throat. “To examine it, and everything.”

“That wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

The man sweeps his arm in the air to gesture to the quiet shop. “Well, I suppose you would be taking me away from my customers that so obviously need me.”

Castiel huffs a laugh. He tentatively holds the bag of plant food in his arms. “Then I’ll come back and ask for your help if this doesn’t work.”

They smile at each other, a beat too long, a beat too delayed to notice a shift in the energy between them. “Who should I ask for?” Castiel is somehow able to miraculously ask, after the moment that is a beat too long.

“Huh? Oh. Dean. Ask for Dean. That’s me, I—” The man, Dean, shakes his head as if to get himself to stop talking. He reaches out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, uh—”

“Castiel. Cas.” Castiel holds Dean’s hand and shakes. It’s warm and softer than he’d expect a gardener’s hands to be.

“Well, great. Cas.” Dean drawls Castiel’s name out thoughtfully, carefully, like tasting a fine wine. Castiel suppresses a shiver. “I’ll see you again soon, then. Maybe.”

“Maybe.” Castiel adjusts the bag in his arms. “Goodbye, Dean. Fluffy,” he adds, nodding at the cat who is ignoring the situation, and instead is stretching to great lengths in order to lick her backside.

Castiel steps out into the warm air; the bell on the door that announces his departure is less obnoxious now. He unlocks his bike, adjusting the kickstand, wincing at the creak of the rust on the metal.  

Placing his backpack carefully onto the bike seat, he opens the zipper and deposits the bag of plant food into the backpack. Very sternly, he whispers to it, “Don’t you dare work,” before zipping up his pack, and riding on the dirt road back to his new home.

↳ prompts are open for mowripro, send one to my askbox.

[maxskulline]

If there’s one thing Max can’t stand, it’s that things are constantly being kept from her. Constantly. That she’s still being treated like a useless grunt. That both Guzma and Plumeria, despite knowing her on a much more intimate level than any of the others, still think they’re so much higher and mightier than her and anyone else in this damned fucking gang. Blind to all the multiple instances she’s been showing ‘em what she’s capable of. Nope, they’re continuously keepin’ her an arms length away, fail to trust her, or maybe even think she’s too stupid to handle whatever they’re up to because of the other numskulls, and lately - lately she’s kinda had enough. 

Because it is enough. Today, she’ll make this real fucking clear. 

Shady House’s big, but Max has had a lot of time on her hand to map out all the doors to rooms everyone pretends don’t exist. There’s a fair reason - no one’s allowed in. Plumeria’s bedroom doesn’t count, although she’ll possibly kill anyone who dares to set their dirty, unsupervised feet in it. One of these three, super-secret rooms is located behind the kitchen and locked from the inside, which Max had deemed sketchy enough to dig a little deeper. If no one can get in through the kitchen, there’s another way - it’s not even a question at this point, but it took Max some time to find it without being stalked by inquisitive eyes.

A little metal-covered hole in the ground right behind the house located leads her into some sort of basement. Dusty boxes and ancient belongings from Shady House’s previous owners clutter the room, and any doubts arising in Max are pushed aside when she spots a strip of light, cast from underneath a wooden door. This one’s locked too, but the lock allows for a good picking.

She takes a deep breath. What she can possibly expect to find is up to imagination - although she knows it ain’t gonna be legal in any way of the word. The old door clicks and squeaks when it falls inwards, revealing ..........

...... at least, it’s not a dodgy Pokélab or something of that sort. But it is a lab, or whatever the fuck they wanna call it. It’s messy, humid, and she takes a whiff of weed, too. Hundreds of plants are happily growing under blue, artificial light, some freshly potted, others ready for the harvest. She’d take a better look if it weren’t for the tender who now has stopped in his tracks, face twisting with shock and fury alike, and somehow pissing Max off into limits she hasn’t felt for a while. Max sucks in sharply, begins to stroll towards the tables and Guzma, brushing her palm across the leaves as she goes. Of course, Guzma expects an immediate answer as to why the fuck she’s here. He doesn’t need to say it for Max to know - to feel the currents of his anger tickle the hairs on her skin. It’s exactly why Max makes a point of dragging it out a little longer, as though she’s feeding on his emotions to fuel her own, impending outburst. 

“And when were you planning on tellin’ me about your little gardening business, hm?” Not a glance is wasted on him, not yet, but there’s strain in her voice. Max turns a full circle, pretending to take it all in, like she’s surprised by her latest discovery. Fact is, she doesn’t give a fuck ‘bout what Guzma does in the shadows! It’s that he thinks she ain’t worth telling it to, and that crawls under her skin. “I dunno what I expected, y’know, but this? Man, I’m feelin’ insulted here! Like, couldn’t it at least have been something less obvious? Somethin’ dangerous, like, making explosives or other dodgy shit you don’t want me to know about? You think I give a shit if you grow weed plantages or who knows what else it is, synthesize meth maybe!?” 

At last, Max turns to him, takes the last few steps in a stride to penetrate his comfort zone and pushes against his chest roughly. “No, you don’t get to look at me like this, fuck you! I got every FUCKING right to be here! I am the one who gets to be pissed off at your fucking BULLSHIT! Here I thought I was a lil more than some bedwarming grunt and you go ‘n prove me I’m no else than the others! What’s the big deal, boss!? Think I was gonna go and run my mouth on what you do down here? C’mon, let’s fucking hear it!” 

@skulldxddy​

[mollymauk-teafleak]

the one who blooms in the bitter snow (chapter 2)

Chapter 1 | ko-fi

Caduceus has found a new friend in the widower father Caleb and he watches him grow happier, more comfortable in himself. He dares to hope that he's finally healing from the death of his husband.

He dares to hope for too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was one of those days when he felt like he was utterly alone in the world.

Caduceus looked up from the flowerbeds he was kneeling in front of and stretched out his back until he felt a series of dull pops, groaning in relief and raising his eyes to the sky. Still slate grey, still scattering fat raindrops down in erratic sheets.

He smiled.

He took the trowel from the loose grip of his tail and set back to repotting the seedlings in front of him. Days like this were perfect for them, nourishing and encouraging, the Wildmother welcoming them to the garden.

That was why days like this didn’t drive him inside, the way it seemed to do for the rest of the world. The cemetery around him was completely deserted, fog clustering around the stones and the bases of the taller trees, the only true colour aside from greyish green being the dull stars of the flower heads, muted but beautiful still.

Caduceus thought it incredibly beautiful. Though he could see why people thought his little corner of the city was sort of eerie on days like this.

The seedlings safe in their dark black soil, thick and healthful with the rain, Caduceus stood, shaking crumbs from his sodden knees, not caring really seeing as the rest of him was already sodden. His trusty straw hat kept the rain out of his eyes but nowhere else.

There were other odd jobs to be done in the many thick gouts of plant life that sprung up all through the place. Weeding, pruning, scattering used coffee grounds from the café, telling off those who were being greedy with space, encouraging those who were flagging.

It was the kind of work Caduceus loved more than anything, the kind that was familiar, the kind he knew he could do well. He let his mind wander as he walked between the beds, the taller plants boughed by the weight of the rain, letting it drip down perfectly for their shorter cousins below. He would often sing or hum while he worked, something he worried contributed to people’s belief that the Blooming Grove was mildly haunted, when they would hear his lowing voice on misty days.

But not today. It was past time he sent a letter to his mama back home, she worried if he didn’t send at least one a month. Well, she’d worry about him anyway but at least the letters served to reassure her that he hadn’t been hit by a bus.

Mama had always worried about him, being the youngest and smallest of her gaggle of children. And when he’d announced he was leaving the clan- something firbolgs rarely did- to  move to the city- something firbolgs even more rarely did- she’d been close to locking his bedroom door so he couldn’t go.

Caduceus smiled fondly as he knelt by a family of sweet peas whose trellis had gone lopsided. He’d always struggle to explain it to his mama, he knew that. Wanderlust was something that was supposed to be completely alien, something other. As such, there really weren’t words Caduceus could find to help his family understand why he’d decided to see some of the wider world and push the boundaries of their tiny corner where things were still allowed to grow wild.

Caduceus set his jaw, feeling a raindrop run down the back of his short despite his hat.

There were a lot of things he didn’t have words to explain, a lot of feelings and compulsions held inside him that he couldn’t categorise and sort, couldn’t make plain. Some he was less proud of.

But his mama loved him. She understood that his life was his own. And if a letter every week or so would help her feel better, Caduceus would gladly write it.

He used his teeth to bite off a length of twine from the roll in his pocket and began retying the bamboo sticks that held his sweet peas up out of the shade and thought about what he might write.

He could tell her he’d joined a yoga class and how it wasn’t as fun as doing it in the dappled sunlight of the family grove with Clara trying to trip him at every available opportunity but it would suffice. He could tell her how he’d started making little scent bags out of his leftover lavender and vanilla pods to sell at the café and Caleb had said it was the first thing he’d ever found to actually help him sleep. He could tell her about how he’d made her recipe for mushroom risotto and took the leftovers to Caleb and how he’d said it was delicious. He could tell her how Caleb texted him sometimes when he needed someone to talk to. He could tell her how he was falling for Caleb.

The slick, rain soaked wood slipped suddenly in his hands and Caduceus hissed, drawing his hand sharply back to see a large splinter embedded in his thumb, blood beading around it like yew berries.

He groaned and swept his head from side to side, irritated with himself for more than not looking where his hands were going.

He couldn’t be having those thoughts. They shouldn’t be in his mind at all, let alone in his letter to mama.

Caduceus sat back in the wet grass, not caring as rain soaked into his trousers, worrying at the splinter with his teeth and trying to draw it out.

He didn’t understand emotion as well as other people, that much he knew. His social skills would be considered stunted by most standards. But even he understood that thinking those things about someone who’d so recently been widowed, who clearly wasn’t healing well from it, who was vulnerable and anxious and broken inside, was a bad idea for everyone involved.

There was absolutely no purpose at all to longing after something that could only end in pain. Sometimes the briars were just too high, trying to clear them in the hopes that something good would be on the other side would earn yourself bleeding palms and little else.

The splinter came free with a bite of pain. Caduceus tossed it into the grass and sucked at the blood that immediately welled up in the wound. He could take a hint.

He took the long way back to the café, winding his way through the clusters of headstones. There was no neat grid system to the Blooming Grove, things were patchworked together, no size or shape uniform. Caduceus had inherited the dilapidated cemetery like that, time and disinterest having warped it into something far from neat. But even after all the care and attention he’d poured into it he’d kept it without regular squares, clear paths, any kind of uniformity. He liked it like that, he admired the way it had grown free like a wild oak tree twisting and curving erratically towards the sun of its own free will.  

That was how it had chosen to be and he wouldn’t dare tell it any different.

Lugging his bag of gardening tools over his shoulder, he rounded the next corner, finally allowing himself to imagine the honey cake he’d reward himself with when he got back inside.

And saw Caleb standing in the middle of the uncovered pathway, under the arch of hawthorn trees.

He was turned away from Caduceus so he thankfully didn’t see him freeze in ungainly surprise or his fur puff up and send rainwater flying. But, unfortunately he couldn’t miss the loud shout of shock that also leapt out of him and startled several birds from the trees above.

Caleb turned, eyes wide and fearful at first but they softened as soon as he recognised his very wet, very embarrassed firbolg friend.

“Hi there,” he called once he was close enough to be heard over the pounding rain. He looked, rather unfortunately, like a drowned rat even more than Caduceus did. Water ran in rivulets down his face, his many layers were dark and dripping and his hair was plastered to him. By the looks of things he’d long ago given up on moving it out of his eyes.

Who went out in the rain without a good hat on their head?

“Hello, Mr Caleb,” he smiled, “What are you doing out here?”

Caleb gave a wan smile, “What does anyone ever do here?” He inclined his head back towards where he’d been standing in front of one of the graves. His husband’s, Caduceus realised. He’d never looked for it before but he could see now it was one of the newest ones. In amongst some very old ones, strangely, he wondered why that was.

“Of course,” Caduceus smiled back, “I more meant everyone else seems to be hiding from the weather, not going out in it.”

Caleb looked abashed, once of the many expressions that looked unfairly adorable on him, “I know…I didn’t have any clothes right for the weather but Trinket’s at playgroup and the apartment was so quiet, I…I didn’t want to be alone…”

There was a long, stiff moment where the two of them realised how wet they were getting and how there was no sensible way to navigate themselves out of this conversation.

Eventually Caduceus just sighed and smiled a little, “Caleb?”

The human looked up, of course he always had to look up to meet the firbolg’s eyes. Rain slid down his face, looking like tears.

“It’s really good to see you,” Caduceus murmured.

The café was dark, a little naked without the music and the smells of sugar and coffee, the people at the tables. But it was calm, it was dry and it had tea. That was all Caleb needed right now.

He’d started sniffling before they’d taken five steps, his breathing wheezy and ragged by the time they reached the door. Caduceus’ fur kept him good and insulated but after one look at Caleb he’d known he had a nasty chill on the way.

Fortunately, he kept a tin of the perfect remedy for that down behind the counter, hand tied bags of muslin he would often press on customers who came in with runny eyes, sniffles and coughs.

While Caduceus poured, Caleb gingerly stripped down to his shirt, darkened with rain on the shoulders and chest but it was as dry as he could get. Still, it clung to his body in ways that Caduceus caught when his eyes flickered up from the mugs and held in his mind greedily until the guilt twisted again and made him drop them.

“So how is Trinket finding preschool now? Settling in?” he asked, a little more loudly than really necessary to cover his own thoughts.

Caleb looked up from pulling his boots off, distracted immediately by the mention of his son, leaving him with one large black boot on and one stripey orange sock with a hole in the toe.

“He was so excited to go today,” he sighed, sounding proud and sad as only a parent who’d only recently sent their only child off to school could be, “He didn’t cry at all, he let go of my hand straight away and ran through the gates. He only just remembered to wave to me.”

Caduceus smiled fondly, bringing their cups over already redolent with the smells of cinnamon and lemon, a puddle of deep golden honey right at the bottom, “He was always going to take to it like a duck to water. I’m positive he’ll be there tonight with a huge hug, ready to tell you how he missed you like crazy.”

Caleb looked so open heartedly grateful for those words that Caduceus almost couldn’t bear it. The trust it showed, coming from a man who’d spent the last four years stitching himself back together with shaking hands and was terrified of letting anyone else find loose threads.

He was especially vulnerable right now, with Trinket starting preschool- nursery school to his Zemnian father. There was a time when Caleb would rather have lost his own hands between the hours of 9am and 3pm, three times a week, rather than his son.

The fact that he was bearing it so well, still functioning through his anxiety over the loss of control when before it would have bent him double and froze him, was a testament to how far he’d come. Caduceus felt so proud of him for that, for eventually wading tentatively into bereavement therapy, for getting back into a more regular work schedule, for making so many incremental but incredibly important steps since they’d first met in this café.

Caduceus hoped he’d helped Caleb get there, in some small way.

Caleb took a deep drink from the mug though as soon as he swallowed, he began to cough, a deep wheezing cough as thick and dark as the clouds that had caused it.

Caduceus winced, “We need to get you dry and warm.”

“I’m kind of down to my last clothes here?” Caleb said, raspy voiced, plucking at his damp shirt.

“But all of the tea in the world won’t help if we don’t fix that,” Caduceus turned towards his back room, “I must have a clean blanket around here somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did have all of the tea in the world here,” Caleb went for a smile but it was interrupted by a hacking cough, one that left him shivering, “Fuck, I can’t get sick, Trinket will get it…”

“Well…that’s a possibility,” Caduceus allowed, coming back in with the softest blanket he’d been able to find, a fairly easy task seeing as he rarely bought any for the café that weren’t thick and soft as fleece, “But also you’d be sick. And that’s bad in itself.”

Caleb looked up, the thought obviously not having registered until Caduceus said it, “Well…yeah, I guess.”

Caduceus frowned, turning his back delicately while Caleb stripped off his shirt and pants that were clinging to him like a second skin, though his large ears twitched at every whisper of fabric against skin. He sighed and grabbed hold of the loose trail of hair, wringing the rain out of it sharply, hoping those thoughts would wash out as easily.

“Caleb…you know it’s okay to worry about yourself every now and again…” his distracting annoyance at himself made his tongue more daring.

“You told me to worry less,” came the slightly pointed reply, “And you can turn around now.”

There was a moment then, after Caduceus’ eyes slid down Caleb’s makeshift red tartan toga, before he sharply brought them back up again, when it seemed to occur to both men that Caleb was essentially naked in front of his friend. His friend who was quickly finding himself falling more and more for him, as much as he tried to deny it. Though Caleb wasn’t to know that, at least Caduceus desperately hoped he didn’t.

“I know I did,” the firbolg sighed, deciding even that emotionally testing conversation would be better than going any further down that trail of thought, “But you’re allowed to have a bit of…concern, let’s call it, for yourself. It doesn’t always need to be about you protecting Trinket or anyone else.”

Caleb idly flicked one of the tassels on the blanket, feet shifting awkwardly, “It is though. That’s…that’s all I’ve got left, looking after Trinket. Keeping him safe.” He flinched, face colouring red, “Sorry. That was too much. Sometimes I say things and I don’t think about whose in the room…”

“No,” Caduceus’ voice was soft, his hand even softer as he reached out and pressed Caleb’s shoulder, “You don’t have to say sorry. I’m glad you said it.”

“But it’s a horrible thing to think, isn’t it?” Caleb gripped the blanket tighter, voice taut like a drawn bow, “He’s my whole world, my Mollymauk gave everything to bring him here, I love him so much…but gods, every time I look at him…”

Caduceus sensed his words running out, wanting him to know someone was still listening. He got the heart breaking impression that Caleb had been missing exactly that for a very long time.

“What?”

Caleb shook his head, voice now clearly splintering like ice, “I just want to feel something other than grief. I just want to put it down for a little while, that’s all…”

The rain beat on the windows, marbling and warping what little light there was outside, casting it in waves across the two of them. Caleb looked up, following the ebb of it, meeting Caduceus’ eyes. The helplessness in them was worse than the sight of blood caught in his own fur.

“Please tell me I’m not wrong to want that?” Caleb murmured, his voice less than a whisper.

Caduceus was so rarely still, his ears and tail nearly always twitching as the world went by around him. But he was still now, nothing else in the world mattered to him but Caleb In front of him.

“No,” he said softly, “You’re not wrong.”

With the look in his eyes, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Caleb kissed him. But it was so sweet, so soft, so vulnerable, the kiss of a drowning man, he couldn’t help but give a brief gasp of shock.

Caleb drew back at that, pale everywhere but the tips of his ears which were bright red. The blanket slipped a little, showing a thin chest covered in rust coloured hair.

“I’m sorry…” he started, but Caduceus stopped him with one large hand, coming up to cup his face tenderly.

“You don’t have to say sorry.”

This time, Caduceus kissed him. So he could never say he was entirely blameless.

When he imagined kissing Caleb, Caduceus had always imagined himself bent slightly, compensating for their height difference. But instead, Caleb came to him by rising on the balls of his feet, practically climbing him, to bring their lips together so hard it almost hurt. Hands roved, never settling in one place. Caleb was the far less shy of the two, immediately pulling at the laces of Caduceus’ pants, letting them fall to just above his knees. His linen shirt covered him still but now the shape of his erection was even more prominent.

When they broke apart, they were both panting, lungs burning, neither of them having realised they were prioritising kissing over oxygen.

“Fuck me,” Caleb panted, pupils blown wide like a cat in the dark, “Cad, please.”

Caduceus’ heart fluttered at the nickname and he felt like a teenager again in the blush of realising what wanting truly was. The doubts he’d always nursed about Caleb not finding him physically attractive dissipated.

And fresh doubts about everything else they were doing surged up stronger than before, a tide he wasn’t going to be able to outrun.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Caduceus took a step backwards, in his mind and in the space, “Caleb, listen…”

“What?” the blanket was around his waist now, slipping open just enough that Caduceus could see…

“We can’t do this, Caleb, not right now,” he shook his head regretfully, “Not like this.”

“But…I want to?” fear had begun to creep into his eyes, an uncertainty.

“You’re upset and that’s completely understandable but…it would be too much like taking advantage. I won’t do that to you.”

“I want this, I promise,” Caleb insisted, hands shaking, “I do, I miss it. I miss you so much Mol-…”

He stopped. Caduceus stopped. Everything stopped. But it was too late.

Caduceus took another step back, pulling his trousers back up, lacing them tighter than before. Caleb, sickeningly pale, hands at his mouth as if he could stuff the words back in and have them never be said, looked like he wanted to say something.

Eventually the words came, like blood from a wound, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Caduceus.”

Caduceus nodded, “I think your clothes will be dry now. Here’s a box of the tea but if you keep coughing, go see a doctor, okay?”

He turned and quickly busied himself behind the counter, moving around jars of coffee beans that didn’t need rearranging, resolutely not lifting his eyes.

“Caduceus, please…”

“It was good to see you, Caleb. Come by any time.”

More sifting of fabric, and a muffled sob before the rain grew momentarily louder, buoying the sound of the bell ringing out as the door opened and closed. Caduceus finally felt safe then to look up, seeing his blanket puddled on the chair, still in the vague shape of Caleb’s body, two cooling mugs on the table.

With a deep sigh, Caduceus sat by them, taking his and drinking for something to do with his hands. The rain was falling as strong as ever, so implacable and constant he wondered if it would ever stop.

And once again he felt alone in the world.

[bandaids-not-groupies]

Get to know me uncomfortably well - tagged by @livewiredroger ❤️ sorry this took so long to post!! 

1. What is your middle name? 

Janie

2. How old are you? 

21, gonna be 22 in a couple months

3. When is your birthday?

December 4th! A day after Ozzy’s

4. What is your zodiac sign? 

Sagittarius

5. What is your favourite colour? 

Light purple and black

6. What’s your lucky number?

I don’t actually know

7. Do you have any pets?

No but I did have a dog!

8. Where are you from? 

Chicago!

9. How tall are you?

5’0 lmao

10. What shoe size are you? 

6

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 

Too many to count lol

12. What was your last dream about? 

I don’t remember 😅

13. What talents do you have?

None lol. I’m boring af

14. Are you psychic in any way? 

Nope lol

15. Favourite song? 

I’m a believer by the monkees (I’ve always loved that song)

16. Favourite movie? 

The Godfather

17. Who would be your ideal partner? 

Keanu Reeves. He has my heart and soul

18. Do you want children? 

Yeah but only like 2

19. Do you want a church wedding? 

Yeah but nothing too big

20. Are you religious? 

Kinda but not really. Like I acknowledge that there could be a God. But I don’t practice it that much. So basically I’M SINNING AND I’M WINNING

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 

Yeah. Twice. Once cause I had a bad ear infection and then another time I had pneumonia

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 

Nope!

23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 

Yes I have! Back in my emo days I meet Christofer Drew from Never Shout Never, which was actually pure luck! NSN was in town for a concert, but I couldn’t go because it was a 18+ venue so I couldn’t get in (I was in 8th grade at the time). So my family and I decided to go out to eat at a restaurant which was coincidentally across from the venue. So we were walking down the street and I see this huge tour bus right outside the restaurant. My heart starts racing and i thought “how cool would it be if I bumped into someone from the group” well lo and behold as we are coming closer to the bus, Christofer Drew turns the corner and walks towards the bus. So I stop in my tracks and just say “Christofer Drew?” And he stops and he says hi! He asked if I was going to the show and I said no and he goes “well you gotta promise you’ll come to the next one!” Of course I made the promise and I didn’t break it! He came back that summer and I got to see him ❤️ I also met two groups called Breathe Carolina and Crown The Empire. I also met Evan Peters and Sebastian Stan at Comic Con a couple years ago. I also met Corey Crawford. The goaltender for the Chicago Blackhawks, my favorite hockey team.

24. Baths or showers?

Showers! I don’t like the idea of bathing in your own filth.

25. What color socks are you wearing? 

I’m not wearing any!

26. Have you ever been famous? 

Nope lmao and I probably never will be

28. What type of music do you like?

I like oldies. Mostly from the 50s-80s. Anything from Dean Martin to Motley Crue. I do like modern music too. I still listen to some of the bands I listened to in middle school lol (like the ones i mentioned before and others like All Time Low, Pierce The Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Of Mice & Men, Asking Alexandria, and a couple more.) I also like Greta Van Fleet and 5 Seconds of Summer. I also like spanish music. Like Maluma, Bad Bunny, Becky G, etc. 

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 

Nope lol 

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 

It depends. It could be one or none. Sometimes i don’t use a pillow

31. What position do you usually sleep in? 

On my tummy! 

32. How big is your house? 

It’s a two bedroom apartment. I’m not complaining tho, its very cozy. 

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 

If I wake up early enough lol it’ll usually be eggs (over medium), some coffee, and some bread 

34. Have you ever fired a gun? 

Nope and i don’t plan on it! 

35. Have you ever tried archery? 

Yes! I tried it when I was in Girl Scouts in elementary school 

36. Favourite clean word? 

Groovy 

37. Favorite swear word? 

definitely FUCK

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 

like a day? I got like four hours of sleep the night before. Got up at like 6am, went about my day. Then I stayed up until 7am working on a research paper for class (college is a BITCH). 

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 

Nah cause your girl is hella ugly lmao

41. Are you a good liar? 

Not at all. People can tell when I’m lying cause my voice gets high lmao 

42. Are you a good judge of character? 

Eh I do my best 

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 

I try to do a posh British accent and I try to do a Steve Irwin Aussie accent   

44. Do you have a strong accent? 

People say I have a strong chicagoan accent but i don’t hear it!

45. What is your favourite accent? 

I’m a sucker for aussie accents 

46. What is your personality type? 

just took the test..i got ISFP-T (adventurer) 

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 

hmmmm all I can think of at the moment is my Doc Martens. They aren’t really clothing but it’s all I can think of lol

48. Can you curl your tongue? 

Nope!

49. Are you an innie or an outie? 

outie :(((( i hate it 

50. Left or right-handed?

Right handed! 

51. Are you scared of spiders? 

YES YES YES

52. Favourite food? 

Pasta! I could eat it all day, every day 

53. Favourite foreign food?

Tamales and Pozole. That’s my shitttt

54. Are you a clean or messy person? 

I try and be a clean person and stay organized but it only lasts for a bit then I go back to my messy ways lol 

55. Most used phrase? 

“that’s a mood” and “no mames guey” (Mexican slang)

56. Most used word? 

Dude and Darling

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 

Depends. If I wear my hair natural, then an hour. But if I gotta style it, then like an hour and a half or two hours( I got a lot of fucking hair, dude). 

58. Do you have much of an ego? 

Hell no lmao. This bitch has a low self-esteem so 🤷🏻‍♀️

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 

Suck 🤪

60. Do you talk to yourself? 

All the time lmao 

61. Do you sing to yourself? 

Yeah sometimes 

62. Are you a good singer? 

Nope lmao but I still do it anyways 

63. Biggest Fear? 

A lot of shit. Spiders, Holes (trypophobia), tearing my achilles or getting them cut (ever since I saw Pet Sematary), dolls, bugs crawling under my skin, throwing up...and i can’t think of anymore on the spot 

64. Are you a gossip? 

you bet your ass I am. Soy una chismosa lmao

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 

Titanic  

66. Do you like long or short hair? 

On girls, long but not too long. Maybe like mid-back. And guys, long, like ear length and longer 

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 

Yeah but i couldn’t point them out on a map 

68. Favourite school subject? 

Biology/Human Anatomy. I’m a sucker for science 

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Definitely an introvert. No doubt about that lol 

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 

Nope!

71. What makes you nervous? 

Meeting new people, class discussions, and presentations

72. Are you scared of the dark? 

If i’ve just seen a scary movie then yes lol  

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 

Sometimes. For instance, if one of my friends from ecuador uses a word wrong in a sentence, then I would tell them the right way to say it to help them learn more english. i never correct someone to seem like i’m smarter or to be rude. It’s simply to help them. 

74. Are you ticklish? 

Yeah! In some places like my feet, neck, and my back, 

75. Have you ever started a rumour? 

No way! That’s terrible 

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 

Only when babysitting my little cousins lol 

77. Have you ever drank underage? 

Yeah lmao. When I went away for college

78. Have you ever done drugs? 

Once, when I hungout with a guy at school we smoked some weed

79. Who was your first real crush?

One of my friends from college. I met him Freshman year and I still like him...I’ve liked him for four years but i’ve never had the guts to tell him 

80. How many piercings do you have? 

6! I have four on my left ear and two on my right ear. I have the standard lobe piercings, then the upper lobe on both sides. Then on my left I have one above the upper. And then I have my helix pierced on the left side. (i hope this all made sense lol) 

81. Can you roll your R’s?

Nope

82. How fast can you type? 

Eh I would say pretty average 

83. How fast can you run? 

Not at all. I hate running 

84. What colour is your hair?

Dark brown! 

85. What color is your eyes? 

Dark brown

86. What are you allergic to? 

Some ingredient in the Banana Boat sunscreen. And some type of plant. I don’t exactly know which one cause I went to the botantic garden one time on a field trip and I don’t know which plant caused my allergic reaction but when I got home I had hives all over me. 

87. Do you keep a journal? 

Nope, never did 

88. What do your parents do? 

My mom is an ortho technician and my dad is a delivery man

89. Do you like your age? 

Yeah I guess. I mean I can buy my own alcohol so that’s pretty neat 

90. What makes you angry? 

Everything 

91. Do you like your own name? 

Eh it’s alright. Pretty boring 

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

I like the name Elena for a girl and Jonathan for a boy 

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

Doesn’t matter to me

94. What are you strengths? 

I’m a ride or die bitch.

95. What are your weaknesses?

I don’t really share my emotions so I keep things bottled up 

96. How did you get your name? 

My cousin picked out my name 

97. Were your ancestors royalty? 

Not that I know of. But what I do know is I have family from Spain. 

98. Do you have any scars?

Yeah, one on my arm from when I burned myself with my straightener. And another at the place where my nose meets my forehead, between my brows. When I was in elementary school, I was running out on the playground and I tripped and I slide across the cement and scraped my nose and my whole forehead. THERE. WAS. BLOOD. EVERYWHERE. 

99. Colour of your bedspread? 

Light pink 

100. Colour of your room? 

White! 

I tag: @tommyleeownsme, @babe-mustaine, @waycooljunior, and @universal-scorpio ❤️

[moondustis]

high on your love (m)

pairing: wong yukhei + reader genre: smut with a little plot word count: 2,1k warnings: recreational drug use a/n: i can’t believe a 2,1k self indulgent smut about yukhei... oh my god

summary: the smell of weed is already strong when you open the door to yukhei’s room only to find him in his bed, in only sweatpants and your promised blunt between his lips. there’s a song playing that you sure it’s from his sex playlist. corny as ever.

Friday nights were not made for writing stupid assignments on political tensions, you think as you angry smash your keyboards, writing another paragraph of bullshit. You had decided to take a weekend to yourself, to finally try and finish all the due tomorrow things you had, but it was proving to be a very hard task with you phone buzzing every single minute.

mina:

you should come to the NKT party

it’s litty!!

seulgi:

giirl where r u

xuxi:

hey babe

cum over

You roll your eyes extra hard at the last one. You and Wong Yukhei had met at one of his frat parties last year and you immediately felt attracted to his goofy personality. You were, as the kids would say, a moronsexual, attracted to dumbasses exclusively. And he proved to be a big one the more you got to know him. 

You two had hooked up that night and when his mouth proved to be good at things other than talking nonsense, you made the decision to go back to his bed for another time, and then another. Your little arrangement had been going on for a while now and it worked great for both of you. 

That is, except when he texted you when you specifically told him you had to focus on your essay.

xuxi:

r u really goin to ignore me like that

:/

y/n:

what do u want

arent u busy with the party

xuxi:

nah the partys boring

got horny and came up to beat my meat

but remembered u could do that for me instead ;)

y/n:

oH MY GOD

SHUT THE FUCK UP U R DISGUSTING

xuxi:

u love it :pp

so r u cumming over or not

y/n:

u are so gross

and no

i told you i have an essay to write

xuxi:

u can write it tomorrow

come oonnnn babe

i’ll save u a blunt

He got you there. You really needed something to get your mind off things, writing two paragraphs of your essay had really put you on edge. Besides that plus the prospect of getting fucked tonight sounded like a very good idea. There was nothing much to think about, you threw on some shorts and a sweatshirt before going out the door and sending him a text to let you know you were on your way.

y/n:

i’m omw

xuxi:

thats my girl

Another thing you forgot to mention was that in the middle of all the hooking up you had managed to develop very stupid feelings for him. Feelings that only aggravated when he called you his girl. 

---

When you get to the NKT house the party is going at full force. There’s people passed out in the garden and getting throw into the pool. A typical frat party. You make your way into the house waving at Mina and Seulgi when you spot them but not bothering to go and actually talk, knowing full well they would tease you about only coming out of the house for a certain thing. That doesn’t stop them from whistling at you when they see that you are going upstairs and you just flip them off. The smell of weed is already strong when you open the door to Yukhei’s room, only to find him in his bed, in only sweatpants and your promised blunt between his lips. There’s a song playing that you sure it’s from his sex playlist. Corny as ever. “I can’t believe you are already smoking it” You whine, moving to his bed to settle in on his lap and taking the blunt from him “You said it was mine.” He laughs at how cute you are pouting and trying to sound angry at him. “You were taking too long.” He says, like that was reason enough and starts rubbing circles on your waist. “I was going to wait till after we fucked.” You say, taking a hit anyway. “You get sloppy and come faster when you’re high.” The offended look he gives you makes you laugh with your whole body and he pushes you down for a kiss to shut you up. You put the blunt aside, getting both or your hands free so you can put them on his shoulders and his lips move against yours. He must’ve started smoking before he texted you, because his movements are slow, a stark contrast to his usual eagerness and rushed kisses but you appreciate it nonetheless. His lips are soft against yours, his tongue licking at your lips asking for entrance and you can’t help but moan quietly at the way his hands are gripping your thighs.

“Your thighs are so soft.” He says, barely a whisper when you start kissing down his neck “My favorite thighs in the whole world.”

You laugh softly at his nonsense, moving to kiss him on the sensitive spot just below his ear making him let out a groan. He moves his hands to your hips to push you down on his lap making you feel his hard on pressing against the inside of your thigh. He always gets excited surprisingly fast after smoking but you flatter yourself with the thought that this is all because of you.

“You are already so hard, baby.” You whisper against his lips and he wastes no time connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and he’s rolling his hips against yours trying to get a least a little bit of friction. You indulge him with soft moans and whimpers and he can’t help but stare at the way you are moving in his lap with hooded eyes.  

“Want your mouth on my dick so bad.” He mumbles against your lips making you clench around nothing “Will you do that for me, huh?”

You ran your hands down his torso only stopping when they are at his hip bone, drawing little circles making him whine softly, always the spoiled brat. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you raw and at the same time there’s the small trace of desperation in his eyes so you decided to not tease him for long, pushing his boxers and sweatpants in one go.

Ge shivers when the cold air hits his dick and your mouth waters when you see how red the tip is, shiny from the pre-come already dripping of his tip. His dick is not the biggest you have ever seen but the length of it compensates for the thickness and you love it. The moan he lets out when your tongue makes contact with his hardness for the first time makes you ten times wetter than you already are and you desperately want to have him inside of you already. But since he asked so nicely for a blowjob you kiss the tip sweetly before sliding your mouth down his dick, swirling your tongue around a few times making him buck his hips upwards.

You know he likes taking control, fucking your mouth raw until you are almost choking but tonight you want to take control so you press his hips down, running your hands on his thighs to help him calm down before you start bobbing your head up and down moaning around his length when he starts talking about all the things he wants to do to you.

You only stop sucking him off when he pushes you back on his lap. “You were about to make me come.” He says with his forehead pressed to yours and then he kisses you, tasting himself on your lips and groaning deeply.

You move off him a little to take off your shorts and sweatshirt, going back to sit on his lap in only your baby blue lacy panties that he seems to like a lot. His hands immediately go to your boobs, holding them softly with his big hands and pinching your nipples lightly making you let out a whine. “Fuck, you are so hot. I love your tits,” He says and moves one of his hands to slap one of your ass cheeks, gripping it tightly right after. “And your ass.”

“What else?” You ask, fishing for compliments.

“I love you sweet mouth and the way it feels around my cock.” He whispers and his words make your whole body feel on fire and you’re clenching around nothing again, ready to have him inside of you. “And i love your pretty little pussy, how tight it is for me.”

You moan just because of his words and he presses his hand on your damp panties, feeling how wet you are for him and it would embarrass you if he didn’t already know the effect he had on you. He taps your thighs a little to signal for you to remove your panties and you do that, throwing them around somewhere in the room.

He drags his fingers from your entrance to your clit, spreading your wetness around and making you let out a loud moan. “Please, xuxi” you grind down on his hand unshameful “Fuck me already.”

“Can’t fuck my girl without prepping her, huh?” He says but the moment he enters a finger inside of you he knows you won’t be needing much preparation tonight. he looks at you with a confused look on his face and you can’t help but blush. “I… I got bored while doing the essay and ended up fucking myself with my vibrator.” You explain making him grip your waist tighter and groan a low fuck.

That makes him choke on air. “You’re unreal, you know that?” He smiles at you, his hands fishing for a condom on his drawer. The look he gives you while he rolls it down his cock makes your stomach flutter and you get the urge to kiss him. So you do just that.

He kisses you softly, with his hands holding you neck, only stopping to mutter a few curses when you finally lower yourself on his dick. It feels amazing to finally feel you around him and he immediately starts moving his hips upwards making yourself bounce on top of him. He adjusts himself so his back is against the bed’s headboard and takes one of your nipples in his mouth, leaving tiny bites on it. You are a mess on top of him, whimpering about how good he makes you feel and how much you love how he fucks you and it only makes him fuck you faster, his hands pushing his hips down at the same time he fucks you from below.

You come after a few rubs of his fingers on your clit and screaming his name so loudly that if the music wasn’t so loud you are sure people would’ve hear it downstairs. He comes a few moments later, his thrusts getting sloppier and his head hiding on your neck, moaning quietly.

“Mhhm, that was nice.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead and removing yourself off of him, hissing when his dick is out. You get up from the bed, putting your sweatshirt on and looking for your panties “Where are you going? I wanna cuddle.” He whines.

“Stop being a baby. I gotta pee and clean myself up.” You tell him finally finding your panties and putting them on.

“Why do you always gotta pee right after?” He asks “Sometimes all a guy wants is some cuddles right after a good fuck.”

You roll your eyes from the toilet. “I read somewhere on the internet that it’s important.” You explain and you hear him mumble a quiet bullshit “Shut up, xuxi. It’s not bullshit.”

When you come back to the room he has already put on his sweatpants back on and greets you with his arms wide open and childish cheer that makes you laugh. There’s a frank ocean song playing softly on the background and you almost don’t hear the noise coming from downstairs.

You kiss lazily to frank ocean’s voice. He’s talking something about summer love and you feel warm, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy at the feelings you have always hidden deep down.

“____. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Yukhei murmurs against your lips., making your heart hurt, but he’s quick to explain himself. “I mean that i don’t wanna just fuck you and don’t mean anything by it.”

Your heart is racing and you don’t believe the worst that are coming out of his mouth. you don’t believe that all this time he has felt the same way. “I… Fuck. I wanna take you on dates and hold your while we walk on campus. I wanna… make love to you or something like that.” He finishes and you don’t give him time to say anything else because you are kissing him, muttering that you want this too, have wanted it for a while and he smiles so big that you can’t help but smile too.

The next day he takes you on a breakfast date and holds your hand while you two walk down campus. Later you two finally get to finish that blunt. After you are done with that essay of course.

[primusparry]

Glymera Party (With @GlymeraPunk

Parry:

*Looking myself over in the full length mirror in my bedroom, I nod in approval. My hair in a sleek updo, subtle makeup, and dressed in a teal satin evening gown, I look every inch the highborn glymera daughter that I am. Although, it does feel a little weird now to wear something other than denim and leather, but I have to make sure that I’m properly attired. No motorcycle jackets and combat boots tonight! My father is hosting a ball and asked me to come, since I hadn’t been to a similar event for a while and he thought I should make a point of attending, at least for a little while. I love my sire, and I’m glad for the chance to spend some time with him. The rest of the glymera, however… I could probably happily never lay eyes on most of those pretentious jerks ever again, but I can suck it up once in a while. The best part of this whole thing tonight is that Peyton’s coming too, so I know that at least I’ll have one other person here besides my dad that I actually like. And Peyton and I had agreed to attend the party together as each other’s dates, since neither one of us are seeing anyone else right now. When I hear a knock on the door, I run a hand down my torso to smooth out the material of my dress and walk over to open the door. Seeing who’s on the other side, I grin up at my best friend.* Hey Pey! You look great. Are you ready for this?

Peyton:

[How in Dhund did I let myself get talked into this? Even as I scowled at my reflection, all trussed up in this monkey suit, I had to roll my eyes. I knew exactly how. Because Paradise had asked, and I was a sucker. Well, a sucker for her at least, although at least I'd hoped, through our time in training that I'd tamped down on some of my more pathetic attempts for attention when it came to her. I was still trying to convince myself that I could, for once, be the better male and settle for her friendship over not having her in my life at all. Still, the two of us attending a full on glymera shindig was its own brand of torture. A glimpse into the path we could have had if we'd just fell in line like mindless robots and done as our parents wanted. But that wasn't in the cards for us, and wasn't what either of us truly wanted. Still, we could play the part, appease our parents, turn a few heads, and start a few rumors. The night would be a total loss. At least that's what I was telling myself. Hair buzzed and quaffed, bowtie perfectly symmetrical, I looked damn good buttoned up in a tux. My father would hate that I could so easily fall in line, so that was all I more reason to attend. Chuckling to myself, my wallet, phone and keys went into my pockets before a pre-rolled joint got tucked behind my ear. I opted for the Alpha Romeo tonight, revving the engine obnoxiously as I pulled down the drive and peeled out on the street. I really couldn't help being a dick sometimes. My father's reactions just made it too easy. Sparking the joint, I puffed away as I made my way through the elite streets of Caldwell, and kept right on toking as I handed my keys off to the doggen playing valet. Strolling my way up the long walk to the Abalone estate, I resisted the urge to stab the joint out on the pristine white door jamb, and opted for the bottom of my polished Cole Haans. My aloof expression in place as I knocked at the door bloomed into a genuine smile when it was Paradise and not another doggen who opened it. Letting out a long, low whistle of appreciation, I dragged my eyes up her gorgeous body slowly, not because I was a creep, but because in a dress like that, she was begging to be looked at.] You look amazing, Paradise. Your father shouldn't let you out of the house. [Smirking as I stepped over the threshold, I offered my best friend my arm.] I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this.

Parry:

*I feel a slight blush rise to my cheeks at Peyton’s compliment- not to mention the way he was looking me over. It can be disconcerting to be the focus of such blatant male appreciation, but it can still be nice to know that someone finds you attractive- even though there’s nothing romantic going on between us, as much as Peyton might still be wishing otherwise.* Thank you. And thank you for coming tonight. I don’t think I could handle this crap without someone I actually want to be around being here too. *I smile and kiss his cheek before I twine my arm through his, ignoring the faint whiff of weed I can smell clinging to his clothes. As we enter the ballroom and the doggen announces us, I glance around and note that only about half of the invited guests have arrived sofar. I smile and wave at my father before turning back to Peyton.* How about we get something to drink before we start making the rounds?

Peyton: You are absolutely the only one that could get me back to one of these things, Paradise. [Chuckling when her arm is wound with mine, I patted her hand as the doggen made a big fuss about us walking into a room. I swear, the glymera were something else. Once upon a time, I'd been fully immersed in this life, but I knew better now and so did Parry. There were real issues in the vampire world outside of who attended what parties and who's mate was having an affair with who, and we were a part of the solutions. As graduates of the Brotherhood training program we patrolled the city to ensure civilian safety and exterminate the enemy. Everything else paled in comparison. Nodding as my gaze scanned the room, noting familiar faces and ex friends, I bought my gaze to hers.] Scribe, yes. Several. And I apologize in advance for any scene I may or may not make with my father.

Parry:

*Chuckles.* No need for an apology, Pey. I know what your sire can be like. *We get our drinks and start going around chatting with guests as the ballroom continues to fill up, and I am quickly bored out of my mind. Why can’t these people ever talk about something that actually matters?! Who the hell cares who is wearing what, or who’s dating who? Sweet Scribe, I’m so glad that I’ve left this whole lifestyle behind, for the most part. There are so many more important things to worry about, beyond what color a female’s dress is, or how much a male paid for his shoes!! For starters, the survival of our entire freaking species!

Peyton and I end up out in the gardens, hiding out for a few minutes for a breather. We sat in a little nook, out of sight of any passersby to avoid getting sucked into another inane conversation. Then I hear footsteps, and voices approaching.

“..... is our host’s daughter…”

“But dressing as she does, training, actually going out to fight in the alleys and gutters of the city? I don’t know how she ever expects to find a hellren like that!”

“Exactly! What male would want such a shellan? Paradise is glymera, she should act as such. Not like some gutter rat!”

As the voices fade away again as the speakers continue on their way, I find myself standing up with my fists clenched, trembling as multiple emotions fight for dominance within me. Insult, anger, hurt, humiliation… Torn between wanting to scream, or cry, or chase after those vicious cows and give them a piece of my mind, I turn to look at Peyton* What the hell?!

Peyton: [The alcohol and pre-snoozefest joint helped me from keeping my eyes from rolling so far back in my head they got stuck that way as we made our way around the room. Only a handful of the guests even wanted to engage in more than small talk or a formal greeting with either of us. Word had spread about where we'd been spending our nights, and let's just say that while the upper class was glad to know that the race was being protected, they were none too happy to be losing sons and daughters to the cause. Pity for them, I couldn't care less. But, this was Paradise's home and I didn't think she deserved to be disrespected in it. After one too many sidelong glances of disdain, I escorted her out to the gardens. We both needed a breath of fresh air after so many blowhards filles the ball room. Besides, I was a sucker for the way she looked in the moonlight. Ever the gentlemale, I draped my tux jacket over her shoulders as we settled on a tucked away marble bench and was just about to pull some mundane topic from thin air, and a joint from my pocket, when we heard the other guests. The last of their words were drowned out by the growl rumbling my chest, the only thing that kept me from launching over the hedge was the fact that Paradise was already on her feet. One of us had to keep our heads, and as it was her house, she got first dibs on the beat down, or at least that's what my reaction would have been. Pushing to my feet, I gave my best regal bow, gesturing with one arm towards the unknown focus of our joined ire.] Shall we show these neophytes exactly what a female of your station and skill can do, my lady?

Parry:

*I could see that Peyton’s nearly as upset as I am- snarling, fangs bared, looking like he wants to rip the throats out of those who had spoken. But he pulls himself together as he stands up and gives me an exaggerated bow, the move almost, but not quite succeeding in getting me to smile. At his words, I nod* Yes, I believe we shall. *I take off his jacket and lay it neatly on the bench. Then I lead the way out of the alcove and follow the path in the direction my detractors had gone in. We turn a corner in the path, and there they are. Yeah, I recognize them, it’s just who I’d thought it was from their voices. I decide that enough is enough, I’m tired of all the derision, snubs, and bad attitudes. Fuck this, it’s time to let my anger have its say and put some of these morons in their place. I square my shoulders and clear my throat* Good evening, ladies! *I smirk as they turn, slight blushes rising to their cheeks, and surprise and guilt in their eyes, quickly covered up. That’s right, you ridiculous bitches, you got busted!* I have a question: How dare you? How fucking dare you come into my father’s home- into MY home- and speak that way about me? You, who have never done a single damned worthwhile thing in your shallow, vapid lives, dare to look down on me?! I’m doing something good with my life, something important and vital. While you’re all sitting in your daddies’ mansions worrying about your hair and clothes and other such superficial nonsense, I’m out there night after night literally risking my life to protect our race, to help try to prevent our extinction. I’m a warrior, and you’re nothing but useless, brainless dolls. I’m extremely proud of what I’m doing, what I’ve become, and I thank the Scribe Virgin that I’m nothing like you anymore! *As I pause my tirade to take a couple breaths, I feel Peyton lay a hand on my shoulder- not like a male comforting a female, more like a gesture of camaraderie and support, friend to friend and soldier to soldier. I lay my hand on his as I turn to him.* Let’s go, Pey. Our present company is beginning to turn my stomach.

Peyton: [Taking my position at her back as she walked with purpose through the garden, I tried really hard not to notice that glint of the moon reflecting off the satin rounding her ass as she walked...and failed miserably. If she could ever read my mind, she'd rip my throat out. Pulled from my musing by the f-bomb she dropped when verbally tearing into the ignorant females, I stood my ground, just behind her and to the left, my military stance engaged, features stern, all the while thankful for the loose drape of my tuxedo slacks as she tore them to shreds. If this wasn't the hottest thing I'd ever witnessed, don't know what was. Throat. Out. Internally chastising myself, I took one step closer when she stopped to breathe, laying my hand on her shoulder, as my gaze narrowed on the females standing gobsmacked before us. Letting a slow, sinister smile curl my lips, I let my fangs show, a move that would appall the glymera. How dare I let my animalistic nature free.] Sapphire. Jade. I think it's time you have a doggen show you out before I let slip to your mahmens and fathers that I bore witness to your insults to the beloved daughter of the king's first advisor, in her own home, no less. [Flicking the tip of my tongue to the point of my fang in a blatant threat, I slid my arm around Paradise's shoulder, nodded once, and steered her away from that garbage, addressing her, but loud enough that they'd hear.] You have never been anything like them, Paradise. They aren't worthy enough to clean your toilet. [The gasps at our backs as we moved away had a grin stretching as I tipped a wink in her direction.]

Parry:

*I grin back at Peyton as he delivers his parting shot and winks at me as he leads me away from the dumbfounded females I had faced down. I suggest that we go back inside and tell my father about the incident so that, as host, he’s prepared to handle any fallout. As we walk, I feel lighter and lighter- I don’t think I fully realized how much I was holding in, how much I was bothered by what the rest of the glymera was saying about me and the rest of my trainee classmates. But now that I’ve let loose some of those bottled up feelings, I feel better. I also realize that it really shouldn’t matter what the glymera thinks of me, so I won’t let it. Why should I? Forget them! By the time we get back to the alcove to get Pey’s jacket I feel downright giddy* Oh, that felt so good! Did you see the looks on their faces?! *I start laughing, and throw my arms around him. Then, following an impulse I don’t understand but also don’t think to question, I pull his head down to mine and kiss him. Lost in the moment, in the sensations of his tongue dueling with mine and his hands gripping my waist tight, I don’t really think about what I’m doing. But then it hits me- and so does the embarrassment. I pull back as heat floods my cheeks, and I find myself barely able to meet his eyes as I stammer* Pey, I- I’m so sorry! I don’t know what got into me just then…

Peyton: [My grin was huge as she practically skipped back to the alcove where my jacket waited. It didn't bother me one way or the other if we told her father, but I understood why she'd want to. Nodding along as she spoke, I chuckled as Paradise, in her own Paradise way, cursed the females without uttering a profanity.

And then her lips were on mine and my brain shorted out. This wasn't just a friendly peck. When I felt her tongue, Scribe yes, I went with it. A low growl rumbled my chest as my body came to life, my hands gripping her hips to keep her again me as I savored my first taste of Paradise. All too soon it was over. Like a bucket of ice dumped over my head, I knew the first would be the last, and damn if her cheeks didn't look good that color. Alright, Pey, whatever you do, do not beg for more. Wanker. With my own version of a pep talk in mind, I groaned internally before lifting my hand, brushing my knuckles over her cheek.] Hey, none of that. You know my lips are at your disposal for insulting glymera, or...those. [Tapping a fingertip to her lips my smirk was cocky, aloof all while I died a little inside. Clearing my throat, I dropped my hand and stepped back.] You know, maybe we shouldn't tell your father. [Holding up surrender hands at the shocked look of betrayal on her face, my statement had done the distracting I wanted it to.] Hear me out! We'd have some to hold over their heads. A card to play if we need a favor down the road? You never know… [Both brows rose as I tried for an innocent look, waiting for her to respond. Maybe she'd kiss me again?]

Parry:

*As Peyton steps back and looks at me with such an indifferent smirk on his face, I feel a stab of hurt. Did he not have romantic feelings for me anymore? Or had I completely misread things to begin with? Even if so, how could he act like the kiss hadn’t meant anything to him? After all the time we’ve been friends, everything we’ve been through together? For just a second during the kiss, I’d thought…. But maybe I was wrong. Before I can process this, he hits me with the double whammy of not wanting to tell my father about the incident after all. Before I can respond in the negative he explains why he thinks we shouldn’t, and I realize that he might have a point, so I nod and agree with him. After all, it might be better to keep those two guessing about what I might do about it, and when. Keep them off balance. I hate to be so calculating and manipulative, but sometimes that’s the only thing those of our class understand. I keep my distance from Pey as we walk back inside, careful not to touch him, for fear of feeling his indifference again. That might actually make me break down and cry- something I absolutely don’t want to do in front of him. As we walk through the doors, I glance at the stairs and think of my room- and, as much as it galls me to do so, I decide to take the coward’s way out and escape.* You know what, Pey? I’ve put in an appearance and made the rounds, and that’s really all I promised my dad I’d do. I think I’m gonna go ahead and just call it a night. See you at the training center tomorrow night… * I go up the stairs, keeping to a moderate pace (I might be running away, but damned if I’ll let him know that!). As soon as my bedroom door closes behind me, I start pulling the pins out of my hair and pull it back into a simple ponytail. Then I change into sweatpants and a t-shirt and curl up on the couch in my sitting area, trying to sort out my increasingly tangled feelings regarding my best friend.*

Peyton: [I could tell she was still out of sorts as we entered her home again, whether it was from the confrontation or the kiss, I could only guess. Was telling her that my lips were at her disposal any time she wanted them even too much? Not that open mouth, insert foot wasn't my usual go to when it came to Paradise, and something we were both used to, but damn that kiss had thrown me for a loop. I knew the fantasies running through my mind weren't even a notion in hers as we walked silently into the ballroom, but I wasn't surprised when she decided to take her leave for the night. It was a relief actually as I caught my father's judgmental stare from across the room, and just as my buzz was starting to wane. Yes, ducking out now was best all around. The only thing that would make it better was if Paradise were to ask me to join her in her rooms, but that was those fantasies fucking with my head again. Never gonna happen, Pey. Nodding as I walked her to the bottom of the grand staircase, I lifted her hand as I gave a half bow, but instead of brushing my lips over her knuckles, I turned her hand over, and pressed a kiss to the pulse point of her wrist. With a wink and a smile that was equally devilish and just plain stupid, I bid my date good night and turned for the door. Thanking the doggen as he held out my cashmere coat, I was sparking the joint I had tucked in the inner pocket before another doggen arrived with my car from valet. The J and replay of that kiss from Paradise would keep me warm for the rest of the night and following day.]

#GlymeraParty #SASBDB

[dunmerofskyrim]

76

Kaliklu made a scoop of his fingers, pawing out meat from the thing’s black shell. White ribbons of flesh, like the insides of a stringsquash. “Iron, you said.” He sat cross-legged with the other Kogaru, pale sun on their red backs, sucking cooking-juices from their fingertips and frowning.

Far side of the small fire, Simra crouched on his haunches, and picked at the section of shell he’d already eaten clean. “And salt. Spices. Tea. Whatever barter you might want, there’s a good chance I have it.”

The Kogaru spoke amongst themselves, muttering in their own tongue. Then the hunter looked back to the youngest. Went back to feeding him, morsel by morsel of the meat, all gentle motions and gruff stern sounding words. He was the only one with food left. Smallest, weakest among them, and they’d served him the most.

Kaliklu spoke for the three of them. “Knives, you said.”

“I did.” Simra felt the set of his mouth change. He’d sooner keep any blades he had. This was bad country to be without them, he reckoned. “Good edges, strong blades. I’ll even sharp them for you. I’ve got the gear for it. But I’ll need to know I’m getting what I want in exchange.”

Kaliklu snorted.

“Am I? How do I know you know anything I want to know?”

Another noise, tight-mouthed but it was the closest Kaliklu had come to laughing, so far as Simra had seen. “An outsider, you said. That is who you are looking for?”

“I did.”

“Do you think there are many of you here? Outsiders? I know of one other.”

“Well? Name him.”

Crack and gravel at the side of Simra’s hearing. Llolamae was capering, crawling along the side of the stone ledge where they sat. She’d started by searching out pebbles, skipping them through thin air and into the trees below. Now she’d turned to rocks, the biggest she could find, throwing them down the slopeside and watching them break as they fell.

Little enough harm in it, Simra thought. The biggest rocks she could lift weren’t big enough to cause trouble. Just wished she’d do it quieter. He thought of telling her to stop – change back to the pebbles at least – but couldn’t bring himself to it. What was he, her mother? Besides, it briared at the hunter. He’d stopped his feeding to stare needles at Llolamae, trying to keep his face straight and failing. It was worth the noise just to twitch the sour bastard’s temper.

“We have a name for him,” said Kaliklu.

“Dalvur Vedith?”

“Perhaps. I do not think ours is the name you use. We have another for him.”

“Then what is it?” Simra caught himself chewing at the inside of his cheek, impatient.

“No. First you will tell us, why do you want him?”

“Fine. Fine fine fine…” said Simra, thinking. Kaliklu was guarded, chary of showing his hand. But it’s a player with something to lose who takes so much care in hiding it. Some way or another, he cared what happened to Vedith. “I’ll show you.”

Simra creaked upright and onto his feet, buying time. He ducked into the cave, down into its height and shadow, and grabbed up his bags to drop them heaped by the fire. Humming inside his closed mouth, he loosed the drawstring on his bookbag and brought out a leather scrollcase. The Sermons of Vivec, twelve to twenty-one, with commentaries and reflections from whatever pious inkstains the Temple in Suran asked and paid for their thoughts. What were the chances the Kogaru could read?

“Here,” he said, mouth dry, gesturing with the scrollcase. “It’s from where he’s from. Research he started, and another finished. I don’t know more than that. Only that someone paid good money to have it brought to him.” Simra shrugged, gave a half-smile, as the lie came together just tight enough. Don’t claim to know the whole story and you won’t be asked for it. “Telvanni…”

A sharpness showed in Kaliklu’s eyes and Simra’s heart staggered. “Good money, you said… Then you can afford a high cost for our help.”

Simra’s relief soured no sooner than it had come. He ungrit his back teeth by force. “I reckon so.”

“You are Zainab,” Kaliklu said, a small shadow of a smile on his face, like he’d won. “I knew that you would understand.”

Simra wondered how many Zainab the old Kogaru had ever met to have such a strongfounded opinion of them all. “Fair is fair. What’s your price? How many knives are we talking?”

“Just one.” Kaliklu’s smile widened, worse somehow for it. “The one that cuts air. You used it to maim one of us from afar. You will give it to us as payment, and to make wrongs right. Blood for blood, and the weapon that wounded. That is the price of forgiveness.”

The wand. Simra paced, then stopped pacing. Arms crossed, drumming his ribs with his fingers and cursing the corner he’d backed himself into, he thought it through. Thrusting a hand through his hair, forcing it to go slow, he resigned himself to it. “Fine.” The blighted wand was losing its power anycase, its attitude getting worse year by year. Better not to rely on it. Better to sell while it would still fetch a price. Still, the thought of being without it was a naked fearful thing. “Fine fine fine. You drive a high price, but if that’s what it’ll take…” He was giving them faulty goods. So why did it feel like he was the one being cheated?

“We’ll need food too!” Llolamae called over. “Nother one of those bugs made of meat. Nother one of those and we’ll call it a deal.”

Simra tilted Llolamae a questioning look. Hadn’t known she was paying the deal any mind. The surprise lasted only a moment. “You heard her.” He bent slow to unhide the twisted tin length of the wand from his boot. “I right the wrong we did each other, gift you this, help as I can. That makes me a friend. A stranger in your care while you take me to Vedith. We’ll need treating like guests. Fed as you feed, safe while you’re safe. Right?”

Kaliklu huffed but did not object.

“I knew you’d understand.” Simra crouched back down by the fire and returned to picking at the shell he’d left. “I share with you, you share back.” Dull black shell, scorched to chalk by the roasting of the flesh inside it. He chucked it onto the smouldering fire, like a potshard into a midden. Watched the cough of sparks, and the shuddering resin-smelling smoke of the branches the fire was built on. Watched Kaliklu’s face through it, axehead-hard and still.

“We call him Gurrigalattu…” the old Kogaru said, slow, like unfolding some close-kept mystery.

“And that means what in your tongue exactly?”

Kaliklu pursed his mouth and worked his tongue thoughtful inside it. The youngest Kogaru winced as he leaned in, and murmured something to his elder, who hummed, gave a solemn blink, and translated. “The one who…greens? Or seeds. Makes thrive what would not without him. The one who makes things grow.”

“So…the Gardener?” Llolamae said.

Simra looked past the fire, the three Kogaru, the ledge and out into the basin below. The cone-trees and birches, the ferns and spindle-stemmed wide-spreading mushrooms, at the bottom of a slope thickgrown with flowers and brambles. No wilderness. No accident. A garden.

They gathered themselves up after that, shells left to bleach and crack in the wintertime sun. They left the fire too, still burning to burn itself out.

Simra stripped down to his jacket, his two shirts, the days of sweat from the cold and the heat under his clothes and stiff on them. He tied his mantle over his gathersack and tied his scarf round its strap, scratching at his neck. Good to let his skin breathe. A good choice, as they picked along the slope and headed down it, under the treeline and into the shade of it, hot and growing hotter the lower they went.

Llolamae’s face flushed, shining with damp. Like her body didn’t know what to do with this much warmth. Like she didn’t know what to do with it either — for all the heat, she kept her flapped hat on.

“Work both ways, you know. Hats.” Simra walked beside her, keeping the red backs of the Kogaru in sight up ahead. “Stop you losing heat out your head when it’s cold, but when it’s hot..? Like I said. Both ways.”

She gave him a dazed look, then went back to watching her feet, careful of the roots and thick growth that choked round their knees in the forest at the bottom of the basin. They’d gone another twenty, thirty trudging strides before she raised her hand like a sleepwalker and dragged the hat from her head.

“Better?” Simra tried.

“Never thought you could be too warm…” she slurred, rumpling the hat between her hands.

“It’s just as bad, trust me on that. Worse! Cold, you can always put more on, light a fire. Too hot though, once you’re down to skin and shame and sweat and you’re still sweating, suffering? What d’you do then?”

“What do you do then?”

“Tell you when I figure that out.”

They went high-kneed through deep and dew-damp weeds that left Simra’s trousers smeared wet to the hip. Low, bare sun-starved branches, thin as wind-troubled hair that tickled at his neck and cheeks and made him flinch, blink, angry of a sudden and then forgetting why.

“The research,” said Llolamae.

“What?”

“That scroll for Vedith. It’s about the torquestone, intit? Like what Master Vidanu’s learning about. Like you said.”

Simra’s heart stumbled again. He’d said so, hadn’t he? “Think so, but it’s not like I know much about the finer points.”

“Master Vidanu’d be ever so grateful to know though, wouldn’t he? What it says, I mean.”

“I’m sure. Mistress Ulessen though? Not so grateful. Not if I showed him.” Simra gave a dramatic shudder, making Llolamae smile a little. “Doesn’t bear thinking about, what she’d do to me.”

“Dunno what else a Telvanni’d find to be interested in round here. Master Vidanu says it brought him all across a week of sea just to come see it and see about it! So it must be really special? Don’t know about anything else special round here…”

“Are you not seeing what I’m seeing? A bowl poured full of high Summer when all the rest’s deep Winter outside?”

“Oh, aye… Well there is that.” Llolamae sniffed. “Any Telvanni can make things grow though. Have you not seen Master Vidanu’s tel?”

Simra didn’t reply. Couldn’t sound impressed about that mess and keep a straight face. That was one lie too big and too many for this morning.

“Course he did all that without any help at all. Except from me. Just a bit.” Llolamae pinched her fingers together and grinned, puffed up and proud. “If Vedith can do all this with the torquestone, and him not even a real wizard? Think what Master Vidanu could do!”

“You think the torquestone’s what makes this place like it is?”

“Course! Got to be! I mean, you did say.”

“I did, yeah…”

But Simra remembered the coarse porous stone of the ruins, the screw-spiralling rock growing up out of the hilltop, and it seemed nothing like the strange glassy walls of the cave here, or the chalky ledge or light-brown shale of the slopes. Then again, what did he know about rocks? Then again, in the ruin at the top of the torquestone hill, hadn’t he also been warm? Black stone, not hot to the touch, but with something to it. Not a flake of snow would settle…