#this one's too aesthetically pleasing i need to make my next piece look like absolute fucking dogshit if my eyes aren't melting i've failed

[redactedcrowart]

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[loaksky]

hello! would you consider writing modern avatar stuff? if ur cool w that can i request modern human neteyam relationship headcanons?

wait hold the phone yes i would actually ! wanted to hold off on posting this to include headcanons about what modern!neteyam would be like in a relationship, but i’m so eager to come back ! instead here’s some background about him & reader leading up to the relationship (part 2 pending if you guys want it) ! headcanons under the cut & for all intents + purposes, i picture college-neteyam ! additionally, in my brain, it’s canon that teyam as a human would be poc, hence the reference pictures i included below ! <3

so i definitely see neteyam having a very soft aesthetic, he’s such a sweetheart tbh

fs think that the two of you would have a meetcute in university & then end up being college sweethearts

his major is something specific like environmental engineering or child psychology ? he’s definitely really smart and excels in all of his classes !

which brings me to how the two of you would meet ? perhaps he’s taking an elective course in pottery and your major is in art with a concentration in three dimensional composition

the class is considered a lab, so the professor emails out the syllabus and students come and go as they please during class hours to work on their compositions.

halfway thru the sem, you and teyam stumble upon each other in the storage room between two classrooms, fetching different pieces that need to be glazed + fired.

“sorry, you can—”

“nah, you first—”

you laugh and neteyam’s smiling because WOW you’re really cute + had he known that someone as lovely as you was in the same section as him, he’d probably hang around the classroom more.

from that moment on, neteyam’s always lingering during the class’ meeting time, even if he’s already finished with his projects for the week because he wants to get to know you SO bad, but he’s way too shy.

(probably still canon that he’s phenomenal at literally everything, but i think it’d be so cute if he had 0 legitimate rizz bc he’s so used to kinda just bein’ him and pulling bc he’s a jack of all trades type of guy)

“what are you making?” you ask him one day and he snatches his airpod out of his ear so quickly even though he’s not listening to anything.

“ashtray” he answers quietly, a lil self-conscious because he’s come to find out that you’re absolutely amazing at sculpting and while you do this for your future, he does it is as a pastime / elective to graduate. “but like i don’t smoke or anything yknow, i just thought that i’d be a good thing to–”

you’re staring at him with the corner of your mouth quirked and he shuts up quickly, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he slumps on his stool.

“you should score using a crosshatch,” you tell him simply. “makes the pieces stick together better.”

he looks down at where he’d been scratching the damp clay laterally and your hands hover over his, head tilting to the side.

“can i?”

oh yeah, yeah! sure,” he splutters, leaning back a little to watch you work your magic.

can’t help but watch the way your fingers work over the clay, knuckles smudged with glaze and dust coating the silver of your rings.

he watches your hands, but soon he’s watching your face because you’re concentrated so hard on making sure you’re using your best technique for the little ashtray.

lo and behold, the pieces stick together so perfectly and smoothly, ready to be fired in the kiln, and neteyam’s grateful.

“thanks,” he sighs almost dreamily.

“yeah, of course. glad to help,” you tell him.

when you return to your own project, you slam back the rest of your melting drink and neteyam’s eyes are squinting the get a read on what it is you order.

you’re pleasantly surprised when you turn up to pottery the next session to work on a new project, and neteyam’s there with two coffees, one next to his wheel, another near yours.

“what’s this?” you hum, tying your apron with a messy bow.

“a thank you,” he says shyly. “for helping me last time.”

your eyes widen when you see your favorite; a chai with almondmilk, vanilla, and a shot of espresso.

“how’d you…”

“it’s what you were drinking…” he responds. “last week. i think.

“oh…” you trail off, cheeks hot because he noticed ???

“you don’t have to—”

“NO!” you yelp, a tad loud. some of the other students working on a few last minute projects peer at the two of you and teyam’s grinning like an idiot when he sees the way you tuck your hair behind your ear and reach for the drink. “this is good! it’s great. thank you so much. i actually missed my run this morning.”

“yeah, of course,” he sighs, rolling his lips together as the two of you kinda get off to a clunky start.

the silence between the two of you is a lil awkward, but you decide to break the ice since teyam’s technically played his hand and the ball’s in your court.

“are you an art major ?” you ask.

“uh, nah,” he'd say, rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his baggy jeans because HE SHOWED UP TO CLASS 15 MINUTES EARLY and the agony of not knowing if you’d show up made him so nervous. “environmental engineering.”

your eyebrows raise ever so slightly, lips forming an ‘o’ bc wow that must mean he’s super smart.

“wow, that’s insane,” you say quietly. “what made you take pottery ?”

“only elective that didn’t make me wanna claw my eyes out,” he laughs nervously. “what about you ? what’s your major ?”

you seem to mull over your thoughts for a moment, obviously a little hesitant to answer.

“3d art...nothing special...” you trail off.

neteyam begins working with the slab of clay waiting for him in the center of the wheel, cheeks going hot because the words leave him before he can stop them.

“no, no. i think that’s really cool. art is a really challenging passion to have & i admire people willing to dive in full stop.”

the comment makes you smile, fingers pliant over the wet clay.

neteyam wants to DIE because he can’t read whether or not your smile is genuine or if you’re grimacing because he’s the biggest idiot ever.

he supposes it’s the former when you two are parting ways, signing the attendance log and you decide to bite the bullet and write your instagram handle on the bottom corner of the page and tear it off to hand to him.

he’s barely able to get a ‘thank you’ out before you’re racing out the door with your gifted coffee in hand.

you’re so giddy when you run out of the building and your phone pings in the front pocket of your satchel and you see that teyam.sully has followed you.

after that day, you two become really friendly !

neteyam frequently dms you about class, but eventually, he starts sending you vids and memes, saying that they made him think of you.

it becomes so obvious to both of your friend groups that you’re crushing on each other, but both of you are too painfully shy to say anything despite every green flag.

soon, looking forward to seeing each other during class turns into neteyam subtly asking you to hang out.

you make a comment about one of his hoodies and he mentions that he thrifted it.

“wait really??” you’re pausing your work to look at him. “i love thrifting!”

he smiles wide, word vomiting before he can stop himself.

“yeah? i know a couple of good places if you’re down.”

you say yes, DUH !

looking back at it, maybe that’s your first date because he picks you up from your dorm & bc you guys live in a fairly walkable city, you commute to the thrift and you’re SO giddy because the backs of your hands keep brushing every time some impatient pedestrian pushes by you guys on the narrow sidewalks.

you guys end up spending HOURS and teyam’s internally screaming because you find a shirt that has a peeling heart with the phrase ‘if lost return to wife’ and he happens upon the match to it a couple aisles down that says ‘i'm the wife’.

when you’re not looking, teyam buys the shirts and stuffs them in his canvas bag.

DUDE IS WHIPPED.

he wants you SO bad.

after the thrift, you guys get pizza, and after that, ice cream, and JESUS he doesn’t want the day to end because being with you is so easy.

over the course of the rest of the semester, the two of you make it a routine to hang out at least once a week and you’re always looking forward to it.

dates excursions include; trips to the museum to see recent exhibits, weekly pizza parlor dinners, study sessions at the 24 hr cafe a block from the school (in which he always walks you home after), park days where he reads books on environmental sustainability and you secretly draw portraits of him.

in these times, he learns that you want to become an art teacher, your favorite cereal is froot loops with the marshmallows, your all time show is amazing world of gumball.

almost cries laughing when he finds out that you have a secret pet turtle you hide in your dorm named franklin.

acknowledges that he’s falling, but falls even harder when the florist who owns the flower shop you two always pass hands you the prettiest little bundle of flowers and you spend the entire trek to the park, handing out individual stems to couples, children, and the elderly, telling them to have a beautiful day.

it all comes to a head near the end of the semester when he realizes that he can’t keep dancing around his feelings for you and the feelings he’s almost certain you have for him.

tells you to clear your schedule for the upcoming friday night and dresses a little nicer than usual when he picks you up.

brings you two to the planetarium in the city and, instead of watching the exhibit, he spends the entire time watching how you light up.

he knows in his gut that you could be it for him.

he’s loved getting to know you and spending so much time with you.

he’s so immersed in this feeling throughout the entire night.

probably wipes his sweaty palms over the thighs of his pants before shakily taking your hand as the diagram of the constellations shift.

can’t help but smile when your fingers squeeze his and you seem to shift closer to him as the narrator starts the presentation.

and he’s especially quiet after the exhibit, fingers still twined with yours as the two of you walk down the bustling sidewalks of the city center.

two of you probably stop by a dessert cafe and sit outside on a bench in the spring air, enjoying the buskers as you share a little cake.

you’re talking about home and how you’re excited to see your family again and he can’t help but imagine bringing you home to meet all his siblings and his parents because he knows that they’d absolutely love you and—

you’ve paused your speaking, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth and he’s SHORT CIRCUITING.

“shit, that was weird i’m so—”

his palm cups your jaw, thumb on your cheek, pad of his pinky and ring finger soft against your neck.

“can i?” he whispers.

TRIANGLE METHOD !!

he glances at one eye, gaze dropping to your lips before glancing at the other.

you already know what he’s referring to, could feel the romantic tension between the two of you since the beginning, but only become sure of it in the recent weeks.

”can you what?” you swallow.

he breathes a short laugh because the knowing smile that quirks your lips is a dead give away.

“can i kiss you?” he asks softly, absently setting your abandoned dessert somewhere behind him on the bench.

“yeah,” you’d nod, leaning into him. “please.”

before the two of you go your separate ways for summer holiday, he shows you the shirts he bought at the thrift store the first time around, but insists on keeping the shirt that says ‘i'm the wife’.

neng © 2023

[mistydeyes]

OMG THERES 1K OF YOU!! I cannot believe it! Thank you all so much for all the love and support these last few months :) Literally tearing up at how many people love my works. It all started with a silly little pharmacist fic and look at where we are now!

To celebrate, I will be opening up my inbox for some prompts! For the next week, feel free to send me a character, a prompt below, and any other details (ex. female, male, or g/n character) :)

aesthetic prompts 💌 - CLOSED NOW! thank you for all the submissions :)

soft and cute - all fluff!

vase of flowers - they return home to your door with a small bouquet of flowers with rudy

loveseat - shopping for furniture for your shared home

linen tablecloths - hosting a dinner party (one that is pinterest worthy)

orange juice - sick days call for the best care

vintage maps - a spontaneous trip with an event filled itinerary

cherry lip balm - what was your first kiss like? with graves

paper rings - “put this on” “why did you make a ring out of the straw wrapper?”

ramekins of soup - you both are not experienced chefs but you try a new recipe in the kitchen

tuberose- looking at old photo albums and reminiscing on old memories

tote bags - “hey can you hold this for me?” “why do you have so many things?” “it’s not my fault these pockets don’t hold anything”

sugar cubes - they surprise you with your favorite dessert/sweet treat with price

music - “i made you a playlist!”

pearls - a fancy dinner out with expensive clothes and dining

folded sheets - "hi, i'm your neighbor across the hall :)"

gold - a small gifted ring as a token of your love with price

unlit cigarette - meeting in the most unexpected of places

hot chocolate - a warm snowed in cabin with nowhere to go

house plant - “for your new apartment!” “you know i’m not here enough to water that”

pastel bonnets and rattles - “we are NOT naming our child that”

perfume - perfume bottles decorate your bureau and you decide to let them choose your scent for the day with gaz

friendship bracelets - friends don't look at friends that way, is there something between us? with ghost

shower of tears - angst

crystal glasses - a fight ends with shattered wine glasses and someone is left to pick up the pieces with gaz

running mascara - "i can't believe you would say that to me" with the 141

hyacinth - they decide to interrupt the wedding just as you're about to say your vows with ghost

cardigans - "please don't go, please don't leave me" with ghost

sea salt - you can't do this anymore and just need to get away from them

stars - "do you think in another universe things would have worked out for us?"

cubic zirconia - you both come to the realization that your relationship is beyond repair

cold sheets - "can you hold me just one more time?" with soap and gaz

hydrangeas - a sudden death leaves one of you without the other for the rest of time

cocktails - "you need to stop drinking too much" "what do you know?"

graveyard - "please i don't want to die" with price

enlisted - military au

empty cartridges - "I want you to run, I'll cover you!"

uniforms - they sure clean up well as you look at them in their dress uniform with price

cigarette smoke - you share a cigarette (and exchange indirect kisses) while on patrol with ghost

confidential files - you're the newest addition to the team and you recognize a familiar face

jacket - you forgot to pack you winter gear and they're helping you avoid the cold

angel - this time you're their knight in shining armor as you save them with soap | with price

manila folders - "I'm being transferred to another unit"

bandages - you are the only one with the med kit and are tasked with patching them up

barbells - "you're doing it wrong, let me show you"

MREs - "can we switch? this food is absolute shit"

hit the showers (18+) - a prank ends with you getting your clothes and towel stolen with soap

wigs - you get sent undercover with them

hot and seductive - smut (18+)

lace (18+) - “wait for me in the bedroom, i have a surprise”with soap

stained lipstick (18+) - rough kisses in the back of an uber with gaz | with ghost

stolen glaces (18+) - "are you going to kiss me or not?"

tanning lotion (18+) - you just wanted help with an even lotion application but now their touch is venturing elsewhere

black and white photos (18+) - you take a few photos so they can remember you (and your body) while on deployment with price: part i and part ii

fruit juice (18+) - "let's test out that theory about drinking pineapple juice"

morning sun (18+) - you have nowhere to go and decide to spend it in bed ;) with ghost | with gaz | with price

silk (18+) - “you look absolutely gorgeous tonight”

[best-habsburg-monarch]

To be honest, this has been harder to theme since Franz Joseph lost his quarterfinal. So here's what I've got: look at these (allegedly) bisexual weirdos. No one produces bisexual art and science bitches quite like this dynasty.

Maximilian , Emperor of Mexico, reign: 1864-1867

Rudolph II, Holy Roman Emperor, reign: 1576-1612

Propaganda under the cut:

Maximilian

From: anon

- He loved plants

- He was a sassy man

- He had good taste

- He learned Nahuatl

- He’s cute (I mean look at him)

- He said “gay rights”

- He banned child labour in Mexico

- He gave many rights back to indigenous people

- Bro was wronged by France (haven’t we all?)

- He’s baby

- Got executed, come on, give him this guys 🥺

- He loved to design gardens and collect insects which makes me think he would've loved playing animal crossing

- An outspoken liberal in a period where the monarchy was still quite conservative.

- Vice-Admiral of the Navy who initiated scientific projects and exploration.

- Aesthetic girlie. Collected flowers, painted, wrote poetry, and kept a journal. He would have loved Tumblr.

- (Probably) gay or bisexual.

- Allegedly slapped Franz Joseph for refusing to allow Lombardy to have an elective body.

- Sisi's favorite brother-in-law (and not in a romantic way, fuck you Netflix)

- Refused to take the Mexican crown until a plebiscite had been held because he wanted to be invited by the Mexican people.

- Gave up all of his Austrian titles to go to Mexico because he believed he had made a promise to them.

- Also, his wife was amazing and capable and the amount of pure misogyny that certain historians and biographers have thrown at her is ridiculous. I know this isn't a Carlota poll, but she'd want Max to win.

- Netflix did him unbelievably dirty. Please give him this.

Did you know my man Max repatriated many pieces of Mexica artefacts?

He told Austria to cough up 3 main things that he thought were rightfully Mexican.

1. The Chimalli

2. A codex

3. A letter from Cortez to the chocolate man people seem to call Charles

The Austrians took their time but eventually gave back something

The Chimalli next to max so people know who to thank for it

Rudolph:

- Possibly neurodivergent girlies rep also!!

- - THE ABSOLUTE BICON 💗💜💙

- Contributions to art and science!!! Alchemy, astronomy, painting etc flourished in his court we literally have some of the most beautiful baroque artefacts because of him

- Where do you think that pretty little crown in the polls icon came from

- Would rather do that than politics so real king

- Accused of doing occult? He's THAT astrology witchblr bitch

- VERY misunderstood and poor little meow meow uwu everyone thought he was incompetent and horny and cray cray like it was a bad thing

- We've voted on twinks? BEARS need love too!!! 💅

- Would've LOVED tumblr tbh he walked so all of us today could run 🩷🩷🩷

The fun portrait:

[naomi-in-japan]

5月31日 - Ueno Park | Akihabara

Today we went to Ueno Park and Akihabara. I'll admit I wasn't too enthusiastic when looking at the itinerary for today. Still, I was pleasantly surprised at all the beautiful sites and little things that made today a very educational and informative trip.

••• Ueno Park 🌸🌳

It wasn't until we walked there today that I realized how close Ueno was to the Ryokan we are currently staying at in Tokyo. My host family took me to Ueno Park in 2019 around wintertime, so I wasn't really able to see the beauty of nature in the park. I want to return during cherry blossom season to enjoy the beautiful sites and relax in the park. We also visited the Ueno Toshogu shrine, where the intricate designs and decorative gold architecture reveal the importance of Ieyasu in Japanese history.

Tokyo National Museum 🏛️🖼️

We also went to the Tokyo National Museum, where we got to wander around and take in the various national treasures and historical pieces that contributed to the history, arts, and culture of Japan from ancient Japan into the modern era. A bit off-topic, but I see the inspiration of how the museum in Animal Crossing New Horizons is designed based on the architecture and layout of the Tokyo National Museum.

For class, we needed to take a picture of a piece that stood out and describe why it stood out. While moseying through, multiple art pieces struck me, so I'll share a few and explain what aspect I found fascinating about each piece.

—----------

The first was a replica doll of a crying baby. It's a very well and realistically crafted doll. And while I do absolutely love babies and find them quite adorable–that doll is terrifying. Seeing such a doll displayed like that scared me and caught me entirely off guard. Especially a crying one, nonetheless. But I have to acknowledge that my opinions might be based on my Western perspective of being used to baby dolls either having docile or happy expressions on their face. (even if it's marketed as a "crybaby" dolly).

Next would have to be this tea bowl used in tea ceremony. The wabi-sabi element of imperfection in the unevenness of the bowl is very aesthetically pleasing to me as a student who has taken many years of art classes, ceramics/pottery has always been my least favorite medium. The emphasis on properly using the potter's wheel and your hand in tandem to effectively create a uniform, even shape, makes the bowl more beautiful for breaking such artistic rules. Also, as you all should know by now, anything to do with matcha I love.

Thirdly, it would have to be the entire collection of oil paintings in the museum. I couldn't stay long enough to remember the artist or read the context of each piece, but it was truly captivating. My favorite kind of artistic medium is oil paintings, specifically portraits. I never quite see many minorities painted with oil, so whenever I do, it never fails to enrapture my attention.

Lastly, I saw this Venus figure in the gift shop on my way out of the museum. Venus figures were prominent in various cultures during ancient times. They represented and promoted the idea of fertility by exaggerating the female figure. It caught my eye because of how different the figure was compared to modern Japanese beauty standards in terms of body type; it's fascinating to see a Venus figure erected in the area.

Ameyokocho 🍭🍣

After the museum, we made our way across the street to Ameyokocho. My host parents took me there briefly in 2019, but we had some free time to have lunch this time. A couple of classmates and I decided to eat at this Okinawan restaurant (which I sadly did not catch the name of), where I got this sweet potato croquette that was really delicious. I'm happy I could practice more Japanese with our server, who was very friendly in conversing with me. Opportunities like those when I get to have extended conversations where the other party can understand my Japanese make me realize that I may know something about the language after all and that majoring in it has produced some fruits.

Akihabara 🏬🎮

Our last stop for the day was Akihabara, where I only stayed very briefly. Though I am not into anime too much, I found Fire Emblem Three Houses figurines which were super cool (which I did not buy for obvious $ $ $ reasons)—definitely an iconic spot in itself.

•••

Today was an eventful day. I came to realize more about myself throughout this class outing. It truly is bittersweet that our first week in Tokyo is halfway over, but I'm excited about all the other exciting plans yet to come.

—————— 📚 Academic Reflection 📚

The Haniwa & Kofun Wikipedia pages cover the Haniwa burial clay figures used during the Kofun period to go in burial mounds. These Kofun graves are unique in shape and, like Haniwa figures, have a lot of theorized and unknown elements to them because of their age before written recorded history. Some of these Haniwa figures could be seen in the museum we visited earlier today, along with educational descriptions and writings of the Kofun period.

"Beautiful Fighting Girl" discusses the psychology of the otaku. In visiting Akihabara, we could see examples of anime consumption by the otaku market throughout the city. From figurine stores to manga cafes, the amount of capitalism and consumerism from Akihabara alone proves the highly profitable market of otakus both domestically and internationally.

[hansensgirl]

not all who wander are lost.

summary. | He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering.

warnings. | Strangers to lovers, smut, naive reader, mentions of trauma, angst, fluff, slight violence, slight dub/con, slight blasphemy, drinking, DD/LG, daddy kink, corruption kink, ring/hand kink, size kink, creampie kink, teasing, spanking, choking, spitting, manhandling, praise, male masturbation, handjob, degradation, a bit of humiliation, oral sex, virginity loss, marking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 11k

pairings. | Daddy!Destroyer!Chris x Little!Reader.

a/n. | one of the few fics inspired/based off of chemtrails over the country club. please heed the warnings and don’t forget to reblog. ily! thank you so much to @dragon-of-dreams @mypoisonedvine @tenuntilfightcall and everyone else for helping me out with some information! and thank you to my bb sara @asadmarveltrashbag for beta-ing and being there for me during this insane month, ilysm!!

The first time he laid eyes on you, was six months ago.

Meadows like the ones that surround him only exist in movies and Instagram posts. But even those need editing for perfection. Yet, the ones around him made him feel as though he has camera lenses for his eyes. Each piece of grass is a beautiful green, and some had flowers between them. His thighs may hurt but the view is a reward for all the trouble he just went through. A cute cottage lies on the hill he stands on. It resembles one from a Pinterest board but he doesn’t mind.

Birds chirp, sheep bleat, cows low and chickens cluck amongst Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of Summertime. Chris walks a few more steps and onto the porch he goes. This isn’t his destination. Well, technically, it is. But he isn’t supposed to be knocking on your door like he is now, and his heart shouldn’t be beating out of his chest. To the right of this cottage — Chris’s right — is another cottage.

It’s more modern than he’d prefer it to be. It only looks so because inside lives a drug lord who is on the run. It’s truly unfortunate his girlfriend sold him out for immunity. He knocks on the wooden door and takes a step back. Who knows what kind of person is behind it. “Coming!” your sweet voice calls. Chris doesn’t let go of his grip on his gun that’s down the waist of his pants.

Even the sweetest seeming things can always end up being sour.

You struggle not to trip over your own dress. The tail of it drags behind you and sweeps the floor, too. But it makes you feel just like a princess, so you don’t care. On your hip is a basket, and inside is Cotton. Your bunny. She’s been your company for years, and you don’t know what you’d do without her. Barely anyone visits anymore, only because cars can’t handle the long drive up and many people hate nature. But when the occasional knock on your door echoes throughout the house, you can barely keep your excitement inside.

You open the door and gasp. The man… is brooding. And he’s not the type of broody that would grumble insults under his breath or the type that would stalk people, either. He’s the dreamy type, the man your parents say is bad news when really he just needs love. You take in his form. You can tell he’s slightly tired and you just have to give him credit for walking up to your home. He has no flaws, except for the dirt that stains his clothing.

“Hi, do you live here?” the strange man asks, looking around the inside of your home. You jump and you’re not sure why but your skin raises with goosebumps. His voice is deep yet so soft-spoken. For some odd reason, his hand is reaching backwards and you assume that it’s because he has some sort of ache from the walk. You finally register his words and look up at him.

“Y- yes, do you live here?” you stupidly ask. You don’t even realize what you just said until you noticed his puzzled look. “Oh, sorry,” you look down and notice that his black boots are covered in pollen, something that can be oh so bothersome. “‘S’alright, I was hiking a- and I don’t have anywhere to go… Do you think you could let me stay here?” he asks, letting go of the gun. “Uhm, s- sure, what’s your name?” you ask him, moving out of the way.

Naive, so fucking naive.

“Chris, what’s yours?” he asks, stepping inside. You give him your name and he nods. He goes to wipe his shoes on the rug in front of the door but there is no rug. You hand him a rag and he gratefully takes him, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ “Are you a tourist?” you ask him, setting your basket down onto the floor. Cotton hops out of it and runs off to the kitchen, probably to chew on your apron. “No…” he solemnly answers. He hands you the rag back and you shyly take it.

“O- okay… Are you a photographer? I’ll tell you God’s truth, the most beautiful photos are taken when the sun rises, when it sets and when it’s raining,” you pointedly inform him. You drop the rag into your basket and turn back around, your dress spinning in a slight swirl. His eyes rake your body up and down, taking in every inch of your body. Red cloth with white polka dots covers your body and your mushroom earrings bring the entire outfit together.  Chris has to assume that the heavens above or whatever the fuck else is there have handcrafted you to absolute perfection.

He’s never read any stories about Greek gods, but he knows that Zeus would be absolutely infatuated with you. He takes note of how your body tenses up when he makes eye contact with you, and he gives you a small smile.

“I’m not a photographer,” he clarifies, looking around. He can’t believe you let him in just like that, but the more he found, the more he understood why. A lonely, innocent little girl like you doesn’t have anyone to tell you right from wrong. “Then what are you, sir? Are you lost? I can call the Consulate if you’d like,” you offer, walking towards him. “I’m not lost… I’m a wanderer,” he whispers almost hesitatingly.

“But you only ever wander when you’re lost, no?” you confusingly ask him. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, before peering out of the window. Luckily, he has a direct view of the other cottage. He really did hit the jackpot. “Not all who wander are lost, little girl. Now tell me, why would you let a stranger inside your home?” he asks you.

Cotton hops from the kitchen to your bedroom, and you stand in place. “I… Well, I’m not sure. You didn’t give me any reason to not let you in or to make me believe you’re dangerous, sorry…” you shyly tell him. “Don’t apologize, just know that not everyone in this world is good. There’s always going to be someone with a little more darkness than the rest of us…”

Chris unzips his duffle bag, and you let out a giggle. “Quite ominous of you, but then again, it suits your whole aesthetic. The cool, bearded man, with his cool words,” you smile at him, but it carries a bit of sadness. “Treat this place as your own, make yourself at home. And if you need anything, I’m always here.”

Chris stays at the window for most of his days. Always with a pair of binoculars and a pack of saltine crackers. Sometimes, he pulls a juice bottle out of his duffle bag, You’ve countlessly offered him something that’s actually filling, such as angel cake and sandwiches. He rejects them all, and you wonder if he’s some sort of super-human. But technology hasn’t invented wireless technology yet, so it’s impossible.

“Uhm, Mr. Chris-Sir? I don’t think those crackers are good for you, they’re all you eat…” you sheepishly admit, carrying a cup of water to him. The mug has a little frog painted on it, but the green paint has chipped away over seven years. You set it down gently, onto the table next to him and Chris just stares out at the cottage. “Bird-watching is so cool, isn’t it? If you see a robin, let me know, they’re so beautiful,” you tell him, before walking off.

At first, he doesn’t take in your words. But once they’ve settled deep in his mind and sunk in, he realizes that you assume he’s bird-watching. He’d honestly take any other assumption, but at least you don’t know he’s spying on the criminal next door. He looks down at the table with a sigh and then notices what you’ve done. Not only did you set a cup of water down, but you also gave him two slices of toast. One has strawberry jam on it, and the other has melted butter.

His mouth surprisingly salivates, but it also doesn’t shock him. Every day he sits there, basking in the beautiful smell of your food and humming. His personal favourite is the smell of focaccia bread being baked. He watches and waits until you leave the room to go tend to the chickens. Apparently, one of them laid a few eggs. He quickly shovels the two slices of toast into his mouth and downs the glass of water like a starved man. Because he is one.

Cotton hopes around once again but all Chris sees is a fluffy white blur. He recalls his memories from when he was younger. Younger him always wanted a pet. Even a fish that would die in the span of two weeks would suffice. But his mom couldn’t afford it, so he dropped the idea. Sometimes, he wishes he had dropped other ideas, as well. Like the idea that he’d enjoy life as an undercover agent, or the idea of sacrificing himself for Erin.

His fingers are sticky with jam. He hates the feeling. He spreads his fingers out and goes to get up from his seat. “Shit,” he curses, realizing that something may happen while he’s away from the window. He stands there, contemplating whether or not he should risk his mission just to wash the fucking jam off of his stupid fucking hands. He calls your name, loudly, hoping you’ll hear him all the way outside the cottage.

“Is everything alright?” you shout, running inside the house. He didn’t expect that reaction, but he’ll take it. You’re holding onto the corner of two walls, slightly bent over. Your chest, your beautiful chest, is the first thing Chris lays his eyes on. He nearly chokes on his saliva, and he just can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. “Uh, hi, I need help,” he gruffly says, his voice a bit deeper than usual. He clears his throat with a loud ‘ahem’ and you begin to stand up straight, much to his dismay.

But he doesn’t think the image of your tits nearly falling out of your dress will leave his mind any time soon.

“Of course… Did you enjoy the toast? I can make you some more if you’d like,” you shyly offer him. “It was good, but I’m fine, thanks though. Can you stay here, right at the window, while I go wash my hands? If anything happens, you have to tell me.” Chris doesn’t leave any room for argument, but your curiosity and naivety get the best of you as always.

“What happens if I don’t tell you?” you ask him, walking towards the window. He blocks your path and suddenly personal space is no longer a thing you need. “You don’t want to know what I’m gonna do if you don’t, little girl,” he warns with a hint of lust in his tone. You nod your head and feel tingles bloom just above your core. You’re not sure whether they’re butterflies or those tingles.

Chris walks past you and you quickly rush to the window. You never realized how beautiful this view is until now. The sun is bright, angled in the most perfect manner so that it doesn’t shine directly in your eyes. The sky is so clear, even with the occasional fluffy cloud that always manages to look like some animal. The window blows gently, shaking the sheer curtains that frame you. You sigh and fold your arms, resting them on the windowsill.

You lay your head on your arms and stare out the window with joy filling your heart.

Chris watches you as you look out the window. You’re slightly bent over, once again. Your ass sticks out, and you subconsciously sway your hips side to side, almost purposefully teasing him. Your white dress has a few strings hanging from the hem, but it doesn’t make you look any less gorgeous. He feels like he’s in a dream.

Not only because of the beautiful scenery, and the beautiful woman in front of him but also because he’s trying his hardest to wash his hands quickly, but his movements are so slow. He looks down and rubs his hands together at a furious pace. Chris hears you gasp and he looks up. “Did you see something?” he asks you, turning off the sink.

“Yeah, my neighbour! I haven’t seen him in months, I need to go say hi,” you tell Chris, before rushing out the door. He only then registers your words once you’ve run out of the house and into the unknown. “Fuck- Wait!” he yells after you. He runs behind you and is so grateful when he notices you haven’t gone too far. But you’re still running and Chris’s target is about ten meters away, so he decides to do what he does best.

He decides to save you.

Chris’s feet hit the ground harshly, crushing the flowers beneath him. Running in socks isn’t fun, but at least he has something to protect him. He calls your name and crashes into you with all the force in his body. You both go down and hit the ground from his fierce tackling technique. You go to cry out in pain and lose your mind, but Chris clams his hand over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. You’re not hurt, okay? I’m sorry I had to do that, but you can’t go running off like that,” he lectures, throwing his right leg over your body. He frames you down, and you don’t have much room to move. You’re frozen in place, chest heaving, and you furrow your eyebrows at his words.

“Listen, I need you to listen. You may not know me and I may not know you, but when I tell you to do something, you’re going to listen. Understood?” he chastised with a harsh tone. You nod meekly, like a little kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “And just so you know, that sweet neighbour of yours over there is wanted by the Feds.” Chris looks over his shoulder and doesn’t see the man there anymore, so he begrudgingly climbs off of your body.

You gulp thickly, out of fear and nervousness. Chris doesn’t seem to want to add on to this newfound information, so your anxiety makes work of it. For all you know, your neighbour could be a murderer. Chris senses your nervousness and gives you a pat on the head, almost as if you’re his pet.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of you under him, helpless and with his hand clamped over your mouth is something that gets his blood (and hand) pumping. He helps you up, and you don’t even realize it until he brushes some dandelion seeds out of your hair. “Thank you… and thank you for saving me, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” you shyly speak to him. He nods and shoves his hands into his pockets, finding an old cigarette from before he quit.

“‘S’alright, I just need a few things from you,” he gruffly reassured. “O- Of course, anything for my guest and for the man who saved my life,” you beam with a small giggle punctuating your words. He basks in it, almost as though it’s sunlight over a beach. “Ah, you flatter me. Just tell me about yourself, I’m going to be staying for a while,” he says as he turns around to walk back inside.

A bottle of gin is in Chris’s hands. The colourless yet pale yellow liquid swishes inside its rightful bottle. It’s half full, only because last night, he downed the rest. He hasn’t drunk in a while. Since he got over being left for dead. And that’s only six months ago.

He’s shirtless. Only left in his grey jeans and jewelry. His rings clink against the glass bottle and his bracelets hang a little past his wrist. The gunshot wound on his left side had a faint scar on it. He hates it. Every single time he stares in the mirror, that fucking scar just stares back at him.

His father told him it makes him seem more ‘manly’, but it just feels like a point of weakness. Maybe if he was a little quicker, he would’ve saved that bank teller. He would’ve gotten Silas behind bars. He would’ve been able to be proud of himself.

Chris groans at the memories and spins the cap off of the bottle. It flies somewhere across the room, probably hitting one of the wood walls. He mumbles a ‘fucking hell’ and brings the bottle to his lips. The last time he drank like this was three months ago, and he ended up fucking the bartender.

She was bent over the counter, her tits spilled out of her bra and his cock pummeled into her sloppily.

She ended up kicking him out after they were done.

Chris groans again and sits down on the bed, kicking his legs up. His pants are stained with the pigment of dandelions and grass. The splotchy stains are juxtaposed to the grey of his old jeans. They have wear and tear all over them, but he doesn’t care.

Every now and then, he sighs — he sighs quite deeply. The puffs of air come from deep inside his chest. He tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling, thinking back to earlier today. He smiles to himself, recalling the way you looked so innocent beneath him.

He’s only known you for a few days, and he already has lewd thoughts for you. Fuck. He just can’t help himself, though. Especially with your innocent doe eyes and pretty little dresses. He closes his eyes slowly, using that memory to fuel his much-needed mental images.

You’re beneath him once again, but you’re naked. His hand is wrapped around your throat, and he’s naked too. His cock is slowly driving in and out of you. He’s teasing you. Your pulsating, wet walls hug his fat cock, and you’re both moaning softly.

“Daddy…” you whisper to him, clenching around his cock. “What’s wrong, baby?” he softly asks you. “Please fuck me harder, please, Daddy,” you beg to him, before biting down onto your bottom lip. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take my cock like that, baby,” he shakes his head.

“I can take it, Daddy, I’m your good girl.”

Chris opens his eyes and his right hand has found its way down his boxers. His cock is all swollen and hard, hard as a rock. He places the bottle of gin down on the bedside table and gets himself all comfortable. Chris slowly begins to stroke himself gently. He goes from the base all the way to the top, and then back down. His thumb occasionally swipes against his leaking tip and all he can think of is teaching you how to make him — your Daddy — feel good.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans, feeling a vein throat against his hand. He moans your name and speeds up his movements. His fingers are slightly sticky, but it’s the type of sticky he doesn’t mind. He begins to slow his hand down, and he sighs, not wanting to come just yet. He hasn’t been this hard in ages, and touching himself feels so fucking good.

“Did you say my name? Is everything alright?” you ask, barging into his room. He jumps and his hand flies out of his pants. You both stare at each other, not even daring to blink. You eventually break eye contact and notice the bottle of gin sitting on the bedside table. There’s only a sixth of it left, and you frown. You don’t like it when people you care about drink. “Uhm…” he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and then takes in your form.

You’re in a nightgown, and it’s sheer as fuck. The gin gets to him and his mind has a slight buzz to it. His heart beats rapidly and his cock throbs with want and need. Chris’s eyes rake up and down your body like how they usually do whenever you’re in front of him. His mother would scold him for ogling at you, but he just doesn’t care anymore.

“I- I am so so so sorry, I should’ve knocked. I just thought you needed help with something because I heard you say my name, but sometimes I just tend to hear random things, so sorry,” you apologize in a panicking manner. You slowly walk back to the door, but you don’t turn around. Your bare feet leave a faint imprint on the floor from the cold sweats that have taken over your body.

“Come back here,” he orders, sitting up on the bed. Chris’s unbuckled belt clanks quietly, and he begins to remove it in one quick motion. You gulp thickly and exhale shakily. You slowly walk to where Chris is sitting, and he pats the spot next to him. You’ve never had such an interaction with anyone, ever. You sit down next to him, but you keep your distance.

Alcohol should not be called alcohol in Chris’s utmost humble opinion. No, it should just stick to its nickname ‘liquid courage’ because it’s more accurate than anything else. He may not seem like it, but he’s just a man who doesn’t have the heart to do much. Adrenaline doesn’t exist for him anymore, not since the incident.

Chris turns his head and stares at your pretty face. You look down, unable to make eye contact with such a God-like man. You have to assume that even Apollo is envious of Chris’s beauty. “How’d you hear me? Because I know these walls aren’t thin enough, and I know I wasn’t being loud, so tell me; How’d you hear me?” he interrogates you like one of Silas’s companions, but this time is slightly different.

Lust is what’s pumping through his veins, not rage.

“Uhm, well… My room was right there, and I wasn’t doing anything but thinking, and since your bed is against the wall, I- I heard you say my name,” you explain shyly. He hums, and you’re not sure whether it’s a hum of delight or disbelief. “Thinking of what?” he presses, inching his body closer to yours.

You continue to stare at his hand, even though you can feel his heavy breathing against your face. “I… Well- I was uh,” you stutter embarrassingly, and it makes you burn up with shame. “Spit it out, little girl, and don’t think of lying to me,” he growls, placing his hand on your thigh. Your gaze follows his movements, and you take in the set of rings that adorn his fingers.

They’re all black and of similar styles. One has a skull, one is completely plain, one has a cross on it and the last one has the word ‘Daddy’ engraved on it. His veins are so prominent. They bulge out with intensity, and you’d just love to trail your fingers along each of them. “Am I going to have to force an answer out of you?” he roughly asks. His other hand goes to the back of your head and he brings your gaze to his face.  

You quickly shake your head in objection, and he raises his eyebrows for you to spit your answer out. “I was thinking about you, and the way you tackled me…” you admit to him in a low and soft voice. “You liked the way I was on you, little girl?” he asks, moving his hand to the back of your neck. “Y- Yeah, made me feel all… Tingly…” you whisper to him.

“I want to hear you say it, little girl,” Chris ushers, squeezing the back of your neck slightly. “I liked the way you were on top of me…” you tell him breathlessly. “Good girl,” he praises in a slightly deep voice. He pulls you onto his lap and you gasp. His hard, wanting cock is right under your thighs, and you exhale nervously.

“You feel that, little girl? That’s all because of you, you did this to me. And you’re proud of it, aren’t you? Got me so fucking hard just because of you.” Chris squeezes your waist, and you really can feel it all. He’s not wrong, either. You’re so proud that you’ve made a man like him so desperate for you. “Do you know what I was doing, little girl? I was jerking off to the thought of fucking that cunny of yours until you’re begging me to stop,” he growls in your ear.

You moan softly, and the picture comes to mind, making your pussy gush with want. “Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, placing his hand on your inner thigh. You nod, and he raises his eyebrows in warning again. “Yeah, I want that so bad,” you murmur to him. You and your pussy want him so bad. Chris’s hand inches further up your thighs until he’s just an inch away from your bare pussy.

Your thighs are already slightly sticky from your arousal. “Do you know what jerking off is, little girl?” he asks, pulling his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a pathetic, child-like whine, and he begins to lift up your nightgown until he sees your naked body. “Kind of… Isn’t that when a man touches himself? Like how women touch their… down there?” you innocently ask him.

Chris chuckles at how cute you are. So innocent yet oh so slutty. “Have you ever touched yourself, little girl?” he asks, lifting the nightgown over your head. It’s strewn across the floor behind you, and neither of you cares. But you quickly use your hands to cover your most precious, most private parts. “No, no, I don’t want to see any of that. You’re so beautiful, baby, you’re built like an absolute angel,” he husks, and you feel so flustered that you can’t help but giggle.

“T- Thank you… And I’ve done it a few times,” you inform him. Chris nods and smirks, catching the way your nipples have pebbled up. “Have you ever made someone feel good before?” he questions, trailing his broad hands up and down your body. “N- No, it’s pretty lonely up here…” you almost-ashamedly admit. He coos at you. “Do you want me to teach you how to make me feel good, little girl?” he questions, palming your tits.

You moan softly and rub your thighs together as he pinches and pulls at your hard nipples. You’re so small in his large hands, it makes him even harder. You nod your head fervently, wanting to make Chris feel so fucking good. Chris takes his hands away from your body and shifts you in his lap. He reaches down his pants and pulls his cock out of his boxers.

You gasp, having never seen something as big as that. He smirks and uses his right hand to grasp the base of his thick cock. Chris brings your dominant hand down to where his cock is and guides you to wrap your fingers around him. Chris shudders at your soft touch, and he moans softly. “Good girl, yeah,” he praises. “Wrap your hand around me a bit tighter, baby,” he urges, and you do exactly that.

He groans loudly and a small smile stretches across your lips. “N- Now, you’ve got to move your hand up and down. Start off slowly, go all the way to the tip, and then back down,” he instructs, even though he’s helping you out. His hand brings yours all the way to the tip, and then back down; just like he said. His hand leaves yours and goes back to feeling up your pretty body.

“Now do it by yourself, but in a twisting motion, little girl.”

You listen to his words and jerk him off, feeling yourself get wet as his cock twitches in your hand. Your clit throbs and so do the veins on the side of his shaft. Chris curses, and you bite down on your bottom lip. “Good girl, just like that. Fuck, your hand feels so good around me,” he moans, squeezing your waist. You focus on his cock, watching as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down the side of his dick.

It drips onto your slow-moving hand, and you exhale as your movements grow a bit faster. You look at him, watching as his pupils darken with lust. You can tell — it’s written on his face — he wants you to go faster. Your hand speeds up around his cock, making him a moaning mess. “Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. You like making me feel good, don’t you? So eager to please like the good little girl you are,” Chris husks.

His praise goes straight to your needy cunt and he knows this because he can just tell. Your thighs rub together, your breath hitches, you let out a giggle and squeeze a little tighter around his cock. Chris’s hand goes up to your head and smashes your lips against his. You both moan into the kiss, and you straddle both his thighs to get more comfortable.

You place your other hand on his cock and mimic your dominant hand’s movements. You try to keep up with the kiss, but you just can’t. Teeth clash and so do tongues as Chris moves his mouth against yours. He pants and his chest heaves as you continue to stroke him. “Go faster, baby,” he urges, and he pulls his mouth away from yours. He can feel you soaking his jeans, your wetness joining the abundant amount of rips and tears in the material.

Your hand moves faster, twisting perfectly and occasionally squeezing his most sensitive spots as well. Chris pushes your hands away abruptly, and you’re confused. Did you do something wrong? Does he not like you anymore? What happened? “Shit, wrap your mouth around the tip, little girl. Trust me, you’re gonna fucking love it,” he says, and you quickly do so.

You’ll do anything to please him. His mushroom tip is leaking and a raging red. It’s the same red as the rest of his cock, and you could swear it’s almost purplish. You can tell he’s aching because you’ve been through a similar thing. You drop down to the floor and kneel in front of Chris. Your lips smooth around the tip of his hard cock, and you can taste him as soon as he hits your tongue.

He tastes of musk and manliness, along with a hint of saltiness, and it’s oh so addicting. You keep the tip of his cock in your mouth like it’s one of your favourite lollipops and smile around him. Chris smiles and wraps his hand around himself. He jerks himself off quickly, desperate to come in your mouth. “Fucking shit– god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” Chris rasps as he reaches his climax.,

His balls tighten up and his blue eyes roll back into his skull. White, hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his tip and fill your mouth. You’re not sure why, but a moan escapes past your throat, and it only makes Chris’s high much better. Chris places both hands on the sides of your head and holds you there, gently. You swallow all his cum as it fills your mouth and leaks from the corners of your lips.

Chris so desperately wants to push your head farther down his cock, but he knows he shouldn’t. Plus, there’s always going to be more time for things like that. He pulls your head away from his cock and watches as a string of saliva tries to keep the two of you connected. You gently lick your lips, still savouring his taste and he smiles down at you. You can’t lie — you feel giddy. Giddy in a way in which you crave his praise and approval like no other.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? Thank you for helping me out… I do suppose I should return the favour, right?” he teasingly says, lifting you up into his lap. You shake your head out of nervousness. “No? … Why not, baby?” Chris asks, and you gulp thickly. “Don’t wanna rush it… I- never mind, you wouldn’t understand,” you look down and fiddle with your fingers.

The grooves of your nails are smoothed over by your pointer finger. Some dips and rises make you cringe, and others satisfy you. He looks down at your hands and notices the skin picked on the sides. He knows how painful those can be, and he doesn’t want you to feel any pain at all. “I’ll try to understand, darling, but if you don’t tell me, then I’ll be completely clueless,” he speaks to you lowly. “I like the way your words make me feel…” you shyly admit to him.

“Aw, how do they make you feel, baby?” Chris presses, grasping your two hands together. “All warm and small… makes me feel like I have it all. Hey, that rhymes!” you exclaim, bubbling in the utmost adorable giggles ever. “You’re a natural poet, darling. But tell me more…” he urges, rubbing his coarse thumbs against your soft skin. “I get butterflies, and I feel all shy and safe. Your words make me so comfortable yet so vulnerable…” you describe to him even though words can’t describe what you feel.

“Is that right, baby? You’re so cute… Do you- Do you get all tingly and babyish when I use my words?” Chris hesitatingly asks. His voice is so gentle and soft, a low whisper that is so soothing to your ears and rough edges. You nod meekly and smile to yourself. Your cheeks may hurt from all the laughter he caused earlier today but that doesn’t refrain you from hiding your smile.

Now, Chris is no doctor. He’s no professional, he’s no master. He’s just a broken man, but he knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he won’t explain what it is, because he needs you to learn on your own. Maybe with some guidance from him, but he won’t trick you into thinking something completely off base.

“Let’s get cleaned up, okay? Then we’ll sleep, you need the rest. We both do.”

He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering. But he isn’t. He was never. The stick-and-poke tattoo may seem a bit much, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. Your name is written in your pretty handwriting. The ink is in his skin, and he’s practically marked as yours, now.

The days go by slower, much slower than he’d like them to. But it doesn’t matter now, because his mission is over, and he’ll be leaving soon. But Chris doesn’t want to leave. His wanderlust has found an end as he finally has a place where he’s meant to be. He’s found heaven in the hills, and between your legs.

“D- Daddy…” you whisper under your breath, loud enough for him to hear. Your hands are locked with his, and they rest at your sides. You’re just in a small bralette, and your hard nipples poke through the fabric. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders and your ankles lace together behind his head. Your neck aches from the angle your body is in, but the pleasure blooming from your core is much more powerful.

Chris is between your legs, and he hums against your wet, throbbing pussy. You moan loudly and squeeze your eyes shut from the feeling. He sucks on your clit harshly, and wetness seeps from your hole. “Feels so good… Oh, my…” you pant. Your hips gyrate and you subconsciously grind your wet cunt against Chris’s face. He pulls his face away from your pussy and licks a broad stripe against you.

You moan again and squeeze his hands tighter. His tongue swirls around your swollen and throbbing clit, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your taste is addictive, and he could stay between your legs for hours on end, if not for eternities. His beautiful, lovely rings dig into the sides of your fingers, but you don’t care. Chris may treat you like a delicate doll, but he should know how much you love it when he’s rough with you.

“I think I’m gonna come, Daddy…” you cry out to him before a strangled moan leaves your mouth. Chris pulls away from your pussy once again, but this time he spits on your lips. His saliva drops down your cunt and mixes with your wetness, and he goes back to devouring you. He eats you out like a starved man, and you’re squealing at the overwhelming pleasure.

If he was on death row, he’d have your sweet pussy as his last meal.

His tongue works over your clit and brings you closer and closer to your release. It’s coming fast. A searing, heated feeling takes over your body and abdomen as your back arches off your couch. Chris is as hard as a rock, staring you directly in the eyes, and he makes you come on his mouth.

“Oh- Daddy!” you cry out loudly, your mouth falling open into a silent, voiceless scream. Your eyes roll back into your skull and in Chris’s past words, you look like a brain-dead slut. Your wetness gushes out of your drooling hole, and he laps it all up with no problem. He drinks up everything you give him, and then some. Your hands are still laced with his and your chest rises and falls at a fast pace.

“Shh… You did amazing, little one. Taste so fucking sweet, just like nectar,” he hums like a hummingbird, before smacking his lips. You slowly come down from your high as he strokes your hands with his thumbs. Your lids are slightly heavy, but you don’t want to get any shut-eye. Time away from Chris is practically a sin in your eyes. “Thank you, Daddy,” you gratefully reply.

“You’re welcome, little one. Got me so hard,” he husks as he moves to get up. He carefully handles your body and pulls out a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. They’ve been washed and scrubbed but there are still faint dandelion and pollen stains that he just doesn’t care enough about. Though the adorable face you were making whilst washing them is something that’ll never leave his mind.

Just like the mental image of you coming undone beneath him.

“Can I make you feel good, Daddy? Pretty please?” you ask sweetly and Chris knows he could say yes, but he doesn’t want to. Making you feel good pleases him, but he doesn’t want to sound so poetic so he chuckles. “Soon, little one, I need to clean you up properly,” he tells you and you jut your bottom lip out, pouting. He coos at you and you scrunch your nose up at the attention.

“But I’m all clean, Daddy!” you reason, reaching over to palm his hard cock through his jeans. Chris chokes on his saliva at the feeling of your touch. “In a bit, little one, you need to listen to Daddy. Okay?” he rasps with a warning in his voice. “Okay, Dada…” you trail off with a deep sigh punctuating your sentence. You fiddle with your fingers as Chris carefully cleans up your pussy.

The damp washcloth is gentle against your sensitive skin. Each movement of his is carried by gentleness and love. “I have a question, Daddy,” you hum after a few seconds of silence. “Go ahead, mushy one,” he says with a smile. You giggle at the nickname before calming yourself down. “Were you really wandering?” you bluntly ask him. Chris’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets, and you gasp.

“What do you mean, little one?” he asks, looking up at you. “Well… You said you were a wanderer! And that’s how you found me! But you don’t seem like a wanderer, you’re too clever to be one,” you explain with a smile on your face. Chris begins to chew on the inside of his cheek, and the skin has already been filled with bite marks and scars. At this point, he should tell you, right? You already know the deepest, most darkest pieces and part of him.

You’ll love him no matter what.

“Well, I wasn’t wandering. You’re so smart, little one. The smartest baby in the world!” he cheers and moves to get up. He sits in the empty spot next to you and lifts you into his lap. You’re still naked and Chris has his shirt off (as usual), so the skin-on-skin contact has you feeling even sleepier. “Sometimes, we lie to protect people. I lied, to protect you, along with many other people. Myself included, of course,” he starts.

“I was sent here with the sole purpose of bringing in your criminal neighbour,” he pauses “and I did.” You nod along with his words, your mind only allowing the most important phrases to sink in. “I arrested him around a month ago, and I was supposed to leave three weeks ago,” he sadly sighs. You look up in a panic, and you’re in shock. “Two weeks ago, I turned in my resignation. I’m not going anywhere,” he quickly adds and your face lights up.

“I’m staying with my best girl, okay?” Chris smiles and leans in to kiss you. You let him do so because God-damn, you’d let him do anything he wants to you. “T- Thank you so much, Daddy!” you squeal and hug him tightly. He laughs in a beautiful cacophony of sounds, and it’s right in your ear.

Chris feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders as you writhe around in his arms. You wiggle around on his hard cock and Chris suppresses a groan. His hands trail from your shoulders to your waist, down to your hips. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and excitement runs in your veins at his touch. Your head rolls back and you exhale shakily. He grips your hips tightly, and you involuntarily buck your hips against his crotch.

Both you and Chris moan before he moves both his hands to your ass. He gropes you roughly, feeling a bit of your wetness on his fingers. “Oh, baby… What’s all that for? Hm? Didn’t Daddy just eat your sweet little pussy out?” he asks in a slightly worried tone. “Y- Yeah… But I can’t help it, Daddy, you always make me so tingly…” you admit to him, shyly.

“Mmm, I like knowing I do this to you. Gets me so fucking hard,” he groans, slapping your ass. You yelp in surprise, but it gets cut off by a whimper. Chris caresses the hit skin and soothes you down from the shock. He smiles at you and then lands another hit. Then another, and then another.

The sting is addictive, just like he is. It leaves you writhing in both pain and pleasure and yet you still want more. “M- more, please,” you quietly beg and Chris coos at you as if you're a pet. And the truth isn’t far off. The coolness of his rings is both brutal and comforting. It soothes you yet acts as if they didn’t just hurt you. “You want more, baby?” he asks in that sweet yet sultry condescending tone of his.

You nod your head and chew on your bottom lip. “‘S too bad you’re gonna have to take what I give you and keep quiet, baby,” he husks, and you whine loudly. Chris flips your bodies around and suddenly you’re on your back, and he’s leaning over you. He locks lips with you and you try your hardest to keep up with the kiss.

His lips move sloppily against yours, but you don’t mind because you’ll take anything he gives you. You moan into true kiss and Chris wedges his knee between your legs. You’d hump him like a bunny because that’s what the demon on your shoulder is telling you to do. But the last time you did something without his permission, you weren’t allowed to make him come for a week.

You just know you’re soaking his jeans but neither of you cares. Chris kisses the corner of your mouth and trails down to your neck, peppering kisses behind as if he’s leaving a trail on your body for when he’s going to explore you later. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw tickles you and Chris falls even more in love with you as your laughter fills the air.

“D- Dada…” you whisper to him as you tilt your head back. His lips land on that sweet spot of yours and your back arches off the couch. Chris smiles against your skin and begins to suck on that sweet spot. Your breath hitches as he bites, licks and sucks on your skin. He marks you up like no other, and you know how much he loves to know that you’re all his.

“Dada… No teasing, please,” you sweetly ask in your soft tone. And how can he turn you down? “In a bit, little girl, be patient for Daddy.” Chris continues to mark you up until he’s satisfied. The feeling of his teeth against your neck and collar bones makes you even wetter than you already are. Possessiveness is carried in his movements, and it only drives you to be needier.

Chris moves further down from your collar bones to the valley of your breasts. Each curve of yours makes him want to sin without any repentance afterwards. He places a kiss there and then looks up at you. “Please, Daddy,” you whisper so quietly it takes him a few seconds to realize what you’ve said. Chris’s hand wraps around your body to your back.

He slowly unclasps your bralette and drags it away from your body at the same pace. You both maintain eye contact all whilst he undresses you to your vulnerability. Chris throws your bra somewhere behind him and places his hands on your body. “Aw, baby… You’re so cute and small,” he sweetly says in an almost shocking manner. Almost as if he doesn't use the size difference as a weapon to make you all soft and mushy.

“Hm, thank you, Daddy,” you tell him because good girls always have manners. “So good, using your manners for Daddy,” he praises, and you wonder if he can read your mind. Your Daddy can do anything, so it would be no surprise if he can. Chris sits upon his knees, but he remains in his towering position. Gently, and with care, he spreads your legs open until he’s satisfied.

He watches as you clench your needy pussy. He just knows your clit is throbbing, and you’re tingly because he just has that effect on you. “Poor baby… Is this all for Daddy?” he asks, and you quickly nod. “Say it, tell me it’s all because of me,” he growls placing his hands on your thighs. Chris slowly moves his hands further down your thighs. His touch is gentle, and he can feel the goosebumps on your thighs beginning to raise.

“‘S all yours, daddy. It’s all because of you,” you tell him breathlessly. “And this pussy is all mine, isn’t it, little girl?” he asks, inching closer to your wet pussy. “Mhm, only yours, Daddy!” you happily assure him, and he smirks at you. “That’s right, little girl. And since it’s all mine, doesn’t that mean I can do whatever I want with it?” he questions, and you nod with no hesitance at all.

Chris traces your wet pussy with his ring-donned pointer finger. “Oh my…” you gasp at the feeling. It may not be much, but your sensitive little pussy struggles to handle it. You clench around nothing again, and he watches, before chuckling at you. “Such a pretty pussy you have, baby, I can’t fucking wait to ruin it,” Chris growls, and you whimper. “Gonna fill you up with my cum after I fuck you, little girl,” he promises, and you never wanted to be fucked so badly until now.

He wonders if his cock could even fit inside you. Usually, he’d want to eat you out and finger you to prepare you. But he’s now thinking with what’s between his legs, and not what’s between his ears. He trails that same pointer finger on your pussy, and becomes mesmerized with the sight. Chris watches as your hole drools with want and need, whilst you watch him.

His already dark eyes are blown out with lust, and it only turns you on even more. Chris knows you’re watching him. He’s not one of the best agents in the FBI for no reason. He looks up at you, and you lock eyes with each other. He smirks and pulls his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a whine, but you still pout in disappointment. Chris begins to unbuckle his pants, and you’re filled with eagerness.

You smile widely, and he coos. “Aw, you’re such a desperate little slut, it’s adorable,” he chuckles, and you shy away. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers slowly. Chris takes off his jeans and boxers completely, and throws them somewhere around the house. You watch as his cock bounces up and leaks with pre-cum. You just know he’s aching because of how red his cock is.

He’s big, and you already know that. But seeing him in all his naked glory is just something else. The simple yet not so simple idea of Chris’s cock being inside of you is electrifying. It’s both terrifying and exciting. He grabs the base of his cock and the prickly hair pokes the soft skin of his hands, but he doesn’t care. His left hand goes back to your pussy, and begins to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh… Daddy,” you moan quietly. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, so you involuntarily try to shut your legs and keep Chris out. Your knees touch for a brief moment, and he’s having none of that. He separates your legs and climbs on top of you, all while staring you directly in the eyes. His cock drags against your inner thigh. “Oh, is it too much for you, little one?” he asks with faux pity in his tone. You nod and clench your fists to control yourself.

“Too fucking bad, you’re gonna take whatever I give you, and you’re not gonna complain. Isn’t that right, little girl?” he sneers, and you gasp. Usually, you can’t handle someone who raises their voice in the slightest. But hearing Chris do it makes the butterflies in your stomach fly. “Yes, Daddy,” you hum delightfully, and he smiles. “Good girl,” he praises. Chris presses harder on your sensitive pearl of nerves and rubs you in faster circles.

“Daddy…” You moan and it goes straight to his cock. He looks up at you and just knows you’re beginning to drive up that cliff. He slows down his ministrations on your nub, and you bite back a loud whine. “You’re so needy, baby… Already so close to coming, it’s kind of pathetic…” he trails off and more wetness leaks out of you. You’re absolutely soaked and are a little bit ashamed of it.

“Please, Daddy! I’m so close, I’ll do anything,” you beg, but he just doesn’t buy it. “You’ll already do anything I tell you, baby, begging is so useless,” Chris chortles. You let out a small huff and move your hips in a circle, grinding against his thumb. In a flash of blurry moments, Chris pulls his hand away from your pussy and wraps around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your throat, and you gasp quite loudly.

He raises his eyebrow in warning, and you nod in understanding. “Good girl, I don’t want to put you over my knee when I’m feeling so gracious,” he assures, and you smile. Chris brings the tip of his cock to your swollen, needy clit and his pre-cum begins to mix with your wetness. You both moan softly as he rubs his tip on your clit. Your bottom lip finds a home between your teeth and Chris’s tongue swipes over his.

The sight and feeling of his cock on your silky pussy make him so weak in the knees. “Fuck, baby, do you like that? You like it when Daddy makes you feel good with his cock?” Chris asks in a deep, gravelly voice. “Yeah, Daddy… love it so much…” you tell him through a mushy haze of pleasure.

“You’re getting all dumb and stupid already? You’re so cute, little one,” he purrs, and you giggle at his words even though there’s nothing funny about them. “Do you want my cock, little baby? Say it, tell Daddy you want his cock,” he urges, and you look down to where you’re both nearly connected.

“I wan’ your cock, Daddy. Want it so bad, I need it, Daddy,” you beg, and Chris hums. “Just a little more, little girl, it’s like music to my ears,” he smirks, and you bite your bottom lip. “Sing for me, hummingbird,” he pushes, and you just go with whatever your neediness tells you to do.

“I wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy. I want your cum to fill me up until I’m leaking and all stupid. Please, Daddy, please fuck me. I really want your cock, I need it,” you beg and blood rushes to his face and cock. “Fuck, yeah, I’ll give you my fucking cock, and you better take it like the good girl you are,” he growls, and you whimper. Chris slowly drags the fat tip of his shaft down to your drooling, slutty hole.

You whimper loudly, and he looks back at you. Fear is written all over that pretty face of yours, and Chris knows the exact reason why. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be gentle, okay? If you want to stop just say so, and I’ll listen. I won’t hurt you, darling. I promise,” he gently reassures you. You sigh with an almost heavy yet full heart.

You then nod and Chris thanks you for allowing him to fully make you his. “Wanna hold your hand, Dada… Please,” you ask pleasantly, and he nods. “In a bit, little girl, I just need to be careful,” he whispers. Chris slowly begins to push into your wet, tight cunt. You swallow him slowly, and the sight is mesmerizing.

The tightness of your cunt squeezes him in a strong hug, and he wishes he could be buried deep inside you for the rest of his life. “Fuck- Baby, you feeling so fucking good,” he moans while trying to compose himself. You’re still whimpering from the pain, and your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace.

“C- Can I push all the way in, little one? It’ll only hurt for a bit,” he asks, and he looks deep into your eyes. “Mhm… Wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy, please,” you beg, and Chris tries his hardest not to come right here, right now. He thrusts his hips forward, and bottoms out inside you completely.

Your mouth falls open, and you’re silently screaming. The pain isn’t too much, but you feel as though the wind is being knocked out of you. Chris shifts a bit, and that’s when you start to feel it more. He’s so deep inside you, and he’s splitting you in two. “Breathe, baby, breathe,” he says.

You realize you’re holding your breath and it’s no wonder why your heart was beating out of your chest. “You’re doing so- so well, darling. Your little cunny looks so nice when it’s stuffed full with my cock,” he groans, and you whimper. “Dada, is hurtin’...” you whisper, and Chris wants to pull out because he can’t stand the thought of his little girl being hurt.

“Do you want me to stop, little one?” he asks, but you quickly shake your head in objection. Even though the pressure in your core is dwindling, and even though you feel a little too full, you don’t want him to stop. “No stopping, Daddy, please,” you whine and flail your arms towards him. He shushes you soothingly, and you calm down as soon as he flashes a stern look.

The pain soon burns away into nothing but dust and ash, and you finally see why he was so desperate to shove his cock inside of your cunt. It turns into pleasure and your pussy leaks around him. You’re soaking Chris’s cock with no shame at all. “Oh, fuck, baby… You feel so fucking good,” he moans, and you follow with a gasp. “I like the way y- you feel inside me, Daddy, makes me all tingly…” you admit shyly, and Chris chuckles.

“Yeah? Bet it makes you want to be fucked stupid, right, baby?” he questions with a playful smirk on his face. “Yes, Daddy,” you moan. You’re never aware of your surroundings because you’re too caught up in the moments. It’s something Chris scolds you for, but you never learn. But in this moment, you can feel everything. The veins on his cock throb against your silky walls, and you can feel his balls against your ass. His hot breath fans over you as Chris struggles to compose himself.

He slowly drags his hips backwards, pulling out of your pussy until his tip is the only thing in your cunt. The sudden almost-emptiness is surprising, but you quickly get used to it. Chris then pushes back into your pussy, and you moan loudly. “Fucking hell, little one,” he curses under his breath as he bottoms out again. He begins to fuck into you slowly and gently, careful to not hurt you. Even if he wants to fuck you until you’re crying.

The sound of skin on skin is quiet and almost unintelligible. The squelching sounds from your wet pussy and moans fill the room. Chris gently grips your hips and watches as your face contorts into a frown of pleasure and not pain. “Daddy…” you pant softly as you look up at Chris. “Yeah, baby? Am I hurting you?” he asks out of worry. “N-No, it feels so good…” you trail off as one particular thrust lands near your g-spot. And he knows that.

“Wan’ you to fuck me hard, wan’ you to destroy me, Daddy. Please fuck me like the slut I am…” you gently beg and Chris halts his thrusts. His cock twitches inside of you because of your words. Only he can corrupt an innocent angel such as yourself. “Shit- Little one, I don’t want to hurt you, that’s why I’m being so gentle,” Chris explains, but you shake your head. “You could never hurt me, Daddy. Please, I need you,” you beg for one last time, unaware of what you’ve done to him.

Chris roughly pushes his cock back into your cunt without warning. “Awe, I see. My little princess wants to be fucked like the whore she is, hm? Well, whatever princess wants, she gets,” he growls because beginning to fuck you roughly. You moan loudly at the feeling as with each thrust, his cock pummels against your sweet spot roughly. His pelvic bone rubs against your swollen clit and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Daddy!” you cry out as Chris pounds into your poor pussy. The room fills with moans, groans, curse words and wet sounds that all come from the art you two are making. “Aw, what’s wrong, little girl? Can’t take daddy’s cock anymore? Hm? Well, I don’t really give a fuck, you’re just gonna lie there, and take what I give you like a good fucking girl,” he sneers, and you push at his chest.

“It’s so sensitive!” you wail like a little bitch in heat. “But I bet you don’t want me to stop, do you?” Chris asks as a moan bleeds past his plump lips. “Uh-uh, please don’t stop, Daddy!” you squeal after a harsh thrust. The stretch of Chris’s cock is amazing, and you never want the feeling to stop. Chris’s hand leaves your hip and crawls all the way up to your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat, and squeezes the sides, making you clench tightly around his big, thick cock.

He lowers his face to yours and watches as you react to the way he’s being rough with you. “Oh, God!” you cry out as he makes his thrusts more powerful. “Actually, it’s just ‘Daddy’, but I’m fine with that too,” he slyly smirks. You’re too fucked out to even laugh at his joke. Your eyes roll back into your skull and your back begins to arch off of the couch.  “Awe, are you gonna come around my big fat cock already, slut? How cute,” Chris mocks.

You nod your head and begin babbling like a baby. “But remember, little girl, I have to give you permission to come, okay?” he reminds you, and you whine. Chris’s hand around your throat moves up to grab your jaw, and he stops thrusting into you. “None of that is allowed. Don’t forget your place, little girl,” Chris warns with fury seething through his words. You mumble an apology, trying to formulate the proper words to speak.

“Seems like I really did fuck you stupid,” he chuckles, and you moan at his words. You clamp down on his cock, tempting him to do what you want, like a siren using her voice to lure men into the sea. “Open your mouth up first, little girl,” he orders, and you obediently listen. The searing arousal in your core begins to fade away, and you feel a panic beginning to rise inside you.

Chris drags his hand back down to your throat and rests it there. You watch as he puckers his lips up, and suddenly, he spits into your mouth. You open your mouth even wider and stretch your tongue out. His saliva lands directly on your tongue, and you wait for further instructions before you give in to your desires.

“Swallow it, little girl,” he instructs, and you do exactly so. You open your mouth back up just to earn some praise. “Good fucking girl. The best baby ever,” he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Daddy! … Can I have cummies now?” you lovingly ask your Daddy.

“Of course, little one,” he says as he smiles down at you. Chris begins to fuck into you again, deep and hard. With each thrust, he pounds your g-spot and his balls slap against your ass. His remaining hand on your hip moves down to your clit, rubbing your little button with rough circles.

“Daddy… ‘m gonna come!” you moan loudly and Chris fucks you harder. “Come one, baby, come all over my big cock like the good girl you are,” he urges. The building feeling inside you increases, and you feel yourself getting closer to your release. “Fucking come, little girl, wanna hear you sing for me,” he growls. And with one specific thrust, you find yourself coming undone beneath him.

The sight is so fucking beautiful. Watching you as your eyes turn up, your mouth falls open and your cunt hugging his cock just gets him going, and he wishes he could take a picture of you right now. “D- Daddy! Oh, my-” You cut yourself off with a loud moan and Chris keeps on rubbing your clit and fucking you through your orgasm.

You soak his cock until it’s dripping and even then you’re still coming. You moan loudly and Chris can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm. His balls begin to tighten up and a droplet of sweat drips from his neck down to his chest. “Daddy, are you gonna come?” you sweetly ask as he fucks you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own.

“Yeah, baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up with his cum. I’m gonna leave you leaking with my seed,” Chris growls as he fucks you faster. “Please, Daddy… Please, I want your cum so badly! Please fill me up with your cum, Daddy,” you beg and Chris tosses his head back.

“Fuck, yes, yes yes,” he shouts as his balls tighten up again. He quickens his pace until white, hot, thick ropes of cum spurts out from his aching tip. He fulfills his promise and your wish, filling you up with his cum until there’s nothing left. His cum mixes with your juices as he paints your walls with no expertise whatsoever. Chris slumps on top of your body, engulfing you in a bear hug as his cock remains buried inside of you.

You’re both panting and struggling to come down from the euphoric feelings. You look up at Chris make lock eyes with him for the nth time. There’ll never be a day where you don’t get lost in his eyes. They’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful. “You did so fucking good, little one,” he praises, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Thank you very, very much, Daddy,” you slur, feeling yourself beginning to sleep into little space. “Daddy?” you call out, tapping his bicep after a few seconds. “Yeah, baby?” he asks, lifting himself up to get a better view of your face. “Will you really stay?” you ask with a bit of worry in your voice. He sighs with a full heart.

“Always.”

[madametrashbin]

gorou

Ooh, Gorou! Definitely someone to think about... an absolutely puppy and I’m going to dial that to the max. Am I going to get his characterization right? Uhh... probably not. 

I have like, two more asks to go, and I’m working on this singular piece that’s been taking up most of my attention asdfkjhgsdh... I don’t know if you’ll like the incoming piece, but I’ll definitely admit that it is long and p r e t t y ambitious...?? Whatever, so anyways----

The character suggestions are definitely going to be shorter than my usual works, and this one might be shorter because I don’t feel like I know Gorou properly enough since all my brain can think is Puppy... and Tumblr messing with me by repeatedly sending notifications to my phone that I’ve already seen like s t o p Tumblr please I get it---

Watatsumi Island is quiet, but you don’t really mind it all that much.

The scenery is nice outside, and you do enjoy the feel of this place. Narukami Island with its maple trees and sakura blooms are nice and all, but the ocean life aesthetic is just as wonderful... flying jellyfishes were especially pretty to watch floating up into the air.

Not to mention your favorite person is here, who currently is burying his face on your stomach while you were idly petting his head.

Gorou is adorable like this, always seeking you for attention and praise from you and honestly... how could you say no to those puppy eyes? Plus his joy is infectious, you can’t really not smile when he looks so happy to see you everytime you do drop by to visit Watatsumi Island. While he can be a little... wild when it comes to your safety, he’s pretty easy to calm down by just holding his hand or softly whispering while you pet his head.

He melts every time and simply directs all his attention towards you afterwards, while the cause of his aggression was backing away from fear... whether it was because of his more wilder protective side, or how easily you took control of his mood and whisked his attention away in a blink of an eye- well... 

That’s something no one will know since the offender is found dead with suspiciously wet arrows on their back the next morning. 

“Your Grace?”

You hummed in response, and turned your gaze back into his own wide ones, his arms still wrapped around your waist as he speaks.

“How long will you be staying?”

“Hmm... for another week, if nothing requires my attention. The Moonchase event is starting in a week of time, which I cannot miss.”

He makes a quiet noise, something akin to a noise of disappointment knowing you aren’t going to be staying for too long... but then again, a week is just enough time to show you some places he found that might interest you or that you might like.

“Alright...”

“I’ll be back when the festival ends, don’t worry.”

Hearing your promise is enough to allow him to relax after that, and spending another good hour basking under the warm summer afternoon, he finally moves to stand and holds out a hand to help you stand.

There’s still much daylight left to enjoy after all, and still enough days to spend with each other until you had to go elsewhere for a while.

...that’s okay though, because Gorou will wait for you as long as he needs to, and he can wait for a very long time. 

[sunarintoes]

Pretty Setter Squad Boyfriend Headcanons

part one can be found here II wc: 2.4k II includes: kageyama, suga, kenma, akaashi, semi and oikawa II atsumu and shirabu 

rewriting because i cringe at the old hcs 😭

✗ Kagggggsss

✗ The emotionally constipated blueberry <3 oh yeahh 😎

✗ Okay well first off he can barely process his emotions (*cough* evidently *cough*)

✗ When you two first started going out he was quite shy and unsure of what to do so you may have had to guide him a bit, but if youre equally shy then it just would have taken longer to get to where you are now; oh and if that was the case it probably took some random burst of energy/confidence from either one of you to make the first move. 

✗ He will buy you milk but uf you hate it (like me 🤢) he will buy you another drink - like juice :D

✗ I dont think he will be the most affectionate, it’s not his love language - and neither are words haHAH. His love language is most likely quality time and gift giving.

✗ He does like to cuddle though 😳

✗ In fact he really likes to :D his favourite is when youre sitting in his lap while he watches a volleyball game (at home - he hates pda). 

✗ This brings us to our next, short point. Kageyama absolutely despises pda, he just thinks its something meant for closed doors and he does not believe that he has to display his relationship for the whole world to ogle at. The most he will do is light hand holding - mostly just linking your pinkies though.

✗ When it comes to height he does not care if you're smaller or taller than him ← but bb, please don't tease him about his height if he’s shorter because he will blow a fuse.

✗ He alternates between small spoon and big spoon, kinda depending on his mood. 

✗ BOY O BOY does he get jealous. Uh please reign in your setter >:( 

✗ Its mostly due to the fact that he’s insecure about himself - he thinks you will leave him like everyone else (in middle school - yes, he is still traumatised from it.)

✗ When he does get jealous he might be snappy to the other person and glare at them or be snappy at you and glare at you. When this happens please give him space because he needs it to clear his head. When he feels better he will come up to you and hug you into his chest so that he can’t see your face and you cant see his, then he will mumble an apology.

✗ Ever since you two began to date he has practiced apologising and getting better at apologising, this is because his inability to admit to his own mistakes was a sour patch in your relationship that almost ended it but he really did not want to lose you so he sucked up his pride and worked on what he had to; of course you also worked in what you had to. God I love character development 😩

✗ Dates are mostly at home dates or dates revolving around volleyball. If you're not into volleyball, Kageyama would not date you, it's something he is so passionate about and loves with every breath he takes (like you) and he refuses to compromise one love for the other. 

✗ ooooh he likes arcade dates a well! He thrives in a competitive environment. If you're not competitive and don't want to compete against him then he’ll compete for you - against the machines lol. Of course you play as well! But i doubt youre as competitive as this blueberry, and if you are - well i guess at the end of the day youll both be stacked in tokens 🤠

✗ Sugawara my beloved <33

✗ He. Is. So. Affectionate! 

✗ Mans loves skin on skin contact ykwim?

✗ He is down for pda and does not care what others think - only what you think <3. 

✗ I mean he might make out with you in public if you ask nicely 

✗ Dates are very fun with him, he’ll take you to cafes, to amusement parks, to carnivals, to movies and all the like. He’s a cliche lover and he’s proud of it.

✗ Your first kiss happened on New Years Eve/Day. The two of you sat on the roof of his house and watched as the fireworks lit up the starry sky of Miyagi and chanted the count down together. The second ‘one’ left your lips he grabbed your face (softly!!) and pulled you in to crash his lips against yours. 

✗ Suga loves to cuddle, preferably face to face because he just thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. 

✗ He is not the most jealous person, he definitely does get jealous but never of strangers. It's more when his close friends or your close friends get a bit too comfortable if that makes sense? He normally plays it off with humour and messes around because he acknowledges that he is insecure and that it is most likely him thinking of the worst case scenario; however if he really does start to worry and get jealous then he will sit you down and talk about it with you. To him, communication is key. 

✗ Ngl Kenma is definitely in my top 3 favourites. 

✗ I may or may not be a Kenma kinnie 😳🙈

✗ i love my non-toxic gamer boy <33 anywho: no matter what ANYONE says, kenma is definitely affectionate. In fact I'd say he’s one of the most affectionate boyfriends. As we all know, he is shy and introverted but he likes to hang around and spend time with people he likes. He also talks a lot to them. So I hc that he’s a bit of a chatterbox with you and it makes him really happy when you let him talk about a game or a theory he has. He’s a great listener so you can count on him to pay attention to what you say.

✗ if you didn't already have one, he bought you a switch. He loves video game dates especially when he can't see you in person (*cough* lockdown *cough*) 

✗ he loves when you sit on his lap when he plays video games. I know everyone talks about sitting on their partner’s lap as some sexual thing and yeah that can happen but most of the time he’s really soft with you and just enjoys being close to you. Loves when you cuddle into him while he plays so that he can place his head on yours or your shoulder. 

✗ i think he is a bit shy when it comes to kisses but definitely warms up after a while. He absolutely refuses to sleep if he doesnt get your goodnight kisses. He loves to kiss you on your nose and your cheeks the most. He loves when you kiss him on the forehead and the nose <3

✗ kenma is not one for pda, it's just not his vibe. He prefers intimacy and privacy; his relationship is not a movie for the world to watch and gawk at. Especially timeskip!kenma. Though that does not mean he wont ever show you skinship in public, occasionally he will softly hold your hand and maybe press a light kiss to your cheek. 

✗ in terms of jealousy, he is moderate. Kenma, as we all know, has incredible people reading skills, so he understands the situation pretty clearly and knows when you’re uncomfortable/what you think of the situation. Most of the time you can deal with the unwanted attention and he doesnt get jealous, but he does get insecure. He shows this by going quiet and looking away when you look at him, you can cure this by giving him hugs when you get home. 

✗ Akaashi my beloved <3 he’s so pretty i can't even-

✗ ugh! Just imagine him in a dark/light academia aesthetic. 

✗ perfection. 

✗ akaashi is the sweetest most attentive boyfriend, he loves you to pieces and never fails to let you know. He tells you he loves you every morning and every night. He probably makes meals for you and leaves notes in that have a sweet comment like “i love you, you're the best <3” 

✗ he love back hugging you BUT also receiving back hugs 🥺✨

✗ akaashi is a booknerd and an introvert. Please cuddle up to him and let him read his book to you. 

✗ there are only 2 things that can restore his social battery: sleeping and you.

✗ which means he wants cuddles when he’s tired 😊

✗ he is not jealous. He just doesn't get jealous, maybe annoyed if the third party is being a bit too pushy and you're clearly uncomfortable, but he just never feels jealous. No matter how hard you may try to make him jealous (plz dont cause that's kinda toxic imo) he just won't feel that way.

✗ definitely the ‘mom/dad’ as he carries sinister, pads, bandaids → a whole first aid kit basically, everywhere. Bb must be prepared. 

✗ dates are so sweet with him, cute niche cafes and dimly lit libraries. Maybe the occasional abandoned building. He loves spending time with you, so really he's happiest whenever he’s with you; having coffee at McDonalds or a niche cafe won't change anything. 

✗ he’s hard to pinpoint for pda. I feel like he’s indifferent about it. He probably prefers to keep it indoors or to just small and sweet gestures (no making out in public sorry-). It definitely comes down to your preferences, if you don't like it then he won't and vice versa.

✗ semi semi semi semi semi semi

✗ omg mr musician 

✗ he definitely plays guitar - lead guitar and bass guitar. 

✗ skilled fingies for sure 😗

✗ boy why are musicians so hot???? 😫😫😫💦💦

✗ he writes songs about you. Semsem has a bit of trouble saying exactly how he feels, so he writes it and sings it to you with a small little smile and eyes full of love. 

✗ off topic but Semu has the best music taste in haikyuu

✗ he loves hugs so much <33 please hug and cuddle with him 24/7

✗ very affectionate, he’s always touching you someway. Loves kissing your forehead. 

✗ he is jealous. Yeah definitely. He writes songs about being jealous 🗿 not that you mind of course ‘cause they're bangers. I think he might get snappy when he’s jealous, not directly at you but at the other person. He definitely gets a bit bitchy. Sometimes he acts that way to you so you've just gotta slap some sense into him. Say something like “what's your problem?” or “tell me what your problem is so i can help fix it.” ← that's probably the best thing to say. 

✗ afterwards he’ll just snuggle with you until he feels better. 

✗ he asks for your opinion about his songs all the time, please be honest (but also praise them if you like them lol)

✗ he takes you to niche spots he finds, like hidden concerts and stuff. Loves when you come to his gigs <3 oh and when you scream for him (in more ways than one). 

✗ dates are cute and fun. Mostly walking around together → carnivals, main street, farmers market. Those kind of things. 

✗ when it comes to pda he loves it. Loves being able to show the world who his s/o is. If you don't like it then he will tone it down and only do what you’re comfortable with. If you're also into pda then he will happily make out with you anywhere (you're one of THOSE couples 🤢 /j) 

✗ all round best boyfie <3

✗ oikawa 😳 have i told y'all how much i love him? Oikawa is the best written character, no cap, he is so complex and real it's crazy. It's so fun to write about him because you can pick him apart, you know his flaws, his weaknesses, his nightmares but also his strengths and dreams. Anywho i'll stop ranting now but i just love writing for such a perfectly imperfect character-

✗ he puts up a cocky exterior but thats all false. He's as scared as you are, he's scared that you'll leave him like his exes because of how obsessed and focused he is on volleyball. However he is a changed man, he's learned to balance his priorities. If you ever feel like you're being sidelined please communicate with him. 

✗ he values communication above all else and wants nothing more in a partner than for them to also value communication.

✗ back to the point → if you feel insecure of your relationship and that volleyball is taking too much of his attention let him know. He will change that. To an extent → he may have an important game coming up which is why he is focusing more, but he will always find time for you. 

✗ he never forgets to text you good morning and good night. He also sends you wholesome memes and makes sure you're taking care of yourself - they're like reminders for him to also take care of himself. 

✗ he is both jealous and insecure. Everyone who gets too close to you or spends a lot of time with you, he is jealous of. Jealous because he wishes he could spend more time with you but he knows he can't - not without jeopardising his volleyball career. He's also insecure, because he knows you could just leave him for a more fulfilling, more attentive, more balanced relationship. You know that too, I mean, of course you could leave him but no one would be as good as him. No one could match up to your beautifully flawed boyfriend.

✗ he is affectionate, very, very affectionate. He loves you so much. And because he spends so much time on volleyball, anytime with you he's touching you - memorizing every dint, every curve, everything about you so that he won't ever forget. 

✗ Oikawa has trouble sleeping unless he's with you, he wants to sling to you in his sleep and be grounded and remember that he is loved and cherished and appreciated y'know?

✗ pda is not an issue for him. He doesn't care what anyone else says or thinks :P in this relationship the only opinions that matter are his and your’s. Tell him you're uncomfortable with something and he won't do it, and vice versa. But otherwise, like Semi, he won't mind having a good makeout session with you in the middle of the street ;)

[get-shiggy-with-it]

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.

[detectivehannibal]

Pretty as a Picture

__

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of smut.

A/N: Why do I keep disappearing from this blog?? I’ve had this idea for FOREVER. Fun fact about me, I sometimes recycle my works from other blogs. So if you’re curious, this is from my Harry Potter blog @seriouslysnape and here’s the original work.

Word Count: 1,738

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.”

__

On the surface, surprises don’t really seem to come to mind when you think about Hannibal Lecter. The esteemed psychiatrist always came off to you as an open book. He was usually willing to share all aspects of his life with you, which naturally left you believing that there weren’t any secrets lurking further within himself. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Despite all the things that you didn’t know about Hannibal, you knew him well enough to know the sorts of things that he has a fancy for and the things he doesn’t. As high maintenance and temperamental as he is, he is shockingly easy to please. It’s a bit of an ironic statement, but still the truth nonetheless. 

You could gift Hannibal with something as simple as a pair of socks or with something as extravagant as a brand new luxury suit, and he’d always have the same genuine, appreciative reaction. If something came from you, he would surely love it with his whole heart. 

This gift, however, was on a whole new level.

The idea had honestly come to you at random when you were brainstorming birthday present possibilities. Even though he would never admit it, he was a bit bored of you buying him a new tie for every occasion. He had a tie for every color, pattern, and even he could ever dream of. You wanted to think outside of the box this time. You wanted to come up with something that he would never ever think of. 

On the flip side, you also wanted to be sure that it was something that he could have for a long time and something that would have some real meaning to him. You could always go down the culinary appliance route, but he already had absolutely everything he’d ever possibly want or need. You were in a bit of a rut, but that’s when you got a wonderful thought.

Hannibal didn’t own many personal pictures. Most of the photos in his house were custom made art pieces that were worth more than the price of your left leg alone. Hannibal never struck you as the kind of man to have plethoras of pictures of loved ones, but you still found it odd. It’d be a win-win in your eyes. You’d supply Hannibal with some photos to hold on to, and it’d be a thoughtful gift.

Then your plan took a sultry turn.

You had picked out a large photo album that would match the aesthetic of his house, and an album that would have plenty of pages to fill up. You kept it stashed away in your closet until you were ready to put pictures inside of it when another idea came to mind. 

What if you made a sexy photo album for him?

At first, you were a little sheepish at the idea. Boudoir style pictures showing off only the dirtiest of contents? It seemed like that might be too much and even a bit weird. The longer you thought about it, though, the more and more the idea sounded good. Maybe Hannibal wouldn’t necessarily jump at the gift, but at least he’d have something to jerk off to when you weren’t around.

You assembled as many outfits as you could, some coming from your personal collection and some were purchased as a specialty to the production of the photos. You’d need some help actually having the photos taken, which is why you recruited one of your closest friends.

You could’ve had them professionally done, but you weren’t sure how comfortable you were with a photographer and group of modeling experts studying over your naked body for an entire day. Your friend was stoked for the project and dedicated a whole afternoon while Hannibal was at work to help you out. 

You took probably about a hundred pictures, all with varying poses, outfits, and locations around the house. You even took a few more innocent photos of you just smiling or doing candid things. You figured that you needed some sweet to balance out the spicy. 

You decorated the pages to add some pop and flare, ultimately thrilled with the final product. Hannibal’s birthday was only a few days away, and you were itching to show him what you had made for him. 

“You’re fidgety tonight.” Hannibal spoke from where he was laid out underneath you on the living room sofa. 

It was true, you had been extremely jittery for the last hour and a half, trying to compose yourself. Hannibal had told you that he had wanted nothing more than to have a quiet evening in for his birthday, which you found as a blessing because he’d definitely want to stay around the house after seeing his gift.

“Sorry. Just excited.” You admitted, seeing this as the perfect opportunity.

He raised a brow, looking down at your frame that was practically trembling with explosive animation. 

“I feel as if I don’t need to inform you that my birthday comes around every year,” He joked; “What’s gotten you so elated?”

You smiled up at him with a brightness that was almost blinding. You scrambled off of the sofa at your cue.

“Wait right here. I’ll be back.” You announced as you dashed up the stairs.

Hannibal chuckled to himself, already guessing as to what you were plotting. You returned shortly after with the picture book in hand, complete with a bow on top. You sat with your legs crossed in front of him, eagerly handing it to him.

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.” You explained.

Hannibal sat up from where he was settled into the cushions, eyeing over the cover carefully. It was a beautifully crafted book, the dark leather was absolutely gorgeous. He pushed the bow off of the sides, opening to the very first page to see a sweet note you had written him, signed with your signature and all. He turned to the first page to actually contain photos on it, and a smile of pure joy spread on his face.

You had put all of the non-sexual pictures in the first two pages to disguise the actual reason for the book. You were smiling happily in each of the first several photos, wearing different casual outfits and in different places. 

“Darling, these are wonderful,” He complimented; “They’re stunning, they-”

His heartbeat quickened when he made it to the third page, and he noticed they had taken on a new theme. The scandalous photos were enough to knock him speechless. For the first time ever, you saw Hannibal’s cheeks break out into a deep blush. His fingertips trailed over one in particular where you were wearing one of his white work shirts with all the buttons undone. The only thing you were wearing underneath was one of his ties settled between your breasts. 

In other photos, you were wearing different sets of lingerie. There was one lacy, red colored set that almost made him faint right then and there.

He was knocked speechless, unable to string together a single sentence. You were beginning to feel a little self conscious, and you went back to your original worry that this was a bad idea. You had honestly expected him to completely attack you with feverish kisses or fuck you right then and there. The fact that he was completely silent was unsettling, because Hannibal Lecter always had something to say. 

Your voice was thick with uncertainty as you spoke to break the silence.

“Hannibal, do you...like them?” You wondered aloud.

His eyes never steered clear from the book in his hands and the photos presented in front of him. He turned to the next page, a rush of arousal flushing over him at one in particular where you were completely naked, stretched out on the massive kitchen counter and giving a look so seductive that it made his belly flutter. The sight of you naked in his culinary world where he spent so much time was a sight to behold.

“[Y/N], I love them. These photographs...they’re beautiful, well produced, and so, so sexy.” He breathed out.

You exhaled a breath of relief, feeling a sense of anticipation as he continued to rake over them. He turned to a new set of pictures, his hot blush growing even deeper onto his cheeks. He couldn’t look away from the scandalous photos, each one becoming dirtier than the last. He was riled up and he was already looking forward to having this book at his disposal.

His lips parted slightly ajar as he loomed over them. Your waiting was patient as he finished looking through them, his pupils dilating more and more by the minute. He closed the book once he was finished, his eyes finally flickering up to you. He had grown a very prevalent erection, and his eyes were filled with an intense amount of lust. Your suspicions had been correct after all. 

He was going to rock your world.

Hannibal usually didn’t try to make the first move. He always wanted you to initiate sex first. He believed that sex was a passionate, romantic connection that shouldn’t always be fueled by burning want and desire from outside resources. Based on the way he was looking at you though, you could tell that he wanted you BADLY. 

He nonchalantly rolled his hips forward to create some kind of friction. The sneaky grin on your face was almost maddening. The way that your body leaned in and your lips brushed over his just ever so was intoxicating. Your lips traveled to his ear as you purposefully let out a wanton moan to tantalize him. 

“Touch me, Hanni. I know you want to.” You coaxed.

That was all he needed. 

Hannibal lunged forward, smothering your body with his and suffocating you with hot kisses. He kept your hands pinned above your head, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as he intentionally drew the most wonderful sounds out of you. 

“What are the chances of you wearing one of those outfits under this sweater?” He said in a steamy voice.

You squirmed against his hands, but to no avail. When Hannibal didn’t want you to go anywhere, then you wouldn’t. You bit down on your lip in a seductive way, breathing out your response to send him into full on love making mode.

“Why don’t you find out?”

[hellomynamiseglaf]

🌰Chestnuts and Warm Milk🍂

My List of ~Favorites~ for Interactive Fiction and Visual Novels

(This is a work in progress so please bear with me)

Interactive Fiction:

The Wayhaven Chronicles (WIP Series in Development) - @seraphinitegames  (Look,,, I’m just... obsessed.. I can’t stop thinking abt it,,, and I'm..... sometimes, I read and I think I feel like I know what love is.)

Mind Blind (WIP) - @mindblindbard (I just,, UGH it’s so good. I can't even say that much because my feelings about it are so potent that everytime I see an update I try to tell myself to leave it alone to play larger portions of updates as a treat and everytime my willpower FAILS and I replay the demo like twice in a row)

Demon: Recollect ; Forsaken (WIP) - both by @bathalafiction (whew...WHEW!!! Are you kidding me?? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Look. I was attached to Demon: Recollect. I loved it. And then I played the Forsaken WIP and now I can't get over my absolutely BOMB character design for my player persona. Also it's kind of fun being considered a jerk in the game, because it opens up a lot of different options that I usually feel bad about taking)

Shadow Society - @carawenfiction (the concept is so interesting,, I dream of more. Also Quaiel...baby...)

The Soul Stone War - @intimidatingpuffinstudios (also whew!! I really enjoyed it and the characters all picture themselves really vividly in my mind for some reason.)

Greenwarden (WIP) - @fiddles-ifs (reading this is like thick fog.. but in a good way? I don't know how to describe it without pictures but this IF smells like fog over wet grass)

Divine Intervention (WIP) - @divineinterventiongame (the concept?? UGH SO GOOD. For some reason it's always the first game I click to check for updates)

Golden (WIP) - @milaswriting (😈😈😈😈)

Blood/line (WIP) - @bloodlineoffical (simply put,,, LARRY)

Supernatural in New York ; The Bastard of Camelot (both WIPs) - @llamagirl28  (UGH Both of these are so good in their own ways but equally as exciting to see updates for. I haven't consolidated my feelings much further than "my MC for SiNY is so cute" and "Mordred is a child" but they're all generally positive.)

Ace of Spades (WIP) - @steph-writing (I keep thinking about,,, con........)

Nevermoore (WIP) - @asteristories (AHHHHH.... let me say it again for those in the back: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

Son of Satan: The Mortal Coil (WIP) - @sosthemortalcoil (YES.)

Shepherds of Haven (WIP) - @shepherds-of-haven (yes. I just have to sigh because it's very good and I like saying those funny little words of power. But also outside of the game I can only picture this game as a great, grey border collie)

Attollo (WIP) - @attollo (Also a very interesting concept, whoo... I almost forgot how immersive it was untill I played the demo again and was reminded of how 'into it' I was straight off the bat. Also the seperate, short little piece on the blog with Sysba was also really good and I had a dream about it the other day)

Into the Shadows (WIP) - @wynnakang​ (whooo.... I'm sighing again, but louder. I press restart and play the demo again)

A Comedy of Manors (WIP) - @sviyaginthegreat (I kept replaying options that I hadn't chosen before because I wanted there to be more lmao)

Fallen Hero: Rebirth - @fallen-hero (I think there's a sequel coming up? I haven't stopped thinking about this storyline since I finished it omg... the.. the details are really good and I've become ridiculously attached to my tragic villain? Character... she IS the standard for my reusable IF persona, or at least one of my most prominent ones ;-D )

Samurai of Hyuga (WIP series) - (I'm pretty sure multiplechoicestudios.com is the development blog for this game, or at least what I've been checking for updates..... this is a series with four book currently out.... and I've been playing through book 4 at slower than a snail's pace in a desperate attempt to prolong my experience. I really didn't think I was going to like it as much as I did but I got a little too into it and now I'm horribly attached to all the characters)

The Porthecrawl Witness(WIP) - @porthecrawl-witness (I'm pretty sure this is a WIP?? But ugh. SCREEEEEE- it's so good. It's SO GOOD. I really want to punch Talbot in the face. And Asher, if for a different reason. And sort of Staci just to try. Quinn is just a cutie I could never hurt him like that. Ugh but they're all so good and I forgot that I was reading a WIP untill it suddenly was over..... I'mfeeling really aggressive rn as I'm writing this, so please just note that the punch comment is meant as a statement on how interesting the concept and immersiveness of the characters and story is)

Forgotten Names (WIP) - by Alexandra_Zorila on the CoG Forum (turn the volume up. AHHHHHHHHHH!!! Look, look. It's..... delicious. It's SO interesting and I obsessively have a tab open on my computer to check for updates)

OFNA: Birds of a Feather (WIP) - @ofna (the vibes are so grey and smoky but the fog is definitely from a party smoke machine and the room is only dark because the walls are taped with those huge sheets of black construction paper that teachers use to cover their bulletin boards with... the game definitely falls in the 'dark and mysterious' genre but something just strikes me as really funny when I play it. Anyway it's good and it's in a lot if recommended lists for a reason. Also I'm very attached to my American Goldfinch)

More Things in Heaven and Earth (WIP) - @morethingsgame (in the same way that it's fun to play Guenevere in the Guenevere game or Mordred in The Bastard of Camelot, playing Ophelia in the sort-of Hamlet story is really fun. If anyone has read the Missing collection- which I absolutely love- by Margaret Peterson Haddix, this gives me similar vibes for some reason. Anyway, I really want to give Hamlet a hug and make him a flower crown or something)

A Tale of Crowns (WIP) - @ataleofcrowns (It's kind of not even funny how much I love this game... It's hard to even describe why I like it, just that it's so well rounded in terms of the story, characters, dialogue, and relationships. It's such an interesting plotline and it's pretty immersive. Also the first time I read the demo, there was an update as I was reading and the high that sent me on has very rarely been matched. Also Dara running to save my Crown in the tunnel?? 🤚😩🤭💓 ugh. UGH!! That's good food for my fool heart)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story (WIP)- @anya-dev (I'm usually not that into apocalypse themes/plots but I really enjoyed this game, and the plot was very good and intruiging... it really pulled me in and I like my character in the story a lot. I don't know why but it tastes like chikuwa, atsuage, and this specific type of carmelized onions that my mom makes sometimes)

Nothing left to burn (WIP)- @clowdee-works (......ouch. I *knew* what was going to happen and I STILL became attached to Drew)

Smoke and Velvet - @roast-ifs (It's good. And I am VEDY much into my character design. Also the story is really interesting, and I enjoy the setting a lot somehow)

Speaker (WIP)- @speakergame (very fun to play, and each update gets me more interested in the aspects of the plot. I also really like the little descriptions of what the characters think of the player)

The Nameless (WIP)- @parkerlyn (interesting plot, I like the characters a lot, and The aesthetics of this world are so interesting. Definitely had a good time visualizing what everything looked like)

Fields of Asphodel (WIP) - @asphodelgame (I think it's really cute so far!!! I like mythology in general, and the persephone/hades dynamic is *mwah!*... I like the way the story progresses in the beginning, and I think it works well in drawing the reader into the world. I also very much enjoy petting large dogs.)

...there are so much more.. and I have followed so many blogs.........

I'm not sure why I can't find it rn but there's this one WIP game that I really like where the MC buys a manor for like dollar and moves to go live there with her best friend and shenanigans ensue as they try to settle in and fix up the estate

Harbringer (WIP) - @harbringercog (....are you KIDDING me?? I was fully planning on just enjoying the demo and keeping a mental note to update the list sometime later,,, but this game... THIS GAME really made me fold. It's very immersive and regardless of how nervous the author claims to be after releasing the demo, it's of my humble opinion that those nerves can be calmed. It's very good. I was planning on procrastinating and reading a little bit and then going back to this essay I need to write, but somehow I got pulled in and ended up reading through the whole demo and it's apparent that I honestly had no chance of getting through this without becoming invested in the plot.... just... so good.. I'm very excited to see how this will progress)

Visual Novels:

Andromeda 6 (WIP) - @andromeda-six​  (I repeat: Obsessed, I come back every few months to see an update and I fall deeper into the hole every time...)

To the Edge of the Sky (WIP,, probably) - by Ajané (??) on Steam (I think, it’s been a while)

Next on my list to check out: Perfumare by pdrrook

Does.... does The Arcana game by Nix Hydra count as VN?? If so, then yes.

Similarly, the FictIF games are all entertaining, although Last Legacy and Heir to Love and Lies are my favorites rn (and.....unfinished....)

I also don't know if this counts, because I kind of consider Otome games to be their own genre, but on the Love 365: find your story by Voltage Inc. There are a bunch of fun stories, my favorite of which are: the Shinichi Kagari route on After School Affairs and the Saejima and Keiichiro routes on Bad Boys do it Better

..To be continued...

[inlovewithfictionalmensblog]

My love, my everything, my soulmate

Pairing: King Caspian X fem!reader

Warning: a lil angsty, Sweet FLUFF, bestfriends to lovers.

Summary: King Caspian and Lady Y/n have been the best of bestfriends since forever, but as they mature feelings appear making the two confused in what to do.

(Not a soulmate AU!) (Aesthetic made by me)

Caspian and Y/n have always been inseparable. Sticking hip to hip. Overprotective over the other, even as children. One would take the blame of the others actions, one would bleed for the other, cry together, mourn together. Laugh together.

But most of all, love together. Y/n, since a child has always loved sword fighting. She was in awe of every soldier in the kingdom. Every sword she saw, she was absolutely in awe of it.

She faught side by side with Caspian during the ward of miraz. She was there when Caspian was crowned King, she was there when Susan left him in shatterd pieces. She was there when he first visit his parents grave.

She was there when he first announced the journey of the dawn treader, there when he cried, or needes a shoulder. She was there when he had nightmares of his uncle. She was there when liliandil left him because she was too afraid on the land in narnia. She was there to fix him up, bring him back up and remind him who he was.

Which is why Caspian did not know what to do without her. Y/n sat in her balcony in the art room, the room Caspian had asked to be made specifically for her. It was connected by her bedchamber.

Her hair was up, she had her glasses, and her white dress had all types of colors on it. Caspian chuckled behind her, y/n almost jumped, looking behind her, she saw her bestfriend.

"Caspian" she started, her brush painted in green as she drew trees. "I thought you had a meeting with the lords" she asked.

"I did, it stopped early. I see the first thing you do after we returned from the journey is painting" Caspian smiled at her, walking forward absolutely amazed at her talent. In front of him the canvas was decorated by a beautiful painted forest, with deere, dryads and lakes.

"You never cease to amaze me" Caspian breathlessly gasped, looking at y/n and smiled down at her. The sun made y/ns skin glow like gold sparks, her beautiful eyes lighting up even more, her smile widened up at the small compliment.

Caspian had never noticed how beautiful y/n truly was, until the conversation during the journey back from the dawn treader.

FLASHBACK

After the pevensies and scrubb left back to their world. Y/n and Caspian were left to sail back to the ship in silence. Y/n glanced at Caspian many times to check up on him.

She sighed, lifting her hand to his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiled sympathetically at him. In which he returned it almost incredibly sadly.

A stinging feeling went up through y/ns heart. Seeing him like this was a weakness y/n could never handle. It broke her.

-

Caspian was in his cabin, when he heard a small knock was heard. He mumbled a small 'come in'. Not taking his eyes off the paper down on his desk.

A sound of heels made him look up. It had been 2 months into the journey back home. Caspian has not been any better.

Y/n sat next to him. She sighed, making him look curiously at her. She swallowed, blinking before looking at him.

"You were there, when i lost my mother. You held me, as i mourned her death. I was numb and broken. Because i lost the only family i had left--"

Caspian was going to speak but y/n spoke faster.

" you hated the way i was, you hated me seeing me cry...sad..or generally just...numb" she grabbed his hand, her thumb caressing his knuckles. "You were there for me...so im gonna be there for you" she almost whispered.

"Losing people you care about is not something you can easily get over. You lost your bestfriend...reepicheep, two bestfriends who were like your little siblings. Its not easy to take it in and act Alright...and thats okay. But you dont have to pretend with me..so p-please" y/n choked up a sob as she saw Caspians eyes water.

"Im here Caspian...I'll always be here...c'mere" y/n wrapped her arms around him. His head on y/ns chest as he let the tears he held on for so long fall down. His hiccups made y/n wince. Her own tears falling down. She had been so angry at both susan and liliandil. Both left her king with a broken heart, and now she had to pick up the mess and put it up together. Not like she minded.

"I-its hard" he stuttered, y/n closed her eyes, kissing his head. Making Caspian blush at the sudden action. He had never blushed at her actions before.

"It'll get better. I promise darling"

END OF FLASHBACK

Ever since, he had stared at y/n a totally different way, noticing hiw she fidgeted with her fingers whenever she was angry or nervous or stressed. How she bit down her lip whenever she was consecrated, how her nose would twitch whenever she smelled her favorite fish. How her eyes would light up at the mention of chocolate cake.

He also noticed how she would glance at him, differently. A way he could not put his finger to it.

"I love painting Caspian, you know that. And i wasnt able to do that when we were in the sea for nearly 9 months" y/n giggled. The sound making Caspians stomach fall into emptiness, the emptiness filled with nothing but butterflies.

"And yet you're still so good at it" he said touching y/ns arm gently. Y/n gulped down and stared at his hand, the hand had rings to it, the cold gentle feeling on y/ns arm making shivers down her spine. She blushed.

She furrowed her eyebrows, why was she blushing? Why was she feeling this? No. Nooo dont..

"Is everything alright?" Caspian asked concernly. Y/n looked at his eyes, blinking and nodding.

"I-i uh yes, im fine..just headache" y/n chuckled. Yet Caspian still had his worried look.

"Do you want me to call over Dr, Ombre?" Caspian offered kindly. Y/n shaked her head gently, "no, its fine Caspian. Must be a little tired"

Caspian nodded , smiling down at her.

"Well, I'll ne in the library if anything, darling" Caspian smiled leaving the chamber.

Darling. If y/n has been called darling by Caspian so many times. Why did this time affect her so much?

She shaked her head, continuing her art.

-

The next morning went too quickly, Caspian had not been seen by anyone, and it was starting to worry y/n.

She walked down the echoey hall down to Caspians bedchamber. No awnser, she looked around, to see Caspian in his bed, still in his king clothing, with papers surrounded around him.

She smiled lightly, shaking her head. She assumed he had not slept at all. She called a maid in.

"Yes, lady y/n?" The maid whispered softly.

"Cancel the Kings meetings and appointments. He needs his rest, oh and please, would you mind bring his breakfast when it is done?" Y/n asked sweetly at the lady maid.

"Yes, my lady"

"Thank you" y/n smiled sweetly. She closed the door behind her, walking...no. tiptoeing, slowly and quietly picking up every paper and stacking it up, his chamber was a mess, books everywhere, papers everywhere.

She decided to clean a little, she had woke up before the sun rose, usually Caspian would wake up before y/n, but this time he didn't. She picked up the books lining them up in the small library counter Caspian had, organizing it. She picked every paper and put it in its place. She sighed tiredly, sitting down on the chair. She looked at him, tilting her head lightly. Smiling at the sight of Caspian asleep. His beautiful dark chocolate eyes were no where to be seen, since his eyes were closed into a dreamy dream. A string of hair on his face, his mouth slightly opened, soft gentle snores heard.

Y/n walked up to Caspians bedside, tucking a piece of his hair to his ear, she smiled when he moved a bit. She pecked his head softly.

When she waited, she grabbed a book, sitting at the chair, reading 'the cruel prince' . Finally as the sun came up, Caspian stirred, groaning. Squinting his eyes at the sun. Y/n looked up at smiled.

"Y/n?" He guessed, as he rubbed his eyes, he saw more clearly to see y/n on his chair, her red dress with gold designs. Her hair put up into a half up half down bun.

"Hello sleepy king, i cleaned your chamber. You weren't awake when i woke up. I got worried, so i came here to see your chamber a mess. Breakfast should be on the way" y/n smiled at him. He smiled at her appropriately.

"Thank you, darling" he smiled. There it was again, the smile and the 'darling'. She tensed up.

"Dont mention it casp, you needed rest, i cancelled your meetings and appointments" y/n randomly confessed with an innocent smile.

"Why?" Caspian told her. "Because you need a day off where your not king, you're forgetting your a man too"

Caspian got up, looking down. Y/n sat next to him. "If i dont act like king then who am i?" He muttered. Y/n layed her head on his shoulder.

"You're a man, a son, a bestfriend" y/n smiled at him. "And soon, you'll be a husband and a father"

Caspian blushed at those words. But he frowned. "I dont want to marry if its not for love, and i wouldn't want my child to have parents who dont care for each other"

"I dont know Caspian, you cant randomly fall in love with someone you've only met for 4 months, so i understand where your coming at. But you have to work fast, Lord berum is very impatient. They expect a wedding soon"

Caspian looked at Y/n. Her eyes said everything. He loved her, he was in love with his bestfriend. The way her eyes saddened made him want to take all the sadness away and make her happy. Hold her, love her, marry her. Cherish her.

He got up, not knowing what he was about to do.

"Later, meet me at the gardens" Caspian smiled at her excitedly, pecking her head, running out to who knows where.

-

Caspian had announced to her that they were going horse riding, walking out to the gardens as promised. Caspian had his horse destier and calambia.

Y/n smiled at Caspian, petting her horse.

"Whats the occasion?" She asked, squinting her eyes at the bright sun.

"Oh, nothing. To the waterfall" Caspian smirked, destier running making y/n gasp running forward too.

-

After the horse race, Caspian and Y/n stopped at the sight of the waterfall.

"Do you remember how we found this place?" Caspian asked y/n. Y/n nodded.

"We were running away from your uncle, when he specifically told us to not eat the cookies..but we did. We ran and ran, but you fell making me fall, when we looked up...we met with the waterfalls" y/n smiled at the memory, Caspian stared at her in awe.

"Do you remember when you faught with Prince Liam when he flirted with you, and i told you, you were completely badarse? When we were 15?" Caspian said to her, y/n chuckled but nodded.

"You said in return 'dont fall for me prince' and i said 'no premises' but it was only meant as a joke" Caspian stared at her, his grin going even wider when y/n stared at him confusingly.

" that day, was probably the day i realized i loved you not in a friend, in a romantic way. I just never admit it to myself because it was too much. But, listen, it was four am, and we were laughing crying from the ache in our stomachs because of how much we were laughing and i looked at you...and i knew" he paused.

"Knew what?" Y/n asked, her head was everywhere. Her bestfriend was in love with her, as she was with him.

"I knew, that you were my love, my everything, my soulmate. I-...im in love with you." Caspian smiled. Y/n had years perking up her eyes.

"I-" she paused looking at the waterfall. Her head was calculating everything. Caspian frowned. His eyes losing hope. When he stepped away, y/n shot her eyes at him. She lifted her hand to his chest. She looked at her clothed chest, her hand to his heartbeat, feeling it race rapidly. She looked at him, grinning like a child who just received a present.

She jumped into his arms.

"Im in love with you too" she breathlessly sobbed. She was happy, Caspian chuckled happily taking her in his arms, spinning her around. Finally putting her down, his hands held y/ns face, gently.

"Can i....can i kiss you?" He politely asked, y/n nodded, closing her eyes when she felt his soft lips. Both moving their lips in sync, enjoying the moment they had now. Holding each other tightly, as if it were the last time they were allowed to gold one another.

But no.

Now, they had all the time in the world.

[teamhook]

Always, Always a Bridesmaid :: 27 Dresses Birthday CS AU

Hello! This is the final installment of my birthday fic for @ultraluckycatnd

Thank you to my beta @demisexualemmaswan

Much love and thanks for the help from @veryverynotgood and @karlyfr13s and the CSMM discord ladies that help with sprints and their encouragement.

FFN

AO3

The newly engaged couple wanted to share the joyous news right away with Mr. Goldman. The doting father was elated at the prospect of having his younger daughter back in town permanently. Emma’s obvious discomfort went unnoticed by her family. Midas without thinking passed down the bride-to-be her mother’s wedding gown, completely missing her fake smile. He was just happy at the thought of his little girl finding a good man and moving back to the States.

“Thank you, Daddy!” Kathryn said.

Graham smiled lovingly at his fiance as she showed him the gown.

Sitting across from the couple, Emma’s heart sunk even further. Not only had her sister swiped away her dream man but her mother’s beloved gown as well. She shouldn’t hold Graham against Kathryn because she didn’t know...but the dress was a different story.

Emma took a deep breath as she entered the bar. She still couldn’t believe she had taken the guy up on his offer for a drink. Who was she kidding? The moment Kathryn and Graham’s eyes met she had increased her alcohol consumption. She was not an alcoholic yet but she was enjoying the drink a little too often.

Killian waved at her from the bar.

Emma plopped down at the chair next to him.

“Hello, love.” Killian smiled widely.

Emma forced a smile. “Hello.”

Killian took a long, scrutinizing look at her. “I can’t help but wonder what deity I owe the pleasure of your company. Don’t get me wrong, love. I’m ecstatic, but you had been dodging my calls, and you suddenly called me to invite me out for a drink.”

Emma grimaced. “My baby sister is getting married.”

“Ah, before you.”

“That is not why I’m upset,” she defended.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Emma sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “You don’t know my sister. Kathryn is going to want me to do everything for her. I will not just be her maid of honor,” she said with exasperation.

“I don’t see the problem. You ‘love weddings’.” he reminded her.

“I do love weddings but I’m going to have to take care of everything .”

“Alright. How about you simply say, ‘No’?”

“What?” she asked confusedly.

“Love, you have said, ‘No’ to people before haven’t you?”

She scoffed. “Of course I have!”

Killian’s raised his eyebrow skeptically.

“Many, many times before but not in this situation.”

“But you want to say no this time?”

She nodded. “I wish I could. But I can’t; it’s my sister.”

“Alright. We are going to play this little game to practice saying ‘no’.”

Emma stared at him.

Killian took a big breath. “Emma, love, give me 50 dollars.”

“NO!” Emma said with a smile.

“Emma, darling. It’s only 50 dollars. I promise I’ll pay you back,” he said, holding his hand on his heart.

“No,” she said, proud of herself.

“Emma, love. I need you…” he said, licking his lips seductively, leaning closer to her, “To give me 50 dollars.”

“ No ?” she said hesitantly.

“Eh, not bad, darling,” he said proudly. “May I have your drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said as she pushed the drink to him.

He grabbed it and with a smirk.

“Wait, I meant no!”

Killian tsked. “You were doing so well. That's terrible,” he said as he enjoyed her drink.

“Mmhmm,” she sighed disappointedly.

The night came to an end not long after for the pair after the game.

Kathryn and Emma shared a walk through Central Park as they talked about wedding plans.

“Ems, did you go to the flower shop and order the favors?”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“And the invitation mock-ups? Did you get those done?”

“Yes. Done.”

“This is so much fun!”

The girls kept walking.

“Oh, and I want you to ask your friend to be my bridesmaid. The rude one.”

“You want me to ask Ruby? My best friend.”

“Yeah, she is really pretty and she will not throw off the aesthetics. You know that I don’t have girlfriends. Girls, they don't like me.” Kathryn shrugged. “I just don’t understand why.”

Emma gave her an incredulous look with a raised brow.

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Fine. I know why. Just ask her.”

“Of course.”

“I was thinking you should do a slideshow for the rehearsal dinner with pictures of Graham and me together and say funny things.”

“Okay, I will get the photos from Graham. I have our family photo albums.”

Kathryn squealed. “Before I forget, guess what.”

“What?”

“You know that writer you stalk…well, he called me because he wants to do a whole Commitments column on us for the Journal. Can you believe it?”

“Of course, at this point, I absolutely can. Why not?”

Kathryn stopped across the Boathouse. “I have been thinking and I think you are right. It would be a lovely wedding if I got married where mom and dad got married.”

Emma gaped at her sister for a second. “I didn’t think that was your style.”

“It isn’t but why not? I’m wearing mom’s dress,” she shrugged.

“You are always going on and on about how perfect it was. Tada!” Kathryn enthusiastically waved her hands in the direction of the venue. “We are getting married in three weeks.”

Emma gulped, “Three weeks?”

“Yeah. When I called they didn’t have any availability for 18 months. Then they called me to say they had a cancellation. So I had to take it. I know you can pull it together quickly. I don’t want to wait.”

Emma just forced a smile.

“I don’t get it. Emma, you could at least try to act like you are happy for me.”

Emma resorted to an old nickname from their childhood to appease her sister. “KitKat, you know I am…”

“I know that you wanted to get married at the Boathouse wearing mom’s dress but I’m really happy and I thought my big sis would be happy for me.”

“I am. I just didn’t know that’s what you wanted…”

“It is and you will get the dress after. Okay. Now can we talk about more important stuff?” Kathryn said as she resumed walking.

Emma stood on ceremony.

“Come on. Emma, you have a lot of work to do. I don't like the linens, and I think you need to rent new ones because they do not go with the color scheme that I picked out.”

The next day she met Ruby at the Yoga studio for their workout and she shared the news. She had to beg her to say yes to being a bridesmaid. She couldn’t be alone in this mess.

Finally Ruby relented only after being kicked out for talking.

“You want this cake in three weeks? Emma, I don’t know if I can do it. It’s just not enough time for what you want.”

“Tiana, I know you can do it. I wouldn’t ask otherwise. Do you remember the beautiful six-tiered heart-shaped cake that was commissioned by the Fisher’s or the tower of edible gifts for the Page-Booth outdoor fiesta. You can do anything, and we both know it.”

“ Three weeks?”

“Do it for your favorite maid-of-honor, please?”

Tiana caved with a smile.

“We have a cake.” Emma turned to her sister and Graham with a wide grin on her face.

The sudden clapping from the door alerted her of the newcomer.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asked, already exasperated by his presence.

“Hello. I’m James Rogers,” he said with a gleaming smile.

Emma’s mouth opened but nothing came out.

“Oh, yes. I’m Kathryn and this is my fiance, Graham.”

“Congratulations! Lovely to meet you both,” he said as charmingly as possible.

“ Thank you,” Kathryn and Graham replied together.

“Oh, and this is my sister, Emma. She is obsessed with your stories. She’s your number one fan. She is going to make a wallpaper with all your articles.”

Killian smirked at Emma. “Is that so?”

Finally, Emma found her voice, “Wait, you said your name was Killian. I’m confused.”

“Aye, my name is Killian. I use James for the byline so I don’t get stalked by the crazy brides,” Killian answered Emma.

Kathryn’s attention was focused on her phone.

Killian turned to Kathryn. “How did you lovebirds meet?”

Emma scoffed, “You are an asshole.”

“Emma!” Kathryn hissed.

“What? He is! He told me his name was Killian.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Kathryn asked.

“We both work the wedding circuit,” Killian replied.

“Kathryn, can you give us one second? Tell Tiana what you want,” Emma urged her sister in the direction of her friend.

“I can’t believe it. You lied to me,” Emma accused.

“Ah, ah. Love, I told you I was a writer. Where is the lie in that? I just didn’t tell you what I wrote.”

“But…you write the most beautiful things. Which one is it? Do you only pretend to be a cynic… or are you a cynic who knows how to spin romantic crap for girls like me?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “The second one, the spinning crap one as you so eloquently put it.”

“This is just great. I feel like I just found out my favorite love song was written about a sandwich.”

“James, can I steal you away for a second so we can talk about Graham and me?”

“Of course. That's why I'm here.”

Kathryn and Killian chatted away as they walked towards Graham, leaving Emma behind.

Killian walked with an extra pep in his step. He knew this story would get him out of the dreaded Commitments. He found the address that Kathryn gave him.

He knocked eagerly.

On the other side of the door. Emma groaned as she saw through the peephole. She opened the door just wide enough for her unhappiness to see him be on display.

“Kathryn is not here. You can go now.”

“I’m afraid I’m not here for her. I’m here to interview you for the piece.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Just go away, I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

“Come on, lass. For Kathryn and Graham?” he asked, pouting.

Emma hesitated for a second. She knew Kathryn would be angry if she messed this up for her.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.” She opened the door wide for him to walk in.

Killian got his phone out and set it to record. “The maid of honor, although a lovely lass, is a little prickly. Emma, how do you feel about Kathryn’s whirlwind romance?”

Emma took a deep breath. “She’s my little sister. How do you think I feel? I taught her how to tell time, and how to ride a bike. I raised her. Please, don’t print that. It would break my father’s heart but to answer your question. I couldn’t be happier.”

Killian nodded as he listened to her but his attention wasn’t completely on her. His eyes roamed the apartment until they landed on the slightly opened closet. Love, what are those?”

Emma’s eyes followed his gaze and answered as she tried to make her way over to the closet to close the door and keep him away from her prized collection. “That’s nothing.”

Killian was giddy with excitement as he trailed right behind her. “Are those…”

“No!” Emma tried to keep him away by pushing him away from the door but she wasn’t able to keep him from opening the door.

“Bloody hell! Are these all bridesmaid dresses?”

“None of your business.”

“Good God, lass. Why? The closet is so full you can barely close the door.”

“I just have a lot of friends and I like keeping them,” she shrugged.

“Makes perfect sense because they’re bloody beautiful.”

“Some of them are not that bad.”

“I’d like to see one that is not bad.”

“Fine.” Emma started looking through the dresses, muttering not that one, or that one.

“Aha, this one is not bad.” She showed him a greenish dress.

“Love, we need to have those lovely eyes checked because that is the very definition of bad. What color is this? Vomit?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “No, it's an "olivey" green. The color is super flattering. I’m telling you. It looks great on.”

“I disagree. Love, that dress is one of the worst instruments of torture I have ever seen because the bride wants you to look ugly.”

“No, no. Ariel picked it because it looks good on everybody.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “The lass is delusional and believes anything anyone tells her,” he spoke to the recorder.

“I’ll prove it to you.” She grabbed the dress and headed to her room.

Killian kept skimming through the dresses, grimacing as he took them out to look at them. He kept taking pictures of the packed closet.

Emma came out of the room.

He had to agree the dress wasn't that bad but perhaps it was her .

“See?” she said, twirling.

He smiled. “You are right. The dress isn’t that bad but what about the color? He said as he took a picture and showed her the photo.

Emma groaned. “It’s your camera. It’s defective or something.”

Killian looked at her, unamused.

Emma sighed. “Okay, it’s not that good. Are you happy?”

“You look like a very beautiful shiny mermaid. You should be flattered.”

Emma bit her bottom lip. “It's really not the worst one.”

She went on to show him every dress in the closet and he took a picture of each one. They laughed and made fun of the themed weddings and the accessories.

“Love, you have twenty-seven dresses.”

Emma smiled and shrugged.

“I don't understand. You attend the wedding, why not throw the dress after? This is a huge closet.”

“I know you don’t believe me but I’ve had really good times in those dresses.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s not about me. It’s about supporting them.”

“Alright, but how much time do you spend doing this for others? What about you?”

Emma sighed, “Someday… It will be my day and those people will be there for me.”

Killian’s camera flash took her by surprise. He couldn’t help capturing the image. The look in her eye spoke to his cynical soul. He thanked her for the hospitality but made his excuse to leave.

Emma arrived at Graham’s apartment. She could hear the loud music through the door. Emma rolled her eyes, Kathryn was too busy for the gift registry but she was okay taking full advantage of the fact Graham was out of town for business. She only hoped her sister wasn’t doing anything she would regret.

She rang the doorbell.

Kathryn opened the door enough to give Emma the list. “Here I thought you were going to wait for me downstairs.”

Emma knew her sister well enough to know she was trying to get rid of her.

Emma pushed past her. “Kathryn, what is going on here?” Her eyes landing on Henry vacuuming the living room.

Kathyrn scoffed. “What? He was looking for a part-time job to buy a new computer. He wants an Apple MacBook Air because he wants to be a writer.”

“You have a kid cleaning your fiance's apartment. Graham adores him. He has been his big brother for years.” Emma said in disbelief.

“It’s our secret. Henry’s and mine. Ems, don’t worry about it, okay. You should go, it’s getting late.”

Emma left, grabbing the list. She wondered if she told Graham the truth about Kathryn, what he would say. At the park, she had tried to make him see her sister’s lies but he was blind by his attraction for her.

Killian was looking through his notes and the pictures with a faint smile on his face.

Cora appeared at his cubicle suddenly, as if transported by magic.

A startled Killian snapped up from his computer screen. “Cora, did you need something?”

“The bridesmaid story you pitched, what do you have so far?”

“Ah, yes, it’s still a little rough. I’m working on it.”

“I want to see it now . Email it.” She said and walked away.

“Cora, it’s not ready! Bloody hell,” he muttered, Killian got up from his chair to chase after her after sending the email. She was a heartless woman and people had been fired for less. He had been lucky she had found value in him.

Cora was sitting down behind her desk when he arrived. “Cora, the email was sent with the draft. I hope you let me know what you think and just keep that in mind,” Killian said.

She just nodded a silent way to dismiss him.

“Hello, love. Did you miss me?” Killian whispered in Emma’s ear as she scanned the cookware.

Emma jumped a bit and almost dropped the crystal glasses.

She glared at Killian. “What are you doing here? I didn’t invite you. Go away, please?”

“Kathryn did.” He smiled. “I’m just doing my job. I have to see every aspect of the wedding.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she kept scanning things off of Kathryn’s list distancing herself from him.

“Your sister wants so many presents that she physically cannot register for them herself?” he asked when he caught up with her.

Emma stopped scanning and turned her attention to Killian. “It’s a short engagement so she is pressed for time.”

“How many casserole dishes does a person need? Kathryn doesn’t strike me as the cooking type,” he said as he trailed behind her again.

“This isn't just another vahze ." Emma turned to face him, annoyed at his comments.

“It’s called a vase,” he said matter of factly.

“You just don’t get it. These are the things you build a life with.”

“No, love. This is useless crap that the 70-billion-dollar-a-year wedding industry has conned you into believing that you need to have or you won't be happy.”

“No, you know what I think? I think that all your theories are just a smokescreen.”

“For what, darling?”

“Your secret, whatever it is. Maybe you haven’t found the right girl and you're afraid you never will.”

Killian sat down on a display couch. “And I think that you love weddings so much because you prefer to focus on everyone else’s Kodak moments rather than make memories of your own.”

“What do you want me to say? You're right? You are crazy. Weddings are the worst place to forget you are single.”

“Love, you want a wedding, not a marriage, a bloody wedding. The dress and the special day.”

“What is your problem, asshole? Let me guess you had a fancy wedding and your wife left you for someone else?”

Killian’s jaw ticked. “Aye, with my college professor by the way. They lived happily ever after with their son.”

“What? Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Killian, it was just a guess.”

“A good one,” he laughed bitterly. “For someone who has no insight whatsoever into herself, you nailed me right on the head.”

“Hey, do you want to find the ugliest stuff in here and register Kathryn for it?”

“Aye, let’s do it. I saw the most hideous crocodile gravy boat on the counter back there,” he said with a devilish smile on his face.

Killian walked to Cora’s office.

“Hey, you wanted to see me?” Killian asked as he opened the door and sat down.

“Wow,” she said.

“Cora, I told you I wasn’t done with it. I need to do some edits.” Killian said.

“Relax. I like it. It's a decent story. I have to admit, I was shocked. It’s smart and entertaining.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“You really nailed this girl. We’re running the story Sunday, front page.”

“No, no. It’s not ready,” Killian insisted. “I still have some things to add and I know it will make it worth the wait.”

Cora crossed her arms over her chest and raised her brows. "You have been begging me for months for a chance. How about some gratitude?"

Mind reeling, Killian searched for any reason to stall Cora's decision. “I really want to get this right. Can you give me a week to make it perfect?”

“If I didn’t know you any better I would say you care for her. Did the girl get under your skin?”

He scoffed, “Of course not. I’m just trying to do my job. She’s more than this perpetual bridesmaid. There’s more to her tale. Just give me a week and you will not regret it.”

“Fine. Get out.”

Killian called Emma to see if they could meet to talk but was greeted with Kathryn’s voice instead. Kathryn had told him that Emma was meeting Graham to pick the menu for the reception. He truly wondered what she was doing for her own wedding. She was always doing something for her instead of for the wedding preparations. He understood what Emma had meant when she told him she would need to do everything.

Killian showed up at the restaurant and stopped in his tracks. Even from his spot, he knew the signs of a woman smitten with the man she was talking to. Emma was in love with Graham. Bloody hell, his stomach dropped for some unknown reason. She was smiling freely at something he said. He hadn’t dared to get closer to them. How could anyone else miss the obvious signs? How could he have missed it?

Emma and Graham were so busy in their conversation that they had not noticed Killian’s arrival. So he started to walk away.

After hearing Graham praising Kathryn, Emma wanted to tell him the truth. She is not who he thinks but stopped herself because he looked so happy. She will not be the one to break his heart.

“Emma, tell me what is your favorite part of a wedding?” Graham asked.

“My favorite part of the wedding is watching the groom’s face when the bride is walking down the aisle, and seeing the pure love on his face,” Emma said.

“I think it’s easy to look at your bride with love if she is like your sister. Kathryn is wonderful and I am very happy I found her,” Graham said with a loving gaze.

Emma smiled at him then lowered her gaze to her plate.

Graham turned away to get the waiter’s attention but noticed Killian walking away.

“Rogers, Is that you?”

Killian winced but forced a fake smile as he turned to face the table.

Emma glared at him as he approached them.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“I have some more questions for you,” he said simply.

“You could email me the questions and I will return the email.”

“Where’s Kathryn?” Killian asked.

“She’s busy and couldn’t make it so she asked me to come in her place,” Emma said.

“Hmm. She couldn’t come to pick the wedding meal?”

“Emma is just helping out. Kathryn had a hair appointment; we are having dinner with my parents later,” Graham replied.

“I’m sure Emma was happy to oblige,” Killian said.

“Should we leave now?” Emma asked Graham.

“We should we're heading up to Rhinebeck to pick out

some linens from an antique store,” Graham said as he waved the waiter over.

“I have an idea, How about if I go with Emma in your place? I imagine you have things to do before your dinner.”

“No, no, that’s okay. We can make it back in plenty of time,” Emma answered quickly.

“I don't mind,” Killian said with a smile.

Graham nodded. “It would be a great help.”

“Mate, I insist,” Killian said.

Graham paid and went on his way.

Emma and Killian got in her dad’s car and drove away.

Emma was driving with a scowl on her face.

Killian laughed, “Of course you’re angry at having to plan your sister’s wedding to the man you love. The second I saw you mooning over him while you had your meal. It was like a bloody anchor was dropped. You won’t say anything because you are too used to facilitating others' happiness instead of your own.”

Emma scoffed. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Hmm. You are miserable and unwilling to do anything about it.”

“You are crazy! I’m thrilled to be planning their wedding. She’s my baby sister like I have for every wedding that I've been a part of. You wouldn’t understand because you are cynical, mean, and dark. That’s your problem, buddy, not mine.”

“Buddy? Did you call me buddy?”

“I could have called you an asshole! Just shut up!”

“I understand you’re vexed. I ruined the day of you pining for somebody that will never be yours!” Killian roared.

“Stop!” Emma yelled back.

Killian’s attention turned back to the rainy road. Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to antagonize her.

“Love, you need to slow down so I can read the sign.”

The car kept picking up speed.

“Do you think you could slow down? Ease your foot off the accelerator.”

“Don’t you ever shut up?”

Killian checked his seatbelt. He should have waited to say his thoughts but she had given him the cold shoulder since they left the restaurant. He hadn’t noticed when the weather had gotten that bad. It was as if the rain was mimicking her mood.

“Emma, love. Slow down, we’re going to hydroplane,” he said in a soothing voice.

Emma rolled her eyes. “We are not going to hydroplane.” Her fingers squeezed the steering wheel tightly as she made a slight correction and the car started swerving out of control. “Shit, shit!! We are hydroplaning!!”

Killian hissed as he grabbed onto the armrest and gripped it as if his life depended on it. In a way it did, he supposed.

“Bloody hell! I told you to slow down! Lass, just calm down and ease your foot off the gas--”

“Shut it! I know what I’m doing.” She eased her foot on the break as she eased it off the gas like Killian suggested and maneuvered the vehicle to safety. “This is your fault if you would have stopped talking for a moment like I asked, I would have been able to focus on the road.”

Killian glared at her.

The car was stuck and they couldn’t get it out. It was too late for a tow truck and there was no cell phone service.

Killian spotted a bar not too far from them. “Come along, lass. Let’s see if we can get some help or at the very least get a drink.”

Emma hesitantly followed him.

The place was a small hole in the wall bar.

Killian found the payphone right away.

“You got anything?” Emma asked.

He shook his head no. “Mate, your phone doesn’t work,” Killian said to the bartender.

The man shrugged. “Nice detective skills. It has been out of service for a while.”

“Our car broke down and we have no cell service,” Emma told the bartender.

The man pulled out a phone from beneath the bar. “You will not find someone to come help you right now. The rain is bad and it’s getting late.”

Emma groaned.

Killian approached the bar. “Rum, three fingers, no ice, please.”He pulled a stool and sat down.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, annoyed as she followed him.

“You heard the man, we are not getting a tow anytime soon. I’m going to enjoy a drink. There’s nothing you can do. You should have a drink.”

The bartender handed Killian his drink.

“Thanks, mate.”

Emma sat down next to Killian. “Fine, I’ll have one, let me have the same.”

After several drinks, Emma eyed him carefully.

“Jones, I have to know something. You once wrote a column that was so beautiful it made me cry.”

“Aww,” he mocked.

“The Zimmer-York article was full of emotion. It was the anniversary of the mother's death. The brother flew home from Afghanistan.”

Killian remembered the article but he would not admit it. “Sorry, I don’t recall.”

“How can you not remember it? You cannot fake emotion like that.”

“A talented writer like meself can.”

“You’re not that good.”

Killian signaled the bartender for another round of drinks.

“Be honest with me for once. What is your favorite part of a wedding?”

He stared at her. “My favorite part of a wedding is an open bar.” He smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

“No. Everybody likes that.”

Killian laughed. “Alright. The part when the bride is making her grand entrance. I like to glance back at the wanker getting married. He looks happy even though he is willingly entering into the last form of slavery.”

Emma’s eyes widened as he finished talking.

Killian scratched behind his ear nervously. “Why the bloody hell are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you serious? That’s my favorite part! I can’t believe it. We have something in common.”

“Aye, that must make us kindred spirits. Love, it was bound to happen.”

“Just admit you are a big teddy bear that the whole cynical thing is an act so you can seem wounded and mysterious… and sexy.”

“I’m sorry love, what was the last one?”

“ Huh ?”

“You think I’m sexy, love? I'm startling, aren't I? Some people say striking, but I will accept sexy.”

“No, I don’t. I think you think you are sexy.”

“Mhmm,” he said with a wide smile.

Emma’s cheeks blushed bright pink.

Benny and the Jets played loudly, filling the moment of silence between them.

“I love this song,” Emma said, swaying to the beat of the song.

“Aye, it’s a great song.” Killian hummed in tune then broke into song, “ Hey, kids shake it loose together… That's been known to change the weather.”

Emma snorts in an unladylike way. “Those are not the lyrics,” she giggled.

“Those are the lyrics. Alright, lyric police. What are the correct words?”

“You're gonna hear a handsome music… So the walrus sounds.”

Killian laughed. “Walrus sounds?”

Emma grinned and continued, “Say, Penny's no longer in a cement jet… Ooh, but you're so laced down.”

He shook his head, but joined her in the next line. “Buh, buh, buh, buh Bennie and the Jets…”

Emma continued belting out the lyrics, “O oh, in the wind and the waterfall… Oh, baby, she's a "revocaine"... She's got electric boobs.”

Killian laughed so hard with tears in his eyes. “Boobs?”

Sometime after, Killian found himself singing alongside Emma on top of the bar, dancing and enjoying the moment.

The crowd had become a rapt audience to the pair cheering them on after an encore performance.

Killian helped Emma get off the bar table. Once she was at eye level she was so beautiful. He blurted out, “I wept like a babe at the Zimmer-York wedding.”

Emma’s eyes widened at his confession and without thinking she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to her, melding their lips together. The kiss escalated fast as they found themselves in the back seat of her car fogging the car windows with their heavy breathing.

The sunshine woke up Emma from her sleep. She was trying to shake off the kinks. She looked around the scenery and decided that there are worse places to end up stranded.

“Morning, love. The tow truck is on its way,” Killian said as he handed her a cup of coffee.”

“Thank you, I just want you to know I never do this.”

“I know, lass, you kept saying that last night over and over.”

Emma groaned, her head pounded. Why was everything so loud? While Killian acted as if he was a two-hundred-year-old pirate with an endless supply of rum.

“I was wondering if you would like to grab something to eat while we wait for the tow truck?”

They found a small diner just down the block and placed their food order when one of the patrons from the bar last night approached them and reminded them of the rendition to Benny and The Jets. Emma grimaces at the thought of singing in public. The man left with a smile on his face while humming the song.

“Oh, why didn’t you stop me?” Emma asked Killian.

“I’m sorry, you looked so free.”

“Hey, you’re that girl! You’re famous.” A customer approached her with recognition in her eyes. “From the newspaper.”

Emma looked confused at the lady. “What paper?”

Killian groaned and muttered, “ Bloody hell .”

The woman had gone to find the newspaper for her to see.

"Always, Always a Bridesmaid by James Rogers? What the hell is this?” She asked, throwing the newspaper on his face. Emma got up from her seat and walked out.

Killian followed her after he paid the bill.

“Emma! Swan, please let me explain. I told my editor not to run it. Lass, no one reads it,” Killian said as he caught up with her and grabbed her arm to get her attention.

Emma whipped around and slapped him. She walked away toward the car leaving him behind.

Killian knew better than to try to talk to her again.

Killian stormed into work to confront Cora, she had lied to him. He had been blindsided when the article was mentioned. The look of betrayal he saw in her eyes made his stomach sour.

Cora’s door was open.

Killian didn’t even bother with any sort of civility. “What the bloody hell happened? I thought we agreed to hold it,” Killian accused.

“I thought the story was ready and I make the decisions here you don’t,” She said coolly.

“Cora, you don't understand. I didn't have time to warn her.”

“In case you forgot. You work for me, not the other way around. You should kiss my feet. I gave you 24 inches in the Sunday paper. Get out !” she said unamused.

Emma arrived at her place to be greeted with a string of shrieks and screams. “How could you let this happen?”

“I didn’t know he was writing a story about me,” Emma said.

“You?! Did you read it? If Emma is the typical, accommodating bridesmaid then her sister, Kathryn, is cast as the overbearing, overindulged bride-to-be who might start stomping around Manhattan at any moment."

“I’m sorry.”

“Emma, he called me bridezilla in the New York Journal!”

Emma stayed quiet as Kathryn scolded her, missing the hurt in her eyes. The phone rang interrupting her tirade.

“What?” Kathryn answered the phone.

“May I please speak with Emma?” Killian asked.

“Are you kidding? The only person you will be speaking to is my attorney! Asshole!” Kathryn yelled at the phone and slammed it down.

The week had started horribly for Emma. Kathryn hadn’t stopped her complaints about the article when all Emma wanted to do was forget about it. Not once had Kathryn shown her an ounce of sympathy there had been so many embarrassing pictures of Emma on the front page of the section. Kathryn had only been mentioned but no one knew what her face looked like. Emma however, was the damn star. Her head was starting to pound. She still had to face Graham. What if he felt like her sister?

Killian had been relentless with the calls and messages. Of course Ruby tried to cheer her up by making light of the situation but it didn’t help.

Graham called her to his office and was so caring and understanding that it made her feel as if someone had her back. He was right, no one read that section.

Emma had to rush to the bridal shop for her meeting with Kathryn.

“Johanna, can you hem this part? Emma, is that you?” Kathryn called out from the fitting room. Johanna went to do the alteration.

“Yeah, it's me,” Emma said as she walked to the back.

Emma sat down on one of the chairs.

“Emma, I have been thinking that it wasn’t your fault. You are just too trusting. I guess,” Kathryn said as she checked her list.

“Thank you. Wait. Is that your enemy list? The one from high school. Are you checking me off the list?” Emma said dumbfounded.

Kathryn gave her a small smile alongside a paper. “About the slide show, I want you to say that. Exactly as I wrote it, that is the script. Graham said he will give you all his photos.”

“Okay,” Emma said as she read over the script her sister gave her.

Johanna walked back in with the altered dress, “Hi, Emma.”

“Hi, Johanna,” Emma said with a welcoming smile and returning her attention to the scripted paper her sister gave her.

“Kathryn, here it is. Step in.” Johanna said as she helped Kathryn with the dress.

“Emma, what do you think?” Kathryn said, twirling in the dress.

Emma finally looked up to see the dress, expecting to see her mother’s dress with some slight changes but instead finding a completely different dress. “I thought you were wearing Mom's dress.”

“This is Mom's dress. Parts of it anyway. It was just too old-fashioned. We could just use a few pieces here and there,”

Kathryn said as she smoothed the material.

“I’m sorry... what ?” Emma asked as she approached her sister wearing a dress she no longer recognized. “You cut up Mom’s dress ?”

“Isn’t it pretty? You can wear it too. Technically Johanna cut it, not me.”

Emma didn’t think her sister could be any more selfish; she was proven wrong. “ No. No, no, no, no. No! God, you don't care. You only care about yourself, don’t you? I have made excuses for you since Mom died but enough is enough!”

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I can’t fix the dress but I won't let you hurt Graham. He thinks he knows you but it's all a lie. You even had Henry keep a secret from him. Tell him the truth or I will.”

“I don’t have to tell him anything and you will not either. You are my sister, you definitely wouldn't do anything to hurt me.”

“No, today you're just some selfish bitch who broke my heart and cut up my mother's wedding dress. You didn't even have the decency to ask me about it! You knew how much that dress meant to me but you just didn't care. You could have easily just picked a brand new dress to match your taste. Kathryn, you only get this warning, tell him the truth or a will.” Emma left her sister just staring at her back as she walked away.

Kathryn just groaned as she made her way to change her clothes.

On the day of the engagement party, Emma had been jittery all day but she wouldn’t be deterred from what she had to do. She gave her sister a chance to do the right thing, to be honest. She hoped she had come clean with Graham.

Emma had been getting pitying looks, and dealing with passive-aggressive comments about how terrible it must feel that her baby sister was marrying before her.

The last straw had Emma replying with, “ Yeah, but at least I still get to have hot sex with strangers .”

The stunned look on the old woman's face had been priceless.

The night progressed and it soon would be time for the slide show. Emma had kept trying to talk to Kathryn but her sister avoided her feigning she had to play host.

Ruby arrived fashionably late as always but quickly found Emma, a drink already in her hand. “Hey, you clean up nicely! You look hot! I might be persuaded to change sides,” she said with a wink.

Emma didn’t react with a quip of her own, making Ruby since her friend wasn’t holding up as well as she thought. “Emma, how are you?”

“I’m okay,” she said with a tight smile, grabbing the drink from Ruby’s hand while drinking it in one gulp.

“Hey, that is not water,” Ruby said as she saw her friend finish up to the last drop of her drink.

Emma turned to the guy helping her set up her computer for the slideshow. “It’s under Kathryn and Graham.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep, I’m fine,” Emma insisted.

Graham approached Emma with a reluctant fiance on his arm. “Emma, thank you for a lovely party. You have gone above and beyond. Hasn’t she, Kathryn?”

Kathryn nodded her agreement while avoiding Emma’s eyes.

Emma got the confirmation she needed with her sister’s attitude. “You guys should take a seat. I’m going to start the slideshow.”

The restaurant was packed with family and friends. Emma gave a lovely introduction as the images played in the background. It started with oohs and awws which morphed into gasps as Emma unmasked Kathryn from her preferred food to her dislike of pets which included Graham’s beloved dog Hunter. The final straw was Henry’s sell pitch for the cleaning business Kathryn was helping him, in which Graham’s home was the first customer.

Graham furiously got up from his seat and left with Kathryn following close behind trying to explain herself.

A crying Kathryn returned alone, walked up to Emma. “I hope you are happy. He broke off the engagement. The wedding is off.”

Emma saw as her sister walked away. Ruby nudged her shoulder. “What happened?”

“He deserved to know the truth.”

“I agree but perhaps you could have told him face-to-face when this mess started. I know that my moral compass doesn't exactly point due north but if I can see there’s something wrong, there’s a reason.”

“Ruby, you’re the one who is always telling me to be brave and stand up for myself,” Emma said, hurt at her friend’s attitude.

“Emma, hun that's not what you did. You unleashed years of repressed feelings in one night. I admit it was entertaining but if you were sure you did the right thing you'd feel better right now,” Ruby said honestly.

Emma walked out of the building, she heard footsteps approaching causing her to turn.

“Oh, my God. What do you want? Can't you take a hint? Why are you here?” she said, rolling her eyes at the intruder.

He shrugged, “Love, you wouldn't return my phone calls.”

“Haven't you ruined my life enough? Let me guess, you want another picture for your paper?”

“Emma, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Stop! You used me to advance in your career. At least have the decency to admit it but don’t try to act as you care about me.”

“I just saw what you did there and all I can say is it’s about bloody time!”

“Stop, I'm not doing this with you again.”

“Do you want to know the truth, why I came here? Alright, I knew this would be a difficult day for you, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to look out for someone else. I know I was a damn fool. I’m sorry. I will vanish from your life but I want you to know that I think you are amazing, a marvel, and I think you deserve so much more than what you settle for. You deserve to be taken care of like the princess you are.” He turned to walk away but stopped mid-step. “Sorry, love. I forgot to give you this.” He hands her a package. “It’s just something to make your life easier. A new beginning.”

She took the gift hesitantly and watched him walk away.

Killian stared at his computer screen. He had hated walking away from Emma but it was clear she was not ready to forgive him.

“Killian, your little bridesmaid story got a phenomenal response. Looks like you finally did it, you got yourself bumped from Commitments,” Cora said.

“Lovely,” Killian said with a depreciating smile on his face.

“Killian, you should be happy. Isn’t this what you dreamt of?” Cora said as she walked away.

Killian knew she was right, he should be happy. He should be celebrating but it was a hollow victory.

Emma was surprised when her father called the day after and invited her over.

“Emma, you have got to work this out,” Midas said as he hugged her to comfort her pain.

“You two need to talk and fix this. Remember you love each other,” Midas said as if talking to two little girls with pigtails.

They stood stubbornly at opposite sides as their dad gave them privacy.

Emma had grown up looking after her sister. She had no idea what had caused Kathryn to become as selfish as she was. Kathryn had become the person that only looked out for herself. Emma had let go of her hurt over Graham because she had no idea of her feelings for him but the dress. The wedding dress was part of her dream wedding and she took it knowing so. Not only that but she shredded it without concerns about her feelings. But as Emma stared into her sister's eyes, she recognized the pain that had reflected in her own. She had done the unthinkable and caused pain to the one she had protected all her life.

“Kathryn, I’m sorry. I feel terrible.”

Kathryn’s mouth opened. “Sorry? You humiliated me in front of everyone!”

“I know but --” Emma stammered.

“Just admit it! You have always been jealous of me!” Kathryn yelled as she threw bags of chips and anything she could find at Emma.

Ducking and dodging various items being flung at her from the shelves, Emma became aggravated by Kathryn's child-like tantrum, but once she picked up a family-sized can of vegetables to throw, Emma snapped. “Stop it! Kathryn, I’m sorry but you could have been honest with Graham from the beginning. We wouldn't be standing here if you had. Did you even love him or was it just convenient?”

Kathryn huffed, “Get off your high horse. Sweet Emma, kind and smart. Perfect Emma. You always thought my life was perfect. The truth is you resent me because you had to braid my hair, go shopping for my prom dress, and make my Halloween costumes.”

Emma sighed. “No, Kathryn, I never did.”

“You think my life is so easy.”

“Kathryn, you never had a care in the world. You did as you pleased, never caring for the consequences. You are beautiful and fun. Your life is perfect.”

“You have no idea, Emma. Do you want to know the reason why I stayed home? I got fired from my job and James dumped me. Then I met Graham and he was nice to me. I just wanted to be someone worthy of him. I was trying to be you.”

Emma asked, confused, “Why would you want to be boring me when you get to be you?”

“Emma, you have taken care of me since Mom died. You stopped being my big sister and became my surrogate mother."

“I had to. You are my baby sister.”

"No, you didn't. I'm sorry about mom's dress. I know how much that dress meant to you. I wasn't thinking," Kathryn sighed. "I was too busy enjoying my happy moment. I didn't care about you or anyone. You were right calling me selfish. I just never thought I would hear those words coming from you. I will not lie and say it didn't hurt. In a way, I'm happy you finally started saying what you feel. I will always be your sister and I think it's time for you to stop taking care of everybody. It’s time to focus on you.”

"Kathryn, I am sorry for what I did. I never wanted to be the one to cause you pain."

The girls hug and start cleaning the mess.

Emma was at home cleaning out her closet. Finally taking the advice she had been given. She decided to start fresh.

The phone rang several times before she answered it. “Hello?”

The familiar voice on the other side greeted her warmly.

“Hi, Graham. I can do that. No problem. I'll be right there.” Emma rushed to get ready and meet Graham at the office. It was the least she could do after her stunt at the party.

Graham was sitting at his desk trying to find his speech for the benefit. He looked up and saw Emma walk in. She looked beautiful. He was not blind but he never wanted to cross that line.

“Emma, you look--great. Wow!” Graham said.

“Thank you,” Emma replied. “Before we go, I want to say sorry about last night. I shouldn't have done that.”

“Emma, you did me a favor. I was about to marry a woman I didn’t know. It’s not your fault I got swept away. Let’s forget about the whole thing.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I hate to ask for another favor but I need to print up my speech for tonight. I looked but I couldn't find the file.”

“Sure no problem. I can get it for you.” Emma walked to his desk to find the file.

Graham sighed in relief. “Emma, I’m so thankful I could call you tonight. I love that I can always count on you to never say no.”

Emma froze and looked at him. “What?”

“I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?” He asked, concerned.

Emma sighed. “Oh--”

Graham approached her with concern.

Emma stared at the computer screen. “Graham, I quit.”

Graham’s face turned confused. “What do you mean?”

“You hired me right after college. I was so blown away and caught up by the company and you. I never bothered to get my own life. Then I couldn’t leave because I was so madly in love with you.”

He takes one fluid step into her space. His right hand sliding to the back of her head pulling her into a kiss.

Emma froze for a second waiting for the fireworks to explode but it was a dud.

Graham noticed her reaction and backed away. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

She looked at him with understanding. “It’s okay. I always wanted to know what it would feel like.”She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but that's not what it's supposed to feel like.” Her phone ringtone to Benny and the Jets went off interrupting them.

He smiled warmly as he saw her face brightened up with realization.

She smiled and left him behind.

Emma found the building easily enough. She approached the receptionist's desk interrupting a group of people deep in conversation. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Ki-James Rogers.”

The person that replied was a classically handsome man with a boyish quality and fair complexion with a bright smile. “He’s at a wedding. Wait, aren't you the girl from the article?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m famous.”

Emma had been pleasantly surprised at how accommodating the guy, Victor, had been. He quickly provided the information to her with a smirk.

Emma ran out of the building hailing a cab.

The taxi came to a screeching stop.

Emma opened the door and got in. “Pier 17,” she said looking forward while waiting for the car to move.

The face of the cabbie that drove her the night she met Killian smiled through the rearview mirror. “I only have one dress tonight.”

The man grumbled in disappointment as the possibility of some extra cash disappeared and started driving.

They arrived shortly at the destination. Emma rushed out of the cab noticing the venue’s wedding sign, and asked the two valet workers to point her in the right direction.

Emma easily found the wedding on a ship and it was about to depart. Emma didn’t think twice and just jumped landing on the gangplank.

She landed safely, taking a deep breath and she started her search for Killian. The wedding was lovely. She was amazed by the magical feel of it.

“Hey,” a voice called out from behind her, Emma turned to face the voice.

The tiny blonde with a big smile greeted her. “I know you from the article. What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Emma grimaced; she only hoped the bride was a romantic. “Long story short. There's this guy and he is here and I ...” Flustered at her own boldness Emma confided her story to the pixie bride who eagerly helped her.

Emma took the microphone nervously at the encouragement of her new friend.

“Hello. Good evening, I’m sorry to interrupt such a happy occasion. I promise this won't take long. I’m looking for someone, Killian? Killian Jones?”

The groom arrived and stood next to his bride, “Love, what’s going on?”

The bride said, “Shhh. Don’t worry, this is a good thing.”

Killian heard his name in a familiar voice and muttered, “Oh, bloodiest of hells…”

The Bride grabbed the mic from Emma’s grasp. “Can we have a spotlight, please? Killian Jones, come forward.” With an encouraging smile, she returned the microphone to Emma.

Killian begrudgingly stepped forward. The spotlight landed on him as the bride pointed him out.

Emma’s eyes met his and she continued to lower her armor. “I just wanted to say you were right about me. I wasn’t ready to hear it, especially not from you. I waited all my life for my prince charming. Then you showed up, a scoundrel, a pirate. The truth is, fighting with you is the best thing that ever happened to me. I think the chances of me falling in love with you are very good. That's all I had to say. I'll go now.”

Emma made her way through the crowd to meet Killian in the middle.

Killian smiled as she hesitantly arrived a few steps in front of him. “It’s about bloody time,” he said, pulling her as close to him as possible before he kissed her soundly.

After a few minutes of enjoying their kissing session, they are separated after hearing someone clear their throat.

“Little brother, I thought I taught you better manners. How about introducing me to the lovely lass that crashed my wedding to profess her feelings to you?”

“Leave them alone, Liam. They have a lot to talk about.”

“They can talk all they want but I feel like we deserve at least an introduction.”

Killian rolled his eyes as he hesitantly made space between Emma and himself. “Emma, this is my elder brother, Liam Jones. You have met my new sister-in-law, Olivia, but you can call her Tink.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry I interrupted your wedding. I wasn’t thinking. I never do stuff like this.”

Tink laughed, “It’s okay: you’re family.”

Killian shook his head. “Tink, I didn't know you were so intent on helping me find something as precious as my happy ending.”

A year later…

After quitting her job, Emma opened her wedding planner business: Savior Weddings. Soon enough, she found herself planning for a very special day.

You are cordially invited to the union of Emma Swan and Killian Jones.

Kathryn was the maid of honor, she smiled at her new boyfriend Frederick. A kind man that she met at her father’s store. He sat on the bride’s side.

Graham and his date Elsa arrived at the wedding with an excited Henry who happily tagged along for the special occasion. They were seated in the bride’s section.

Tink sat excitedly on the Groom’s side. She was so happy her brother-in-law found happiness.

Ruby smiled widely as she guided guests to their seats.

“Excuse me, what do you think makes this wedding special?” a voice got her attention.

Ruby turned to the source and smiled wolfishly. “And who are you?”

He smirked. “I’m the new writer of the Commitments column for the Journal, Victor Whale. I was hoping I could buy you a drink later.”

She laughed, “You do know it’s an open bar, right? I'll buy you a drink.” She winked and walked away. It was almost time for the ceremony to start.

Liam was happily standing next to his little brother as the music started. He joked saying he earned being the best man since his bride crashed his wedding.

Emma glided down the aisle. Her father proudly escorted her.

At that moment she didn't care if everything was perfect or not because the only thing that mattered was the way Killian looked at her, full of love. She looked at her bridesmaids. All twenty-seven of them were there to support her.

Once she arrived at her spot next to Killian he smiled lovingly as he asked her, “Is this moment everything you had hoped for?”

She beamed with happiness.“It’s so much more.”

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Emma Swan and Killian Jones in holy matrimony. Marriage is a cause for celebration… I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.

The 27 Brides:

1 Lily/August

2 Alice/Robyn

3 Astrid/Leroy

4 Victoria/Flynn

5 Mary Margaret/David

6 Ariel/Eric

7 Aurora/Phillip

8 Ashley/Sean

9 Belle/Gaston

10 Anastacia/Will

11 Anna/Kristoff

12 Merida/Mulan

13 Gwen/Lance

14 Marian/Robin

15 Zelena/Hades

16 Tiana/Naveen

17 Regina/Daniel

18 Jacqueline/James

19 Nimue/Merlin

20 Jasmine/Aladdin

21 Wendy/Felix

22 Megara/Hercules

23 Cruella/Isaac

24 Fiona/Malcolm

25 Tamara/Greg

26 Ivy/Henry

27 Priscilla/Jefferson

Tagging:

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @imlaxdris71​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @jarienn972 @jennjenn615​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul​ @k-leemac​ @karlyfr13s​ @kday426 @killian-will-do​ @klynn-stormz​ @kmomof4​ @kwistowee​ @kymbersmith-90​ @laschatzi​ @lassluna​ @let-it-raines​ @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @motherkatereloyshipper​ @officerrogers​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @onceratheart18​ @pirateherokillian​ @purplehawkcaptain​ @queen-serena88 @resident-of-storybrooke​ @revanmeetra87​ @rumdrum91 @sailtoafarawayland​ @sals86 @scientificapricot​ @scribomaniac​ @searchingwardrobes​ @seriouslyhooked​ @shardminds​ @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells​ @spacekrulesbians​ @spartanguard​ @stahlop​ @superchocovian​ @swanslieutenant​ @tehgreeneyes​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @therealstartraveller776 @thesschesthair​ @thislassishooked​ @thisonesatellite​ @tiganasummertree​ @tomeandflickcorner​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @veryverynotgoodwrites​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @wellhellotragic​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @winterbaby89​ @winterbythesea​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @xarandomdreamx​ @xsajx​ @zaharadessert​

[libraford]

We interrupt the feral celebration of ousting an oligarch to bring you a story about Yeehaw and his Branch of Mystery.

  It has been a while since we last had some co-worker drama, but man- has it been a weird summer. I mean... we all had a weird summer in 2020, but I don't think I was really expecting this particular... flavor of weird?

 This is a story about Yeehaw, but it starts off with a story about Aggie.

 Aggie was someone we were excited to hire and part of our excitement was that it's rare to find someone with prior floral experience and we'd concluded at this point that it does no one any good to be picky about new hires in the middle of a pandemic. So finding someone who knew the difference between a carnation and a rose was a big deal for us.

 I say that in jest, but saying that we do 'on-the-job training' means that we've had to explain that yes- the flower in my hand that looks like a carnation is a carnation and not some other flower that looks like carnation but is not a carnation. Floristry is a very straightforward practice and for the most part a rose is a rose and a daisy is a daisy and if someone asks for those things, you give it to them.

 The hard part is, as always, making them look good together.

 Which is why we were pleased with Aggie- who previously did weddings for her friends and seemed to have a basic understanding of how to do things with her hands. We were happy to have her aboard.

 ... until you gave her criticism.

 She made her vases embarrassingly short, and if you tried to tell her how to fix it, she'd snap back with "I'm not DONE yet."

 She was done until you said something.

 If you gave her an order for two dozen white roses, she would take it upon herself to mix white and yellow roses together 'because it looks better.'

 It did not.

 Hashtag: #selftaught

 When a client asks for all white roses, there is likely a reason they asked for all white. Given that 90% of our work is funerals, it stands to reason that they are asking for all white because that is a traditional color for mourning. Working with a client means doing exactly what they asked for. Doing a wedding for your friends may get you high praise from people who trust you to work in the same aesthetic as them, but in a shop setting you are being paid to follow things to the letter. Doing so shows that you can follow directions, and they may come back next time.

 You don't know customer entitlement until you've been torn another asshole for leaving out a single rose.

 This seemed to never occur to her, and so criticism was a painful realization that perhaps she wasn't perfect at an art that was exceptionally susceptible to criticism. There were plenty of opportunities to make something in her own aesthetic, it wasn't like she was being stifled. There was a considerable amount of downtime where she filled the front cooler with her own creations- enigmatically giving each of them their own names like "Autumn Walk" or "First Snowfall." (This is not something that we do, on the whole.)

 Not very many of those sold.

 But I think what bugged me the most is that she only ever designed. She didn't take out the trash, she didn't answer phones, she never helped customers. She just... did flowers. Nothing else.

 Oh... and the chatter.

 "Do you travel? Oh, you simply MUST go to Bali sometime! You've never been to Asia? Well, there's nothing like achieving inner peace at a Buddhist temple on a mountaintop in Nepal. They have temples here in Ohio, but it's nothing like the real thing! You say you've never even been off the continent? Well, what are you waiting for? You only live once, you know!"

 Ma'am... we're in the middle of a pandemic. Ma'am... I only get paid so much...

 While trying to relate, I talked about my summer in Montana and she gave me the BIGGEST stank-face. "Montana? Ew, WHY?"

 Look, lady- I lived on a mountaintop next to an active, world-destroying volcano system. If that's not cool, I don't know what is.

 But thankfully, she only worked on weekends. See, this was her fun job. The job she does to stay social during a pandemic and flex her creative muscles while she makes money at her much more lucrative,but boring,HR job. So I only had to see her twice a month when I was manager on duty.

 Then she got fired from her weekday job and went full-time at the flower shop. Poor thing wasn't used to waking up at 7am every day. She was full of suggestions.

 "I think it would be easier for me if we only opened at like... 11am."

"Don't you think we should be taking proper photos of our work? All we would need is a nice camera and a soft lighting setup. Couldn't be much more than $1000."

"Oh I know! We should be doing inventory on tablets instead of writing things down!"

 Okay, you go buy those things then. It took her about a week of making those suggestions to realize that she wasn't real clear on how things worked around here and stopped. She became quiet, less enthusiastic about her 'fun' job now that she wasn't immediately the star of the show.

 Enter Yeehaw.

 We were excited about Yeehaw, too. He didn't just have experience with flowers- he had experience with a flower shop. He gave a good interview, he seemed like he knew what he was doing and was very passionate about flowers. He was definitely an entire hippie, but about 1/3 of all plant people are. Most importantly, we still had like three spots to fill left from our pre-Covid staff.

 Hired.

 There was an overlap of about a week where Aggie and Yeehaw worked at the same time. His work was... immaculate. Just... astonishingly beautiful work. You didn't even have to show him how to make anything. He just... knew.

 Well, Aggie didn't  like that much- we had only nice things to say about this new guy but all she ever got was criticism. And if we complimented him on something he made, he would give a little 'namaste' bow. And I could see her fuming with rage each time he did this.

 One day, she rushed into the back to take a phone call and any time someone went back there for a vase she would lower her voice as if keeping a deep secret. Twenty minutes later, she called Grandpa into the back as well to discuss something. Ten minutes later, Aggie left the building with her Live, Laugh, Love bag, looking pissed.

 "Where did Aggie go," I asked Grandpa.

 "She got a new job," she said. "Doing HR somewhere."

 "She didn't even say good-bye," Blue said, appearing unsurprised.

 And so we went on with out lives without really putting much further thought into Aggie, apart from the occasional 'you simply MUST visit Bali' line thrown in for bougie emphasis.

 Which brings us to the next part of the story, and that is Yeehaw.

 There are some details to know about Yeehaw that are kind of difficult to fit into a story neatly. Here is a brief list that may come in handy to know later.

-He lives with his mother.

-He drives a Tesla.

-He can afford the Tesla because he was in a terrible wreck that had him hospitalized, and a lawsuit was won.

-Because of this, he has two screws in his head at the temples.

-Unrelated, he has hair that goes all the way down to his back.

- And...

 "Grandpa, we need to tell you something," Blue said. "In private."

 Blue and Kali pulled Grandpa aside while Yeehaw slowly put together a funeral order. "Grandpa, there's no polite way to put this: Yeehaw is drunk as fuck."

 "He smells like whiskey," Kali said.

 "He's stumbling everywhere."

 "And he won't stop... burping."

 Grandpa paused. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, and she reached for a manila folder. "Yeehaw has something called... what's it called..." She leafed through the file and produced a paper, reading from it. "Auto-brewery Syndrome. His body actually produces alcohol anytime he eats bread or sugar. If he's drunk, it's because he can't help it."

 We each had a chance to go over the doctor's note, verifying that yes- that sure does look official. Everyone had questions, but it did answer the one I had about why he was sitting in the break room literally drinking peanut butter from the jar.

 So that was incredibly interesting and we no longer asked about the burping or why he was so slow.  

 However, the fact that he was so slow was extremely frustrating. Our average number of orders runs approximately 100 per-day. This can be eased somewhat when we have a full-staff with five designers- an average of 20 designs per person in an 8-hour day, 3 per hour.

 But it's a fine line some days, and if one person cannot keep up it turns into a struggle for all of us.  

 We did our best to accommodate. We gave him all the day-ahead orders so that we wouldn't be behind and he'd have all the time he'd need to make his gorgeous pieces.

 We were willing to make it work.

 A number of factors came into play one day, but most notably: Yeehaw's Tesla wouldn't start and he had to take the bus. So he was late.

 I think I saw him make one entire item in the two hours that we were in the same room. He went to lunch around 12:30, I took mine around 1:00. I saw him stumble back in from lunch, looking... out of it. Just... absolutely incomprehensible- mumbling, barely upright, his hair out of the bun, quite possibly sleepwalking- who knows?

 I saw him for that brief Sasquatch moment... and that was the last that I saw him that day. It was around 4:00 that  Grandpa asked the question:

 "Where's Yeehaw?"

 And no one had an answer. We all had places that we thought we'd seen him: cleaning the cooler, in the break room, heading to the bathroom... but no one had really... seen him since he stumbled back in around 1:30.

 We checked all these places.

 None of them.

 The person who actually managed to find him was Sarge, who noticed his feet sticking out from behind the bushes behind the building.

 "Huh," he said, presumably. He gave the feet a light kick and Yeehaw slowly sat back up. "Hey dude. You... okay, there? They're lookin' for you inside."

 Yeehaw mumbled something to Sarge and got to his feet, stumbling back into the shop without further interaction. He appeared into the workspace, holding a branch in front of his face for mysterious reasons. There were still twigs entangled in his long hair.

 "Where were you at," Grandpa asked, concerned.

 "Oh, I was in the bathroom," he lied from behind the branch of mystery. "I'm pretty tired. Is it okay if I go home?"

 Bewildered, Grandpa gave him permission to leave. It was soon after he left that Scout found his phone in the empty sink. "Who's trying to wash their phone," he asked in the loud manner that is characteristic of old white men. It rang while in his hand and one of our designers snatched it from him. It was his mother.

 "Hello," said the designer. "Yeehaw went home early, but he left his phone behind. Can you bring it home to him?" Mom agreed, she was just over at Trader Joe's anyhow.

 We thought, of course, that we were doing something smart and nice. Yeehaw's mom looks just about what you would expect the mother of a 30-year-old hippie that drives a Tesla to look. Grandpa, in a polite way, explained that he'd fallen asleep in a bush. To which Mom seemed neither surprised nor concerned about his behavior.

 "Okay. I'll be at Hallmark."

 Somewhere between the bus stop and Bexley, Yeehaw must have realized that his phone was not with him and so he came back looking for it. Despite his mother being literally in the same strip mall as we were, he seemed irritated that we'd taken the initiative to make sure his phone got to him.

 "Well, I bet if you just went down to Hallmark she'd give you your phone and probably give you a ride home."

 He mumbled something and then left.

 This seems like a decent place to pause, because him leaving the second time in the day should be the end of the story. However... at 5:00 in the evening there was still two hours left in the work day and from past experience... that is plenty of time for a lot of things to happen.

 The thing to happen was a phone call.

 "Hi, this is Jade from the main store. We've gotten... some... interesting phone calls. Is there... a... hmm... is there a dead body out in front of your store?"

 Pause.

 "We'll take care of it, bye."

 Who wants to be the one to poke the cadaver on the sidewalk? A volunteer from the audience! Ms Crowe: won't you come down?!

 I have had it planted firmly in my mind that Crowe certainly understands the concept of fear but does not recognize it. Apart from being one of our most reliable drivers, she is also a performer, a street medic, an activist, and most notably... a fire-breather.

 You have your hobbies.

 Point is- she's brave enough to check to see if the person laying on the sidewalk was dead or simply overdosed.

 As it turns out, it was Yeehaw- curled up in the fetal position with his arm covering his face.

 "Hey," Crowe said, poking him with her foot. "Heeeeeeey," she said again but more firmly this time. He moved, blinking in the evening the sun. "Buddy, you can't be laying around on the sidewalk. You gotta move on."

 Again, he slowly got to his feet. At this time, his mother emerged from Hallmark to see him talking with Crowe. A group of four people escorted him into Mom's car while he stopped every few feet to perform another 'namaste' bow.

 You think this is the end. But what have we learned?

 There's always more.

 He came in the next day as if none of this had happened. Conversation was difficult because we both desperately needed to know what the fuck happened and also did not want to trigger something. So we didn't bring it up. He apologized for leaving early: chronic fatigue syndrome, you know.

 Other places would have fired him, but we're a very forgiving workplace. Falling asleep on company time is not, in any way, the worst thing that someone has done at this location while still keeping their job. There was Sugar and her drugs, there was the dude that used the company van to pick up prostitutes (this was before my time), there was the guy that screamed at customers over the phone... it's a long list.

 The primary concern of our employers is whether or not you are a reliable person. If you routinely show up for your job and do the work, you're going to be okay at least for a little bit. And Yeehaw, for all his impeccable fuckery, at least showed up every day.

 We kept this at the back of our minds.

 One day, after the Day We Found Him In a Bush was behind us, one of the designers mentioned that they'd seen where Aggie works now. It was not in HR.

 It was our major competitor.

 Now, Grandpa knows this competitor well. She knows all her competition. It is the nature of a lot of florists to, once they've gotten sick of one place, move on to the next one and spill the beans on their operations there. So Grandpa gets the dirt on everyone.

 This particular shop was very regimented. You don't wing it- you follow the recipe as listed. He's been known to pick discarded flowers up off the floor and tell you exactly how much  money you're costing the company by letting it fall, to the cent. If you get so far as to make casket sprays, he will take your first one and chuck it across the room if it even looks like the stems are in there too loosely.

 This is what I mean about us being an easy place to work.

 Hashtag: #ohfuck.

 People come in and out of your life like that, in little ways. Sometimes you just have to have a little laugh at it. But what I thought was funny was that she felt the need to keep her new employer a secret, as though we would get jealous or tattle. Curious thing.

 Now that the glamour of Yeehaw's arrangements had worn off, we were starting to see more and more odd behaviors that didn't seem completely related to drunkenness.

 "Did you just fart?"

 "No, that was a spider barking."

 Amazing.

 Conversation with him was becoming... difficult. As I sat in the break room with my quick lunch and he drank soup out of a mayonnaise jar, he mentioned his area of study in college.

 "Cognitive Psychology and Hindu Philosophy, huh? That's an interesting combination."

 "Yeah," he said, funneling an amount of squash soup down his throat. "It'll take the rest of the world about 100 years before they catch up to where I am."

 I sat, posed in front of my beef and broccoli which I was eating with a fork, trying to process a logical reason why the rest of the world will be sleeping in a bush in one hundred years. "Uh... huh."

 This was followed by another thirty minutes of silence where I desperately wanted to know what he meant by that but didn't want to be the one to ask him.

 People will tell you that a hippie is generally an ineffective, benign kind of person who chants 'love love, peace peace' in a circle and consider that to be an action for change. But I can say with absolute certainty that I have met some downright egotistical hippies in my life. Those were lessons in bias- which I will have to save for other times.

 Eventually, Grandpa became frustrated with his slowness. We presumed that his speed of choice was a combination of his meticulous nature and his various ailments, but with the Christmas season coming upon us it was becoming much more than a series of symptoms.

 Previous persons who lacked speed were chatty, would play on their phone, or get distracted. But Yeehaw... Yeehaw simply moved like a tranquilized sloth. He slowly picked off each leaf, each thorn, each guard petal and took a minute for each action. He would put in his greens and then contemplate it powerfully for ten minutes before putting any flowers in... slowly.

 In the time spent doing this, I had already made something of a similar size and was starting on the second one.

 It was during one of these times that Grandpa finally said something.

 "Yeehaw, that spray is due in thirty minutes. Is there a way you can go any faster?"

 He looked up from his greens, held one carnation to his face, and said:

 "If you wanted me to move faster, you would pay me better."

 Let me start by saying that we do not get paid well. We don't. Compared to other flower shops in our city, we are probably the lowest-paid. This is something that the company is starting to work on with benefits and raises, but any amount of change takes time. (And its still better paying than when I worked in retail. But that's another book.)

 Yeehaw had been here for exactly one month. I don't know a single workplace that gives you a raise after one month and still lets you sleep on the clock without firing you. He knew what he was getting paid when we hired him.

 So anyways, he slowly grinds down our nerves to a very fine dust- burping, farting, falling asleep on his feet, staring intensely into space, talking about how much he should be making but isn't, bragging about his enlightenment, and generally just slowing down production.

 And then Grandpa had her well-earned vacation week. Blue was in charge for the most part and the week leading up to Halloween is generally pretty slow, so it was a good week for her to have a break with few mishaps.

 Eh... hehe. Yeah.

 Yeehaw... disappeared again. We checked the cooler, we checked the break room, we checked the bushes out back, we checked the sidewalk out front.

 He was in the bathroom.

 So we left it.

 He was still in the bathroom an hour later.

 We had one of the male drivers pound on the door to check on him. When Yeehaw opened the door to the men's room, there was a wad of toilet paper on the floor that he'd been using as a pillow.

 If I may pause here to explain- our men's room is disgusting. I have deep cleaned it several times only for it to become a germ-fest once more in a matter of hours. I don't ask who is peeing all over the floor because, honestly, I have no desire to know what grown man can't aim his willy in the right direction.

 So in order to fall asleep in the bathroom, you have to be willing to sleep in pee. During a pandemic.

 He reappeared in the workroom, put his apron back on, looked around at all of us still working and said: "Wow, it must be really hard to get fired here."

 It was at this point that Blue informed Grandpa.

 "Tell him that he's fired," Grandpa said, clearly 1001% done with this.

 "I'm not going to fire him," Blue said. "I don't think I can fire anyone."

 So she had the driver that found him do it, which was confusing for all of us. He ended up calling Grandpa to clarify. And by 'clarify,' I definitely mean 'beg for his job back.' A synopsis of the 20 minute phone call went like this:

 "What do you mean, I'm fired?"

 "Just that. You're fired. I'm tired of it, Yeehaw. You don't work here anymore."

 "Why?"

 "What do you mean 'why?' You spend all day making a total of three arrangements and then you wander off somewhere and fall asleep."

 "I can't help it if I have chronic fatigue syndrome!"

 "This is a physical job. If your body can't handle an 8-hour shift without falling asleep for two hours, this isn't the job for you. Tell me: where is that fair to the girls that you do 3% of the work while they pick up the slack and you wander off to sleep on the clock?"

 "I simply do not care about them."

 "You don't care that you're shoving all the work on your coworkers, and that's why you're fired."

 "I wish you'd given me a warning."

 "Tell me, Yeehaw: how many employers can you find that will allow you to sleep on the clock for two hours and let you off with a warning?"

 End of discussion.

 Now, you're probably wondering where Aggie comes back into this. Just hold tight, I'll get there.

 The Sunday after he was fired, he came in to pick up his paycheck. I was busy handling a minor emergency where one of our funeral homes forgot to order a spray and I had to make one as fast as I could. We held a brief conversation while I made the spray in a hurry.

 "I'm here to pick up my check," he said while I greened the spray and leafed through the paychecks simultaneously.

 "Here you go," I said, handing it to him without much fanfare. I presumed that he was looking for sympathy or some kind of followup or... I don't know. Sorry you suddenly care about your job?

 "So what are your next plans," one of the designers asked, trying to coax more information out of him while I did the work of three people.

 "It's kind of funny," he said slowly... as he did all things. "I've only ever been fired from flower shops." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to go apply to the shop in Bexley that Aggie went to."

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

By Candlelight

(Christmas Holidays in the Gryffindor Girls’ Dorms, pt. 15)

Fandom: Harry Potter

Characters: Ginny Weasley x Luna Lovegood (Linny)

Rating: Explicit (it’s a PWP)

Summary: Luna asks Ginny what she thinks of candles; Ginny discovers she fucking loves candles [waxplay; light bondage; facesitting; scissoring; sex toys]

Word Count: 1.9k | 15/?

ao3 ||| wattpad ||| ff.net ||| quotev

“What are your thoughts on candles?” Luna asked out of the blue.

“Like, aesthetically?” Ginny replied.

The two were sitting in the Great Hall, hanging out after lunch and Luna had been gazing up at the floating candles for the past ten minutes. She shrugged.

“I’ve always liked how wax looks, running down the candle, dripping on things.” She looked over at Ginny. “I think it would complement your skin tone quite nicely.”

Ginny stared, as always a little surprised about the way in which Luna decided to say things. Not exactly subtle, but not entirely direct. “Are you… asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

“If I were, what would your response be?”

A slight grin pulled at Ginny’s lips. She was always down to try new things, even – or maybe especially – when they were new kinky things. “My response would be: absolutely, your place or mine, and where are we getting the candles?”

Luna smiled. “I think I have everything we need in my dorm.” She rose to leave.

Ginny was up in the second and followed her out of the hall, sending a mischievous wink to Pansy, who had been watching them curiously from the Slytherin table.

Luna had an impressive collection of both candles and sex toys hidden in her dorm room. Ginny poked through it while Luna surveyed the scene like she was going to set up an art display.

“So, where do you want me?” Ginny asked.

Luna stepped over to her and kissed her softly. “Clothes off, on the bed, restrained with…” Another kiss, pensive. “Rope.”

“You wanna help me with the clothes off part?” Ginny asked, pulling her in to deepen the kiss.

“Gladly,” Luna murmured into the kiss as Ginny crowded her against the dresser. While Luna worked on her blouse buttons, Ginny kicked off her shoes and tugged down her skirt, letting it fall to the floor.

Through their combined efforts, Ginny soon stood naked, pressed against Luna. She let herself be laid down on the bed and watched as Luna bound first her right, then her left wrist to the bed.

“Maybe you should give me a strap too,” Ginny said as Luna stood back to look over her work. “For when I fuck you after.”

“Who’s to say I won’t be the one fucking you,” Luna asked, with such confidence in her soft voice that it nearly took Ginny’s breath away.

This was a side of Luna she had to get more of.

Luna crossed to the other side of the bed to her drawer of toys and began to undress. She didn’t make a show of it, but that almost made it worse for Ginny; all that skin, casually bare and just out of reach.

Candles had been arranged all around the room and with a flick of her wand, Luna lit them. She then charmed a few to hover near the bed, within easy reach.

Only then did she direct her attention to Ginny. She took a blindfold from the drawer and held it up for Ginny to see, a question in her eyes.

Ginny nodded vigorously. “Absolutely.”

Luna smiled and hopped onto the bed, straddling Ginny’s waist and leaning over her, to tie it in place.

“You wanna keep me quiet too?” Ginny asked, only half-joking. “Cloth gag? Ball gag?”

“Now, why would I want to keep you quiet?” Luna pressed a quick kiss to her lips before sitting back and reaching out to grab a candle. “Remind me of your safeword?”

“Flobberworm,” Ginny said.

“You changed it,” Luna observed, shifting back slightly, straddling at Ginny’s hips.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly have it be Ravenclaw when you’re the one that’s got me tied–” Her words were interrupted by a gasp as Luna let a small stream of wax drip down onto Ginny’s stomach. Ginny whined a little but quickly relaxed again when the wax began to cool.

Luna watched with fascination as the wax congealed into an opaque shape against Ginny’s skin. “Alright?” she asked.

Ginny nodded. Feeling anticipation build inside her. Her world was dark, and she had to go off of her remaining four senses. Luna’s weight straddling her, the skin of her thighs, soft tickle of her pubic hair, and the telltale wetness seeping through.

When the next bit of hot wax came, more than before, up her stomach and between her breasts, Ginny’s back arched and she cried out.

Luna’s cool hand soothed her, fingers tracing around the wax, almost reverent on her skin. She pressed a light kiss to each nipple and even though Ginny was prepared, she couldn’t stifle the cry when the hot wax came down on the left one a few moments later. She gripped the ropes that bound her wrists tightly, feeling sweat form on her face and her breathing grow rapid.

Luna made soothing noises as she watched the wax form a sort of cap over Ginny’s nipple, preserving its hardened state. She made sure to press a few kisses to her other breast, even flicking the nipple a few times – Ginny was so reactive in this state of heightened anticipation – to make sure it too was hardened when she covered it in wax.

Ginny tried to bite her lip this time, the cry coming out as a whine. “Please,” she begged, panting. “Luna.”

“Any particular spots you don’t want me to miss?” Luna asked, playfully.

Ginny huffed a laugh as she tried to catch her breath.

“Are you alright?” Luna was more serious now, looking at the spots around the wax that were reddening.

“Yeah,” Ginny said, still a bit breathless. “Just wanna make sure I’ll be coming after this.”

“I would never dream of doing anything different.” She got off of Ginny and knelt between her legs, pushing them apart. “Because this is our first time trying this,” she said. “I’ll avoid anything too sensitive.” She drew a few fingers through Ginny’s folds and they came away wet. “Besides, they’ll get the attention they need later.”

She let a candle drip wax on Ginny’s thigh, a bit above the knee, and watched how it ran down to the sheets. Ginny winced with a slight gasp. The next bit of wax went a little higher up her leg, and so on, each one getting a bit more of a reaction from Ginny. Luna smiled at how the lines were being drawn on her inner thighs, like a meter of the sounds Ginny made.

When the drips of wax began to get caught up in the well-trimmed shock of red hair between Ginny’s legs. Luna set the candle aside and surveyed her handiwork. She was right about the wax complementing Ginny’ skin tone. Ginny still had a bit of her summer tan, so the wax showed up beautifully. Another time, perhaps Luna would be more deliberate about the designs, make Ginny into even more of a piece of art. But fore now, this was enough. She could feel how the anticipation had shuddered through Ginny’s body, how it and the hot wax had made her this hot, sweaty, and desperate to orgasm mess. She traced every bit of wax with her fingers, then her lips. Ginny sighed and began to relax, except for her hips, which twitched up every so often, seeking some kind of friction.

“Have I been…” Luna pressed two fingers into Ginny. “Neglecting you?” She rubbed her thumb lightly over Ginny’s clit.

Ginny gasped, hips moving with more urgency as she tried to have Luna further inside her. Not at – fuck – all.”

“Well, then.” Ginny pumped her fingers in and out leisurely. “You won’t mind if I decide to come first.” She pulled her fingers out of Ginny, who whined at the loss. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Ginny nodded. “Whatever you want, Luna. Just… please.”

Luna moved up Ginny’s body until she knelt over Ginny’s face.

“Yes,” Ginny said, starting to move her head up to find Luna’s pussy, but there was no need as Luna slowly sank onto her face.

With the blindfold over her eyes and her face between Luna’s legs, all of Ginny’s attention was focused on a single thing: making Luna feel as good as possible. She strained against the ropes tying her wrists, wishing she could touch Luna, touch her hips, her thighs. But she didn’t mind how Luna rode her face like its sole purpose was to give her pleasure.

And give Ginny certainly did, with her lips and tongue and just a hint of teeth, until Luna, hands gripping the headboard and knees planted on either side of Ginny’s head, was coming – and hard. Ginny drank in as much of her cum as she could, the fluid coating her lips and chin before Luna rolled off of her.

They lay beside each other for a moment, panting, before Luna leaned over to free Ginny’s wrists. She immediately pulled off the blindfold and moved to wipe off her face, but Luna stopped her and kissed her deeply. Ginny smiled against her mouth and rolled them over so she was on top. Then she pulled back a bit, leaning over Luna, and found her attention elsewhere. Luna reached out with a finger and prodded at Ginny’s wax-encased nipples. She then traced the other cool wax shapes on her chest and stomach that had started to break and chip off with her movement.

“You really liked how you’ve marked me up, huh?” Ginny asked.

Luna nodded, without a hint of embarrassment or smugness. “Making a mark on a lover, whether physical or not, is very gratifying and arousing.”

“Speaking of gratifying,” Ginny said. “I believe you said something about making it worth my while?”

“Don’t worry,” Luna said. “I will.” She reached out to her drawer, straining a little so she didn’t have to get up, and came back with a small egg-shaped vibrator. “I believe you know what this does?”

Ginny grinned. “Intimately.”

Ginny let Luna direct her exactly where she wanted her and was very glad she did so. Between the pulsing vibrator inside her and Luna’s pussy grinding against her own, she could do little more than lie there, moving her hips and watching Luna’s soft, arching movements and curves.

Because Luna seemed to have her all figured out. She knew how to tease her without making her too desperate, knew how to put on a good show, arching her back and throwing her head back to moan. And she somehow knew that the feeling of the wax being peeled off of her nipples, followed by her soft fingers would be the thing to have Ginny’s eyes finally close, tearing them away from Luna’s figure.

One setting higher on the vibrator and a few hard hip rolls sent Ginny into a toe-curling orgasm, full-body shudders rolling over her as Luna watched with undivided interest.

Quite well spent, Ginny pulled Luna down onto her to press lazy kisses to every bit of skin she could reach.

“I’m gonna miss this when classes start again,” she murmured.

“Just because the holidays are ending, doesn’t mean all this has to as well,” Luna said.

“Yeah, I know,” Ginny said. “But this, having sex whenever, will be a lot harder when everyone’s back, and we have classes again.”

Luna nodded. “Well, we shall have to come up with a sufficient goodbye to these two weeks, to celebrate the time we’ve all shared.”

“I agree,” Ginny said. “But not right now. Now there are…” She rolled them over and began trailing wet open-mouthed kisses down Luna’s neck. “… More pressing matters to attend to.”

[shyvioletcat]

“I moved in next door a few months ago and had no idea how enthusiastic you are about Christmas, but I mentioned I hadn’t decorated, so now you’re knocking on my door with a box full of decorations and are begging me to let you decorate” — this one seems fitting for rowaelin too! I can see Aelin being the super excited one who wants to help her cute neighbor decorate heh

Day One of the Rowaelin Holiday Celebration. Just some neighbourly fluff to get us started.

~~~~~

It had been just before Halloween when Rowan moved into his new place. It was half of a neat little duplex, small garden and a stone path that led up to his front porch. He knew he had a neighbour but he hadn’t seen her until a few days before Halloween when she had been carting boxes and boxes of stuff out of her house onto her own front porch. Her long golden hair was braided back, grey puffy coat over her body, and she had given him a smile as he trudged up the stairs and it had stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you decorate?” She asked.

“I—what?” Rowan stammered, noting the colour of her eyes. A bright turquoise, all the brighter for the rosiness in her cheeks from the cold.

“For Halloween, do you decorate?” She asked again, leaning over her railing so she could see him better.

Rowan took a step down so he could do the same. “No, not really.”

“I like to go all out,” she told him. “I’m Aelin, by the way.”

“Rowan,” he replied simply.

“Nice to meet you, Rowan,” Aelin said. “Do you want some of mine, I have a lot. I don’t usually get them all out every year.” 

“No thanks,” Rowa said.

“Not one for Halloween?” Aelin inquired. 

Rowan shook his head. “Or Yulemas either.”

Aelin gasped and looked as though he had personally offended him. “Excuse me?”

This time Rowan shrugged. “Don’t have anyone to celebrate with.”

She grinned at him. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” She pushed off her railing and disappeared but called out, “I’ll make sure to keep my decorations to my side.”

Aelin had kept her word, not one strand of fake spider web had trespassed on his side of the building, the border between the properties meticulously outlined. It had made Rowan laugh. The next time he had seen her was as she handed out candy to kids, dressed like a faerie princess from a fairytale, green flowing dress and a flower crown in her hair. She had noticed him staring and lobbed a chocolate at him as Rowan walked up his path and he’d caught it. And just like that she had captured his heart. Sure she was annoying, obnoxious and a bit of a brat sometimes but there was something about Aelin Galathynius that he couldn’t resist.

Now it was the beginning of December, the air was already bitingly cold and Rowan was in his living room thinking of the smoothest way to ask out his neighbour when there was a knock on his door. Startled from his train of thought it took a moment for Rowan to respond and the knock sounded again.

He called out as he got up. “Coming!”

He opened the door and the sight in front of him was not something he had expected to see. It was Aelin, undeniably despite how little of her face was showing, but those were her brilliant eyes peeking above her scarf and under her beanie. Two boxes were by her feet and she held another one in her arms.

“Hey,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Hey,” Rowan replied lamely.

Then Aelin said something he couldn’t catch through the fabric of her scarf.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rowan said and reached out and pulled her scarf down a little.

Aelin’s mouth was revealed and she smiled at him. “Thanks. I was saying that I know you don’t decorate but yours is like the only house on the street with nothing on it and it looks so miserable and it’s making my place look bad too. So please, please let me decorate.”

Rowan blinked once. “You want to decorate my house.”

“Yes.” There was a long pause before she added, “Please.”

“You really want to?”

“I would love to,” Aelin assured him. “But you’ll have to help me.”

Rowan did, although he made a show of how reluctant he was to actually do so. Aelin had only laughed at him and continued ordering him around. He hung lights, held ladders and did just about anything else she had asked him to. It took them about two hours to get the outside up to Aelin’s standards. She insisted there were a few things missing, but to fix that she would need to go to the store. Rowan noticed that there was still one box left on the porch.

“What is that one for?” Rowan asked, blowing into his hands to warm them up.

“Decorations for inside of course,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Inside?” 

Aelin didn’t say anything before she ran up the steps, picking up the box on the way and went straight into his home––not waiting for any kind of invitation. If it had been anyone else Rowan would have been pissed beyond belief, but instead he just shook his and followed her in. He found Aelin in the living room, hands on her hips surveying the space. She looked severely disappointed. 

“You don’t have a tree, are you planning on getting a tree?” Aelin asked tertly.

Rowan slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “No.”

Now it was Aelin’s turn to shake her head and then she was moving past him, muttering something under her breath. He managed to catch the words Scrooge, despicable, embarrassment and then she was gone. Curious Rowan went to inspect the box she had left behind. It contained various decorations and tinsel and just about every other kind of Yulemas decoration known to man. Rowan went to his kitchen to brew some tea to warm himself up when he heard movement outside, there was the sound of something being dragged up his steps and then a furious banging on his door. The person seemed to think better of it and opened the door themselves, and Rowan went to his entry way to see Aelin dragging in a long rectangular box.

“You are so lucky,” she panted, “that I decided to get a real tree this year.”

“You brought me a tree?” Rowan asked. 

“It is indeed what it looks like,” Aelin said, dragging her prize towards the living room. 

Rowan just stared. He still couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Well, come help.”

Her demand snapped him out of his shock and Rowan took over the job of hauling the box into the living room. Aelin didn’t waste any time getting the tree set up, passing pieces to Rowan so he could assemble it. 

“Okay, move it over there,” Aelin said, pointing to the window. 

“What’s wrong with it here?” Rowan asked. He’d put in the corner near the couch.

“Rowan,” Aelin said, her voice exasperated. “I thought we agreed that you would do whatever I saw.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Rowan replied. 

“It was very heavily implied,” she said as she inspected the space by the window. “Now, right here. This way it will light up your window beautifully. The final piece in the puzzle.”

There was no point in protesting, he knew he wouldn’t win this fight, so Rowan shifted the tree to where Aelin said. While she instructed him how to decorate the tree —lights, tinsel, and then ornaments— she asked his questions, about work, his family, did he like living in Orynth. They eventually got onto mundane things and ended up laughing and joking with each other as they decorated the tree. Rowan found himself being scolded quite often about putting a decoration in the wrong spot, he said it didn’t matter, Aelin said it most definitely did. 

When it was all done she excitedly turned the ceiling light off and the lights on the tree on. It really was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the smile on her face as she admired her work. Rowan was now very officially gone for his neighbour.

“I should go.” Aelin was moving toward the couch to pick up her coat. “Thank you for letting me intrude like this. It was fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” Rowan admitted truthfully.

Aelin came and stood in front of him, a sly smile on her face. “Are you standing there on purpose?”

“Huh?” His face was the perfect picture of confusion. Then he looked up.

He was standing right under a sprig of mistletoe Aelin must have hung at some point.

“I-uh, I didn’t see it… no,” Rowan stammered.

Aelin just rose up onto her tiptoes, Rowan frozen in place as he kissed his cheek, “Happy Yulemas, Rowan.”

She left him standing there, stunned and skin tingling from the brush of her lips. Then she was gone through his front door. He let her go, but he didn’t waste any time the next day when he knocked on her door asking her out on a date. She said yes.

~~~~~

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