#even if it's bad at least it's something new

[ktgoodmorning]

Keeping Secrets

Claudia Pina x putellas!reader

You get a new addition, much to your sister's dismay but your girlfriends excitement.

Masterlist

“Mapi, I’m serious right now, you can’t tell anyone I’m doing this. Not Claudia, definitely not Alexia, nobody.” The older woman rolled her eyes at you but you both knew she’d take you seriously, if anyone wanted to avoid the wrath of your sister, it was Mapi. You wouldn’t have even bothered bringing Mapi but you needed the moral support and it was her friend that’d be doing the piercing for you. 

“I don’t understand why you’re not telling Pina, though. She’s gonna see it soon enough anyways, right?” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“I already told you, I’m not hiding it from her, it's just a surprise cause I know she’ll love it.” You apparently didn’t hide the smirk on your face as well as you’d hoped to, but you knew that the second you let Claudia see your new tongue piercing, she would be obsessed for more reason than one. 

“Ew, if you don’t wipe that look off your face I might actually throw up,” you giggled at the older woman and pushed her away playfully, something you inherited from your older sister. “Come on, I have to fill in as your older sister since Alexia still doesn’t know about you two. Which I still don’t think is a good idea, by the way.” She gave you a knowing look but still kept a smile on her face. 

You knew she was right, both about her stepping into your sister’s role, and also that it was a bad idea that you and Claudia were hiding your relationship from her, but at this point you just weren’t ready. To be fair, it’s not like Alexia was the only person you were hiding it from. The only people who knew about you two were Mapi, Ingrid, and Vicky, and Vicky wasn’t even supposed to know. 

Vicky only knew about the two of you because she had been playing games on your phone when you got a rather X rated text from Claudia and easily caught on to the nature of your relationship. The younger girl knowing about it was more of a nuisance than anything else. Her new favorite thing to do was hold it over your head when she wanted something from you. You didn’t quite think she’d actually spill your secret, but it was a risk you still weren’t willing to take, so every time you said no to her, she’d give you that look, with that stupid little smirk, until you eventually gave in and gave her what she wanted.

Mapi, on the other hand, had been surprisingly mature about it all. You and Pina had both, unknowingly, been telling her about your feelings for each other before you ever got together, so it only felt natural to tell her when you finally did.

 The night Claudia finally asked you out and you said yes, you both were so giddy and excited that you called her to tell her. The defender knew it would happen eventually but was just waiting for you two to figure it out yourselves only because Ingrid told her to stay out of your business, so when she got the call, she was almost as excited as both of you. She also knew however, that she had a big responsibility being the only one who knew (besides Ingrid). 

Both of you were close with her, making her protective over both of you. The fact that neither of your other friends or family knew, only made her more protective, especially for you. 

Mapi was obviously quite close with your sister, so she felt she had a duty to fill that sisterly role when Alexia was kept out of the loop. Because of this, it was typical for you to see her switch from her role as your friend to that of a protective older sister. The athlete didn’t approve of the way you kept it from your sisters and made sure you knew that from the very beginning, but at the end of the day, she knew you were an adult and couldn’t force you. So at the very least, she’d make sure to stand in for them until they knew.

That’s how you found yourself here, getting glared at every time you made a suggestive joke over the piercing you were about to get. “I still don’t get why you’re getting a tongue piercing, Cari. It sounds painful and you can’t even see it!” 

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t feel-”

“IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I’LL HIT YOU!” She gave you a gentle shove while you were busy laughing at your own joke. It truly wasn’t the only reason you were getting the piercing but it sure didn’t hurt. You knew Claudia would love it and love how it looked on you and you were excited to finally do it. Your schedule had been so busy that you had been waiting for a day where you had time, not too close to a game day, and today was perfect. All you had was a recovery session later in the day before a couple days off to take it easy and let it heal. The more time off you had, the easier you knew it’d be to hide it from your sister too. 

...

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting in the locker room in front of your cubby, using your tongue to play with the new metal bar going through it. To say you were excited would have been an understatement. Just feeling the metal in your mouth gave you a confidence boost you didn’t know you needed. 

You were buzzing to show Claudia, knee bouncing, fingers tapping along the side of the bench next to you. The plan was to wait until after training to show her. You knew the second she saw it that she’d be too excited to play it cool and keep the rest of the team ( and more importantly your sister) from seeing it. She also was likely to be all over you and give away the secret of your relationship as well, so you decided to wait until you were home, or at least in the car, before she could see it.  

You were on your phone as you sat there, waiting for the rest of your teammates to arrive, especially your girlfriend. More of your teammates started to walk in but you paid them no mind, spending your time texting Claudia, excited to see her for the first time all day. You missed your sister coming in and shooting you a suspicious look over the small smile that was plastered on your face as you texted. If you realized it was there, you would’ve worked harder to hide it but it was so subconscious that you had no idea you were doing it. 

“Somebody’s in a good mood today, what’s got you smiling at your phone?” Alexia greeted you with a smile and a small ruffle to your hair, something she knew you hated and was always doing anyway. 

You scowled at her actions and immediately put your phone down, maybe a bit too quickly, causing your sister to instantly take note. “Nobody, I’m just in a good mood, I had a good morning with Mapi.” You gave her a small shrug and watched a smirk growing on her face. 

“Hmmm, I just thought it was a cute dog video or something but since you said it’s nobody, I assume it must be a person then?”

You met her with an eye roll but you couldn’t deny the blush that was growing on your face, suddenly nervous you’d give yourself away. “Alexia, don’t you have something better to do?” you sighed. 

She furrowed her eyebrows at you, seemingly intrigued by something else now. “What’s up with you, your voice sounds weird?” Her question was light-hearted enough but you instantly froze.

The one thing you didn’t account for- the way your tongue was a bit swollen and your speech was a bit off as you got used to the new piece of metal in your mouth. The comment from your sister made your eyes go wide. Your mind was racing to come up with a lie but simultaneously went completely blank. You opened your mouth to speak but then shut it when you came up with nothing, only incriminating yourself even further. It was clear to everyone in the room that you were hiding something. 

You didn’t realize how many of your teammates had now arrived, including your girlfriend who came bouncing through the door at that exact moment. Her face lit up when she saw you but dropped the second she saw the look on yours. Clearly she realized something was going on between you and Alexia. 

All the girls knew not to get involved in anything between you two, but it was obvious they were trying to hide their interest in the current situation. You saw the little side eyes and short glances your way as they tried to catch a word of what was going on. 

You and Alexia were close; you had a great relationship. But it also wasn’t unusual for you to butt heads at times. She was fiercely protective over you and at times it pissed you off. Sometimes you wished she could be more like Alba and not worry so much about pushing you to be your best but just let you live your life instead. When the two of you got to fighting, everyone knew, there was no getting in the middle of it. 

The second she saw your reaction to her previous question, Alexia’s soft smile turned to a cold glare, “Hermana, what are you hiding from me?” 

“Nothing, Ale, it’s no big deal, I just-” 

“Don’t lie to me! You know I don’t like when you lie and you’re still talking weird. Open your mouth.” Her voice was cold in a way that shook you to your bones. She was oddly calm, as if she could explode any second, and somehow that scared you more than any yelling match you had with her. It pissed you off that she’d do this with your teammates around but it still made you shrink just as much as it did when you were little kids. 

Your sister took your silence as disobedience and shrunk in closer to you, “Open. Your. Mouth.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see your teammates all frozen around you, watching closely to figure out what was happening between you. Mapi was worried, knowing exactly what you were keeping from her and also knowing that she was partially responsible for it. Claudia was worried in a different way. She was confused as to what it was you were keeping from your sister besides your relationship and knew how much this interaction would hurt your feelings. 

You continued to shrink under Alexia’s gaze, finally submitting to her and opening your mouth, gently sticking out your tongue to show her your new addition. You watched her eyes go wide. Her mouth opened and shut a few times in an attempt to figure out what to say but still came up short. You wanted nothing more than to disappear at that moment. 

“Ale-”

“Why would you do that?” she cut you off, her voice a harsh whisper, still scarily calm. 

“I-”

“Why?! Why would you do that, (y/n)?!” 

This was the moment she snapped. 

Your sister was immediately standing over you, voice raised like you expected it to be from the beginning of the conversation. You sighed in annoyance, trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes at her reaction. Why couldn’t she just let you live your life? Instead she had to be yelling at you in front of all your teammates over a simple piercing. 

When you glanced around the room, you saw Claudia staring at you with eyes as wide as saucers. You didn’t know it but your girlfriend was torn on how to feel right now. The second she saw your tongue piercing, she could hardly hold back a smile. Her mind instantly went to how good it looked and started wandering to some of the other benefits she could see coming from that piercing. But her excitement and attraction to you was quickly overshadowed by protectiveness for you. She knew she couldn’t step in- the last thing you needed was for Alexia to learn about your relationship and she knew you could handle yourself. But gosh it was hard to just sit and watch you shrink under your sister. 

Mapi was chewing on her bottom lip nervously. She was the one person who could sometimes step in and diffuse your arguments but she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not, especially with her involvement in the situation.

Seeing your teammates' reactions gave you some level of courage, lighting a spark in you to stand up for yourself. “Alexia! Why can’t you understand that I’m an adult and can make my own decisions?” 

“Because your decisions are stupid! What if it gets ripped out during a match, huh? Then what? Or when you break your teeth on it? Just so you can feel cool or something? Is that it?” 

“It’s not your decision! It shouldn’t matter what I do! It doesn’t matter to you when I do anything else and now when you don’t like it suddenly you have a problem?! You don’t get to do that, it’s not fair to me!” 

“Don’t pretend I don’t care about you! Do you realize how much I do for you?” 

That really set you off. You were always telling her how grateful you were for everything she did for you throughout your life and it wasn’t fair for her to hold that over your head. 

You raised your voice even further, basically screaming at your sister in the middle of the locker room, “This isn’t about you for once Alexia! I made this choice for myself! It has nothing to do with you and I don’t need your opinion on it. It’s ridiculous that you’re so upset over something this small. I have nothing left to say to you, if you don’t get it by this point, that’s your fault, not mine.” At this, you stormed out of the locker room, overflowing with anger towards your sister but also embarrassed that your whole team had just watched that argument. 

You didn’t have a plan as to where you were going after leaving the locker room, you just needed space from your sister. The two of you were both stubborn and it wasn’t unusual for it to bubble up like this, you just needed space. As soon as you had walked out, Mapi started tearing into the captain, trying to get her to understand where you were coming from. 

While the older women yelled at each other, Claudia half-heartedly continued getting ready for training. She was trying to figure out how to react or if you’d even want her to follow you. She wanted to, for sure. She wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and make sure you were okay. But she wasn’t sure you’d want to risk your secret getting out, especially when Alexia was already mad at you. 

The brunette gave it a few minutes, feeling like it was an acceptable amount of time for her to leave the room without it being obvious she was following you. She wandered the hallways some, not expecting to stumble into you sitting on the floor, tucked away next to some random vending machines, virtually out of sight from people walking the main corridor. 

“Do you want love right now or do you want some space?” Claudia squatted down next to you for a moment in an attempt to give you some room in case you didn’t want to see her. Normally she’d want nothing more than to engulf you in a hug but with the secret of your relationship looming and you still being in a public place, she didn’t want to overstep. She was also more hesitant knowing that arguments with your sister were sometimes a touchy subject. 

You raised your head to look at her from where it was resting against your knees when you heard the familiar voice. “I don’t know. I’m fine,” you shrugged, “I just needed to get away from her for a minute.” 

Claudia responded with a nod and sat down next to you, close enough you could lean into her if you wanted but not too close that it’d be suspicious if anyone walked by. “I get it. I can always just listen if you want to rant about it or anything.” 

It was killing her not to ask about your piercing. She wanted almost nothing more than to get a good look at the piece of metal in your mouth, but she knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

“Thank you, Clau.” You leaned your head on her shoulder, just grateful for her calming presence next to you, especially as she rested her hand on top of yours. “It’s just frustrating, but I know she means well.” 

Your girlfriend gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “she does, but it still doesn’t make it any less frustrating.” 

Alexia’s reaction to your piercing was exactly the reason you hadn’t told her about your relationship. Everyone knew she just wanted to protect you but she seemed to forget you were your own person with your own life. The captain had a hard time loosening her reins on you and that was exactly what caused you to push against her at times. 

When she felt like she’d given you an appropriate amount of time to calm down, Claudia finally spoke up, deciding she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The brunette’s voice was tentative, much more than it ever was, still not sure if she should bring it up yet. “So do I get to see what made her freak out so bad?” It was clear she was trying to hide her excitement and suppress a smirk that continued to grow. 

You gave her a light chuckle at how quickly she could pull you from your annoyance and bring you back to the excitement you’d had earlier. “Clau, you can’t do anything crazy when I show you, we're still in public remember?” 

You laughed at the way she nodded quickly, eager like a little kid awaiting a treat. When you stuck out your tongue to show her the new addition, Claudia’s jaw just about hit the floor. She had seen a glimpse of it when you showed your sister but now that she could really see it up close, she was blown away. 

“Ay dios mio, you’re so fucking hot, babe,” she groaned as she leaned into you, looking for any sort of physical contact, but you didn’t give her much, still just keeping a hold of her hand as you giggled at her reaction. 

“Clau, we can’t do this, you know that. Someone might see us.” You could both tell your words were tentative, not quite fully convinced yourself as you both leaned into each other further. 

“Mmmm I know but look at you. How is my girlfriend more badass than me?” She pressed some light kisses to the side of your neck, doing her best to be careful but ultimately failing. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go the rest of the day without kissing you, knowing that’s in your mouth.” She mumbled into your shoulder, sure to keep her voice down in case anyone came looking for the two of you. 

“Well I have even worse news then,” this was the part you were a lot less excited about. “I’m not supposed to be doing any kissing for a few weeks while it heals.” 

“NOooo!” Her whining was much louder than she had been just moments before, throwing her head back dramatically. 

You gave her shoulder a light smack but still just smiled at her reaction, “Claudia, be quiet someone could hear you, you have to calm down.”

“Calm? You want me to be calm right now? How am I supposed to go that long without kisses?” she stuck out her bottom lip to pout at you, something she did all the time. 

“You can still kiss me though, just not on the lips! And I think we can both agree that it’ll be worth it in the end, yes?” 

Your girlfriend’s pout had been replaced with a smirk as she just hummed in response and buried her face in your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses anywhere she could reach. You both knew you shouldn’t let her continue but didn’t have the willpower to stop. At some point during her kisses, she had turned to face you better, reaching one hand to land on your waist and pull you closer, the other grabbing at your thigh. 

“Clau, we can’t- we can’t do this.” you struggled to get your words out, suddenly caught up in her actions. 

“Hmmm, are you gonna stop me though?” you felt her fingernails dig into your thigh as her hand ran dangerously higher. 

“No,” you whispered breathlessly as her hand continued to move up, “But if we get caught I’m blaming you.”

And as if on cue, you were suddenly being yelled at. “Dios mío, habláis en serio?!” The two of you immediately pushed away from each other, scattering as far away as you could when you heard the voice. 

When you looked up, you were relieved to see that it was only Mapi and let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, flinching as she started to scold you. 

“What is wrong with you? You’re at training! You’re just lucky it’s me who found you and not your sister! I can’t even imagine what she would have done. If you’re gonna pull shit like this, you need to tell her about you two, cause she can’t accidentally stumble into whatever that was.” She grabbed you by the arm to pull you up from the ground, both you and Claudia looking down sheepishly. 

The older woman held you in front of her, pressing a finger into your chest, “you are going to go back to that locker room and we are going to tell everyone I found you calming down after your argument with Alexia and we just happened to run into Pina in the hallway. And you both,” now she pulled your girlfriend up next to you, “are going to hope to God that you didn’t leave any marks on her neck, because I can only defend you so much. Understand?” 

Neither of you could make eye contact yet, still scared of how serious Mapi had become, nodding your heads rapidly at her statement. “And Pina, you keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Si, si, I will, I promise.” 

“Good,” she appeared to be satisfied by your answers and started pushing you both back towards the locker room. “Now I’m gonna try to erase that image from my mind so I don’t throw up.” 

You did your best to suppress a smirk at Mapi’s reaction and tried to sneak a look at your girlfriend who was walking along next to you. The two of you locked eyes for a brief moment but looked away quickly to make sure you wouldn’t giggle at you both having the same thought. 

“Hey! I saw that look! Keep walking!” This time you could barely keep it together at Mapi’s feigned seriousness, while the three of you continued back to the locker room, your secret still safely between the three of you and Vicky, just praying it would stay that way.

Not sure how I feel about this one, let me know! Planned to do more in this universe but now can't quite decide, would love some ideas if you want more of it, I know not everyone loves the Pina ones as much.

Masterlist

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Prewar!Cooper Howard has a breeding kink because he loves being a dad. He and Barb married and started trying for kids later in life than most folks around them, so much of the sex they had, especially early on, was focused on getting Barb pregnant. If he'd had his way, they would have had a whole litter of children, but hey, sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want. Still, there's the fun of trying, and there was a lot of trying. After the divorce, he's shocked when he meets someone else, and even more shocked when he feels those same urges with you. He's been trained to try and knock one in basically every time, he jokes.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

He's also incredibly possessive, and it drives him wild to think about getting to see you all swollen and filled out with his child. Particularly with you being younger that him; the ugly part of his brain is barking at him to stake a more permanent claim on you every time a guy your age so much as looks your way. Personally, he thinks he's too old to have more kids, but between his secret urges, your forgetfulness when it comes to your pill, and your twin high sex drives, well...sometimes accidents happen.

He'd be over the moon, once he knew you were happy as well (he would also worry about the news potentially being hurtful to Barb, but that'd be an issue for tomorrow). Showing you off in public, knowing that other people see how gorgeous you are and know you fully belong to him, it really gets him going, and you certainly take notice of how amorous he is when you're out together (combined with how vigorously he fucks you when you get home). Thinks you're insanely sexy pregnant and likes to watch you ride him with a big belly. You'd both better be a lot more careful about your contraception after the first baby if you don't want another, because getting to see you that way only makes his kink worse.

The Ghoul has a breeding kink because he's incredibly possessive. It's been literal centuries since he's come across anything in this world that he cares for enough to want to claim it, and you're officially claimed. He wants everyone, including you, to know that you belong to him and only him. Other ghouls can smell him on you much more strongly if he cums inside you, and he enjoys the way filling you full scratches his most primal itch. It's just an added benefit that he's almost positive he can't actually get you pregnant, but...there are records of ghouls reproducing with other ghouls. Haven't stranger things happened?

The little thrill he gets at the idea is just nature trying to take over.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

You'd be hard-up to get him to admit it, but he wants you to need him. He wants an excuse to baby you and pamper you and force you to let him do things for you without the vulnerability of admitting that he wants to do those things for you anyway because he's deeply in love with you.

You complain that your feet hurt during your journey for the day? He'll carry you everywhere you want to go from now until the end of time, if that's what you want. Stomach and appetite troubles? Name whatever you want, he'll find it for you, no matter how many caps he has to pay. Tired? "Of course you're tired, sweetheart. Let's stop for today. Here, sit down. Do you need some water? Eat this, you need some calories. Let me rub your legs and feet for you." It is endless and sort of surreal for you to adjust to.

Speaking of journeys, I think he also secretly wants to settle down a bit. He does already after he meets and falls for you, seeing how much the constant trekking back and forth across the irradiated desert takes out of you, and he definitely would want to do so expeditiously if you were pregnant. It's not like secure places don't exist in this world. He can keep you, and anyone else who may come along, safe just fine.

He'd be afraid to fuck you if you were pregnant, worried that he'll hurt you or make you sick or make something bad happen with the pregnancy. But if you reassure him, maybe beg a little, he'll do his best to make sure your urges are satisfied. Sit on his face and let him slide his tongue through your insanely sensitive folds, lie back and let him fuck you with those agile fingers while he jerks himself off. You'll miss being properly penetrated, badly, but you won't go without.

He wants an excuse to be even more protective of you than usual. Give him a reason to literally pluck men's eyes out for daring to so much as look at you, a reason to never let you out of his sight ever again. If you thought he was ready to commit violence to keep you safe before, you haven't seen anything yet.

I can't imagine it would be easy to have a big family in the Wasteland, but reminding him how much he loves being a dad would certainly have the thought on his mind.

[cobaltperun]

Tara x Fem!Reader,

They have been together for over a month now, laying in Tara's bed, watching a movie then Tara starts teasing R with cheesy pick up lines.

Like:

• Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!

• That shirt looks great on you… as a matter of fact, so would I.

• There must be a light switch on my forehead because every time I see you, you turn me on!

• There must be a light switch on my forehead because every time I see you, you turn me on!

• If your upper lip is Christmas and your lower lip is Thanksgiving, can I come visit any time in between?

Then R teases back

• I’m an adventurer and I want to explore you.

And.... don't know about the ending! I just thought this would be a fluffy/funny one shot!

Thank you so much for taking requests, it's totally okay if you don't want to do this!

Pick up

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: You and Tara can't help but be silly.

Masterlist

Word count: 0.8k

It was official, you should never pick a random movie to watch. It was cheesy, over the top acting, so bad it was actually kinda funny, oh, well, at least you were having fun laughing at how ridiculous everything was. And then it happened. The main character, whose name you'd very quickly forget went and said it. The cheesiest pick up line of them all. "I swear someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."

The poor girl he was trying to seduce was wearing sunglasses...

Tara leaned on your shoulder, shaking with laughter as she slapped your knee. "On no! Why would he say something like that?!" she laughed so loud you were afraid Sam would barge in, and let's just say Sam wasn't all that ready to accept you and Tara were together, even though it's already been a month since you and Tara confessed your feelings for one another and started dating.

Well, considering what the two sisters went through you couldn't say you blamed Sam, if you were in her place you'd be suspicious of anyone new as well.

"That was awful," you laughed with Tara and hugged her, pulling her down on the bed, the awful movie forgotten. It peaked, that was it, nothing could top the ridiculousness of that line.

"Y/N," Tara began once she caught her breath.

"Yeah?" you turned to look at her and saw the mischievous grin on her face.

"Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!" she said it all proud and eager to see your reaction and you just lost it.

"Damn it, Tara!" you snickered, burying your face in the pillow to muffle the sounds.

"I have more," she leaned in while you were still snickering. "Are you an inhaler? Because I need you to breathe," she whispered, making sure she whispered it right in your ear.

Your breath hitched for a moment as she lightly bit your earlobe. "Yeah? Are you an alarm clock? 'Cause I want you to wake me up every morning," you replied, causing her to giggle in your ear, and though you loved hearing her giggles you turned around and brushed her lips. "Your lips look a bit dry, let me be your lip balm."

Tara grinned but leaned down to kiss you gently, she kissed you a few times, going from soft, innocent pecks, to a slow, sensual kiss.

"Mhm, if your upper lip is Christmas and your lower lip is Thanksgiving, can I come visit any time in between?" she tugged at your lower lip gently with her teeth and then kissed you again, this time slipping her tongue inside your mouth.

"No wonder the sky looks so dark, all the stars are right here," you said when you separated and moved to kiss her freckles. When you pulled away you saw her blushing, her eyes wide and lips parted slightly.

"That shirt looks great on you… as a matter of fact, so would I." she said, her hand sliding up your stomach underneath your shirt.

"Well, that escalated quickly," you grinned and pulled her so she was on top of you. "I must be ticklish, 'cause you tickled my fancy."

She snorted at that. "Got any more?" she poked your chest and smiled when you nodded.

"Apologize to polar bears. You're so hot their ice is melting," you said with a grin so cheesy you should put it on a pizza.

Tara covered her eyes but you could see the wide smile on her face. "There must be a light switch on my forehead because every time I see you, you turn me on!"

And you decided to match her. "I’m an adventurer and I want to explore you," you whispered softly in her ear and grinned as she blushed once more.

"Your battery is running low," she started laughing before she even finished saying whatever came to her mind. And with how infectious her laugh was to you you couldn't help but laugh with her. "I think you should plug it in me," she exclaimed through laughter.

You choked, eyes wide and blood rushing to your face as she said that. "That was awful!" you laughed, flipping the two of you around and burying your face in her neck as you tried to stop your laughter only to fail miserably and laugh even harder.

And Tara wasn't doing any better as she gasped for air from how hard she was laughing. "Okay, yeah, I think I can't top that," she confessed as her laughter subsided.

"I can top you though," you said without missing a beat, sending both of you into another fit of laughter.

Neither of you knew that maybe, just maybe, Sam did wake up, and she was annoyed at first, but hearing Tara laughing the way she was right now... well, it made her accept you a bit more. You were making Tara much happier than she was in a long time.

A/N: Damn, this was fun to write, hope you enjoyed this half as much as I enjoyed writing this 😁😁

[caelivir]

shrimply in love | miya atsumu

synopsis. atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.

pairing. atsumu miya x gn!reader | wc. 2.1k | genres. timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, atsumu is soooo down bad | warnings. (minor?) manga spoilers

notes. outing myself as a hq fan and atsumu lover LOOK AWAY. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw LMFAO 😭. i was up until dawn, on my phone, in the drafts writing this that’s how bad it was. there's something additional to this so stay tuned, and i hope you enjoy.

“tsumu!” you call out from the couch while he’s in the bathroom connected to your shared room. “can you get my wallet? it’s on the bed.”

“sure thing, baby!” he answers back.

“thanks love!” you reply, the petname making him grin in the mirror. it gets him every single time.

after drying off his hands with a towel, atsumu doubles back to the bedroom, your wallet immediately catching his eye. he picks it up, and as he does, something slips out from the crevices.

atsumu picks it up and inspects it. it’s a folded slip of paper. curious, he unfolds it to examine its contents. reading it puts him in shock, and now he’s mildly annoyed with you.

he rushes out of the room, stomping over to you like a little kid. you raise an eyebrow in amusement when he stops in front of the couch.

“baby, what the hell?!” he whines, holding the paper out in front of you for you to read. confused, you lean closer, letting your eyes scan it before laughing out loud. it’s a guest check from the day you first met.

“what?! it’s cute!” you defend with a smile.

“it’s horrifying. do you even know how embarrassing this was for me?” atsumu pouts.

“oh believe me i know.” you giggle.

three years ago.

after a hard won victory, the msby jackals were craving a celebratory meal. meian had suggested a new italian restaurant that had opened by the arena. there was a unanimous agreement among the team, except for sakusa. however, bokuto had managed to convince him to come along with enough pestering.

so there they were, a group of guys well over six foot (with the exception of hinata and inunaki), sharing what’s probably the largest table at the restaurant. it drew tons of attention, and there were even some fans who came up to them for pictures and autographs.

then you came by, ready to take orders, and atsumu knew in that moment he was an absolute goner for you. your beauty was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. you were prettier than those models on the ads he walked by, prettier than the flowers in his mother’s gardens, prettier than sunsets on a beach. and god, your smile. his head went all fuzzy at the sight of it. it melted his insides.

you chuckled at whatever bokuto animatedly said before moving onto atsumu. you looked at him expectantly, eyes shining with so much light that it jumbled the blonde’s brain. shit. what did he want to order?

atsumu’s eyes quickly racked through the menu, and his mouth fired off an order before his brain could process what he was reading. “uh, could i get the shrimps camping?”

a silence befell amongst the table before a collective cackle filled the restaurant. realizing what slipped out of his mouth, atsumu’s face turned red. his cheeks were embarrassingly hot.

mortified. he was absolutely fucking mortified. even that asshole omi-kun found it funny. it didn’t help that you were suppressing a smile at him too. he didn’t even bother with the damage control. there was no point. he’d only embarrass himself further.

with a giggle, you made a note of it on the guest check you were writing up because at least you knew what he was referring to. atsumu buried his face in his hands. see in his head, the setter had come up with a plan to ask for your number, but now he was never even going to walk down this street ever again. his chances? consider them blown.

“alright, alright,” you said after the laughter had died down. you fire off orders to confirm everything, and then you get to atsumu. “and… one shrimps camping.”

“you’re killing me.” atsumu groaned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment now that you were teasing him.

“it’s my job.” you shrugged before walking off with a wink. the blonde felt his heart skip a beat.

“don’t sweat it, atsumu-san!” shoyo clapped his back reassuringly. at least he could leave it to the ginger to always have his back.

it took a minute, but the team had finally moved on from atsumu’s slip up. unfortunately, it was all the setter could think about. god, what if you teased him once you came back with the plates?

luckily for him, it didn’t happen. you just tossed him a knowing grin when you presented him his food. he stared down at those shrimp dancing in the sauce, knowing he’s never ordering fuckass shrimp scampi ever again, and dug in. (it’s the most delicious thing to have graced his tastebuds.)

atsumu, contrary to previous thoughts, did end up coming back to the italian restaurant in the hopes that he could see you. he realized that he wasn’t going to allow one fuck up ruin the chances of having you. atsumu miya is many things. annoying, rude, loud, but a quitter? that’s not one of them.

it was a weekly occurrence, and atsumu would try something different from the menu each time.

“no shrimp scampi?” you would smirk.

“no…” atsumu would sigh, feeling the jab in his bones before handing you his menu. “no shrimp scampi.”

conversations became more casual. he learned more about you like how you were in your final year of university and that your favorite men’s volleyball team was ejp raijin. (he was definitely going to change that.) each week the blonde setter visited you during week made him fall for you even more. all of these little things accumulated until atsumu finally got the balls to ask you out.

“what would you like today, atsumu?” you greeted, that soft angelic grin on your face, and he just knew he had to do it. he couldn’t ever let you go.

“you. me. a date.” he said casually, his eyes dripping with confidence. (interally, he was freaking out).

you tried maintaining your composure but failed so miserably. you couldn’t stop the smile that reached your eyes as soon as you heard those eyes. “i thought you would never ask.” you beamed at him.

chewing on your lower lip, you motioned for him to give you hand, to which he most happily obliged. your touch was a new heaven. so warm and so soft. he wished to be wrapped in it forever.

you held his hand steady as the tip of your pen scribbled on his skin. when atsumu looked down, he realized it to be your number, and his eyes stared at it in awe.

“text me.” you told him before walking off. then you stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around until you’re back at atsumu’s table. “wait, shit. what do you want to eat?”

oh. he had completely forgotten about that. atsumu picked up the menu and quickly scanned for a fun dish name. “um, just the pizza napoletana and garlic bread.”

“you got it.” you noted it down. followed by, “no shrimp scampi?”

“(y/n), please. i feel like i’m flying right now, and you’re killing my mood.” atsumu’s face fell, feigning fake irritation, but you knew better.

you laughed. “alright, alright. i’ll be back soon.”

“you better be.” the setter scoffed before his face betrayed his true feelings.

and before you knew it, one date became two, then three, then four, and the rest was history, shrimp scampi along with it.

at least, that’s what atsumu thought.

“i thought you completely forgot about it.” atsumu whines.

you laugh, standing up from your place on the couch. “how could i ever forget that? i stopped the jokes because you got all sulky. besides, that’s how my little infatuation with you began.”

once you’re directly in front of him, atsumu places his hands on your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. without even thinking, your hand finds its way to the back of his head, stroking it with affection. “of all things? not my good looks? or my nice arms? ” the blonde murmurs into your skin.

you hum in agreement. “well that came after.” your boyfriend groans, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t think i ever told you this, but i was having a really rough shift the night the team came in. when you guys were put into my section, i nearly lost it.” you admit. “but then you asked for shrimps camping, and i lightened up, like all of my negative energy just drained out of my body. seeing you all flustered and blushing was so adorable in my eyes.”

your boyfriend pulls back, his face scrunched. “i didn’t realize you were in a foul mood that night.”

“had to fake it. you know how customer service is.” you shrug, a smirk taking over your face soon after. “but you were too busy admiring me to even notice it.”

atsumu grins smugly. he’s not even ashamed. “that i was.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

the blonde setter hums, leaning in, and you meet him halfway, kissing him gently. atsumu’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against his body. you feel his lips twitch into a smile.

you’re the first to pull away, but your boyfriend is unsatisfied with that. he presses his lips to yours once again before you could even get another breath in. it’s a kiss full of affirmations that atsumu can’t voice. you feel it all through him. he’s so greedy when it comes to you, but he’d definitely agree with that statement without any complaint.

to atsumu, kissing you is a new kind of euphoria, one better than any service ace, better than any cool quick that he pulls off with his hitters. kissing you is like falling in love with you again, and it’s single-handedly the best feeling in the entire world.

he pulls away first with a proud smile. he steals a quick peck against your lips, then your nose, and then the rest of your face until you’re drowning in his affection.

you giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “tsumu!”

atsumu sighs contentedly. his large hand cups your cheek. the rough skin of his thumb traces up and down your face. it’s so reassuring and so warm that you can’t help but lean into it.

“i love you, angel. y’know that right?” atsumu stares at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. everyday, he can’t believe that he gets to have you. he can’t believe he gets to come home and you’ll be there waiting for him, ready to hold him in your arms and kiss his knuckles when he tells you about his day.

you adjust your head ever so slightly to kiss his palm. “i know it. you never fail to make it known.”

you’ve come to realize that that’s who he is. your sweet boy, atsumu miya, is so full of love. behind the brashness and the insults, he has so much love in his heart that some days he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i love you so much, atsumu miya. you are my life.” you whisper, bringing him in for another soul-igniting, cavity-inducing kiss. it’s intense, hotter, but that is just life with atsumu, a blaze of passion and fierceness.

you can feel him melt against you as if this is his first time doing this with you. you can feel him reciprocating your words. you know him so well that you can guess the words that follow. “all for me. my sweet angel. what did i do to deserve you?”

a memory springs to mind, causing you to cut the moment short as much as you’d like to continue. atsumu pouts at the loss of your lips against his. such a kid. still, he looks at you expectantly.

“i have to admit,” you’re kind of excited to see how he’ll react to it. “the entire restaurant knows you as the shrimps camping guy.”

atsumu stiffens against your body, and the horrified look on his face makes you burst out laughing. “you’re lying. (y/n), tell me you’re lying.”

“i’m sorry, my love. it’s true.” you reach out for his hand, but the blonde playfully shrugs it off.

“don’t touch me. how could you do this to me, huh? i thought we were for life!” atsumu turns away from you, shutting his eyes.

you roll your eyes. you should’ve expected this. in situations like these, there is one sentence that will make him forget everything immediately. “if i kiss you, will you forgive me?”

atsumu snaps his head back to you, and his eyes fly open, allowing you to catch the light that sparkles in them as he smiles widely. he’s so beautiful. “really?!” he exclaims but leaves no room for you to respond before he’s crashing your mouths together for the fourth time. you roll your eyes in disbelief but give into him immediately.

atsumu miya is so annoying, but he’s yours, and you wouldn’t give him up for anyone else in the world.

[jakesduskwood]

even statues crumble if they're made to wait

Pairing: Jake x Fem!MC

Genre: Post-Episode 10 Duskwood, Post-Episode 1 Moonvale

Words: 8,916

Summary: It's been three months since the explosion in the mine. Three months since Hannah was found. And MC's accepted that Jake is never coming back. When she gets roped into another missing person's case, it makes for the perfect distraction. Jake is dead. It's fine. That is, until she finds herself on the phone with Alan Bloomgate who says he has something to show her. But it's fine. Jake is dead.

Until he's not.

EPISODE-1 MOONVALE SPOILERS AHEAD (MAYBE)!

[ A/N: Hello! :)

I know it's been a while since I've done this, but I finished Moonvale Episode 1 and if you've seen the ending (and used its Duskwood code), you know what happened and how excited I was to receive that bit of Duskwood. So, I took it and ran with it, and out came this extremely long fic. I did not proofread this as it took me literally almost 12 hours to write so it is completely and 100% me and my love for Jake and I hope you love it.

Side note: I suck with anything related to timelines, so I made one up on my own. I know Episode 1 of Moonvale takes place over the course of a day or two, but for the purpose of this fic, it made sense to make it longer, so it's not a typo, or me losing my mind, it's just the way my brain processed this.

Enjoy! :) ]

It’s been three months since the explosion in the mine.

Three months since Richy had been killed. Three months since Hannah was rescued. Three months since I had last spoken to Thomas or Cleo or Lilly or…or Jessy. I didn’t blame her then and I don’t blame her now. Any of them, really. I didn’t share the bond they had with each other. I wasn’t from Duskwood. It didn’t matter that we’d experienced a tragedy together—and yes, perhaps them more than me, but I loved Richy too. I had lost Richy too. And Jake—

But mostly, I think they just wanted to forget. To move on. They didn’t want to remember that their friend had been capable of…of that. And I was a constant reminder of that to them. So I understood why we didn’t necessarily talk anymore.

The one person I did keep in contact with from Duskwood, oddly enough, other than the occasional update from Alan Bloomgate, was Dan. We weren’t best friends or anything, but he allowed me to check in on our friends in a way that I didn’t know how to do with anyone else. Maybe because I thought he was the least affected among them. I knew he cared about Hannah, but he wasn’t to her what Thomas or Cleo or Lilly were. And he wasn’t to Richy what Jessy had been.

I’d learned from him that Thomas and Hannah had broken up. There was no bad blood, but Thomas hadn’t quite figured out how to accept the things he’d learned about his girlfriend when she’d been gone, and Hannah hadn’t quite figured out how to re-trust someone after Richy. Even if that person was Thomas. But I’d hoped they would find their way back to each other in the end.

I thought about reaching out to Jessy every once in a while—even just as an apology for everything that had happened. I’m sorry that Hannah was found at the expense of Richy. I’m sorry that he did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. We should have. We should have. We should have. I miss you. But I never send it. I’m not all that sure she’d respond anyway.

Cleo and I were never all that close. She has her best friend back, so I think she’s probably as okay as she can be. Helping Hannah find a new kind of normal in a time where her childhood friend had kidnapped her in order to prove a point. I don’t know how you come back from that—I don’t know how you come back from knowing that you killed somebody at all.

I hadn’t found the courage to ask if somebody had told Hannah about Jake.

Not that I think it would matter anyway. I hadn’t heard from him since before the explosion in the mine, which was, like I said—three months ago. I waited the appropriate amount of time—twenty-five days—before I broke down and concluded that maybe he hadn’t survived. Which just piled a shit-ton of guilt onto my shoulders because it was supposed to be me in that mine. He had gone in place of me and now he was dead.

It was the only explanation that made sense. I was used to Jake disappearing for days at a time, but never as long as he had been now. And he didn’t seem like the type to tell me he loved me and then leave without a single explanation. Not unless he had to. But it had been three months and as much as I missed him, as much as my chest ached with the thought that we would never eat Chinese food out of shitty motels and have that on-the-run ending we talked about, I had accepted that he wasn’t coming back.

I wonder if he had known about Richy or if he had died still thinking Michael Hanson was the one who had kidnapped Hannah. I wonder if his last thoughts were of me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I kind of hope they were, because I’m pretty sure I’ll think about him for the rest of my life.

I wonder what it would have felt like to run my hands through his hair. To kiss him. To spend every waking moment with him and know it was because I loved him. Because I would have. Talking to Jake became about more than just finding Hannah. It became a part of my day I looked forward to more than anything else. He confided in me in a way that told me he never had with anyone, maybe not even Hannah, and I needed that from somebody. I needed somebody to trust in me the way that Jake did. I needed somebody to love me the way that Jake did.

It was strange—and maybe a little ironic—the thought that something so beautiful could come out of something so tragic.

Anyway, my point is: it’s been a long couple of months. Of thinking about my friends. Of thinking about Jake. Of wondering if I should have done things differently. I should have gone to Duskwood to help. Not even with the mine, but sooner. I could have. I could’ve gone when Jessy was attacked on the way home. I could’ve gone when the group made plans to cut out of town and hide away in the house Richy had found. Selfishly, I should have. In that moment, when they were settled around the fire and Lilly called me, I had never remembered wanting anything more. I should have grabbed Jake—metaphorically, maybe even literally—and rode it out with them to the end.

I don’t stop missing them after three months. Of wishing things could have been different. Wishing I could have done more. But exactly ninety-five days after the explosion in the mine, seventy days since I had accepted that Jake was never coming back, twenty-two days since I had last heard from anybody from Duskwood (Dan included), my phone dings with a new message.

And the cycle starts all over again.

It’s somebody named Eric, who claims he needs my help to find his friend Adam, who disappeared while he was waiting for a ride in someplace called Redlog Pines. And much like with Duskwood, I have never heard of Redlog, and the case reminds me way too much of Thomas’ first message to me, so much that it makes my chest ache, but I can’t say no because there’s somebody missing, and if I’d say no the first time, God knows where Hannah would be.

So, I say yes, and I help out where I can, and Eric decides he needs to bring about four more friends in on his little plan and I try my best to stay emotionally unattached because I remember everything that happened the last time and I can’t go through that again. I offer up information when I can and keep my words short and careful because I’m not ready to get attached to somebody else I know I might never meet.

I know how this ends.

Two days in, Ash, one of Eric’s friends, brings up my Duskwood past and the unhealed wound I’ve been trying to mend breaks open again. She asks about Richy, and about the mine, and then because I’m me and I can’t help myself, I tell her about Jake. She tells me the news never mentioned another body and I shove that thought to the back of my head because hoping for something that will never come true will kill me.

Four days into Adam’s disappearance, and the police not giving a shit—as Charlie, somebody who reminds me far too much of Richy for comfort, points out—my phone beeps with an incoming call from somebody I haven’t spoken to in a while.

“Go for [MC].” I answer my phone.

Ever since Hannah had been found in the mine and Jake had…you know, my phone had been more silent than I’d gotten used to. Until this new case. But even that—it was only a few days old and I didn’t want to go down the same path with them that I did with my friends in Duskwood. We didn’t really know each other that long, sure—even though sometimes it’d felt like it—but it felt like I’d finally been a part of something. Like, I had found these people who had chosen me for me.

And originally, maybe they had. Maybe they’d had every intention of keeping me around, but then Richy was the Man Without A Face and Alan Bloomgate had rescued Hannah and nothing was the same as it had been when we’d met each other. We knew too many secrets about each other by the time the town settled. Secrets we would have to take to the grave.

Or maybe I’m losing my mind a bit and I had really only been a means to an end.

Either way.

“Alan?” I raise my voice when there’s nothing but breathing on the other end of the line. “Did you mean to call me?”

His tone is clipped. “I found something.”

“You found something.” I repeat.

My heart clenches. For all I know, it might fall into my stomach. As far I know, from watching the news, from what Ash told me, Jake’s body was never found. Richy’s was. Or what was left of him to find, anyway. I had assumed that there just hadn’t been enough of Jake left. The thought left me nauseous, but it was better than hoping for something I knew I could never have.

“I’m sending it to your phone now.” He responds. “Let me know what you think of this.”

And then he hangs up.

That was a riveting conversation, I think as my phone dings with a message. I do my best to ignore my other messages—contacts from Duskwood I’m still not ready to acknowledge—and click Alan Bloomgate. He sent me a video that looks like—oh God.

Immediately, I’m overcome with emotion as an all-too-familiar forest pops up on my phone. It’s a video of Alan’s bodycam footage. He’s searching the Duskwood forest. A forest I’ve seen too many times in the background of other video calls.

I watch as he stumbles upon an object that’s too dark to make out at first. When he gets closer, it’s clear that it’s a backpack. It’s simple. Black. Nothing about it that screams this is mine and I left it here about anybody in particular. You stupid, stupid idiot, I tell my heart when it rattles against my chest in hope. He’s dead.

Alan stands and treks away from the backpack—I want to scream at him to go back, to open it and look through it and tell me if it’s what my heart aches to believe, but I can’t, because this is a video and I’m simply watching with wide eyes, waiting for…for something. But then. But then, he moves further into the forest and I watch as he stumbles upon an object that makes my knees tremble and tears rush to my eyes and my hands shake. A black hoodie. It looks like it’s been through hell, with holes scattered up the sleeves and dirt cakes into the hood, but it’s unmistakably his.

And then—Alan lifts the hood and picks up something that makes me sink to my knees with a sob that wracks my entire frame. Because I’m staring at Jake’s mask. The mask he doesn’t go anywhere without. The mask that protects him. And so my relief is short-lived, because I realize that even if he’s alive—which seems like a very big possibility at this point—he’s alive without the things that he needs to survive.

And then the anger kicks in. Because if he’s been alive, on his own, for three months—why has he not contacted me? Unless he survived the mine but he didn’t survive the after. But that didn’t make any sense. So, okay, he wasn’t dead. But that didn’t make any sense either. He told me he wouldn’t let them catch him. Because catching that meant he would be apart from me. Did something happen that prevented him from being able to reach out and tell me he was at least okay? A quick text that said didn’t die in the explosion in the mine, you don’t need to mourn me, by the way, going off radar for another year. Did he think I would have given up on him?

I wipe my eyes and shoot a message to Alan.

ME: Recently?? Did nobody search the forests before?      

ALAN: Searched the forests for what, [MC]? The logical assumption seemed to be that if anybody was inside the mine when Richy set the fire, they would have perished alongside him. Officers were stationed outside every known entrance and exit. Besides, after the story you and your friends spun around this town, do you think anybody would have gone back into its forests?

ME: But it’s possible?

ALAN: I would say these items had been there for some time. But I would say it is likely he ditched them when he fled the mine, yes.

Another sob tears through my throat. Jake is alive. I don’t know quite what that means for us as of now, but I know it’s the best news I’ve heard since Hannah was found. Jake is alive. He’s out there somewhere. And even if it’s been three months, and even if I’m a little bit mad at him right now, I know that if he was here, I would throw my arms around his neck and hold on to him until someone dragged me off, and even then—I would fight kicking and screaming.

I close out of my messages with Alan and pull up a conversation I haven’t had the heart to look at in quite some time.

ME: Jake’s alive.

LILLY: …

LILLY: Have you spoken to him?

ME: Alan called. He found some of Jake’s things in Duskwood. I don’t know a lot of details. But I know he made it out of the mine.

Lilly types for a long while, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t take it personally. I think it’s probably hard for her to be happy that her brother’s okay while also trying to accept that her sister may never be okay again. Her sister, who had once-upon-a-time been kind-of-sort-of in love with their brother she didn’t know she had. I think that would probably mess with any family’s heads. And on top of all that, you throw in manslaughter and a kidnapping. I wouldn’t wish anybody, not even my worst enemy, to have had to go through what the Donforts had.

When it becomes adamant that Lilly isn’t going to respond, I start scrolling through messages with the rest of the group in Duskwood. I click on Jessy. I’m here if you need me. That had been the last thing I sent to her, a couple of days after Richy’s death. She hadn’t responded. I click out of Jessy’s contact and click on Thomas’ instead. Thank you for everything. That had been his last message to me after we found Hannah. I’d liked it. I hadn’t expected at the time it would be the last thing we’d ever say to each other. I click out of Thomas’ and click on Richy. So, you want to turn yourself in? I’d asked. That was before he called me. Before he lit a match and burned himself and the mine to the ground. Some people would call that heroic. I mostly call him a coward.

I click on Jake’s name. It’s been a while since I read messages between the two of us. Maybe before I had accepted—thought—he was dead. In that twenty-five-day period when I’d hoped with all I’d had that he would come back. I love you. That was the last message he sent me. I’d responded with I love you too, Jake. Then, four days later: Are you okay? A week later: Jake, please, you’re starting to scare me. I know you said you would contact when you could, but it’s been a week. After twenty-five days, when I had finally accepted our fate, I’d sent one final message: I hope you know that I love you, and I will always care about you, but I think it’s time for me to move on. I’m so sorry that I sent you into the mine. It should have been me. And I will probably feel the guilt from that for the rest of my life. Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

After that, I had closed out of our messages and hadn’t looked back. Partly because I couldn’t bear the pain of it. It felt like I had given up on him. I hadn’t—if I had thought for a second that he was alive, if I knew then what I know now, I would have never sent that message. But holding out hope for somebody who I thought was a ghost at the time? That was slowly killing me.

It’s only then that I notice the screen flickering. Much like the way it used to whenever Jake would hack into my phone. I don’t think he’s much in the mood to be hacking right now, but somehow, I know it’s him. When had he done this? Recently? If I had opened our messages, would I have seen this ten—twenty—even fifty days ago? It hadn’t looked like this the last time I texted him. Did he see my last message about needing to move on? Was that why he hadn’t reached out to tell me that he was okay? Because he thought I was moving on happily without him?

No, my brain supplies. He wouldn’t. He would reach out anyway, because he knows how much the thought of him not being okay would have destroyed you.

The screen flickers once more and then a message pops up, bright and blue-tinted and clear as day on my phone.

[MC]

I WILL FIND YOU

And the world around me shifts.

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

Maybe it sounds crazy, considering I’ve never seen his face before, but I always thought that if I’d ran into Jake one day, maybe on the street or at one of those motels he stayed at or maybe even in Duskwood, surrounded by all our friends, I would know it was him. I would, because it’s him, and it’s me, and we’re the only two people who understand each other quite the way we do.

I still believe that.

I believe it when I book my flight to Duskwood (or rather, twenty miles outside of town, which is the closest airport). I believe it when I board the airplane and find a seat next to a mother with her screaming child and when I shoot off a quick text to Eric to let him know I’ll be MIA for the next few hours, but to message me if he needs anything—and I think about how much easier this case would probably be to solve if we had Jake.

Maybe it would have been harder to find Hannah without me, but I know damn well they would’ve never found her without Jake.

Dan picks me up from the airport. I haven’t told the others yet. Something about it felt off—like I shouldn’t message them and say hey, I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I’m booking a flight to look into why my maybe-slash-not-really boyfriend left his belongings in a forest we really wish we could forget about, and by the way, can I crash at your place?

It’s quiet on the car ride back into town. I’m looking through my messages from Eric and the group from Redlog Pines and thinking about how I’m Duskwood with this group and I want so badly to laugh because it’s ironic, but Dan wouldn’t understand. He might just call me crazy. Better yet, he would ask how I manage to get myself into these situations, and really, I don’t have an answer for him.

“How have you been?” I ask, just to break the tension, as Charlie, in my messages, tries to persuade his friends to head back into that creepy cave in the middle of the forest. He’s going to get someone killed, I think.

Dan looks over at me. “Are you still with Hackerman?”

My chest squeezes. “His name is Jake, Dan. And we were never really together.”

“Hm.” He nods like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You already know mostly everything that’s been happening here. Thomas and Hannah called it quits. They say it was some mutual decision, but it’s hard to find them in the same room together. Jessy hasn’t been out with us since. I think we remind her too much of Richy. The group’s all changed.”

“And you?” I ask.

He gives me a cheshire-like grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m always the same.”

We make it to Duskwood just as the sun’s going down. Much too late for me to try and trek through the forest and retrace the steps Jake might have taken that night. Not that I think it would help give me any clues as to where he might have gone, but mostly because I wonder if it will make me feel closer to him. We’ve never been in the same place before, and even if he’s not there now—he once was.

“Can you drop me at the police station?”

Dan blinks. “The police station.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“We answered their questions for weeks, [MC]. I don’t think anything you have to tell them at this point is going to help. The investigation’s closed. Everybody knows Richy did it. He died with the fire in the mine. Everybody’s trying to move on from that.” He works his jaw. “Did you come here to open old wounds after all this time?”

I try not to show the hurt look on my face. “This isn’t about Richy. Look, Alan called me. He asked if I could look at some things. I figured it was better for me to do it in person. That’s it. Nothing to do with Richy. Nothing to do with Jessy. Nothing to do with you.”

He sighs, and I’m not entirely sure he’s going to abide by my wishes until we pull in front of a tiny building—tinier than most—that says Duskwood Police on the sign. Duskwood must not have that much crime. Well, not until this, I suppose.

“Thank you.” I tell him as I reach over to undo my seatbelt and climb out of the car. “This is a nice ride, by the way.”

He raises a hand in some mock-salute. “Need me to pick you up?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “Think I’ll explore the town for a little bit.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and then he’s off.

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath before opening the door to the police station. It wasn’t like Alan asked me to come down here. He hadn’t. Even during the investigation into Richy’s death and Hannah’s kidnapping, when he questioned us, he never asked me to come to Duskwood. We’d done way too many video calls and phone calls and at one point, I had asked if he thought it would be easier for me to come to Duskwood, to which he responded back, are you ready for that?

No, I hadn’t been. I’m not even so sure I was now. But knowing that Jake was alive, that here was the last place was, I had to try.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the front desk asks.

I clear my throat. “I was wondering if I could speak to Alan Bloomgate. I’m one of—I was involved in the Hannah Donfort case. My name is [MC].”

Her eyes widen. “Give me a moment.” She stands and heads to some back office—which looks to me more like a closet—and then returns with a clipped smile. “He’ll be right out.”

Apparently, she isn’t lying, because not two minutes later, Alan is stepping out from the same door and staring me down. I hold his gaze and hope it says that I’m not here to argue. I will tell him my truth, but only my truth, not Hannah’s, not Jake’s, not anybody else’s.

“I was wondering when I would see you.” He says.

I shrug one shoulder. “Isn’t a few months later better than never?”

“Let’s go into my office.” He says, and leads me around the desk and back into the closet space he had come out of. He sits behind the desk and motions for me to take a seat opposite him. “I’m just going to guess you’re not here to talk about Miss Donfort.”

“I want to see them.” I tell him. “His things. I want to see them for myself. And whatever you want from me in return, I’ll give to you.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, [MC].”

“He isn’t a game to me.” I snap back and then sit back and try to relax. “I appreciate that you called me. It’s—I helped you find Hannah. I would do it again. Even with knowing the things that we do now, I would do it all again. That’s how much that group means to me. That’s how much he means to me. I’m not asking you to break any rules or to lie for him or to—to let him hide in your basement for the next five years. I’m just asking you to show me what you found.”

He stares me down for a moment. Then, he sighs, says “wait here for a minute” and disappears to another room. When he comes back, it’s with an evidence bag in his hand filled with the objects I saw on his bodycam footage. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I can’t let you touch them.” He says as he lays them in front of me.

I stare into the eyes of the mask. “Did you tell anybody that he’s alive?”

“I don’t know that he’s alive,” is all the answer he gives, which is an answer to my question. I slide my gaze down to the black hoodie, to the dirtied sleeves and muddy hood, and think about the fact that Jake wore this. I’m so close to him.

And yet I’ve never been further away from him.

“Thank you.” I tell him. “For—for this. And for listening to me about Hannah. If you hadn’t, I—I don’t know what would have happened. How much longer he would have gone on for. If he would have ever stopped.”

Alan’s silent for a minute. Then, he clears his throat. “You know, it was strange to me. Both Hannah and yourself swore to me that neither of you knew the other.”

“I don’t.” I swear.

It was one of the (albeit many) things that didn’t make sense to me. How Hannah got a hold of my number. How she sent it to Thomas. She’d told Alan she hadn’t really remembered texting him my number at all.

“I believe you.” He reassures. “I just think it’s strange. One mistake, if you can call it that, and you throw yourself into a missing persons case to help a stranger.”

“They’re not strangers.” Even though Hannah is kind of still a stranger.

“But they were.” Alan reasons. “You had no reason to say yes to helping Thomas. I doubt anybody would have held it against you if you turned the other way. But you decided to follow this until the end. To make sure they found Hannah. And you care about them. Maybe that’s why I find that I’m more lenient with you than maybe I should be. Why you’re sitting across from me right now calling the shots. Why I’m not asking you about the hacker.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if you did.” I look him in the eye so he knows I’m telling the truth.

He returns my gaze. “Maybe that’s the other reason.”

“Hm.” I acknowledge before I turn my gaze away—from him, from the objects that I know belong to Jake and it takes everything in me not to snatch them up and run. “Well. Thank you for allowing me to steal some of your time. For letting me—” I cut myself off before I say something that makes me break down in a fit of tears in front of him. “—just thank you.”

Leaving the station is easier than coming in. I’m still not any closer to knowing where Jake is than I was when I arrived here, but there’s a comfort in knowing he walked these streets. I wonder what he would think if he knew I was here. He hadn’t wanted me to come to Duskwood when everything was happening…but now that it was over, would he be happy that I was here? That I had come to Duskwood to piece together where he might have gone? Would he track my location and come to find me and…or was I grasping at straws?

It felt like I had just gotten him back. Not really, not entirely…but knowing that he was alive, that he was out there somewhere, maybe thinking of me and looking for ways to come back, to live the life we talked about when he asked me if I was sure…that was worth it. The thought that we could maybe someday have that—even if it was a twenty percent chance.

I check my phone again to see a new message from Ash. She’s asking me if I’ve heard from Charlie in the last few hours. Apparently, he’s AWOL, and I want to help, really, but…it doesn’t really feel like that’s where I am at the moment. Not just physically—obviously—but mentally. We got lucky with Hannah. And that was really only because we had Jake. Adam didn’t have a Jake. Or…maybe he did and I just hadn’t met him yet. But I already had a Jake and I didn’t want another one.

Maybe—if I found him, I could convince him to help. That was a big maybe. Not because I thought Jake would say no. He would say yes to anything I asked of him. The maybe was whether or not I could find him. More likely, the maybe was whether or not he would find me.

Three months ago, I would have been able to come to Duskwood and have no shortage of things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see. Now, as I stand outside Duskwood’s police station, I feel nothing but loneliness. Nobody knows I’m here. I could pass Thomas on the street and he wouldn’t even know it. I could run into Jessy at the library and she would walk by me without even a second thought. Why would they? I hadn’t told them I was here.

So, with nothing left to do, I walked. Toward the town center. Toward the library that Jessy showed me on our walk through Duskwood. Toward the Rainbow Café where I knew that Cleo and Hannah had spent a lot of their time. Toward the Black Swan. Toward—

Ah, what the hell.

I had nothing better to do and The Aurora seemed like a great place to drown my sorrows. To think about my next steps. To figure out—now that I was in Duskwood—what I planned to do. The thing about Jake being so secretive (and on the run) was that I couldn’t retrace his steps. I wasn’t able to ask if anyone had seen him. One, because he would make sure nobody had. And two, because three months was a long time to forget somebody’s face if you didn’t know who you were looking for.

I pull open the door to the bar and step inside. Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of whiskey and a handful of chatter. Duskwood’s a small town. And The Aurora definitely proves it. The bartenders move melodically around each other, serving patrons on the other side of the bar. If you walk down further, there’s a handful of tables.

And dead in the center is a table with my friends. Or, some of them. Dan and Cleo and Lilly. Could I still call them my friends? Ex-friends, maybe? Acquaintances? I didn’t know what they were. Or how to address them. It wasn’t like we had gotten into a fight. We didn’t stop talking for any reason other than that we did. We stopped talking.

I make a beeline for the bar to avoid a confrontation and plant myself on one of the stools. One of the bartenders—a girl cute with bleach blonde hair and brown Bambi eyes—asks what I want and I channel my inner Dan to order a whiskey—neat.

Looking over my shoulder, I focus on the table of them. On Lilly, who’s smiling at something Cleo said. On Dan, who’s the only one of them who actually knows I’m here. But even he’s focused on the conversation they’re having. It’s strange—to see Dan a part of something I’m not sure he would have been before. It’s nice.

“[MC]?”

I turn my head away from the table of my friends and focus my attention across the bar on someone I should’ve expected to see. “Phil.”

“I thought I recognized your voice from when we talked.” He smiles. “I wasn’t sure, but I saw you staring longingly at them—” He nods towards Dan and Cleo and Lilly. “—and I knew. What brings you around here? I expected you to show up maybe a few months ago, but by now, I thought you’d moved on without us.”

I was tired of the words move on. Like I’d had a choice. Like the people from this town might open their arms and welcome me back into their lives. So I’d been part of the group who’d saved Hannah Donfort. So had a lot of people. It didn’t make me special and everyone here knew it.

I offer him a smile in return. “I’m looking for somebody.”

“Anybody I know?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nah. At least nobody you would recognize.” I pause. “How’s Jessy?”

“She’s—Jessy.” He answers, like that is an answer. “I don’t know if she’ll ever really be okay with the way things happened with Richy. I wouldn’t expect her to. Obviously. But I don’t know. I think I just thought she would have gone back to her normal life by now. And then I remember that most of her life revolved around him. He was her best friend. She worked for him. And I’m trying to be patient about that. But—” He shakes his head. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t know I’m in town.”

“Okay.” He hums. “So, you’re not in town for my sister. And you’re not in town for your group of friends because they’re over there and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. There’s always Hannah, but I don’t think you knew her that well. Or at all. Would I be right to assume this is about a certain hacker who helped to find Hannah?”

“He didn’t help find Hannah.” I defend. “He was the entire reason we found Hannah. I would have never been able to do it on my own. Even with the others’ help. He’s the only reason we found out about—” I pause before I say something I maybe shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. He’s the only reason we found her. Everything I did was just dumb luck.”

“That wasn’t what the news said.” A voice cuts in and I turn my attention from Phil to focus on the stranger that slides into the seat beside me. Not too close—a couple inches away. I don’t recognize him. I don’t know him. But I don’t know every person in Duskwood. Maybe a total of like nine or ten. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard you had a lot to do with finding Hannah Donfort. The news said you were some kind of hero.”

I offer him a tight smile. “That’s nice of them. But…if they knew my—friend—knew what he did to find her, I don’t think I would be as much of a hero as everybody says.”

“That’s noble.” He says, eyes meeting mine, and it strikes me at once how handsome he is. He has dark hair. Bright green eyes. Focus, [MC]. I scold. You have a…a someone.

My phone buzzes.

ERIC SENT A PHOTO.

ERIC: What do you make of this?

I sigh and click on the photo. It’s of—some object. Much like the one that was addressed to me on the envelope in Adam’s glove compartment. The image is a bit different—but I don’t know enough about what it means to have an answer as to why.

ME: Was this one addressed to me?

ERIC: Nope. Ash.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m a popular person—apparently.” A thought strikes. “Have you ever heard of a place called Redlog Pines?”

Phil frowns. “No.”

I turn to look at the stranger. “You?”

“Redlog Pines is a small town about two hundred miles north of Duskwood.” He answers. “Known for their wooded forests, much like Duskwood.”

“Why are you looking into a place with forests as creepy as ours?” Phil asks, incredulously. “Didn’t you get enough of that with Hannah’s case?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “You would think.”

“Hey, [MC]!”

I wince at the sound of Dan’s voice. Shooting Phil a look that screams please help me to which he shakes his head amusedly, I turn and plaster on a fake smile as I take in the shocked looks on Cleo and Lilly’s faces. I should have known better than to come to The Aurora and talk to Phil when the three of them were having a conversation across the room. I should have known they would sooner or later see me. I just hoped it was later.

“Hey.” I hop off my stool and make my way across the bar to them. “It’s, uh, fancy seeing the three of you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Cleo asks.

“I haven’t really figured that out.” My eyes meet Lilly’s. “It sounds crazy to say it out loud. But I was hoping that—I’m not sure if Lilly told you—”

“That Jake’s alive.” Cleo nods. “None of us ever really thought he wasn’t.”

I don’t think she means it as a dig—but it still feels like one. Like she’s saying you gave up on him you gave up on him you gave up on him even though she’s not and she didn’t really know him and the only person I can talk to at this table who even might understand is Lilly and even—Jake didn’t confide in her the way he did me.

“Right.” I acknowledge. “So I thought that maybe if I came here, I could trace his steps from when he was here and—I haven’t really thought that far ahead. It’s not like I thought he left me any clues in the forest or anything like that. I don’t think he expected me to be here. He hadn’t wanted me to be the last time we talked. But that was before everything happened.”

Lilly’s eyes track behind me. “Does Jake still have Nymos on your phone?”

“Uh.” I furrow my brows. “I think so. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but I went back and read through our messages after I talked to Alan and…my phone glitched, like it used to when Jake had hacked it. And then this message appeared on my screen.”

“And by chance, can Nymos track your location?”

“What—” I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever really asked him. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.”

“Uh huh.” She focuses on me once more. “Let’s say, for one minute, that Jake has access to Nymos who has access to your location.”

Cleo must catch onto something I’m not sure of. “Jake didn’t want you here.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She waves me off. “He didn’t want you in Duskwood. He had been adamant about that when we were talking about the mine. That’s why he went. If you showed up in Duskwood—”

“Nymos would have alerted him.” Dan finishes.

“Okay…” I’m not entirely sure I’m on the same page as them. “So—you think that Jake found out when I came to Duskwood.”

“Correct.” Lilly beams like she just solved life’s greatest mystery.

“And you think he would—come find me?”

She smiles sympathetically at me—like I’m the world’s biggest idiot for not realizing what she has been trying to say sooner. “I think he already has.”

“You think Jake’s in Duskwood.” I deadpan.

“[MC].” Cleo grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “We think he’s in this bar.”

Stranger, as I had nicknamed him—AKA the guy sitting beside me at the bar, with Phil and Redlog Pines (which he probably only knew about because of me) and the whole Hannah being kidnapped and not taking any of the credit thing—was looking back at me. So was Phil. Like they thought I was the crazy one. Like it would’ve been so hard for him to look and me and say it’s me or anything that might have clued me into the fact that—

“Jake?” I whisper, because I’ve lost quite a bit of sleep over the past couple of months and I’m not one hundred percent sure what—or who—I’m seeing is real. “Are you here?”

He tilts his head and smiles at me. Actually smiles. A bit shyly, like it’s something he’s not used to doing, but maybe like it’s something he could get used to. And I think about how terrible I probably look right now because I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is tousled from constantly pulling at it and my clothes are wrinkled from the plane and the police station and I look like a mess. But our relationship has never been about looks. Clearly. I didn’t even know the person I’d been talking to until Lilly and Cleo and even Dan pointed out the obvious.

“If I—” I close my eyes and open them again. Nope. Still there. “I need you to still be there by the time I reach you because it’s been a—” I sniffle. “—it’s been a rough few months and I don’t think I could handle you disappearing again.”

He stands from the stool he was sitting on and shuffles his feet. Like he’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to stand. If he thinks about moving, I’ll tackle him onto the floor of The Aurora and then apologize to Phil later. It feels like everything I wanted is right here in front of me. And I’m scared to death that it’s not real.

���What’s one thing you would take with you if you were stranded on an island?”

His smile stretches. “My computer.”

And that—that’s what breaks me. I think I might start blubbering like an idiot but I don’t remember the time it takes for me to cross the measly twenty feet between us. All I remember is grabbing his black hoodie—because of course—and dragging him to me. I don’t kiss him, despite how much I want to, because I don’t want our first kiss to be tainted with my snot and tears. Instead, I bury my face in his collarbone and wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

Because I can. Because he isn’t dead.

“Y—You’re here.” I pull back and cup his face with my hands. “How are you here?”

“You came to Duskwood.” He responds, and then—hesitantly—he presses his lips to my forehead in a kiss. “Alan called you.”

“He found your things in the forest.” I whisper back. “He said they’d been there a while. The police hadn’t searched the forest because they assume you died in the mine.”

“They aren’t looking for me here.” He confirms. “I didn’t expect it to take so long for them to find my belongings, but I anticipated that you would find out. At the time, it wasn’t safe for me to reach out and contact you. They kept on my trail for a while before they assumed I died in the mine with Richy.”

“Why didn’t you contact me then?” I ask. “Is it because of what I last messaged you? I didn’t mean it—I swear, I thought you were dead. If I had known you were alive, I would have waited, however long it took. I wasn’t trying to give up on you.”

“Hey.” He places both hands on either side of my face. “I know. I know that, [MC]. That was never why I didn’t reach out to you. I know you said you wanted this life with me. But I didn’t want that for you. But I was selfish. I couldn’t let you go. So I was trying to find a way to make both of those things true. But I was always coming back to you.”

“And did you?”

“Come back to you?” He asks.

I sniffle. “Find a way to make both of those things true.”

“Not entirely.” He admits. “Nymos alerted me you had boarded a plane headed in the direction of Duskwood and I—” He shook his head. “I knew I would find you here.”

“You could have found me sooner.”

He lets go of my face and he feels like he takes my skin with him. “It wasn’t that easy.”

“It could have been.” I demand.

I’m angry again. Now that I know he’s alive and okay and that he could have found me, I’m angry that he didn’t. I told him I would choose that life with him. Over and over and over. He didn’t need to make the decision for me. He didn’t need to try and protect me. And yes, maybe the fact that he did makes my heart flutter a tiny little bit, but that’s besides the point.

“I told you before you left me.” I tell him and I’m aware it sounds like we’ve been in a relationship for five years and I’m aware that everybody in here is watching and listening in on our conversation and they probably all know we’re who we are, two people involved in helping to find the kidnapped Hannah Donfort, and maybe that’s all we’ll ever be in this town. But I would rather be the girl who found Hannah Donfort in Duskwood with him than be me anywhere else. “You told me you would let me go with you.”

“That was before I told you I loved you.”

My heart skips a beat. It screams I love you I love you I love you back, but I say— “What does that have to do with anything?”

He looks somewhat amused. Like he knows I would never hold it against him. It’s clear to both of us that I wouldn’t because even though I’m glaring up at him with my furrowed eyebrows and my lips pouted, I’m still pressed tightly against him. His hands—even though they’ve moved from my face—are now resting on my hips. Pulling my tighter to him. There’s no space in between us. If it was up to me, I’m pretty sure there never would be again.

“[MC].” He says, and oh god I wish he would say my name every day for the rest of his life. “Have I—in the short time we have known each other—ever struck you as the type of person who says I love you? But with you…” His words are a whisper against my lips. “It’s easy to fall back into old emotions with you.”

“I want to be angry with you.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” I agree. “But I might be if you don’t kiss me.”

He brought one finger underneath my chin and tilted it up until our lips were separated by a fraction of an inch. My eyelids fluttered. I didn’t care that everyone in here was about to see just how much Jake meant to be. I didn’t care because I had waited too long for this. And then—just as I’m leaning toward him to press our lips together, he whispers— “[MC]?”

“Hm.” I acknowledge.

“Who’s Eric?”

My eyelids crack open and I shove at his chest. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Here I am, in front of you, covered in snot and tears and who-knows-what-else because you’re here right now, and you’re worried about some guy I don’t even know?”

“Who’s Eric?” He repeats.

“Ugh.” I run my hands through my hair and take a step back. “I don’t know. He’s the other side of Thomas or whatever you want to call him. If we lived in a different town.” I glare back at him and try not to admit that I think his jealous side is a little cute. “He messaged me. Thought I picked up his friend from some parking lot and I didn’t, but his friend sent him my number, and it was Hannah all over again. I’m trying to help them.”

“This Adam has been sending you a lot of videos.”

“You know I hate when you hack my phone.” I complain, even though I really don’t. Even though I had prayed for him to help me with this case. “I really don’t know Adam. Like—even less than I know Eric.

“But you know Eric.”

“For like a week.” I reassure. “He added me to this group chat with him and like three other friends of his. They’re desperate to find Adam who has apparently dropped off the face of the earth and I don’t know what to do. I had you with Hannah’s case. And you knew her. And they—” I look over my shoulder at Cleo and Dan and Lilly, who are pretending like they’re not listening in even though I know and Jake knows they are. “—they knew her. And obviously Adam’s friends must know him but I don’t and you don’t and there is no Jake in Redlog Pines.”

“I don’t trust him.” He shakes his head. “Any of them.”

I laugh. “Jake, you didn’t trust half the people in this bar when we first started talking.” I look over at Phil and then Dan. “It doesn’t mean they committed a crime. If I had backed off when you asked me to help you find Hannah, we may never have.”

“I thought that was all thanks to me.” He sounds smug, like that little smiley face he loved to annoy me with (AKA make me fall in love with him). “Did he flirt with you?”

“No.” I deadpan. “I think he was focused on his missing friend.”

“I was focused on my missing sister.” He shoots back.

I close my mouth. Alright. He has a point. But I wasn’t flirting with Eric. He was focused on finding Adam and I was focused on mourning—and then finding—Jake. Maybe it felt like Eric and I were two sides of the same coin. Maybe that’s why I agreed to help him. Because I didn’t want to happen to him what I thought had happened to Jake—to me.

“You’re being ridiculous.” I say instead. “How do you think I could ever entertain the idea of being with somebody else when for the past three months—more than that if you count the time we have actually had together—I’ve been focused on you? On discussing Hannah with you and then talking to you about anything and everything and then worrying about you and then hating you a little for convincing me you should me the one to go into the mine and then mourning you when it was hard to even think about you and then finding you?”

His eyes are wide. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. Which—serves him right. I know he’s not somebody who serves their feelings up on a silver platter. I know that. Obviously, I knew that from the first time I spoke to him. Back when he was nothing more than ??? and I was almost convinced that Dan was right and he was the Man Without A Face—a thought that I now hate with everything in me. But I need him to trust me. Jealousy streak and FBI and the missing persons cases aside, he needs to trust me.

“Trust me.” I cup the sides of his face again. “He’s nothing like you.”

He swallows. “Some people might consider that to be a perk.”

“I don’t.” I say.

And then I’m kissing him and it feels like coming home.

[smolvenger]

The Baronet Seeks A Wife, Chapter One.

A Crimson Peak Multi-Part Fanfiction.

Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader Arranged Marriage AU.

Summary: England in the 1890s. When your spirited sister, Charlotte, defies your family by running away from her arranged engagement to Sir Thomas Sharpe, you are the one who must keep your family from scandal and ruin...by taking her place as the baronet's bride.

Word Count: >7K words. You may want tea and scones as a repast as you read this.

Warnings: Angst, some hurt/comfort, and fluff at the end. I attempt to convey the period as accurately as I can bc if you don't like it or find it interesting why write it. Period accurate attitudes of gender and social class. Mentions and discussions of sex, but no smut (yet...let me just say...after Bridgerton season 3 episode four...I have *ideas* heheheheh). Brief mention of childbirth. The fear of domestic violence is mentioned, but not portrayed. Grammar and spelling mistakes. If I miss something and you see something that could be triggering that I didn't mention, then it is your responsibility to please please please tell me. I will take full accountability for how I portray marginalized groups and sensitive subject matter and make sure to better my writing and make sure affected parties are protected.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson @steasstuff @anukulee @kimi01985 @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @giona45-5 @goddessgirl43

London, 1898.

“I won’t marry him!” your sister cried.

You have seen this scene plenty of times. You could recount it like a play production you had seen too much. You were sitting in the parlor, trying to read a book and rest your feet. But your mother and your older sister, Lottie, were on each other’s last nerves.

‘Lottie, you have to!” your mother insisted.

You found you couldn’t focus on the words. You only sat there in stillness, watching in silence. A maid walked by the door, her eyes flicking over to the scene, but then she kept walking down the hallway.

Your mother pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed as if in pain. 

Your older sister, Charlotte, was curling her fists on her side. The red dress, the new one father ordered for her at the shop, only made her seem angrier. She was literally burning with the fire of fury.

Mama let out a huff. Then she glared at Charlotte, her arms akimbo.

“Listen to me. Right. Now.” your mother began.

You felt bad for your mother. There was a lot on her mind. To have both daughters out in society at one time. They agreed it wasn’t fair for one daughter to go about having fun when the other couldn’t. Charlotte was older, so she was more experienced in being out in society. She made her debut it seemed ages ago. You recalled your own debut. You had your turn to wear white and curtsy before the queen before she dismissed you for the next girl. You were already beaming with excitement. Ready to enter the glittering, grown-up world of the London social season. Prepared to dine and dance in pretty dresses every April until August.

But every year, it seemed the bags under Charlotte’s eyes increased. Now years had passed since then. And mam still had two daughters who were still out. And unmarried.

Charlotte dreaded going from your country home to London for the warmer months.She hated the constant balls, parties, meals, picnics. She at least liked riding her horse in Hyde Park but loathed she couldn’t go faster. She would sneak out to smoke cigars. Bugs and reptiles fascinated her more than gossip. She scribbled down notes. She turned prickly if any man asked for a dance. She spoke boldly and even swore. She enjoyed the horse races and polo games and sports, but the art of feminine flirting was beyond her.

But your parents had plenty of money and two daughters. But only so much money could support so many seasons. And as the eldest, the pressure was on Charlotte. There was the occasional brave soul who proposed marriage to her. Only to face the inevitable, flat rejection.

So Mama and Papa took matters into their own hands.

Mama met enough people who networked her to cross paths with a single baronet. They porposed a marriage between him and Charlotte, to which he agreed. Your sister was engaged after a mere three meetings with the fellow. Not that you had a chance to meet him either. So no rejection. No proposal. A ring on Lottie’s finger forcibly placed on her like a child force-fed turnips to her mouth.

“Lottie, do you know how much that dress costs? The very one on your back? Every season, your father and I make sure you and your sister have new gowns so you may be presentable in public. That is what they demand- that eligible ladies always dress in fresh new clothes. So any gentleman will not scoff at you wearing yesterday’s rag. You may not like it- but this is for your future. For your family’s future.  May I remind you- You are the eldest. You must make a good match not only for your sake- but your sister’s future. If you marry well-then she will be set up to succeed. There are plenty of decent men with more than enough money to make you comfortable here. Every year, they ask to dance with you. Every year, at least one proposes. And every year, you say no. ”

Charlotte huffed, folding her arms.

‘I didn’t want to marry them. Any of them. I wouldn’t make them happy and they wound’t make me happy at all.”

Your mother glared down.

“You have had more than enough chances to secure yourself forever. Do you want to live at the mercy of your father’s charity all of your days? If he cut you off this minute and threw you out of the house, you would have nowhere to go, and no way to survive. Lottie, do you realize how many seasons you have had? Do you realize how much we must pay more and more for you both to be presentable when you are out? Do you realize how much this is costing us and yourself?” she scolded.

She caught her breath. Charlotte was breathing hard, and you could see glimmers of tears in her eyes. Mama stepped closer.

“Charlotte…you’re no figure of pity. Not yet. You have had plenty of chances- they still call you the Wild Rose of London. Your face won over dukes, earls-so many girls would have loved to be in your shoes!” she said softly.

Mama was right. Charlotte was considered the beauty of the family. When she made her debut, heads turned to look at her. Everyone, you included, thought she would make a match easily. After all, your father was in charge of a great business that made a lot of money. You were now part of the upper crust. So a pretty face, a decent family reptutation and a sizable dowry with her bold, vivacious character would have won someone’s heart. And in a way they did. The first man who proposed to Charlotte you thought was going to be like shooting a sitting duck.

Even though “spinsterhood” did nothing to dampen  your sister’s face,you were all proven wrong. Very, very wrong. 

Lottie slouched as much as she could in her gown and frowned. A habit she never abandoned as a child.

“Your father had to take action. You will be a part of the esteemed Sharpe baronacy and he will reap the monetary benefits. He is a nice man, pleasant, charming, and he will take care of-”

“So am I nothing more than a thing you auction off at a bazaar? Not a person with a heart? With feelings?” Lottie combated.

“We were going to be driven at this rate to ill repute, and financial ruin all because you wouldn’t marry!” your mother argued.

“Then why not let me wear an old dress?” Lottie shot back. “Or have me not do a season! Let me remain a spinster and paddle my own canoe!” 

“Sir Sharpe will take care of you. He promised it!” Mama assured.

“Being stuffy old Lady Sharpe and wasting my life in balls and parties is going to drive me to insanity! An arranged marriage- mama, it’s practically medieval!” Lottie shouted.

Your mother folded her hands.

“Your father has set it in stone. There is no point in this conversation. You are going to marry Sir Thomas Sharpe, and that is final!”

Your sister jumped up. She stormed off, slamming the door shut childishly as she huffed off to her room.

Your mother turned to you. You sat in your own blue tea gown, not expecting company. For a night of no events in the London season was a special treat. All of the picnics, lunch parties, park trips, operas, theatre, and balls were fun- but back to back, it was exhausting. But hearing your mother and sister yell at each other was ten times worse than the exhaustion. 

You stood up.

“Am I….a bad mother?” she asked. You saw tears in her eyes too.

You put a hand on her shoulder, a fine, matronly gown of dark green brocade. You offered her a handkerchief. 

“I only think you are a desperate mother put into a difficult situation.”

“She won’t listen to me. Much less your father…she only listens to you anymore. I hate we must do this…and I hate myself,” she sniffled. 

You patted her shoulder.

“Mama, let me speak with her. Let me help patch things up. Make her happy,” you offered.

She nodded. You exited the library, walking up the stairs to Lottie’s bedroom. The odd servant paused in their dusting to curtsy at you. You wold give them a nod and a smile, before you continued. Walking past vases of daffodils and over velvet rugs, you found the door locked shut. Crying coming from inside.

You knocked on the door.

“Go away, papa!” she fussed.

“Lottie, it’s not papa, it’s me!” you assured her.

Your sister went over and opened the door, letting you in and shutting it after you entered. With it’s wine red wallpaper, the place seemed to be dark as the sun was dipping outside. Her desk empty of any papers and her hat set on top. Her colllections of newspapers piled on one chair near her parasol. The drawer where she hid her cigars was kept with a lock and a key she dared not tell even you.

“Lottie…I’m so sorry you have to do this, and how miserable it makes you…it sounds like a nightmare,” you admitted.

You could see tears streaming down her face.

“Do you remember when I was eleven and asked mama and papa for a pet snake? They know how much I love snakes- they’d give me little toy snakes. I wanted a real one. I’d call her Cleopatra for the irony of it. But they said no. Every year I asked and they kept saying no.would always say no. They try….but they can’t love me, or understand me. And I keep trying to please them…and I keep failing and now…they’re throwing…”

She sat on the bed and began to cry. And you hugged her.

“Here….here…” you said. “My poor girl, my poor Lottie!” you cooed. 

“I want to go places. Have adventures and jolly, capital times.  I want to run, and explore and see things! Not be stuffy old Lady Sharpe in some stupid house having babies until I’m killed from it!” she mourned.

She shoved aside her journal and laid down on her bed. Tears streaming her face.

“It’s what you deserve…Lottie. A life like that! But now,  we need to think of what we can do and not what we can’t do,” you suggested.

You paused, thinking for a second. You leaned closer as she turned away. A gentle hand on her side.

“Sir Sharpe…you’ve met him, haven’t you? What is he like?” you asked.

“He talks about his stupid inventions all day,” she muttered from her side. “And he won’t answer anything about what his dead sister was like or what was in that old mansion.”

There were only three things you knew about Sir Sharpe as of this morning. He was a baronet. He grew up in a mansion called Allerdale Hall. He lost an older sister. But that was it. Now thanks to Lottie, the sum rallied up to four.

You leaned closer, more mischief in your voice. You hushed to a whisper.

“What does he even look like? Perhaps he’s at least handsome! Maybe at least…on your wedding night…” 

Lottie turned over, wrinkling her nose. 

“I’m sorry, YN, but he’s ugly! He has a big forehead, and big ears, and a big old nose!” she cried. Her voice far too loud for the question you asked.

She grabbed her pillow and hugged it around her.

“Don’t get me started on my marital duties. I could retch at the thought of it. If Sir Sharpe even thinks of going to bed with me, I’ll box his big ears off!” she decalred.

Part of you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Even Lottie’s own pretty, pink mouth was curved up in a small smile at her own words.

“Practice on that pillow!” you dared.

She hit the pillow again and again.

“This I’ll give Sir Sharpe and -this! I’ll give Sir Sharpe!”

She reached over and got her parasol and gave it a few more good whacks. Feathers were starting to burst out from it and litter the floor.

“Heavens, at this rate you’d have killed him!” you commented. 

“He would have earned it!” she replied.

‘“Then you’ll be a criminal and I’d have to bail you out of prison!” you replied.

“Oh no! Then I guess we must be outlaws and run off and live like Robin Hood and the rest! Better than listening to Mrs. Mean drone on about governesses!”

Both of you burst into laughter. The Means lived up to their name and every reception they found a new group of people to complain about. You both heard it all and had to silently look at each other to promise to only laugh at them when it was done.

You both laughed, smilng bright. How you missed the easy days of your younger years. You could play about and get in and out of trouble. You and your sister knew where to strike to hurt each other, but couldn’t live without the other. You fought as intensely as you played. You did everything side by side. You took her hand and hugged her again, even though she was still sniffling.

Lottie sagged her shoulders. Her hold on the pillow loosening.

“But…I’m unhappy. I wake up every day with this and I’m miserable. Like I can’t get out.” she sighed.

“Think of this….” you reasoned. “I hear husbands are easier to manage and persuade then fathers! Once you have money and you’re not under their thumb, you can go about as you want and do what you want! Idon’t think Sir Sharpe would stop you….”

You paused. A horrified shiver ran through you.

“Not that I…know much about him. Do you think he….did he ever…ever…hurt you?” you asked.

She shook her head.

“No, he hasn’t been less than gentlemanly. And he wouldn’t hurt me in any way after we’re married, I’m sure.” she replied.

You both sat on the bed and held hands.

“Then don’t be afraid, Lottie…maybe marriage isn’t a prison, but your key to freedom! Once you’re a married woman, you can do whatever you want and Sir Sharpe won’t stop you. And if he does anything, tell me. And I’ll box his ears!” you replied.

Lottie’s tears were drying in trails down her cheeks. Yet she smiled in spite of herself. Then you hugged one last time.

“I should ring for some cakes and mint tea from Anne! That will cheer you up!” you said.

As you rang the bell for them. Anne, one of your maids, hurried up. She took the order and promptly left. She returned with a tray in only ten minutes. You both relaxed on chairs as the tray balanced on a mahogany table.

Turning, you saw Lottie write about in her journal.

“Oh, croissants! My favorites,” Lottie cooed. She picked up one and began to dig in.

“I’m just glad you have thing that make you happy…I just want you to be happy, Lottie,” you said.

The pastry returned to her plate.

“And…YN…”

Her mouth opened as if to speak. Then she stopped. She reached over and held your cheek. Studying you carefully, as if you were a piece of art. A work she could only admire in person once before she had to leave. Something she had to commit to memory. There was a sad smile on her face.

There was a sad smile on her face.

“I want you to be happy too…”

She kissed your forehead and you smiled. As she helped herself to a big slice of strawberry cake. Her eyes were tired, crinkly.

“I think Lady Charlotte Sharpe has a ring to it. Like the heroine of a book!” you said.

Charlotte turned to face the window. The sun melting down and the sky promising night.

“But this isn’t a book, this is reality…” she responded.

She looked at you and then at the ring on her finger. The engagement ring already commissioned. Costly and pretty, but useless and ominous on Lottie’s hand.

“I think you would have liked him...” she said.

“Sir Sharpe will be nice to have as a brother,” you replied.

She looked at you. But said nothing as she nibbled on her croissant. As the tray was partially emptied, you excused yourself. But Lottie caught your arm. You saw her lip quiver. She leaned closer, her voice quiet. And Lottie was not a person who liked to be quiet. 

“I’ll always remember that your words. That we must do what we can and not dwell on what we can’t. Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for the tea, too.”

By dinner time, she was quiet. She dressed nicely and ate modestly. Then went to bed without a word to you.  As you went back up to change for bed. How unlike her! Your sister was chattiest at night! But you but shrugged it off. She was probably just exhausted. London’s balls lasted from night until six in the morning and you would be lying if you said they didn’t take a toll on you too. And you would need some rest if there were to be callers, a garden party, and maybe a horse ride in the park  the next day.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

When you awoke the next morning, the sunlight streamed like melten butter into your room. Outside, it was another lovely day in May. People were already tittering about the Ascot opening later this month.

Your maid helped you into your day outfit of a white lace skirt and a blue skirt with flowers patterned with silk. You only hoped Lottie had improved. Before breakfast, you would check.

You knocked on her door.

“Lottie! Good morning!”

No reply.

“The chef is making us bacon! It’s going to be delicious!”

No response. 

You beat your fists against the door.

Nothing. And she was a light sleeper.

“Lottie?” you called out louder.

You realized the door was unlocked and opened easily.

She was gone. Servants followed you inside. Her bed wasn’t made, there was no sign of her.

“Is she in the garden? Is she riding in Hyde park this early? ” you asked Anne. But the maid shook her head.

Then, to your shock, you saw there was a piece of paper on it. And a ring. Coming closer, you saw it was her engagement ring.

You felt the world pause as you read her handwriting.

“Hello everyone,

You need not fear, for I am not hurt or seduced by some scoundrel.

I cannot be Sir Sharpe’s wife.

I love all of you. But I cannot do this. This is not what I want for my life.

I shall be safe, do not worry.

But do not try to reach me for some time.

All of my love.

Charlotte Y/L/N.”

Breath knocked out of you. You stood frozen. You hardly heard your parents rushing in. You didn’t feel your father snatching the letter from your hands. Looking down, they were still in the air and shaking.

Your mother began to sob.

All of your plans were canceled. A private detective was hired and Charlotte’s lady’s maid was fired for permitting this. Though the sobbing maid insisted she didn’t know where Charlotte went. All day long, people scurried about in a panic. 

You felt tears well up in your own eyes. Alone in your room, it was your turn to burst into crying.  It was already as if your dear sister was already dead.

You recalled the letter said she was unharmed. She wasn’t about to be left pregnant with some scoundrel’s bastard. She hadn’t…taken her own life and for her to return only as a corpse. As far as you knew, no news meant she was alive and safe. That would have destroyed you. Taking hope in that, you went back to put on a brave face to your family.

There was the odd caller in the afternoon. But their noses were upturned. Knowing they would report anything and everything. The slight smiles on their faces as they looked about made you want to scream.

Why didn’t Charlotte think about this? The next day, your grief boiled to a silent rage. By running off and vanishing, it meant there was a scandal. And now society would all turn their faces away from you. They would frown and whisper and gossip. The unvirtuous daughter who ran off. And no one would want to go to your parties or dinners. No one would want to see you or associate with you. And no man would ever want to marry you, knowing you were the sister of the runaway spinster of a disgraced family.

That last part pained you. Not that you knew from Charlotte there was shame in being a spinster. But…you hoped to fall in love. Not just to marry a man of stability, to meet a wonderful, nice man who made your heart patter fast. To be kissed and receive valentines and dance and have him drop to his knees, begging for you. Just like in the fictional books you loved. 

But the days dragged by. The detective returned after a week and shook his head. And the hope for anything good in your future seemed more and more like a fiction itself.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

You paced about in the gardens one afternoon. It was better to do something with your anxious energy. Two weeks and no sign where Lottie vanished. You sat by, hoping the coolness of the breeze drifting through flowers would calm you. But not even the loveliness of an English June could distract you.

Anne stepped forward and curtsied.

“Pardon me, Miss. But your father wants to have a word with you in private,” she announced.

She led you up, taking you to Papa’s study. It was a room in dark green, his favorite color. A few books lined up the walls and his desk was placed behind the window. Your father was staring outside when he turned around as you were brought in.

“Ah, sit down, my dear,” he requested.

You obeyed. Sitting on the wooden chair before his desk. Your father brought out a decanter of brandy and poured himself some in a little glass. You noticed it was a generous amount. Not that you would blame him.

He poured himself a second glass and offered it to you.

“I have some news with you, Y/N…” he began.

“Have they found her?” you asked with hope.

“No. And that is exactly why I have to tell you this…”

If there was no update, then what could it be? You wondered. You took the cup and held it in your hands. A little hesitant to drink it yet since it was still so bright in the day.  It didn’t feel right to drink such a spirit so early to you. Something was brewing- you just had to let him say it. 

“The engagement between your sister and Sir Sharpe it was…it is still and shall be beneficial. To us and to the Baronet. We must be respected by all sorts of society through connection to the baronacy. He needed the money- his own little toys wouldn’t be enough to sustain a gentleman’s life. And with Charlotte’s disappearance- you understand why we don’t have as many visitors as we do?”

“It’s a scandal, papa, I know.” you replied.

“But…we must return to society. We cannot show up defeated. We cannot let them beat us. We cannot become a laughingstock or a figure of pity.”

Where was he going with this? You held your tongue and folded your hands. The drink carefully balanced over your lap. He was only repeating everything you already knew.

“There is one way out that solves all our problems. Especially if at this point, Charlotte isn’t to be found…”

“We can’t give up on finding her, on making sure she is safe!” you insisted.

“We have more immediate matters..” he continued.

You raised the glass to your lips, taking only a sip. It burned down your throat onto your churning stomach. Your father looked directly into your eyes.

“ I have one daughter left who is out. But YN, I don’t think there are many gentleman who will want to associate with a ruined family. No gentleman will consider you marriage…But…”

“But?” you prompted.

“But there is one gentleman who doesn’t think so…” he continued.

“Who?” you asked. You put both hands over your cup.

Papa looked directly into your eyes.

“Sir Sharpe.”

Your throat tightened. Part of your vision went dizzy. You began to piece together where this was leading. Nausea gripped your insides as your hold on the glass turned into a grip.

“He knows he needs our money and to be back into society. We still need the respect of his title…and we have a daughter left who must be taken care of…”

You found yourself hyperventilating. Words choked out of you.

“Am I…am I…”

“YN, you are going to marry Sir Sharpe in your sister’s place this coming month.” he announced flatly.

A sound came out of you. You put a hand over your mouth. You now knew what Lottie felt. Your whole body went tight. You had to catch your breath. How glad you were to be sitting, for your legs were already shaking bad and your vision was spinning. You looked down at the floor, trying to pull yourself together. Your father kept talking.

“Now, I know this isn’t pleasant. Especially for a romantic such as yourself. I know you have yet to be formally introduced to him. But, Y/N, my dear- we have to be practical about these matters. There is no respectable solution to this problem at this point, if Charlotte is to not return.”

He was right. As twisted as this was, was there another option? 

Who would want to associate with a family who couldn’t keep an eye on their eldest? Who would want to invite a family who let their daughter run away to their breakfast party? Who would want to court the sister of the woman who ran off from her own marriage? Who would want to marry the daughter of disgraced family? 

The more you thought about it, the more you realized there were few options. You were now too socially stained to marry anyone. Your days would be spent alone. Sitting in your house as others lived their lives happy and free, laughing at you behind closed doors.

Your family had no other options out. 

A marriage to a man who belonged to a knighted family would earn you respect. It would be telling society that at least one man from a respectable house saw worth in you. You would still go to events not as a figure of pity and ridicule, but as one of them- even ranking above them.

You didn’t want to be a figure of ridicule. Someone who everyone would smugly turn. Whispering to each other “how glad I am that I’m not her!”

You had to marry. And marry well.

You would never be proposed to at this point. There would be no courtship. No dances. No poetry. No marriage proposals. No valentines. No love letters. No Passion. No balls. No laughter.

But there was never going to be a proposal like this.

No future. No safety. Nothing if you denied your father or refused him or rebelled as Lottie did.

You would just be tied and tethered to a ruined family all of your days. But becoming Lady Sharpe would free you from that. You could start anew. Spring again like a wild tiger breaking out of its cage to bear her claws.

And this was your only chance.

“Yes, papa. It will be an honor.” you replied. You would do your duty, as all daughters must.

Father walked out from behind, abandoning his drink. He put a hand on your shoulder and then pulled you for a hug.

“There’s my brave girl,” he said.

He released the hug.

“Alright, Sir Sharpe is going to visit at dinner tomorrow. And my associates at work will be there too, to celebrate. That way, you will have a formal introdution and you won’t be walking down the aisle to a complete stranger.”

You felt your fists grab your skirt. With your free hand, you grabbed your cup of brandy and downed it in one gulp. The burning ran through your body, and you prayed it would calm your racing mind.

“Do I need to wear my nicest dress?” you asked. You at least didn’t want Sir Sharpe to think he was settling from the society beauty. Downgraded from the Wild Rose to her frump sister.

“Considering he has already said yes to this arrangement, I doubt wearing your ugliest dress will do anything to about the matter,” replied your father.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

Anne dressed you in a cream dinner dress of country silk and velvet. Your sleeves puffed like clouds. there was lace as a “belt” around your waist. The bottom showed an underskirt that was a color between light brown and pink. Anne had hair like yours, and knew how to style it as you liked. Your dress almost white in the light. Already you were going to meet Thomas looking like a bride.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed seven o clock. You thought you would sweat through your dress. Part of you was tempted to lock the door and not step a foot out the whole night. But you knew you could not delay the meeting anymore. At this rate, you would just meet him on your wedding day. You just had to get it over with.

Besides, you were going to spend the rest of your life with him until only death or divorce did you part. You were just holding back the inevitable. 

“You look beautiful, miss,” she gushed as she looked at you.

“I wish I was as pretty as Lottie, sometimes. Or as brave as her…” you lamented quietly.

“Don’t compare yourself to her, miss. You know she has her own sufferings. And it will only make you more unhappy.” Anne advised, giving you a pearl necklace. She attached it to you from behind. 

 Both of you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Anne leaned in closer with an encouraging smile. “Just think of all this like armor to a battle, Miss Y/N. You can’t give up the fight, yet.”

I can be brave, like Lottie. I can fight, like she can. You thought. How could you be as stupid as to forget your own advice to her not long ago? You would do your best to find the way to make it a good situation. Manipulate your position and standing to your favor, even. For that was what women always did. For being the “weaker sex”, they always found a way through to survive. So what made you think you would just cry and pity yourself all of your days?

You reminded yourself of this. Still you felt heart racing hard as if the gallows was what awaited you next month and not the altar. Holding your head high, like a queen in her palace, you walked out of your room and downstairs.

A few women had shown up in the foyer. They eyed you greedily but you would not give them a figure to be pitied. You kept a stoic face as they offered a few tepid congratulations. But you felt so buzzed with anxiety, you only half heard.

“We’re so happy you found a husband,” said one.

Husband- husband! A husband! A fiancee! How was it that it happened already? And with no romantic proposal in a moonlit garden away from a ball. Just in an office that smelled of whiskey with your father relaying that you were now engaged. And your husband- no, you weren’t married yet, no need to panic now. Though you saw no men around, you knew that your fiancee was under this roof. 

You didn’t feel ready. You felt like you were just an adolescent playing dress up and not a grown adult. 

“Ah! There you are, YN!” your father greeted as he walked over, dressed in his evening tuxedo. He offered his arm.

“He’s in the library, sharing a drink with the other men. I think it’s time I introduce you both,” he announced.

Swallowing, you took his arm. The one thing keeping you afloat in the ocean of turmoil raging inside you.

Papa walked you over to the library. Your heart picked up as if you were running. In just a few short seconds, you would see the man you were bound to for the rest of your life. Your mind was itself running at a hundred miles a second and you felt yourself shaking like a leaf.

Father turned to the door and your fears screamed inside of you.

You dreaded what your sister said. Her voice ringing in your ears bemoaning Thomas’s apparent ugliness.

“He has a big forehead and big ears and a big old nose!”

He was ugly. You had to settle for that. But what made you were frightened was that perhaps he was a bad person. Perhaps he would hurt you, betray you, break you even.

Wait…didn’t Lottie say herself he wouldn’t treat her in that way? But…you weren’t Lottie! He could act completely differently…

No…you were forming an entire judgement on someone you hadn’t even met!

But, even if he wasn’t handsome…perhaps he would be a nice man. Men didn’t have to be handsome to be good. They could be kind, respectful, patient, gentle, genuinely kind husbands.

So which one was he? A kind, pure soul? Or an irredeemale monster?

Both? In between? Neither? There was only one way to find out. And the answer was standing with the other men beyond that wall.

You took in a deep breath, your father opened the door.

The dark green, musty library already smelled of cigars. Lottie would have loved it. There was a bit of laughter, as their smoke floated to the air. Cups of whiskey was passed and there was talk of this and that issue in Parliment. So many men in black suits like a horde clamored around, as if each one was copied from the other.

Your father cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, may I introduce to you my daughter, Miss Y/L/N.”

Once, it was Lottie who was “Miss Y/L/N” and you just went by Miss and your first name after. But now that she was gone, you were promoted up. You were Miss Y/L/N and the family’s fortune and future were already on you like a yoke you had to drag across the field.

“It appears that for one of you, you are about to be a very lucky man next month…” your father continued.

One by ones, heads turned to see you. Some in curiosity. Some in boredom. Some in hunger seeing your neckline. You were already making guesses as to who your fiancee was with each passing face. Already one man had a curled mustache. Another had grey hair with busy sideburns. Another round spectacles and short brown hair with a mousy face. Most of them were wrinkled, lined with grey, with a gruffness to their demenaer.

“Sir Sharpe,” your father announced, turning his head.

Your eyes followed at once. That is him- you thought. That  is him! That is him, that is him, thatishimthatishimthatishim-

An old man patted a hand on the shoulder of another. The younger had hair had longer, dark curls He was so deep in conversation with someone that he almost forgot. The grandfather nudged him. The younger figure paused.

“Thomas! I believe your lady is here.”

Then he turned around. 

Thomas Sharpe was the handsomest man you had ever seen. 

The breath you had was knocked out again as you took him in. What on earth was Lottie thinking? Looking at him, you began to question her taste and strength of vision.

Thomas was a tall man with a hair full of raven curls. Slender, but not thin for he had a broad chest. Soft blue eyes that only contrasted with his dark hair and a face the color of porcelain. You now understood the fairy tale of Snow White and why she was the fairest in all the land. For the male equivalent was here before you. He had high cheekbones and large hands. He looked like the hero of a Bronte novel, but one if the author confirmed his handsomeness rather than his ugliness. 

He looked into your eyes and he smiled at you. Butterflies fluttered around your stomach and you could feel your eyes widening.

Your father gestured at him and he walked over.

“Sir Sharpe, this is my daughter.Your fiancee.” your father announced.

“Miss, I am glad to finally be acquainted with you. You look beautiful, tonight,” Sir Sharpe greeted. 

He raised your hand to his lips and looked right into your eyes as kissed your hand. A gasp could not even escape your throat. Something was stirring beneath you when his lips touched your gloved hand. You felt a sensation you dared not name in the most private part of you. 

Finally, steeling yourself back to the earth, you remembered basic etiquette.

“Thank you, Sir Sharpe. I am glad to make your acquaintance as well,” you replied with a curtsy.

Sir Sharpe sat across from you at dinner. You hardly said a word unless someone asked you something. 

You couldn’t believe this. You couldn’t believe him. You somehow found your appetite again and ate. But you felt self conscious with each bite. Thomas was watching you- what was he seeing? Would he judge you? You moved even more carefully and properly as you could.

 Every time your eyes met,  Every time he looked at you, a heat rushed through your whole body and your eyes would return demurely back to your plate or the napkin on your lap. When he smiled at you, you felt as if you could die. You had to remember your feet was touching the ground as you wiggled your toes in your pointed shoes.. 

He spoke poliely when asked to, but mainly listened. There was polite talk about the weather or the Ascot opening race. Thomas would ask you about what you thought and you found your replies were timid. You didn’t want to make a wrong move, you didn’t want him to hate you, you didn’t want-

Then your father stood up, raising a glass.

“Now, everyone,” he declared. “Let us have a toast. To Sir Sharpe, the delightful Baronet who I have the honor to call my son in law not long from now. And to the marriage of my beloved, dutiful daughter-”

You found yourself looking down. Dutiful, dutiful. This was why you were here. Lottie was not dutiful and broke everything. But now here you were to fix it all. For everyone’s sakes, including yours. It would have be you thrown to face the unknown of marriage to this unknown aristocrat. Yes, he was handsome. But he was still a stranger.

“Cheers!” toasted your father.

Everyone replied with cheers as they clinked glasses. Thomas gave you another smile and clinked yours. You felt yourself become timid. His looks, his smiles, and you were acting no better than an loony adolescent.

Thomas delayed going to after-dinner sips of brandy with the other men. He remained in the parlor with the women sipping on coffee and went to you. He led you over to a corner away from nosy mamas. He spoke lowly, for you to hear.

“How are you, Miss Y/L/N?” he asked.

“If I must be entirely honest, I am afraid,” you confessed.

His eyes softened at you. They were the color of a spring sky. You had never seen eyes as blue as his.

“YN, I know this is sudden. And I’m shocked as you are. But…”

He offered his hand and you took it. Your glove over his skin. Then he placed his other over yours, and already you found yourself chilled comparing his large hand to your own. To feeling that one bit of touch. For now you were almost married, and to touch was permitted.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me…I will try to make you happy, with everything I can.” he promised.

“Nothing will happen to me. You won’t hurt me. And you won’t let anyone hurt me, will you?” you asked.

A shadow of sadness passed over his face.

“No. I won’t.”

[justalittletotheleft]

“c’mere princess peepee pants! let mommy check your diapey!”

you waddle over, face on fire as you present your pamper to mommy.

a few months ago, you agreed to just give diapers a try. now, you call your girlfriend mommy and get 24/7 baby treatment at home.

it was so much fun at first! the sensation of making humpies in a warm, wet, squishy diaper on mommy’s leg? better than any sex a man’s ever given you.

messing was a little hard at first. lots of blushing, a few tears, and tons of cuddles and reassurance from mommy made it all better though. she was just so gentle and caring, never making you feel bad for your “stinkies”.

but then came the edging. mommy sat you down one day and explained how you’re far too little to have big girl sex anymore. you seriously can’t expect her to give head to an adult who’s not even potty trained? you went from sex twice a day, to being brought to the brink every diaper change.

after a few weeks, you got desperate. resorting to humping anything you could while out of mommy’s eyesight. the couch, stuffies, blankets, even just the countertop once. of course she caught you, if the stifled moans didn’t give you away, it was definitely the loud crinkling of your diapers.

mommy’s not cruel, so seeing how badly you needed release, she gave you a new rule. you can cum whenever you want to, as long as it’s in a wet diaper.

sure, it’s humiliating sticking your hand down or humping a pissy diaper, but you could care less, you get to cum whenever you want! who cares if it’s embarrassing and infantile?

“hm, you seem pretty soaked honey, but no messies for mommy yet…”

she gropes the seat of your diaper. it’s true, you’ve been trying to hold off messing until you can get some more free time to make cummies.

“mommy’s going to give you a new rule, okay little girl?”

you nod, always wanting to obey mommy, even if oblivious to her intentions.

“from now on, you can only make cummies in wet and messy diapeys! i’m worried about your poor little tummy sweetheart, you haven’t given mommy a present in your pampies in days! you know it’s bad to hold it in princess, you could hurt yourself!”

you shake your head, beginning to whine and protest.

“nuh-uh baby, i won’t hear it! it’s for your own good darling! let’s get you changed okay?”

you whimper as mommy leads you over to your changing mat.

it’s already embarrassing enough to hump a wet diaper, but a messy one? it’s so gross and smelly, and it gets everywhere! even your princess parts!

mommy quickly disposes of your soggy padding. you watch, a little forlorn, as she dumps it into your diaper pail. that was supposed to be your next orgasm!

she pats your bum, and you lift it for her, sliding a nice clean diaper underneath you. you automatically lift your legs so she can start powdering your pussy.

instead of the nice soft power puff though, you feel something tiny and slick go into your bumhole. before you can even react.

looking over to mommy, in shock, you see her closing up the suppository jar.

“just a little something to help you along princess! don’t you wanna make cummies soon?”

she rubs the powder puff against your clit teasingly, as you stifle a moan.

as mommy finishes taping your diaper and sitting you up, you feel your bowels start to churn. you definitely don’t have long before your pristine padding sags and turns brown. at least you get to cum soon…

[mylonelydreaming]

For me, Link being "unhealthily obsessed with Zelda and finding her to the point Ganondorf is a footnote" isn't something that I think is "bad" at all, but precisely what makes this version of him remotely interesting (to me) when Nintendo is otherwise so adamant about keeping him a stoic knight most of the time.

It adds a different layer to him, turns him from this perfect, bland stoic boy into someone who only outwardly appears that way, appears like he has everything together, but is in fact flawed inside and a little broken from what has happened to him. A little off. That makes him much more interesting to me. It gives him a major character flaw that can be exploited by his enemies, and what do you know, Ganondorf and the Yiga Clan do exactly that (they even remark on what good bait she makes).

I also find it interesting to think about when he became this way. Was it the years he spent with her in-between games? Was it well before that, when he was aimlessly chasing that "beautiful voice" even before he remembered who he was? Was it some point before the Calamity? Did he become a knight in the first place not merely to follow his father's footsteps, but to one day protect her? I find this compelling to think about. Is making a specific person your life's purpose unhealthy in real life? Yes. It's also very interesting in a story.

And also on that note, isn't him becoming at least a little too obsessed with her a completely natural thing to happen?

For me, if you take away Link's (yes, I'll admit, unhealthy although I kind of like that), obsession with Zelda, then all that is left is the exact ways that people who hate not only zelink but Link himself describe him as all the time: A robot who feels nothing but duty.

And sorry, but I just find that very boring. Dull. Unexciting. I also, then, can't see why on earth Zelda would have feelings for Link if she's just a duty to him and her acts of affection, like sewing him a new tunic, are never returned. Frankly, I think she deserves a lot better than that, to have her feelings reciprocated and a happy ending after all that she's been through.

And to be honest, why would any writer make her feelings unreciprocated when she's basically the main focus of these two games? How does that make any sense? I also doubt any professional game dev working on a deadline would waste precious time writing and coding dialogue about it into the games if it supposedly wasn't meant to mean anything? I honestly rather dislike people brushing off things like Kass's song, because it ignores that it was purposefully written by the game's creators to tell the player something. It not only feels disrespectful to whoever wrote it, but ignores an extremely common convention of video games. I don't think it's really very fair to call it "bad writing" simply because it delivers the information like a video game and not like other visual mediums would have. Video games have always demanded the player to read things, investigate and read between the lines. Especially so when they are more focused on gameplay, which is exactly where Nintendo's focus lies.

And when it comes to "it should have been more obviously shown", well, look how people complain even when it's subtle? If you're someone who hates it, why complain about the romance not being overly blatant? Isn't that good? I mean, clearly an even bigger fit about it would have been thrown if they had been even more obvious, so personally, I think that the way Nintendo went about it was perfectly fine.

[user211201]

Ape boy

--- Originally posted on 2017-01-10 on realhankmccoy ---

“Just don’t make me dumb, man, I want to keep everything about my mind totally intact,” I told my friend at the lab.

I was totally willing to go through the procedure but I didn’t want it messing with my intellect any – my job and lifestyle were too important to me.

They promised me a whole new masculine experience, that they could bring out the man in me in ways that were easily accessible through epigenetic therapy.

I’d be fitter, more energetic, more attractive and just altogether healthier. It was in the beta testing process and they said they’d throw in $3000 if I signed off, too. I’d only need to take a few weeks off work for an outpatient trial.

“That didn’t seem so bad,” I said after the doctor finished up removing the slow drip from my arm and the infusion was complete. Took two different bags of fluid but I mostly felt fine, if a little faint at first.

I got home and realized I was pretty tired so I stripped down and went to bed. I started noticing the changes the next day already. I did have more energy. My face seemed handsomer, just a tad. After two days I was feeling pretty into this.

It was the third day when I started noticing that I was getting beefier.

That was cool, I thought, but then I noticed I was feeling hornier, too. I ignored it at first, but by the end of the day I was jacking off in my bedroom, hard. I got up off my bed, still stroking my dick, to check myself out in the mirror.

“Looks hot,” I thought, stroking it slowly. If this stuff made my sex drive a little stronger, that was fine with me.

I started getting obsessed with checkin’ out the changes in the mirror, and I had so much energy that I started working out. I’d be doing pushups on my hardwood floor and getting excited over how I was going to flex in front of the bathroom mirror after I finished a set of 50.

I went back to the lab and they didn’t seem to think it was a problem.

So I figured, what the hell, I might as well enjoy this. Pretty soon I was hanging out in just my underwear all the time. That didn’t make me dumb, I knew, it just felt good. I might as well get into it, I figured.

Only problem is I got used to it pretty quick. I hate wearing clothes now, dudes.

I looked in the mirror one day and I just looked so fucking good with these thick pecs and the thicker stubble on my face. I figured I should have fun with a haircut so I got kind of a high and tight, cut real short though, and that just turned me on. Even my facial structure has changed from this shit they’re doing to me. My ears look like they stick out more, like some dumb ape or something, and that just makes me hard. I’ve hot this thick abdomen and these beefy deltoids. I feel like I look more like a football dude, even, and I started watching football even. Might as well have fun while I’m stuck in outpatient anyhow.

They told me it wouldn’t alter my mind any but it’s like I’m addicted to working out, flexing in the mirror, taking selfies, hooking up – with dudes – I just find em on my phone. I stopped reading. I look at these hairy legs and I get hard just touching em, I rub a hand across my pecs and my nipples are hard right away and I feel my cock jump up wanting a piece of the action. All I can think about is my goddamn cock, man.

So I took another week off work because I’m not ready to go back, and told myself on Monday I’d start getting ready to get my life on track. I just procrastinated the whole day, jacking off in bed, mostly, slowly stroking it. I guess my new bod’s so awesome that it’s just depressing to think of going back to the office.

My alarm goes off on Tuesday, and I throw it against the wall and say fuck it. One more day of fun’s not gonna hurt. Dudes, I look so fucking good. At least I’ll be productive today, I tell myself. So I start off the day with a ton of pushups, make myself a protein shake, and I look so ripped in the mirror that I figure I’ll score myself a hookup off Grindr. Guy comes over, and his hairy, hard pecs crushed against mine – my rubbing the short beard I’ve got started all up on his asshole, and that turns him on enough that he’s letting me lift his legs and plow the shit out of him..

After he’s gone, I’m back in front of the mirror saying “you fucking stud. Yeah you fuckin’ ape boy. Fuckin’ just want to fuck with dudes, don’t you, gay boy. Yeah you jocked up fuck. Just want to get naked and fuck, don’t you?”

Still hard, still horny, so just stroking my dick slowly while I put the game on for ambience. I don’t know how Thursday’s gonna shake out but today I just went out and bought a basketball hoop for the driveway so I could burn off some of this energy. Felt fuckin’ great, too, goin’ out in the sun in just some shorts and Nikes working on my game. Soon as I was back indoors though, man, just stripped back down to my underwear – I can’t stop admiring this body. Gotta get another dude over here to mess around with. Fuck work, man, you only live once, right?

Think I’m gonna pick up a big screen for the bedroom because that’d be pretty cool, and I just found out gay dues have their own hockey leagues you can join so I’m thinking of that. How hot would that be – those dudes are fuckin’ built, man, and I could pick it up pretty quick I bet.

Fuck, let me know if – oh, fuck it, I’m gonna order a pizza and see if I can find a hot hookup for tonight. Some dude with pecs as thick as mine and who’s like me slapping this cock all over his tongue for a couple of hours while I tease the shit out of his hot jock ass. Yeah man. Fuckin’ hot, man, I could pump a full load into some dude’s muscle butt and be ready to score again two hours later. That’s how good I feel. Friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it as long as it’s none of that lovey-dovey or dramatic shit – I’ve got em on the phone. Sex, muscle, good food and workin’ out, so glad I met those lab rats.

[hyoqa]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: two secret admirers except he is actually insanely down bad for you its crazy

warnings: mentions the readers face 'flushing', it's kind of from hoshinas pov it's mostly his thoughts and voices, I cannot tell if hoshinas ooc but he's rather quiet with a whole ton of thoughts so idk if that's not it for you pls beware

Unlike one would expect, he was rather one to just sit back and admire. This is not to say he'd let a random guy just snatch you away, but he often couldn't do much more than just admire. It even surprised himself whenever he caught himself watching from afar again, but it really did make sense. He was one of hard work that no one would see, for as long as he could remember. Attention was not something he was used to, nor was it something he craved intensely. So what you had going on was fine for him, he was the happiest he's been just working with you every day.

However, sometimes at night, he'd wonder what it would be like if the one he loved, loved him back. What if he could make you smile and get you flustered? He wanted to know, but he convinced himself he didn't need to, nor could he.

Yet, one day those humble thoughts did a complete 180. He couldn't help it anymore, you had to be his.

It was no special day, at least not until you came along at least. It wasn't that big of a deal— it really wasn't, but the way your face flushed when his hand accidentally grazed your cheek would never be forgotten.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he had said, immediately. He spun you around and touched the place he grazed, asking if you were okay.

"I'm, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," you said avoiding eye contact. You didn't mean to be rude but you knew your face was bright red and you couldn't dare see his expression.

But you should've. You absolutely should've. His heart clenched at the sight and his eyes widened, he was undeniably in love with you, anyone could tell. He didn’t know if he had any effect on you, or if you were just not used to people touching your cheek, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He would be damned to let anyone see that look on your face, let alone cause it, so there was no choice but to make you his. He wanted you so badly, but he just didn't know how.

Now all through the day, he found himself thinking about you— he didn't think it could possibly get worse. He noticed everything you did more than ever. He noticed how your horrible sleep schedule was finally a little better, he noticed how you noticed everyone's new achievements and always remembered to compliment them, he noticed how you'd still sneak out in the middle of the night to train when you just couldn't fall asleep. He knew all these things, and yet he didn't know what to do.

A few weeks had passed and he was training late into the night again, but his thoughts were filled with you. It was getting late and he was finally going to call it a night, and that was when he finally noticed you by the door. When your eyes first met, he truly thought he was hallucinating— thought that the fatigue and the constant thought of you had made him go insane. Until you spoke, that was.

“I apologize,” you said in a hurry, your eyes shooting around until they slowly met his again. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

‘Didn’t mean to stare’? ‘Stare’? How long had you been there for? You were waiting for him to say something, but that was not even on his mind at the moment. As smart as he was, there were constantly thoughts flooding his head and all he had were questions. Why were you here? Why did you stay? Why were you still up? Were you having a hard time sleeping? Did he wake you up? Was he making a lot of noise? No, your room should be far enough away from the training room. Then why were you all the way here? Did you want to train too? Was he in the way? Were you—

“I’ll um, leave you to your training,” you said quickly, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “Sorry to bother you.”

You were turning away to leave when he reached out for your wrist. His mind was still blank but naturally the question he wanted answers to the most slipped right out of his mouth.

“Why…” he asked softly, eyes wide with surprise. “Why… were you here?”

You were just as surprised and you also didn’t know how to respond. “I couldn’t sleep, unfortunately,” you said slowly. It wasn’t a lie, you really were struggling to sleep— however you did turn the corner in the hall to see if the lights in the training room were on, and you did hope he was the one still up late. Yet, to your surprise his expression relaxed and he almost looked disappointed as he carefully released the grip on your wrist.

“But you need to get some rest as well,” you said, wanting to say something, anything, to keep you in this moment.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. He was getting no rest tonight, he knew he was going to be up late just thinking about you or thinking about how he’s mildly heartbroken. He was tired of being stuck in his thoughts though and, maybe from the fatigue, it slipped out of him. “I wish you were here to see me.”

He only realized what he had said after he heard himself say it. Immediately the thoughts were back. Oh but it was quiet… perhaps you hadn’t heard it? Not a chance. What does he say next? Does he play it off? That would be such a scummy move. Oh, why would he do that? He had gotten so far keeping his feelings to no one other than himself, keeping quiet, admiring from afar, why now?

“I was!” you said, immediately. “I was here to see you!”

What did you say?

“I was hoping you were the one still training. I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” you said clearly.

He was about to embrace you when he caught himself right before he threw his arms around you. His hands were placed on your shoulders and his face was so close to yours. “Sorry, I’m literally drenched in sweat,” he said. “That would’ve been disgusting.”

“I don’t mind, I can always shower again,” you said, more eager for the hug than anything else.

“No, you need to sleep, it’s late,” he said, but he had to admit that pulled at his heart.

“Okay, then this will have to suffice,” you said and kissed him quickly.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Not to be dramatic, but this was the moment he had been dreaming of for so long now.

His head was hanging, avoiding any eye contact— he didn’t want you to see his face flushed.

“I am so insanely in love with you.”

[sasvictori-blog]

Spoilers I guess? Of AvM 35

I love the new episode, the music, the humor and see King again after 5 episodes of avm, but I hate not being at home and drawing on my phone

Btw the little 2 seconds of the king duo in the episode and their reaction are just perfect to one of my littles head canon

So basically

Hc: King (for obvious reasons, at least for me) keeps having some resentment and hate towards Minecraft but at least is not trying to destroy it anymore and recognize the game itself wasn't responsible for gold dead but he keeps himself away from anything Minecraft related, keeping the portal only and exclusively because of purple (to make it easy for the kid to get in their favorite game)

So yeah it is funny to me imagine purple literally pulling him to Green's show saying things like "is just some music come on nothing bad is going to happen, you'll see how good green is with that stuff" he accepted because he is a music fan, he even take with him his fancy binoculars and then bam! the green one almost died in like two occasions, a plague becomes freak, he gets a first line sit to see how irresponsible the color gang can be with the staff and blah blah blah, the poor man is in shock and purple is just trying too not see how actually bad the things ended up (and their bestie almost becoming a pancake but meh they almost get red to do the same in a silly prank)

I want to say that I'm going to make a mini comic about all this but I know myself, I'll probably just don't do it but who knows maybe yes

So yeah that's it

(I'm still learning english so if something is bad write or I don't make myself clear I'm sorry and I always accept corrections!)

[hellfirecvnt]

Hallelujah, What a Payday

Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Baby Billy's on the search for his next co-star.

Warnings: Sex with that weird, old man (at the very end.) Religious trauma but with zero detail at all. If I refer to anything as "nonsense" or whatever, that's not about any religion and is only about the silly Gemstone activities.

Notes: Tiffany just doesn't exist here. I love her too much to write that she got left or something. This should've been two parts, but I promised we were gonna fuck him, so. We're also gonna ignore the Baby Billy body-double pp they show in the first episode. Don't even fucking act like that dastardly old man isn't packing.

"Five minutes, Y/N!" The angry stage manager screams backstage. You perfect your lipstick in the mirror and stand to straighten up your ensemble. You sing a few nights a week at a local lounge/venue for extra money. You're a local hit and it pays the bills.

Across the entire building, a man pays his way inside, tired after days of wasted effort. He sighs as he takes a seat, alone in a VIP booth. They're not cheap, but even if he hadn't sat there, anyone can tell he has money just from the way he dresses.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight's entertainment." A smooth voice vibrates over the intercom. You gracefully file out onto the small stage, illuminated well by a single spotlight amongst the mood lighting throughout the lounge. The tired man taps a finger on his table, watching with boredom as he waits for his drink to arrive.

"I'm all out of hope. One more bad dream could bring a fall..." Your voice rings through the air like honey sweetens tea. The lone man at the VIP booth nearly gives himself whiplash with the rate at which he turns to face the source of the illustrious talent. You continue to sing your cover, and slowly he begins to recognize the song.

Your eyes meet his, as you do at every show to engage with the audience.

"It's easy to deceive. It's easy to tease," you slide your hands down your sides, swaying back and forth sensually for this verse. "But hard to get release."

The pianist serves as backup vocals, delivering the iconic lyrics: "Les yeux sans visage."

"Eyes without a face; got no human grace. You're eyes without a face." Your vocals swell and the man stares at you, inspired. His mouth hangs agape with a hopeful smile.

After you finish your set of five songs, you take a small bow and excuse yourself to the bar. The well-dressed man all but trips over himself as he scrambles to meet you over there.

"Double vodka cran, please, Henry." You tell the bartender and he nods, starting your order.

"That's some voice you got there, darlin'." The man appears next to you, smiling a large, white, evangelical grin.

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"Well, I more than enjoyed it. You got yourself a gift, now." The man extends his hand. "I'm Baby Billy."

"Baby?" You look at him, perplexed. He explains his backstory a little, insisting you should at least know who his sister is.

"You ain't never heard of Aimee-Leigh Gemstone?"

"Of course I have, I just don't listen to a lot of gospel." You shrug, truthfully hoping the conversation could end there.

"Well, darlin', do you ever sing gospel?" His eyes twinkle in the dimly lit bar area.

"I don't think that'd fare well for me here. This place looks fancy, it's costly to get in, but it's just a bar at the end of the day. No one wants to be preached to." You take a sip of your drink and he watches you closely, noting the pout of your lips as you press them to the glass.

"No, not here. Here." He lies a pamphlet out in front of you, sliding it closer along the bar. "I'm the head preacher at the new church in Locust Grove. Opens in a month."

"A man of God, huh?" You mumble as you skim over the pamphlet. "Does this gig pay?"

"God never asked us to exploit our talents for free." Baby Billy grins. You look him up and down. He's a walking red flag, but it's clear he's got money and as a broke woman on your own, you can never have enough.

"I'm free on weekends. I'll adjust my availability when I know you're serious." You say, stone-faced. Baby Billy hands you his card, passing it smoothly between his index and middle finger. You take it and stand from the bar, walking away, and disappearing into the green room to prepare for another set in an hour. He watches you, still sporting a wide smile as you stand. His eyebrows twitch in short-lived confusion. He pushes all that aside, only one thing matters now. He has his co-star.

Friday afternoon rolls around and Baby Billy attends your show, beaming at you from his expensive, empty VIP booth. He's practically got dollar signs for pupils.

"Friday is a weekday, Billy." You call over your shoulder as you excuse yourself to the bar.

"Baby Billy," he corrects, clinging to his childhood fame with all he has. "It's a brand, now. And who said I'm here for work? Can't a man just enjoy the show?" He follows you to the bar, taking a seat next to you.

"Well, did you enjoy it?" You turn to him with an amused smile. "The show?"

"It was even better the second time around."

"Thank you, Baby Billy," you say, with a knowing emphasis on 'baby.' "I guess I'll be calling you tomorrow, then."

"I'll be ready when you are, darlin'." He smiles warmly and you begin to wonder if you'll ever see him without that goofy, toothy grin stretched across his face.

Saturday morning, you're up, bright and early. You think nothing of the process of getting ready, throwing on a T-shirt and jeans along with various accessories you only get to wear on your days off, so you take every chance.

"This ain't a repeat of that... Lost soul you brought in last time, is it?" Eli settles back in his seat. He's sitting in one of the thousands of seats in the Gemstone Auditorium along with his three children, Judy, Jesse, and Kelvin. Baby Billy stands before them.

"No, damn, Eli. She's perfect for the job. She's got the face, she's got the voice, and most importantly, she's got stage presence." Baby Billy makes a grand case, convincing the Gemstone family that he's found an angel on Earth. Which is why it's all the more shocking when you walk in looking like an entirely different person than the woman he met at the lounge.

Everyone falls silent, they turn to face you as you walk through the door. The second you come into clear view, Judy Gemstone does a poor job of stifling a hateful chortle. Baby Billy meets you halfway, keeping you off to the side before you're front and center in front of everyone.

"The fuck you look like that for?" He asks with a peculiar sense of genuine confusion/ curiosity.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd be a dress rehearsal." You narrow your eyes, placing a hand on your hip.

"When you called me this morning I thought I made it clear what kind of... Environment you might find yourself in." He waves his hands around as he says this.

"Is this an audition or did you scout me out?" You ask with a smirk, looking him up and down.

"Well, hear me out, now. Because if it were up to me, you're hired. But you need to hop up on there and prove to these assholes that I know what I'm doing."

"Playing dress up costs extra," You whisper. Without leaving time for him to respond, you walk ahead of him and confidently offer a handshake to Eli. The two of you become acquainted and he welcomes you to the stage.

As you step out onto the grand platform, it's awkwardly empty. You find yourself almost nervous, which is out of character for you. You've been performing since you were young.

"What am I singing for you today, Dr. Gemstone?" You ask, sensing a little bit of decorum could go a long way here.

"Looks like she's about to start blasting Rob fuckin' Zombie," Jesse, the oldest Gemstone son, quips under his breath. You narrow your eyes at him, clocking his appearance on the spot.

"I think I know what you wanna hear," you smile politely, pointing directly at Jesse. After a quick speed walk to the sound tech, you queue up the track for the song you've chosen. The music starts, and the two youngest Gemstone siblings burst into laughter. Even Eli chuckles.

"Hello, Darlin'. Nice to see you," you start. "It's been a long time, you're just as lovely as you used to be." The joke about Jesse's appearance quickly fizzles away as the Gemstones take in your voice. Baby Billy stands off to the side, gauging their reaction, absolutely elated.

"I told you he was trying to be Conway fuckin' Twitty," Judy whispers to Kelvin.

"Come back Darlin'. I'll be waiting for you..." You finish your song and take an unserious bow. You secure the job, and Eli even commends Baby Billy for finding you. After researching the Gemstones a little bit the night before, you quickly begin to realize how much money you could potentially make here.

"That was fantastic! That old fucker didn't think I could do it," Baby Billy gushes.

"And what did you do, just now?" You side-eye him.

"I found a star." He emphasizes his words with his hands. He's a charismatic and handsome man even given his older age.

"What's next? I'm sure this next month will be pretty busy with rehearsals." You laugh, already contemplating quitting your recurring lounge gig.

"Well, sure. We'll put in the work and all, but," he looks at you expectantly.

"What?" You ask, but he only gestures with his hand as if you should've caught on by now. "Oh, Baby Billy. I don't know if I'll be attending church tomorrow. I'm um, not a Christian."

"Huh," he says, dryly. You scrunch your nose, awaiting an uncomfortable lecture. "You work in this industry for so long, you forget some people aren't religious." He shrugs and you feel a sense of relief.

"I'm not busy today. Care to show me around the Locust Grove church? It's nice to know what I'm going into." He holds the door for you as you step out into the bright parking lot.

"I'd love nothing more." He grins.

At the Locust Grove location, you're wowed by the remodeled mall-turned-megachurch. He gives you the grand tour, specifying that you'd have your own area to get ready before each service.

"This is... A lot," you laugh.

"You're about to make it much more, darlin'." He ushers you up to the stage with him. "Let's give it a go, see how we sound together."

"What song are you thinking?"

"You don't know any gospel?" He peeks over his glasses at you.

"Not really," you shrug. "Well, I know Angel Band and I know Down to The River to Pray from that movie I like."

"Good fuckin' God." He sighs. "Down to The River." He counts off and starts the first verse. His voice is southern, crisp, and clear. You quickly decide in your head what fashion of singing would best compliment his. The chorus approaches and you ready your breath.

"Oh, sisters, let's go down. Let's go down, come on down," your voices melt together pleasingly. You can tell by the look on his face that he likes what he hears. The song ends for the two of you after that first chorus, that's all he needed to hear.

"It's about time something worked out for ol' Baby Billy," he shakes his head. "Now, the next matter to discuss is... Wardrobe."

"Yeah, I figured 'sunday best' would cut it, right?"

"Well, not quite." He leads you to a room past the storage area full of broken, useless mannequins. He walks up to a large armoire and pulls it open. Inside is one dress. It's wrapped in a layer of protective plastic that's done wonders to preserve it. It's campy and dated, though you can tell it was high dollar fashion for its time.

"Baby Billy, I'm not wearing this." You look at him, as if hoping he'll tell you he's joking.

"What? Why not? Now that was Aimee-Leigh's favorite dress," he glances back and forth from you and the dress.

"Okay and it's beautiful, but it looks like it's a hundred years old." You look at the striking piece of clothing again. "This is helpful, though. If this is the kind of look you wanna go for, I think I can make it work."

The two of you spend the rest of your time in the unopened church getting acquainted. You find him charming and entertaining. He finds you beautiful and unintentionally hilarious. You make him laugh often. It's like his own personal ray of sunshine on his shoulder.

It's late when you head to leave. You hardly noticed how long you'd been there. As you open the door to the dark parking lot, you turn to bid Baby Billy goodbye.

"Well, hold on, now, darlin'. Let me walk you to your car." He follows you out the door and to your vehicle. You roll the window down to thank him for the job, pulling your seatbelt over your head.

"I'll see you...?" You wait for him to tell you what day he plans to start practice.

"Monday afternoon, if you can make it." He places a hand on the roof of your car. "Now, listen. I know you ain't the religious type-"

"I will see you Monday, Baby Billy." You interrupt before he has the chance to invite you to church tomorrow. He shrugs, waving to you as you drive off.

That night, as you shower, you wonder if you were too rude with your rejection of his invitation. After all, you grew up going to church. Certainly not a mega church, but a church regardless. It's not a chapter of your youth and adolescence that you hold dear, hence your inclination to stay away from it all.

You set an alarm and wake up early Sunday morning... To get ready for church. You take this outing as a chance to demonstrate to Baby Billy and all the Gemstones that while your personal style may not mesh with their vibe, you've always had a way of blending in.

You put on a white dress with statement sleeves. Something to play off of the whole "voice of an angel" shtick. After perfecting the rest of the look, you leave with a satisfied smile.

You walk through the large double doors to the "Gemstone Worship Center" and look around. It's needlessly gigantic and overwhelming to take in.

"Y/N, is that you, darlin'?" Baby Billy's voice grounds you back on Earth. You turn to face him and he raises his eyebrows, shocked by your range of appearances. "Don't you look pretty this morning?" He grins, admiring your pearly glow in the white garment. He's elated to see you there. Not because he thinks you need church, but because he wanted to see you.

He introduces you to a few colleagues, and even Eli Gemstone reintroduces himself, shocked to learn you're the same woman from yesterday.

"Who is this with you today?" A tall, bald man with a thick African accent asks with a warm smile.

"Now, this is my girl, Y/N," Baby Billy gestures to you like a grand prize. Something about the title "his girl" makes your stomach flip, and you're not sure how you feel about that. "She'll be performing with me at Locust Grove."

The theatrical, pretentious service is long, loud, and feels uncomfortable the entire time, so it's hard to keep your mind and eye from wandering to anything else. Often, you glance at Baby Billy. He's brought you to his seats in the front area, so it's hard to drown the music out entirely, but everything does seem to muffle when you're staring down the white-haired enigma of a man before you.

After service, Baby Billy invites you to join the family at a restaurant called Jason's. You're hesitant at first, but Eli insists. When you arrive, the Gemstones are escorted to a level above the restaurant to a private section for their own VIP dining experience. It's frivolous to you, but it's nice to do something different for once.

After church lunch, the entire group congregates in the parking lot, saying their goodbyes and making promises to see each other next week. You smile politely, though a bit awkward, as you don't really know anyone besides Baby Billy.

"Nice get up, Rob Zombie." Judy Gemstone appears beside you, seemingly complimenting you, but she's just as confused as you are.

"Thank you, Judy. I just wanted to show that I know how to fit into a crowd."

"Yeah, well. You're not so bad, up there, on stage." Her tone sounds like she's accosting you, but her words sound genuine. As if she's not sure how to... Just be nice without intimidation tactics. "Singer to singer, don't let Uncle Baby Billy ride your coattails too hard." She struts off, linking arms with her husband and loading up into their lavish vehicles.

You feel a sense of comfort now, knowing Judy is just like that. It's nice to know you have another woman in the mix that you can look to as an acquaintance. Slowly, but surely, you find yourself melding into the atmosphere that follows people like Baby Billy around. You begin to feel more comfortable around the rest of the church leaders, though you realize rather quickly that there isn't much talk about God. It's nice.

As the weeks go by, you meet up with Baby Billy for practice every day. It's not the schedule you meant to give him, you just find yourself wanting to see him more and more. You delight in the strange way he talks and his charming mannerisms. You also think it's really funny when something goes wrong and he's suddenly not grandpa sunshine anymore, and he's kicking a speaker calling it a dick.

As the rehearsal window comes to a close, you and your co-star are inseparably close. On more than one occasion, one of you has slipped up and gotten a little too comfortable.

"Baby Billy, why does the mirror say something about washing my hands keeping me safe from Satan?" You ask, returning from the restrooms.

"That was song lyrics from back in mine and Aimee-Leigh's day," he laughs.

"Well, how do clean hands keep me safe in the eyes of the Lord?" You furrow your brow, in disbelief that anyone could believe this. Baby Billy is tinkering with the stage lights as they two of you converse.

"Well," he says, still messing with the light. "Just like those hands can commit sins, they can be washed clean by his mercy." He chuckles as if he already knows he's going to overstep. "Those look like sinner hands to me, darlin'." He winks.

"Sinner hands?"

"Ain't you ever done anything with those hands? Something the Lord might not smile upon?" He continues with his back to you, finally flicking on the light after his adjustments. Your face is hot and red with the realization of what he meant.

"Oh, yeah. I guess so." You shrug. Baby Billy turns to face you, taking a few steps closer. He's a good deal taller than you, so his lanky frame looms over you in a way that makes your stomach flip. He's barely a foot away, smiling down at you.

"You guess so," he repeats, tilting his head and grinning, letting the silence thicken for a moment. You give up on trying to fight back the blush in your cheeks, there is no way around it.

"Well, I guess let's get back to it," you clap your hands once in front of you as if to break up this moment and you take your position. Baby Billy just laughs and leaves you with a lingering confusion. The rest of the day, you can't seem to keep your head clear. A flip has switched and you find yourself lusting after this televangelist old man.

The two of you wrap up rehearsals for the day, but instead of leaving, you linger behind a little longer. You're unsure if it's nerves telling you to practice more, or if it's just you wanting to be around him.

"Next week is opening day," Baby Billy grins. The excitement is clear on his face with that brilliant, big smile. He takes a seat next to you and you both face the large, beautifully lit and decorated stage.

"That fast, huh?" You chuckle, trying to laugh away the knot in your throat so you don't have to swallow it.

"You're gonna be great up there," he says, catching you off guard. He seems to have mistaken your unexpected attraction as pre-show nerves. "Right next to ol' Baby Billy Freeman. This is a big break for you."

"Oh, it is?" You laugh.

"Look, I'm serious, now. The right ears hear us and we're signed and touring," he snaps his fingers. "Like that!"

"You sure you could handle being on the road with me? I'm kind of a diva," you joke. "If I don't get my beauty sleep, I look like a dead bug and I'll hit someone." Baby Billy bursts into laughter.

"I don't think a lack of sleep or even a semi-truck could deter what you've got goin', sweetheart."

"What do you mean?" You ask through a laugh.

"You're a looker, darlin'. You walk into a room and draw everybody's eye." His hands are animated as he speaks.

"Oh, yes. Flattery will get you everywhere," you laugh, lightly shoving his arm playfully.

"I mean it, now. You the prettiest girl I know." He shrugs.

"You're not so bad yourself." You smirk, leaning closer to him than you realized. He notices the closing gap and can't help himself, he leans toward you as well. Time seems to slow down just for a moment as you two share this closeness.

He glances at your lips, and then back up to your eyes. Your heart begins to race before the sudden, loud crash of the stage light Baby Billy messed with hitting the stage with great weight. You both sit up, startled by the sound, jumping away from the close quarters you'd just been in.

"Oh, uh," you regain your grip, realizing what poor business practice has just nearly taken place. You've fucked your boss before. You know it doesn't end well... "I should get going."

You stand and readjust your skirt, smiling nervously as you start toward the door. Baby Billy stands too, hopelessly searching for his next sentence, but for the first time in his life, he seems unable to find the words.

"Same time tomorrow, darlin'," he calls out to you as you step out the door. He takes a step over to the stage, sitting down and exhaling a big breath. What an old fool he'd have to be to think you'd want anything to do with him when you're so young-spirited and beautiful? Will that stop him? No. It won't.

The last few days leading up to the grand opening are full of those small, close encounters. One day, you tripped during dance practice and practically landed in his arms. You two locked eyes and it would've been done for right then if a janitor hadn't walked through the stage door. Another time, you were high up on a ladder, making Baby Billy hold it steady out of fear. The entire time you're above him in your dress rehearsal skirt, he can't seem to fight the perverted urge to glance up. When he does, he nearly loses his bearings. His face ignites red and he can't help but smile ear to ear.

It's no secret to either of you that some kind of tension has been brewing. Even the Gemstone siblings share a look of confusion when they see you two forget anyone else is in the room. Neither of you seems to notice how long your eye will linger on the other.

The Sunday of the Church's debut sneaks up on you after the last few days of having nothing but Baby Billy on the brain. You're less nervous about performing and more nervous about seeing him again. It's as if every time you two come together, the palpable tension in the air becomes thicker. You're certain you'll lose the ability to breathe the air around you if it gets any worse.

"You ready to make some magic, darlin'?" An excited Baby Billy startles you as he intrusively enters your dressing room.

"My God, don't you knock? I could've been naked," you laugh, perfecting your makeup in the mirror.

"I don't think you'd hear any protest from me, sweetheart." He winks and makes a quick getaway. To be honest, he wasn't quite meaning to say that part out loud. You're left red-faced and pleasantly shocked. The comments between the two of you have been growing more bold by the day, but that one takes the cake... So far.

You get dressed in your opening night outfit. It's a bit different than the one you wore to rehearsals. It's nicer, fancier, flashier, without all the dated glitz of Aimee-Leigh's 80's-esque dress that Baby Billy attempted to lend you.

It hadn't occurred to you that Baby Billy hadn't seen this outfit of yours. But his beaming, smiling face when the two of you step out in front of the crowd from opposite ends of the stage gives you a needed stroke of your ego. He holds an arm out to you, inviting you to his side as he introduces you and himself. It was established early in the arrangement that he'd do most of the talking, so you put on your best "quiet and pretty" act. You clap when the crowd claps, and you throw your hands up in "praise" when it seems appropriate.

Anyone who'd met you before this performance is genuinely confused by who they're watching right now. They expected you to give a hell of a singing show, they didn't expect you to play the full part so well. As you told them, you know how to blend in. The surge of energy that comes with any performance this in-depth carries you throughout the whole service.

With each song you sing, with or without Baby Billy, you cannot stop yourself from looking at him, over and over. Fuck the tension, something is building up inside of you and the adrenaline of the stage is only making it worse, for both of you.

Baby Billy bids the crowd farewell and you give a gentle wave as the two of you exit the stage, arm in pining arm. The very second the stage exit door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the cheering and dispersing crowd, you and Baby Billy fall still, silent, and stare at each other for barely one breathless second and then your lips are on his. You both stumble for a moment before he steadies you, pressing you up against the nearest wall.

"God damn, Y/N," he whispers between hungry kisses. You pull away for just a second, just enough time to ask a question.

"My dressing room or yours?" Baby Billy answers that inquiry by reconnecting his lips to yours and guiding your intertwined bodies to his dressing room. It's the closest. The two of you stumble through the door and straight to the lengthy couch meant to make the room look more glamorous. He lies you back on the cushions and his two careful hands begin to wander.

"Darlin, you look incredible in this get-up," he huffs. "But I can't wait till I get it off of you." He quickly unfastens the buttons of your blouse and groans roughly just at the sight of your lacey bra-clad breasts. Soft, breathy moans escape your lips over and over as he gropes at you and grinds against you. "Now, you don't mind where this is goin', do ya?"

"No, shut up," you chuckle, pulling his mouth back to yours. Your hands rake through his hair and find their way down to his expensive, flashy belt buckle. He sits back on the couch, legs hanging off with his Italian leather shoes resting on the floor. He spreads his knees and you take your position between them. You're breathless with excitement as you free his erection from his slacks. The moment you wrap a hand around his shaft, you feel him still growing harder in your hand.

"God damn it," he sighs, tossing his head back against the couch. He wraps one hand in your hair, guiding your lips toward the head of his cock. "Come on, now. Don't make me beg for it." You chuckle at his eagerness, but you do as he says, wrapping your lips around his tip. Baby Billy sighs with relief as you slowly welcome him into your mouth. He gasps as you press your nose to his waist, taking his full length in your throat.

You bob your head up and down, still riding an adrenaline high that's enough to power through even the worst of neck cramps. He calls out small exclamations and whispers sensual praise, all of which makes the heat between your thighs burn hotter.

His moans become more and more vocal until he roughly pulls your head away, jerking you by the hair. You gasp at the pain, but it only fuels your fire.

"Get on up here, now. Let an ol' man get his kicks," he quips, helping you out of the floor before you take your place, lying before him on the couch. He buries his face in your neck, kissing away up and down your flesh as he continues undressing you. He unfastens the rest of the buttons on your blouse, slipping a hand under your bra and squeezing your breast eagerly.

"Come on, don't make me beg for it," you mimic his words, sliding your skirt up your legs, and exposing your panties. They're wet with arousal and he grins at the sight.

"I might just like to hear a pretty young thing like you beg to get fucked by the pastor." He grins deviously, pressing a gentle hand to your clit over the panties. "All this for me?" He chuckles, basking in the effect he has on you. After what feels like ages of teasing and edging, he slips the drenched underwear from your legs. The white-haired man stares in awe at your throbbing core, extending a hand to play with you.

He slips one digit inside you, earning a filthy, needy moan from your chest. Your mouth hangs agape with a gasp as he pumps his finger in and out of you, staring deeply into your shining eyes. He shakes his head, amused by his power over you and also in disbelief at the position he's in at this moment. Just a month ago you were a stranger with a beautiful voice on a stage he'd never taken a second look at. Since then, you've been the object of all his desires. How could he ever imagine you'd feel the same?

"Oh, my God! Please," you whine, arching your back as he fingers you. He chuckles, unsure how he's holding himself back. It must be how much he's enjoying the show.

"Shhh," he whispers, adding another finger. Guttural moans of heated pleasure pour from your lips like a waterfall. He eats up every second of it.

"You're doin' real good, now, darlin'." He positions his twitching erection at your aching entrance, playing with your arousal with the head of his cock. "Keep being good for me," he says as he slips himself inside. A long, needy cry escapes you as he slowly sinks to his hilt.

You stare up at him, locking eyes as his mouth hangs slightly open. He's breathless as your tightness squeezes him just right.

"Aw, damn, sweetheart," he groans, pulling back only to quickly slide back in. "You're somethin' else." He grunts and moans as he thrusts in and out of you, hastily picking up his pace. For an older man, he's incredibly virile. He fucks you for what feels like hours but is surely only a handful of steamy minutes. You squirm and whine beneath him as he steadily guides you to your climax.

"I- I'm-" you try to speak, but it's too late, he's fucking you into oblivion, riding out your high with a bright white, goofy smile on his face. He loves watching your face contort as you soak him with your orgasm.

"I hope you ain't done yet, sweetheart," he chuckles, sliding out of you. "Flip on over, now, darlin'. Let me get a look at that perfect ass you got." His praise ignites a wave of goosebumps across your skin. You do as he says, turning over and assuming a position on all fours, presenting yourself to him perfectly. He releases a breathy laugh, slapping both hands down on each ass cheek.

Baby Billy tightens his grip on your glutes and fervently tugs at you until you're lined up with his swollen cock. He slips inside you again, thrusting away at maximum pace. Your ass jiggles as he slams into you and he's hypnotized by the sight. His goofy grin has fallen to a serious expression as he chases his climax. He mumbles curse words and praise under his breath while pressing your back downward to amplify your arch.

"God damn, just look at you," he huffs, coming closer and closer to completion. "Whatever you want, Y/N, just say the word," he grunts between heavy breaths. "And it's yours, darlin'." You laugh at the way he offers you the world just from how good he feels inside you. It's a high compliment.

"B- Ba-!" You attempt to beg for mercy, but he's quick to cut you off.

"Shh, shh, now, sweetheart. Just... A little more," he groans, quickening his thrusts as he ends his sentence. He slams into you impossibly hard, incredibly fast, with both hands hooked around your waist. You release sensual cries of pleasure as he chases and finally catches his climax.

He withdraws from you, breathless and sweating. A string of lusty moans drips from his lips as he strokes himself until he finishes all over your ass. He stutters out a grunt before collapsing back on the couch. You're breathless, fucked out with your face buried in the cushion. The two of you fall silent for a moment as you catch your breath.

"Baby Billy?" You break the silence.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"Could you pass me, um, a towel?"

"Oh!" He scrambles to his feet, tucking away his softening length. His unfastened belt jingles as he makes his way across his dressing room and grabs a towel from the neat, little stack of hand towels. "Allow me," he whispers, still catching his breath, as he wipes your skin clean, allowing you to comfortably collapse as well. He joins you on the couch, buckling his belt and straightening up his suit.

"That was... Amazing..." You sigh, somehow a little shocked at how well he just fucked you.

"It certainly was, Y/N. It certainly was." He lies back on the couch, allowing his eyes to fall shut. A hand reaches up to fix his disheveled hair. "Let's get them drawers back on you, now. We're late for Church Lunch."

You regain your composure and fix your clothes, sliding your panties back up under your skirt. After fixing your hair and your smudged makeup, you're ready to head to Jason's. You and Baby Billy arrive a few minutes after everyone else, and you take your seats next to each other. The table seems to grow quiet when you two join.

"Don't everybody start talkin' at once, now." Baby Billy looks up and down to both ends of the table. "What'd we miss?"

"From the sound of it, you didn't miss anything, Uncle Baby Billy," Judy scoffs. Baby Billy gives you a knowing look, grinning at you sweetly.

"No, Judy, I did not." He beams, proudly, placing an arm around your shoulder and planting a kiss on the side of your forehead.

•••••

Taglist: @justme12200 //

[hwangism143]

pillow talk

synopsis: the three times in which you sleep over at seungmin's childhood home as his friend and the one time you're something more.

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x gn!reader

genre: hurt, comfort, angt

warnings: mentions of abandonment, reader is an orphan and in foster care, swearing, food

word count: 3.3k words

now playing: you make me feel - easha

requested: by the lovely @booksndpoetry

a/n: wrote this is two days no wonder it's so bad (pls dont kill me)

"the colors of your love came so suddenly"

The first time you slept over at his childhood home was accompanied with the dull throb and apprehension of yet another new beginning.

Your one solitary bag and the pillow that was your only prized possession were the only things you had with you. Your bag hung off one shoulder and the pillow was clutched to your chest.

You found yourself wondering what Seungmin's family was like. Being a pessimist, you didn't hope for the best and braced yourself for the worst. When the door opened, warm yellow light spilled through the silhouette of a middle-aged women and temporarily blinded you.

Your posture slightly relaxed. Families with an abundance of yellow lights rarely mistreated you.

Your situation was laughable really. You weren't even a full two weeks into the Jang's care, and yet the neglect had already begin.

Stop, you told yourself, at least they were willing to take your old ass in. The Jangs' were away for a business trip and informed you last minute that their flight had been cancelled. They told you to g once she locked up left.

It wasn't that you weren't grateful to the Jangs; but the years you had spent being grateful and getting nothing in return caused you to offer a cautious thanking to their actions. They were sweet to you so far, but you didn't blame them for wanting you out of the house when you were gone.

Foster kids and newly adopted kids had a history of stealing, and while you had never done the same, the feeling of paranoia was one that you were well accustomed to.

Mrs. Kim had a kind, slightly wrinkled face and a wide smile. "Hello dear. You must be Y/N. Come in, come in. Don't stand in the cold for too long."

You could instantly feel the maternal protection that radiated from Mrs. Kim, something you felt in dots and dashed from Mrs. Jang. You knew the Jangs cared, but they didn't quite know how to care. You knew that the Kims had two kids however, an older daughter in college and a boy, sixteen and your age.

Younger you would be mentally cartwheeling in happiness at the thought of being under the care of Mrs. Kim, even if it was for a night. Older you couldn't care less.

Two years until I leave the fucking system for good.

You shifted uncomfortably as you gazed around the house. Wow. It was well decorated and definitely reflected the luxury that the Kims resided in. Everything in sight was in warm and inviting shades of color that made you feel very appreciative.

Interior design had always been a point of interest for you. You realized that there was a lot you could learn about a person from the way they designed their home.

Mrs. Kim turned to look at you. "Ah, you'll be in Seungmin's sister's room. I have told him to clean it up, so you won't have to worry about that. His father is out playing golf, but he'll be home soon too."

Mrs. Kim handed you a glass of water which you accepted with a genuine smile. You were gazing at the family portraits on the wall as you sipped quietly. The entire family looked like they were surrounded by an aura of calm, unbothered by the qualms of the world.

Oh how sweet would it be, to live like that.

"Can I- can I go change upstairs please?" you asked Mrs. Kim softly.

She looked up from the chopping board, lettuce diced evenly. "Oh, of course darling. No need to ask. As long as you're here, this house is yours."

"Seungmin!" she yelled to an unknown entity who must have been on the second floor of the house.

"Coming!" yelled back Seungmin.

The sweetness of his voice took you aback. Just one word made you crave to hear more. His voice was smooth and rich like honey, washing over you. You wondered if he had an inclination towards music, singing in particular; with a voice like that, it would be a shame if he wasn't.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs and a boy with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants appeared in front of you and Mrs. Kim. He was cute, almost puppy like, with flappy hair and defined features. Seungmin bounded over to his mother and looked at you curiously.

"Seungmin, this is Y/N. Take her upstairs, will you?" Mrs. Kim asked.

"Okay," Seungmin replied.

You extended you hand. "Hello. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Seungmin accepted with a non-judgmental, but curious expression. Mrs. Kim visibly smiled into the large pot she was currently stirring, clearly amused at your outdated usage of language. You cringed internally, mentally cursing the British family that you were with for two years from the age of five for forcing you into greeting people this way.

"It's nice to meet you to," his warm hand grasped yours and let go with a firm shake.

"Come on," said Seungmin, cocking his head towards the stairs in front of you.

You followed his slowly, taking in the houses beauty. Somehow, everything worked with everything. This must have been artistic living.

Seungmin opened his sister's bedroom door and motioned you to go in. You gave him a small smile, if it could be called that, and shut the door. When you turned around, you were met with a lot of surprise.

When Mrs. Kim mentioned that Seungmin was cleaning up the room for you, you were prepared to face a light skimming and dusting of things. In reality though, everything was meticulously arranged and kept in it's place.

Such level of neatness was slightly terrifying.

You changed and kept your things to one side. When you came out, you went downstairs with the clear intention of trying to get a read on the enigmatic Kim Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

This was going to be a disaster.

Both you and Seungmin were quiet by nature. Albeit for different reasons, you both sat awkwardly, waiting for the other person.

Seungmin was quiet because he liked observing. He was a listener, and enjoyed hearing what others had to say rather than talking himself. He found the art of listening to be the most brilliant that there was.

You, on the other hand, were forced into being quiet to the point where you forgot what it was like to hold meaningless conversation. All your life, you had been taught that the key to a successful life in the foster system was to remain submissive and deferential.

You never even bothered to make connections with people. You had learnt the hard way that when you bounced around houses and cities, it was difficult to maintain contact with people. You had made up your mind at just the tender age of eight that making friends, hell even acquaintances, was pointless. You were just saving yourself and the other person from future heartbreak.

As a result of being alone so much, you didn't exactly know how to hold conversation with people in your age range.

"So, uh, wanna do something?" Seungmin asked.

You shrugged. "Sure."

You both sat in his basement, a bowl of popcorn in between and half drunk iced tea beside you. Seungmin was very respectful, not once brining up your living situation. He brought the drink to his lips and downed the rest (which was very little) in one go.

"Okay, um, twenty questions?" He asked.

You instantly felt discomfort rise in you. Ah, here it was. His opening to ask you intrusive questions. "I- fine," you relented.

You were ready for whatever shade he was going to throw at you. He didn't ask about your personal life apart from the usual questions (favorite color, movie, etc.) a single time. You were slowly warming up to him.

"Last question. What's something you haven't told anyone?" asked Seungmin innocently.

You snorted, "Why would I tell you that?"

Seungmin smirked, "I mean, I'm very trustworthy. Plus, it's always better to tell your secrets to a stranger rather than a person you know."

You found it strange, but conceded. It felt nice to talk to someone after so long.

"You know the pillow I brought with me, right? That's the most important thing in my life. I was found near a train station laid on top of it, covered in a blanket and a sweater. Those were taken away from me a long time ago, but the pillow was something I fought to keep."

You finished nonchalantly, suppressing a laugh at Seungmin's expression of pure shock.

"I was expecting something along the lines of breaking something fancy or something. I mean, I was going to tell you about the time I broke into my parents liquor closet but chickened out and never drank anything."

You regarded him with a guarded smile. Kim Seungmin was an enigma, but for the first time in your life, he was one which you felt an odd temptation to solve.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you slept over at his childhood home was full of fear and anticipation that was directed towards your college entrance exams tomorrow.

Although the Jangs never formally adopted you, you had stayed with them for close to two years now. You formed an interesting bond with Seungmin: you weren't quite friends, but you understood each other on a deeper level.

Seungmin was easily the only person you would talk to. You both started engaging in combined study sessions, filled with silence interrupted only by a pen scratching against paper or a groan of frustration.

The night before, you needed to go to Seungmin's house to revise. Or rather, to confess.

You were pacing in his room as he lay on his bed. Seungmin was on his back, flipping through one of his textbooks. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"Alright. What is it?" he asked.

"I need to get the top score," you insisted. Seungmin looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Everyone does," he said matter of factly.

"No, everyone wants it, but I need it," you repeated.

Silence with Seungmin was never uncomfortable, post your initial interaction. Silence with Seungmin alleviated your tensions. This silence, however, felt pressing.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," he asked you quietly.

The routine asking of this question had become a habit between you two now. Whenever you noticed that the other was shifty, holding something back, this was their cue to tell you what was wrong.

"I'm being selfish," you groaned, "I need to so that my name gets published somewhere, anywhere, so that my birth parents know I'm alive and find me. I'm not giving them the liberty of me searching for them. They lost that a long time ago. If they want me, it's them who need to look for me."

You plopped onto Seungmin's office chair and pointlessly spun in circles. He studied you carefully.

After a pause, he responded, "I'll be honest. You are being selfish. You want this, no, apparently need this for reasons that have nothing to do with your future studies, which is what college entrance exams are all about. But considering you situation, I believe it's completely justified."

You instantly felt at ease. This boy you only know for two years astoundingly always knew the right thing to say.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin had the house to yourself. His parents were visiting his sister, helping her settle into her new apartment. You ads Seungmin had to share his room, the other rooms stored with his sister's things that needed to be moved.

You were practically asleep in his bedroom but an uneasy churning in your stomach kept you awake. You could hear Seungmin lightly open the door and step inside.

"Wait, I'm gonna go get the air mattress," he voiced in the dark room.

You turned towards him. "No, just sleep with me."

"You sure?" He asked.

Seungmin knew about your hesitancy towards forming attachments and committing. You hummed in affirmation, knowing that he would get little to no sleep on the air mattress and wouldn't let you sleep on it either.

He slid in beside you, his face facing yours. You both just looked into each other's eyes until you broke away, turning to the other side. Seungmin felt a part of his heart chip away for reasons he couldn't really identify.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You felt bile work it's way up your throat and knew you wouldn't be able to suppress it. Carefully getting out of bed to make sure Seungmin didn't wake up, you made your way to the bathroom.

Routinely swallowing your vomit, you got to the bathroom and without even switching on it's lights, heaved out the contents of your stomach as quietly as possible.

Or so you thought. A drowsy Seungmin materialized at the doorway, turning on the light and watching you in concern. You flushed the toilet and violently splashed your face with water.

"Being half asleep is a very good look on you," he mumbled dryly.

"Likewise," you panted, an apologetic expression on your face.

You hated physical touch. Seungmin knew you hated physical touch. But when you reached over to lightly squeezed his hand as an apology, Seungmin felt a similar constriction in his chest.

To Kim Seungmin, you were a mystery he hadn't quiet solved, but he was still, willing to do anything for you, and the unfamiliarity of such a feeling scared him beyond belief.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you slept over at his childhood home was full of nostalgia and memories.

You both were twenty two, finishing up your undergraduates, when you mentioned to Seungmin in passing that you would be in town on your way for an assignment that would require you to travel. Seungmin jumped at the idea of you staying with him, since he was house sitting for his parents that very weekend.

Seungmin would be lying if he said that he wasn't hurt by your slowly decreasing contact. Conversation between you both slowly dwindled, but he never pried as to why. He understood that you rarely ever maintained an attachment, and that he was lucky for what he had.

You wondered what it would be like when you went back. The Jangs had never fostered a child after you, but never called you their daughter. They maintained contact with you but never attended events like graduation.

Still, deep down, at the end of the day, you knew you carried two things in your heart: Your now battered pillow and Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You both were sitting in his backyard, legs crossed over each other on Seungmin's folding chairs. Stars littered the sky the way they littered his eyes, and you couldn't help but be entranced by the wistful gaze that Seungmin held.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," you asked, leaning your head over, near his shoulder. Just a few inches, and it would placed on it.

Just a few inches, and everything would mean something.

Seungmin knew his words carried gravity, but he was tired of walking on coal around you.

"I missed you," he said, a near whisper.

You stilled. "Your turn," came his voice after an eternity.

"I talk to my pillow sometimes. I pretend like it's a family member. It stopped, when I used to live here. But it grew in frequency during college. There is something inherently wrong with me, and I think that it's either me being undeserving of love or me never having been loved."

When your voice finally faded, Seungmin turned to look at you. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused. He wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into you, tell you that you were loved. Hell, he was proof, if you needed it.

"You're loved. If you weren't you wouldn't be here," Seungmin said hoarsely.

You snorted in response. "Yeah, I sure as hell wouldn't be here if I was loved."

Your words stung but Seungmin wasn't deterred. "I love you," he said softly.

Your eyes widened fractionally and you turned to look at him. "What?"

"No," he laughed, "Not that way. I love you as a friend, a confidant, as someone I know I can always talk too. Not... whatever it was you were thinking."

You visibly eased under the effects of his words, but noticed that Seungmin didn't do the same. His body was still tense, still rigid.

"What is it?" you asked.

"I- I know I said I love you as a friend but," Seungmin's voice faltered.

"But?" you prodded, your own heartbeat increasing with each passing moment.

"I would be falsifying my emotions if I said there weren't times when I wanted to love you in different ways as well. Romantically. Intimately. Devotionally," he added in an uncharacteristically shy tone, "If you'll have me."

And you realized, with a start that you did want him. But doubts started plaguing your mind, started seeping into your body and mixing with your being. What is the pain of it was so irreparable that you would never be able to love, if you ever could in the first place, again?

"What if I can't recognize your love for love?" you questioned meekly.

"Then I'll say it to you everyday. Platonically at first, romantically, maybe, afterwards, but I'll say it to you every single day. If every hour if you want me too. Because it's the truth."

You felt the warmth that accompanied thoughts of Seungmin blooming in the pits of your stomach. Or maybe it was the barbecued chicken you just ate. In the heat of the moment, you weren't quite that sure.

"And what if I can't love you? All I have ever known towards this world is hate."

"Then I'll teach you. We have all the time in the world to do so. If all you have known is hate, then love should come easily. They're very similar emotions," Seungmin said softly.

He hesitantly moved his hand towards yours, and laced his fingers through the pads of your knuckles. You did the same and moved you head to place it on his shoulder. Now, everything did mean something.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fourth time you had slept over at his childhood home, Seungmin taught you that love could be found in every aspect of the world.

It was hidden in the way sparrows flew towards each other in the summer, in the way mothers looked at their children and the way a child looked at candy. It came in droppings, reflected in the way you felt about rain and cherry blossoms.

Seungmin taught you how love was found in the grand and the simple.

Love was when he sent you large bouquets of roses that you had know idea where to keep and the surprise picnics you planned for him. It was the coffee he prepared for you every morning without question and the way you paused whatever you were watching when he had to step out for a phone call.

At the Kim house, you experienced even more love.

Sisterly love, when Seungmin's sister showed off the clothes she brought for you. Maternal love, when Mrs. Kim squealed in excitement when she spotted you holding Seungmin's hand. Paternal love, when Mr. Kim placed a bet against his team while giving you a wink. Brotherly love, when Seungmin's cousin tried to steal food off your plate.

You felt love everywhere, and slowly but surely, you spread love everywhere.

That night, Seungmin held you close and sang into your hair the way he did every night.

"I love you," he yawned, and snuggled into you.

And, you wanted to say it back. Mustering up the courage, you replied, "I think I love you too. No, I know I love you too."

Seungmin looked at you in astonishment and you realized that you were right all along.

He did have stars in his eyes.

You didn't know much about love. You were still learning, still faltering. But you knew one thing for certain: the love you held for Seungmin and the love he held for you would never go away.

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

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[cloakedsparrow]

The Batpups as Cat-Types

Upon coming to live with Bruce, Dick was like a fairly standard cat. He could alternate between cuddly darling and vindictive gremlin in the blink of an eye. One minute he’s snuggled next to Bruce while he reads the paper, the next, he’s holding eye contact while he pushes an expensive vase off a nearby table. He’ll be happily playing with one of the hundreds of cat-appropriate toys Bruce got him, then Bruce turns his back for five seconds and he’s somehow gotten himself perched atop the molding above the door. On top of this, Bruce had never owned a cat before so he did stupid new cat-owner shit like letting Dick wander around the neighborhood, where he caused tens of thousands of dollars in property damage and nearly got himself killed at least four times a day.

Jason was a loyal and completely domesticated house-cat who got tossed into the streets after his owner died. He adapted well for survival, but once he was brought indoors again, he was more than happy to curl up in a sunny spot and just vibe. He’d endured some trauma, so sudden loud noises or unknown individuals trying to pet him resulted in him hissing and darting under the nearest table or hiding behind the books on the shelves. Around those he trusted, however, he was a sweet, chill cat. Unfortunately, Bruce assumed all cats were gremlins like Dick, and that Jason would have the potential to be even worse due to being on the streets, and so responded as though Jason were a gremlin-cat whenever he did something unexpected. This led to a lot of misunderstandings and resentment.

Everyone assumed Tim was well domesticated due to living in a nice house before coming to them. In reality, he’d been taken away from his mother too soon and left alone in a huge house that he eventually discovered how to come and go from on his own. This meant that he was, in fact, a feral kitten who had just learned not to do certain things in front of people, lest they get angry at him. He did manage to meow and swat at Bruce until the man slept, ate, and bathed like a normal person, so Alfred and Dick didn’t feel too bad about their mistake in insisting Bruce bring the tiny feral beast into the house. He also made friends with a bunch of other feral kittens, so most of his feral shenanigans occurred with them, away from anything resembling responsible supervision.

Cassandra was a stray cat that followed Bruce home one day and then claimed the whole family as hers. She was good with them, but anyone else who tried to touch her (or the boys when it looked like they didn’t want it) pulled away a bleeding limb. Also, the family quickly learned that letting her food bowl go empty would result in her stealing any food left out, even a whole chicken or hamburger. She still caused less damage than Dick, so Bruce didn’t even bat an eye at half the shit she did. He did have to instill some long-forgotten survival instincts in her, though.

Damian was like that kitten in the Aristocats who paints but also hisses and spits and thinks himself a tough alley cat when he’s actually a pampered kitten. No one ever bothers to correct him and just generally ignores his more violent ways…or worse, thinks they’re cute. Tim gets sick of the little shit drawing his blood eventually and starts hissing back and swatting him whenever he tries it. Eventually, he calms down enough to do more painting and hissing than clawing, at least with the family. They call it a win and they all learn to live together.

[witheredallium]

Thank You, Clyde

(I could not find the original post. However, this fic is based on the idea that Clyde could mimic Lewis Williams/William Lewis' voice for Alex. Be prepared, it's a bit longer than my normal fics.)

Being on the run allowed time for a lot of thinking. Alex thought about many things; Clyde, Winfrey, Lankmann, Patient 66, the situation they were in, etc. The thing that came with a wave of grief every time they thought about it, was their brother, Lewis Williams. 

Lewis was the best little brother that Alex could ask for. They got along well, he was well-behaved, had many friends at school, and tried his hardest to make Alex proud. After the death of their parents, Alex had taken care of Lewis for a few years before his untimely death. Although Alex had seemed put together in that news segment, they were internally shattered to pieces. 

His death hurt less now, but sometimes the grief just came around every once in a while to punch them in the gut. It’s been happening more often now since Alex and Clyde were on the run. When they did think about Lewis, Alex wondered what he would think of where they were now; hanging out with the creature that killed him. How fucked up was that? They often thought that Lewis would be rolling in his grave at the thought. Then, they would remember that there was no grave for Lewis or the other children at all.

Alex hadn’t even noticed that they were crying until Clyde loudly cleared its throat. They wiped their eyes furiously, they hadn’t cried about Lewis in months. 

Clyde watched the human in mild concern, wondering if being on the run was getting to them. “What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking about my dead brother, Lewis,” Alex sniffled lightly. 

Clyde didn’t know how it had never made the connection before. Alex was Lewis William’s older sibling. And Clyde had killed him. 

Clyde had never felt any grief or remorse for the ones he had killed until that moment. Clyde never got particularly close with any of the humans he killed, but this situation was different. One of its closest frie- companions had been harmed by his actions. However, it then realized that it would have never met Alex unless he had killed Lewis, so it felt a little less bad. Despite that, Alex was still upset and Clyde did not know how to handle an upset human.

Suddenly, Clyde was hit with an idea.

“You can absolutely say no to this, but I can mimic his voice and create a hallucination of him for you. You could at least talk to him one last time,” Clyde suggested quietly.

“That’s kind of fucked up, but you’d really do that for me?” Alex sniffles again, eyes wet with unshed tears.

Clyde nodded, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Alex hops down from the tree they are hiding in. They knew it was probably unsafe to be so in the open, but they would rather fall to their knees on the ground than fall from the tree. Alex whispers almost inaudibly, “I’m ready.”

Suddenly, a small dirty blond-haired boy appeared in front of Alex. He looked disorientated for a moment before locking onto Alex’s face.

“Allie!” the boy cried, racing toward his older sibling.

“Oh, Lew,” Alex almost choked out a sob. They crouched and held their arms out for a hug for just a moment before realizing they couldn’t do that. As real as Lewis looked, he was just a hallucination. Alex frowned for a half second before smiling again at the young boy.

“Allie, don’t be sad, I’m right here!” Lewis beamed as if that would take all the pain away. He was still in his Halloween costume, Alex noted. They had saved up for Lewis’ Halloween costume and were so excited to take pictures of the boy, but they never got the chance before he was taken. Lewis noticed Alex checking out his costume. “I love my Halloween costume. It must have been a lot of money.”

Alex nodded, “It took me a bit to save up for it, but you had been doing so well in school that I thought you deserved something nice.”

Lewis sits in front of Alex’s crouched form, “You didn’t have to do that, y’know. I’m grateful for all you do for me.”

“I know, bud,” Alex sits down fully. “But, doing special things for you made me feel good because it made you happy. And I love you so much, I would’ve hated to see you upset.”

“I love you, too,” the boy smiled. “But I have to go very soon, my friends are waiting for me.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Friendship is very important,” Alex sighs. “I’m sorry I ended up in this situation, I hope you can forgive me. I just have to survive for now and Clyde is the only way for me to do that. I love you so much, Lewis.”

The boy smiled and tilted his head, “I could never be mad at you. I love you, too, Alex.”

And the boy faded away.

Alex had been holding everything in, so the moment Lewis disappeared, Alex began sobbing. Fat hot tears trickled down their face. Snot clogged their nose, making it hard to breathe. Alex almost threw up. They had worked so hard for that boy. They had struggled with taking care of him while Alex still had to finish high school and work a job to make ends meet. Alex worked so hard and he died.

Clyde hadn’t anticipated such a visceral reaction from Alex. It quickly and not so gracefully landed on the ground and wrapped Alex in a blanket. Alex hardly, if at all, acknowledged the action.

“Shit,” the veldigun sat in front of the human. “Can you hear me, Alex?”

Alex coughed harshly and nodded. “Okay. Uh… everything is fine. Just try to follow my breathing.”

It took several minutes for Alex to calm down. Even as they did, it seemed as though they were dazed and unfocused. The veldigun carefully placed its claws on the blanket covering Alex, hoping that the pressure would ground them. Slowly, they raised their eyes to Clyde’s and spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” the veldigun looked confused. “What are you sorry for?”

Alex sighs, “Because you had to see me like this and I used you for something so selfish.”

Clyde removes its claws from Alex’s shoulders. “Eh, I’ve done worse to others. Plus, I’m using you for something selfish, too. Least I could do.”

Alex chuckles mirthlessly, “That doesn’t reassure me… but, thanks for doing what you did, though.”

“Like I said, the least I could do.”

The rest of the day was slow and uneventful. Clyde silently made plans on how to get food for the night while watching over Alex’s sleeping body. It had thought about running off to steal hot chocolate from somebody’s house but decided that he shouldn’t leave the human all alone. Another thing that crossed its mind was to sneak back to Alex’s house to get their scrapbook. It knew it would have to do that soon. Being on the run was difficult for the veldigun and it had no idea how the human would continue to respond to such dire circumstances. Getting the album would put Alex into higher spirits so they could keep surviving, Clyde justified, and not at all about the fact that sometimes it needed to see a smile on Alex’s face.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 42

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Sex (feat. Wire), mentions of murder

Open Doors

The next few days were... easy. That was the only way to describe them. After Kid had helped you remove the bullets, which took all of 10 minutes, you went about your daily chores, getting a lot of compliments on your new accessory, Killer especially seemed invested in it. You spent time with the girls, performing the sacred rituals: painting nails, face masks, gossiping, giving each other hair trims, even waxing each other. Heat joined in for everything but the last bit, even though it was mostly eyebrows and armpits. You sat in silence with Wire, mending nets. It was nice. There was no need to talk. You gave Mini a bath, having to borrow a swimsuit from someone which was a hair too small for you. She was too big for the bathroom so you were forced to do it on the deck. It was about halfway through when you noticed Kid had pulled up a chair, feet kicked up, with a beer in his hand, to enjoy the show. Others did the same, though they were far more discreet about it. Heat had been inspecting the same knot in the rigging for 20 minutes. In the mornings, you and Killer would have coffee together on the bow and watch the sunrise before making breakfast. Some days breakfast was late, much to Kid's chagrin, because Killer ate first. Telling Kid that "pussy was the most important meal of the day" was definitely what some would call a mistake. You had to flee several times to a more private place, because Kid had no qualms about laying you flat on the dining table. 

Lately, Kid had been coming to the infirmary a lot. A smashed finger here, a stubbed toe there, and he had an awful lot of inexplicable aches and pains. Then afterwards, he would linger and ask what you had done with your day or some other dumb shit like what your favorite things were. You hated the way you looked forward to his stupid smirk showing up on your doorstep. Every time he showed up, he would make the tag on your collar jingle to announce his presence instead of knocking. Sometimes you looked up for him when it jingled on its own, a conditioned response that you hated.

It was another night where you couldn't sleep, plagued by thoughts of the future. You were in the infirmary, trying to figure out what to do, even though you really didn't want to think about it at all. You found yourself staring at the place in the wall where the Big Fucking Hole used to be, a bit ashamed to admit that you missed it and all of Kid's silly antics. You went to the wall and put a hand on it. It glowed a soft yellow as a door manifested in that space. Part of it was metal, so that he could open it if he wanted, but there was a different non-metal lock on it, so that he couldn't open it if patients were in the room or you needed privacy. It was the type of door that rolled on a track, so that it would be completely out of the way when it was open. You weren't going to tell Kid about it, wondering how long it would take him to notice on his own. You didn't want to answer any questions about why you did it in the first place, because you didn't really know yourself. 

Later in the day, as you were helping make repairs to the ship with Reck and Pomp, Kid came barreling from around the corner, out of nowhere, yelling for you. You were alarmed, thinking something bad had happened. Kid skidded behind you, crouching to hide, with something in his hand. 

"Ya gotta protect me, Rottie!" There was a shake to his voice that sounded scared, but it was really him trying not to laugh.

You had your gun drawn and pointed where Kid had come from in half a second. Unlike the others, you actually listened and acted accordingly, only because Kid sounded serious, at least to your ears. Before Kid could tell you they were just fooling around, Heat came face to face with your barrel, well more like chest-level, since he was much bigger than you. Your trigger finger twitched, but thankfully didn't pull, recognizing Heat, who had jumped back. You let your breath out and holstered your weapon, with an apologetic look at Heat, who was beyond pissed.

"KID! I swear I'll kill you. Give it back!"

"Insubordination! Get him, doll!" Kid pointed at Heat from behind you.

It was hard not to laugh, when a huge, menacing beast was attempting to hide behind your much smaller frame. Kid knew Heat wouldn't lay a finger on you, but he would light Kid's ass up in a second. You were confused.

"I'm not fighting Heat to protect your ass." You looked over your shoulder at him. "What did you do? Give what back?"

"Kid, please. I'm begging you," Heat pleaded. "I'll give you my dessert for a month."

Kid pretended to think. "Mmm not good enough."

"I'll... do that thing you like."

Kid paused decidedly longer at that. "Tempting."

You snatched the paper from Kid's hand while he was distracted. You were about to hand it to Heat without looking at it, but realized it looked like a wanted poster. It was your wanted poster. It was... altered. You bit your lip to keep from smiling. 

"Y/N I'm so sorry. I didn't know one day you'd be on the ship. Please don't hate me." 

Kid had made good on his internal promise to show you Heat's self-made pin-up of you. Wire and Killer were interested in what was going on, Wire more so because he caught a glance of your gun in Heat's direction, Killer because he knew Kid was being mischievous. 

"I don't know, Heat..." You teased. "I'm pretty upset." The poster was expertly combined with pictures from some racy magazine to make it look like you were totally naked on it. "Did you really think my boobs would be that small?" The model was fairly small-framed and petite. "I've got a bit more meat to me I think." 

It was Heat's turn to be confused. "You're not mad?" 

You shrugged. "It's kind of cute that you have a little celebrity crush on me." You handed it back to him. "Fix it, though. It's completely inaccurate." You stood on your tiptoes to reach Heat's ear. "And that's an order," you purred. You must have guessed his kink right, because when you came away, his face was red and he had a big grin on his face.

"Yes, Cap- Ma'am." Heat corrected himself so he didn't disrespect Kid, but he wasn't opposed to calling you "Captain" behind closed doors, in fact, he would be thrilled. He rushed away with his artwork before he could develop a raging boner in front of everyone. 

"I told him ya wouldn't be mad." Kid stated. 

"Kid! What if I had shot him!?" 

"Ya didn't." A smirk moved to grace Kid's features. "Now who's the guard dog," he said, flicking the tag on your collar.

"Whatever. Next time, I'll let you be incinerated." You walked away from Kid, catching Pomp, Reck, Killer, and Wire staring with amusement. "And what are you bozos looking at? Get back to work." 

Killer and Wire exchanged looks. "Bozos?" 

"Wait. Hang on. I didn't mean you." You glanced at Kid, contemplating switching roles and hiding behind him, but were too proud. It was too late. They had that look on their faces. 

"Better get ta runnin, doll," Kid chuckled.

You barely got two steps before you were slung over Killer's shoulder, Wire smirking down at you walking behind Killer. "You're just gonna let Smallest and Tallest steal me like this? I have work to do!" 

"Yer dismissed for the day." There wasn't much else to do anyway.

Several hours later, you were facedown in a pillow soaked with sweat and drool and tears, trying to muffle your screaming. It felt like your cervix was in a boxing match, and losing, with Wire's huge cock. You were sticky and sweaty, drying fluids on your back and thighs. Your thighs were going to give out from holding your body up for so long. They were shaking even though Wire was supporting most of your body. He and Killer made you climax so many times you lost count. At this point you were begging them to let you rest. Both sets of lips were swollen, from kissing or fucking depending on which ones. Your fingers were curled into the sheets so hard you thought your nails would put holes in them. 

"You're taking Wire so well." Killer was petting your hair, gently tugging it to pull your face from the pillow. "We want to hear you though."

"If we can't hear you, you're gonna have to do it all over again."

You whined. "I can't take much m-more." 

"You talked such a big game and now you're trying to tap out? That's too bad." Wire brought a hand down on your ass. "You're done when I say so." He grunted as your cunt clenched around him. 

"You can do it, darlin." Killer rubbed your back. He was done, throughly satisfied after taking turns fucking your pussy with Wire. You wanted them both at the same time, but Wire didn't think you were ready for that yet. Killer agreed. They were always the two that held back. Heat and Kid were all for whatever you wanted to do and barely ever told you no. 

"F-fuck." The muscles in your body tensed. You were so close, yet reluctant. 

"Come on then. Finish on this cock so I can give you want you really want. Which is what?"

"I want y-your cum. P-please, Wire."

"There's my good girl," Killer said, his hand slipping under your body to play with your clit. 

"A-ah." You fought the urge to smush your face back into the pillow. 

Killer, who had become well aware of the faces you made when you came, could tell you were close. "Cum for us. Let Wire know how much you appreciate him fucking you." 

You opened your mouth in a pained cry as an intense feeling of pleasure seeped into every fiber of your body. The inside of your thighs got considerably wetter. "T-hank you, Wire." If it weren't for him, you would be completely collapsed in a pile of mush in the middle of the bed. All your limbs felt like jelly. 

Wire pulled you tighter against him, shooting his load as deep as he could get it, doubling over you. He kissed between your shoulder blades. "Well done." 

As soon as he let go of you, you flopped on your back, exhausted. 

"Let's get you in the bath." Killer scooped you up.

Wire was putting his clothes back on.

"You're not coming?" 

"I'm too tall. Not comfortable." 

You blew him a kiss. "Night night then." 

"Night night." Wire scrunched up his face. He hated how that came out of his mouth. 

After Killer ran the hot bath, he got in the water and set you between his legs. He massaged your scalp as you laid on his chest, lazily washing your hair. You sighed contentedly, stretching out and letting Killer's hands wander as they pleased when he washed the rest of you. He made you feel so safe when you were in his arms. You'd never had a refuge like that before. You turned around and pressed a kiss to Killer's lips, which he gladly returned. 

There was a knock from the door to Kid's room. 

"Yeah?" Killer replied. 

Kid walked through. "Mind if I join ya?" He was already shedding clothing, and his metal arm, all over the floor. 

Your eyebrows pushed together. "You know how to knock first? And you asked permission? Where's Kid?" 

"Shut up. I can be a gentleman." Kid lowered himself on the other side of the tub. He pointed between the two of you. "So which one of ya is gonna wash me?"

You patted the water in front of you. "Come sit. I like to be sandwiched between my two favorite boys." 

Kid moved to sit in front of you. "Which one is yer favorite favorite?" 

"Well his name starts with K-I." You washed Kid's back, appreciating its broadness. 

"Ha! I knew it was me!" Kid paused. "Wait. Damn it." 

You laughed. There was no way you would choose. Killer irritated you way less, but Kid was devastatingly charming when he wanted to be. 

Killer caught your wrist when you strayed too close to Kid's stump. "Let me get that."

You were a little embarrassed that you didn't think anything of it, but obviously Kid might be sensitive about his injury. "Sorry." You wondered if you could give him his arm back, if he would like it back. You moved to sit next to Killer, watching him methodically wash around the missing limb.

It brought a smile to your face watching the two of them, who very obviously knew each other inside and out, trusted each other completely. You leaned against Killer, still very tired, not opposed to being sandwiched between them again in Kid's bed. You slept better that way. If Kid had noticed your remodeling project, he didn't say. You were a bit disappointed, eager to see his reaction. 

Killer turned his head to you. "Sing that again." 

"Huh?" You had been sining under your breath without being completely conscious of it, waiting for them to be done. "It's just the Bink's brew song." 

Kid groaned. "Killer, don't make her sing it. She's bad at it and that song is annoying." You could always count on Kid to be brutally honest.

Killer looked at you insistently. It made you self-conscious, especially now that he was staring, so you ran through the words quickly:

Gather up all of the crew, it's time to steal all Binks' brew. We will go, to where, who knows? The loot will be our guide. Robbed behind the tavern's side. Thieves and bandits far and wide. Whores they sing, of lustful things to pirates passing by.

"Wow, that was even worse than the first time. Nice." Kid snickered.

"The first time? Kid, you've heard her sing it before?"

"Yeah it was fucking awful. Opposite of a siren. Made me want to jump overboard." 

"Maybe you should have. Damn." You were regretting extending him an olive branch. 

Killer gave you a sympathetic look. "Where did you hear that version?"

"What do you mean? Everyone knows every island's got a spin on it." You were puzzled about where this was going. "It's the one from my island. My hometown." 

"KID!? You didn't recognize it?!"

"Fuck are ya talking about? Ya know I always hated that song. Sounds the same as when Heat used to sing it to get on my nerves." Kid seemed to think about it. "Hang on. That's why it sounded kinda familiar I guess." Kid went on. "Ha! That's funny. Yer island and our island had the same version."

You and Killer had shared a glance immediately when you both realized the connection. Kid was working on it, almost there. 

"No!" Kid snapped his head to face you. "Yer not...?!

"From an island that hasn't got a name because the leadership changes with the gangs? From an island built on crime? Yeah I am."

"NO FUCKING WAY!" 

"Come on. Let's talk about it in Kid's room. The water is getting cold." Killer suggested. 

"Why my room?"

"Because this one made a mess of my sheets," Killer wrapped a towel around your shoulders. 

You felt your face burn with blood rushing to your cheeks. "That's your fault," you mumbled. 

Kid refused to have you wear one of Killer's old shirts that you had become accustomed to. You were in his room, so you had to wear his shirt. Well, first he insisted that you didn't need to put anything at all on, but you had fought him on that. Kid didn't even try to mask his desire for you, eyes glued to your tits, and you really couldn't begin to fathom going another round with him. Killer and Wire wore you out. You had started to lay back down on Killer when he was settled. Kid stopped you and demanded that he get a turn because Killer had you all day and in the tub. It gave you a warm feeling to know that you were wanted. 

Kid went on and on about the adventures of the two of them and the trouble they would get into as kids. He explained that the four of them used to lead gangs themselves before they became pirates. Then he talked about how bad the food was there, when you could even get your hands on it, and how shitty it was to live in the environment as a kid. It made you jealous to hear of their time together. Maybe if you had something like that, you could have survived there. Eventually something would have happened to force your hand though, you were sure of it. 

"So what made ya leave? Other than all the shitty things I already mentioned." 

You took a deep breath. "You already know most of it. It was chaos, as you said." You continued. "Once all my friends were gone, I had no where left to go except to find another gang to join. And by then I was sick of that life. They weren't even friends really. We all just stuck together out of necessity." 

"What happened to them?" Kid asked.

"The same thing that always happens: they died, or they left, or they were stolen." You sighed. "Maybe it would have been different if I had met one of you." 

"No," Killer said. "You had to go your own way to be who you are now."

You snorted. "Would have preferred to skip the torture bit of 'going my own way'." You went on. "I was a sitting duck without a group. I finally decided to leave for good when I saw a girl a little younger than me get murdered in cold-blood. It could have easily been me there instead of her."

"What did the girl look like?" Kid's voice was melancholy. He had a hard time coming to the conclusion you were from the same island, but he already knew the answer before you replied in this case.

"Petite. Short hair. Freckles maybe. I don't know. She was far away."

"Victoria." Kid said, even more sadness in his voice.

"Her name was Victoria," Killer clarified. He was surprised to know that you were even closer to them than you realized, yet somehow never crossed paths. 

Kid moved from behind you to retrieve the picture he had of her. He handed it to you.

"Yeah... That's her." You had thought she looked similar to the girl from your past, but memories were fuzzy and you thought there was no way you could be from the same island. You were wrong. You gave it back to him. "I'm... sorry."

"So it wouldn't have been different if ya had met one of us. We couldn't even protect Victoria." 

You looked to Killer, who was equally sad. There was nothing you could say to make either of them feel better. It was clear that this was a deep wound that you couldn't heal. You felt like you were intruding on their private emotions. "I can leave," you said softly. You felt sorry for bringing it up unknowingly. 

"Please stay," Kid's voice was scratchy. 

Killer explained the whole story so you could put the pieces together. You had switched places with Kid so that his head was resting on your chest. You couldn't see his face, but you could feel the fabric against your chest become damp. He was crying. The only comforting gesture you could think of was to run your hand through his hair. Killer was sad, but he was always better at controlling his emotions. Kid wore his heart on his sleeve. Eventually, you could feel his breathing become slower and deeper and could hear snores coming from Kid.

"Is he okay?" You asked Killer, who was still awake next to you. 

"Yeah. Victoria was our first crush. Kid was head over heels for her. He was devastated, we both were, when she was killed. If he thinks about her for too long, he gets like this." Killer wanted to change the subject before he ended up like that too. "I can't believe all this time we were from the same island."

"Me neither."

"Wire and Heat are going to be beside themselves." 

Your eyes rested on Kid. A few months ago, this would have been insane to you. 

"Don't worry. He'll be the same Kid you know and love tomorrow." 

"Love is a strong word." You narrowed your eyes at Killer, suspicious that he was insinuating something.

"It is." You thought he had fallen asleep the pause was so long, but he continued, "Kid has grown very attached to the idea of you staying on the crew." And more softly, as if not to wake him, "Very attached to you." 

"Funny. He said a very similar thing about you."

Killer's eyebrows went up, a blush spreading across his face. "He did?"

"Well, his exact words were 'Killer really likes his little kitchen whore'." You laughed quietly, trying not to let your chest shake.

Killer huffed. "It's called a sous chef."

"That's what I fucking said!" Your voice was louder than intended. Actually, why were you two even whispering? A sea train could run over Kid and he would still be asleep. You noted that Killer made no other corrections to your statement.