#i read with it once and the reading was about as clear as mud

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 2

[chap one] | [all chapters here] | [chap three]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Oooh I'm excited for this chapter! Would love to hear what everyone thinks about Eddie's characterization! And, after editing this chapter about half a dozen times, I feel like I'm still just not quite conveying the motivations of the character well, so let me know if her thoughts/feelings could be more clear!

taglist: @daisyridleyss @munsonssweets @marrowfrog00 @lotrefcp @rach5ive

wc: 4.0k

Chapter Two

Getting away on Sunday afternoon to meet Eddie was easy. You’d celebrated your birthday on Saturday, with your friends dragging you along on plans that they put together weeks in advance before you returned home for a far too formal dinner with your parents. You probably could have - and should have - been more excited considering that you were toasting your legal adulthood, but if anything, it just stirred even more desire for change and rebellion in you. What good was being a legal adult if you were still trapped in high school, if you were still just following the status quo?

You told your parents as you were leaving the house that afternoon that you were going to the ice rink - your dad grunted in acknowledgement, too caught up in his reading to really hear you, and your mom commended you for how dedicated you were to skating. To both responses, you rolled your eyes, leaving without saying goodbye.

You knew exactly which picnic table Eddie referred to in his note, as you weren’t the first person to meet him there for a drug deal, nor would you be the last. It was a well-known spot for students to meet with the metalhead - although it seemed like no one actually talked about it, probably because they themselves didn’t want to admit to any interaction with him, somehow everyone knew exactly where Eddie made his deals.

There were trails running through a lot of the forest that made it easy to find your destination; you left your car on a neighborhood street not far from the school, and trekked your way into the woods. It was still pretty in late September - leaves weren’t falling to the ground quite yet, and the sounds of wildlife could still be heard up in the trees and low on the ground. Not that you were one to appreciate nature much at all. But it was hard not to at least notice it as you walked quietly along the trail, going over exactly how you might propose this crazy idea of yours while trying your best not to trip over rocks or step in mud puddles.

When you arrived at the picnic area, Eddie was nowhere to be found, which was actually a relief to you. It gave you more time to think, to calm down and find the best means of conveying this idea to him. You felt stupid, having this strange and foreign anxiety in your chest, but it couldn’t be helped. Best you could do was relax and put on a cool face whenever the delinquent did finally show up.

You were about to sit at the picnic table, but quickly decided against it once you took a closer look at the rotting wood - it was disgusting and dirty, and you weren’t going to risk ruining one of your favorite skirts or catching some nasty disease. So, instead, you paced, keeping your mind busy as you waited, taking in your surroundings with an air of boredom as the hour hit 4 and you were still here alone. Eddie better show, or you weren’t going to be happy.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps crunching on twigs and brush caused you to look around, not quite sure which direction the sound was coming from at first. But it didn’t take long for you to spot Eddie hiking his way to you, surprised amusement on his face as he approached. He cocked his head, lips tugged back in a grin, as your heart skipped nervously; god, you felt so stupid being edgy like this, it was so unwarranted.

“Well, well…” He drawled, crossing his arms as he walked closer to you, “I’ve seen a lot, but the ice princess wants something from me? Now I really have seen everything.”

The way he said “ice princess” was jarring, almost as if it was both an insult and an inarguable fact. Yes, you’d heard people call you that before, but never with the gusto that Eddie Munson added to it - you briefly wondered if the nickname was more common than you originally thought, and then you wondered who it was that first came up with it. Was it Eddie? No, if anything it was probably someone in your own circle that started that stupid nickname, maybe even Duncan - you didn’t think Eddie cared enough to come up with a nickname for some popular kid who he’d never even spoken to before.

It’s as if his use of the derogatory nickname immediately reminded you that there was no reason to be nervous, because you could feel your usually cool demeanor coming back to you.

“Don’t cream your pants, Munson.” You replied bluntly, crossing your arms as if to mimic Eddie’s posture. His brows went up in surprise - it briefly crossed your mind that he might not have known what your voice sounded like, let alone how you talked. Well, now he knew.

Eddie tilted his head down slightly as if speaking to you conspiratorially, “I wasn’t expecting a chick like you to be so vulgar.”

You rolled your eyes. Okay, maybe this discussion would be more challenging than you had anticipated. Having never actually interacted with Eddie before today, you couldn’t have predicted what your dynamic together would be. From what you could tell after only this one minute of interacting, your personalities were bound to clash, making your impossible plan all the more impossible.

“I guess I’m full of surprises.” You replied plainly, your tone disinterested. Without thinking, you leaned your rear on the picnic table, but quickly jumped away when you remembered how dirty it was, an affronted sound escaping your lips. As you tried to wipe dirt from your ass, Eddie chuckled. To that, you shot him a cold glare.

“Alright, what are you looking for, princess?” Eddie asked while sitting on the filthy bench - that felt intentional, as if he was mocking your disgust at the grime and muck on the table, “Ask and you shall receive.”

You raised a critical brow at his theatrical tone, at the way he said ‘princess,’ at his entire demeanor. Yup, this was going to be impossible. You were certain that your judgmental expression was clear as day, because you could see the cogs turning behind Eddie’s eyes, how he was analyzing you just as much as you were him.

You stared at him with your arms crossed, your hip jutting out to the side as you briefly considered him, considered what you wanted to ask of him. You made a bit of a harsh face as you responded, “That’s a bold claim, considering that you don’t know what I’m going to ask.”

You met Eddie’s dark eyes as if to make a point, his brow furrowing in curious response. His gaze was mocking as he held your stare, “You think anything you ask for will shock me? Snobby rich kids always want the same stuff.”

“‘Snobby?’” You nearly snapped, glaring smally in offense. To that, Eddie pointed his hand at the empty bench across from him, a defiant look on his face.

“Take a seat then.” He challenged, the corner of his mouth curling up. You make another grossed out face, to which he gives a half-hearted shrug, giving him all the confirmation that he needed, “That’s what I thought.”

You scoffed, turning your back while grumbling, “God, I knew this was a stupid idea…”

You started to walk off in annoyance, trying your best not to trip over rocks or sticks in your haste, but only made it a few steps before Eddie called after you, “Wait, wait, come back…”

You spun back around, but remained planted where you stood, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as if prompting him to continue, to grovel and earn your trust.

“I’m just joking,” Eddie raised his hands in a lazy surender, his face growing surprisingly sincere after a moment, although that sincerity was also laced with a hint of judgment, “What are you gonna ask for, then?”

He’s patient, watching you as you deliberate what to do. Was it worth it? Did you really need Eddie to make this plan work? Should you call this off while you still had the chance?

No. This plan was stupid as all hell, but you were going to do it. With a determined little stomp of your foot - Eddie smirking in amusement at the mildly childish action - you approached the picnic table, bracing your hands against it as you tried to ignore the feeling of dirt getting under your nails.

“If you laugh at me, I’ll ruin you.” You threatened while meeting his eyes. Again, Eddie grinned, but he otherwise kept his mouth shut, which seemed to be his way of agreeing to your terms, “I don’t need drugs, I need a favor. It’s gonna sound… honestly ridiculous.”

“Okay…” Eddie leaned forward so that your faces were only a foot apart; his expression was one of neutral attentiveness, however, you could see the sparkle of intrigue in his eyes. You don’t pull back from the close proximity he created, studying one another’s faces; it felt strange to be observed by him so closely, as Eddie had a way of scrutinizing you that felt different from those you knew, different from the way people normally looked at you. You tried to find the best way of proposing your dumb idea, but nothing would make your request sound less crazy than it already is.

Finally, you gave up with a sigh and just blurted it out, “I need you to date me.”

Despite your earlier threat, an unexpected bark of a laugh jumped out of Eddie’s mouth. He raised his fist in front of his lips and pretended to cough, as if that would do anything to hide his very clear amusement. Your eyes widened in intense warning. To his credit, Eddie composed himself quickly, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, although you could still see a little twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Can you repeat that for me?” He prompts, fighting off his laughter and confusion.

Again, you roll your eyes - god, you were going to be doing that a lot with this guy, weren’t you? You were already getting tired of it.

“I don’t want to actually date you,” You said as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world, “Just pretend. You know, like one of your dumb games.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened a little at the insult, but instead of retaliating he simply pulled back, putting a bit of distance between you. He looks you up and down in consideration, his mind racing to understand your unexpected request.

“Care to elaborate?” He questioned, his tone mildly critical.

You purse your lips in annoyance as you consider where to start, eyeing Eddie closely - how the hell did you explain to someone that you wanted them to be your fake boyfriend? You sighed, pulling back from the table, starting to walk in a slow circle around it. The motion was vaguely like skating around a rink, so in an odd way it helped you think.

“I hate literally everything about my life,” You paused, half expecting Eddie to mock your pathetic woes, but he remained silent, “It’s my senior year and I’m only now realizing that nothing in my life is up to me, that I don’t have any control over anything - everything is decided by someone else. And I’m fucking tired of it.”

You could see mild surprise on Eddie’s face, and you wondered if it was because of your foul language - it always seemed to surprise people to hear the way you could talk considering how nice and well-behaved you appeared, although you’d always been anything but.

You continued, “I want to do something stupid, something that’ll piss off my parents, that’ll get everyone to stop treating me like some untouchable, perfect princess.” You chose the word deliberately, looking Eddie dead in the eye, “And what stupider than to date Eddie freaking Munson?”

Now, it was Eddie’s turn to look somewhat offended, “Gee, thanks.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most effective tactic to keep insulting the man you were trying to bribe, but you just couldn’t seem to help yourself. You didn’t exactly know how to be nice to anyone. Eddie’s eyes considered you for a moment before something of a mean look flickered across his face.

“This has something to do with that boyfriend of yours, doesn’t it? What, you break up or something?” And then an almost mirthful realization flashed across his eyes, obviously seeing some change in your demeanor that you didn’t intend for him to notice, “Ooh, I get it. He broke up with you, didn’t he? You trying to win him back?”

You brace yourself against the table again as you glare at him, but otherwise you maintain your composure, your tone condescending and mean as you reply, “I do not want him back. He could drive off a bridge for all I care. I want to get under his skin. I want to get under everyone’s skin.”

You could tell that Eddie didn’t get it - he still didn’t understand why you needed his help in this ridiculous plan of yours, and he didn’t understand why you were feeling the way you did. With a sigh, you try to calm down and unclench your tight jaw.

“Look, Munson,” You caved in and stiffly took a seat on the opposite bench as if to bolster your argument, to make him take you a little more seriously, “I know it sounds crazy, but I just know nothing else will work.”

“And how do you know that?” He urged - you couldn’t tell if he thought you were an idiot or if he was actually interested in hearing you out.

You stared at Eddie for a long moment, trying to find the easiest way to make him understand. He stared back, again showing far more patience than you would have expected from him, especially with the likes of you. As you study his face in thought, you finally sigh, shaking your head as you look away with a vague annoyance set on your features.

“I don’t actually know, okay?” You start, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye for a few moments, “What I want is complete and utter… social suicide. To just stop worrying about my reputation or what people think. I’m sick and tired of expectations and status quos and doing what I’m told or what people expect. I want to piss everyone off. I want to piss Duncan off. I just… it feels like I need to change, you know?”

“Nope, I have no idea what you mean.” Eddie says plainly, and as you glare at him, you realize he’s joking once he finally cracks a smile. His eyes are surprisingly kind as he leans forward on his elbows, parroting your words, “When have I ever subscribed to expectations and status quos and doing what I’m told?”

At that rhetorical response, your face relaxed for the first time this entire conversation. Hell, you even felt a mild excitement wash over you as you consider what his words were implying, “So… you’ll do it?”

Eddie makes a face as if he’s still mulling over the idea, still trying to figure out what exactly your motivations were, “I mean, you’re bratty and rude and this plan is kind of stupid, but I might do it.”

“Might?” You ask, trying not to sound too pushy or annoyed by his casual insults. If this was going to happen, you both had to learn to stop prodding at each other like this, learn to stop picking on each other just because you could. That might prove to be the most challenging part of all of this, though.

Eddie smirks, rising back to his feet as he contemplates, “What do I get out of this? And don’t say money - that’ll make me feel like a prostitute.”

As you pulled a face, Eddie grinned at his own comment, obviously finding that idea amusing in some way. And like a teenage mimicry of a business person, you sat up straighter, looking at him plainly as you presented your offer, “No, but I do have one idea. But if you think of something better…?”

Eddie nods in confirmation, urging you to continue.

“Well, my uncle’s a cop--”

At that, Eddie chuckles abruptly while cutting you off, “Oh, trust me, I know exactly who your uncle is.”

Aside from shooting him a small look, you continue as if he hadn’t said anything, focused on getting this plan hatched, “I think I can help you. You can’t get in trouble with them anymore if I’m the one taking the fall.”

Eddie’s brows rose in surprise at your words, his arms crossing as he studied you, “What, you think your pretty little ass can handle a night in lock up?”

“No, genius,” You roll your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, “If it falls on me, there will be no jail, no arrest, nothing. The minute I tell someone who my uncle is, they won’t even think about putting a hand on me, that would be stupid. I’m effectively untouchable.”

Eddie nods, rubbing his chin, “But doesn’t that go out the window if you commit… What did you call it? ‘Social suicide?’”

You shrug, “Maybe. Maybe not. But I can probably keep them off your ass for the rest of the school year so long as you don’t do something too stupid.”

“You want to date me until graduation?” Eddie makes a dramatic show of placing his hand to his chest as if he’s flattered.

“Jesus…” You mutter to yourself with a sigh, “We’ll see where it goes.”

Eddie, again, nodded while humming in consideration. You sat quietly, waiting for him to add something to the conversation. You could tell that he was drawing it out, though, milking the moment just for the hell of it, to put you on edge. Suddenly, he slaps his hand down firmly on the table, causing you to jump in your seat.

“We have a deal.” His eyes glint as he smirks at you, “We play happy little couple, we destroy your reputation, piss off all your friends, and you keep me out of trouble. What could possibly go wrong?”

It suddenly felt like he jinxed everything by saying that, ruined it before you could even begin, but you ignored that feeling as you gave him a slight smile, actually pleased with how the conversation had gone. Of course, there was still that strange sense of disbelief at the entire situation - it was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever thought of or done, but that also made it kind of exhilarating in its odd way.

Eddie walked around the table, leisurely sliding onto the bench beside you, intentionally leaning over to bump your shoulder playfully. It was unexpected, causing you to make a slight face at him, but that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Look, princess, you gotta start being nicer to me if you want to convince anyone that we’re a couple.” Although his tone was teasing, you knew what Eddie said was true. Even you, known for your bitchiness, couldn’t be too mean to the man that you were supposedly dating, especially if you wanted to get under Duncan’s skin - the nicer you were to Eddie, the more it would annoy Duncan that you were never that nice to him.

“Fine.” You say plainly, looking him in the eye, “If that’s the case, no more ‘princess.’”

Eddie made a teasing face, “Then what do I call you? It would look strange if your boyfriend didn’t have any pet names for you, right?”

You sighed, but he did make a good point - it made you realize that you needed to lay out some ground rules for this whole fake dating thing, something that you hadn’t accounted for during your planning stage.

“When we’re around other people, just call me something nice. I don’t care what it is.”

Eddie’s playful expression was still in place, “Oh, you’ll regret that…”

You rolled your eyes, and yet this time the corner of your mouth pulled up into an amused grin despite yourself, “Just be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you. Can’t be too hard, right? And don’t touch me unless it’s in front of people.”

You looked him up and down critically with that comment. It's not that you were worried about him being gross or anything like that, you just hated people touching you unnecessarily.

“Any other commands, my liege?”

“What, you want me to write this down for you or something?”

Eddie pretended to consider the idea, “If only I knew how to read, princess.”

You made a face, knowing that Eddie kept calling you that dumb nickname quite intentionally, that he kept testing you with deliberate aim. Trying to resist rising to the tempting bait, you continued explaining the dos and don’ts of fake dating. 

“Okay,” You started, raising your pointer finger. Eddie made a show of paying close attention, surely just to mock you, as you raised another finger with each new rule you stated, “One: we have to try to be nice to each other. Two: no unnecessary touching if no one’s around. Three: we have to spend a lot of time together, like, not just at school - we have to go out sometimes, especially to places where people will see us. Four: we have to be extra obnoxious when Duncan’s around. Five: … I’m in charge.”

At the last instruction, Eddie laughed right in your face, “You’re in charge? I thought this was a relationship, not a dictatorship.”

You had a response ready to leave your lips, but you let it go - practice for the inevitable niceties to come, you supposed. Eddie studied you for a moment while half smiling, seemingly aware that you were doing your best to bite your tongue.

“Alright, alright, you’re in charge…” He rose to his feet, which seemed to signal that the conversation was coming to an end, “So, what, starting tomorrow I’m your boyfriend?”

“I mean… Should we build up to it first?” The question sounded ridiculous, you knew it sounded juvenile and naive in its way, but it had to be asked. And yet again, Eddie chuckled.

“Sure, we’ll ‘build up to it.’” His tone was teasing, but not quite so mean as before. Eddie studied the look on your face, trying to learn how to read you considering the amount of time you were surely about to start spending together, “Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got this in the bag. Relinquish some of that control a little, okay?”

He slowly began to walk backwards towards the trail, waiting for you to join him, so you stood to walk alongside him. You almost neurotically began dusting yourself, trying in vain to get the dirt and the mud and the dead leaves off of your skirt, out from under your nails.

You caught up to Eddie easily enough, continuing to pick at your well manicured nails, “I’m serious, Munson, please don’t fuck this up.”

Eddie threw his arm around your shoulder, once again disregarding one of your rules without a single care. He looked down at you with a teasing look on his face, confirming that he did that on purpose, confirming that he was sure to keep doing it on purpose, “Relax. I’ll flirt with you tomorrow, I’ll flirt some more throughout the week, I’ll start hanging around your locker or talking to you at lunch, and then by the end of the week I’ll ask you on a date. Deal?”

You stared into Eddie’s eyes a moment before lifting his arm off your shoulders, stepping just out of reach with a mild sneer on your lips, “Okay, deal.”

His smile is wide as he walks alongside you back to your cars. This was going to be one hell of a time, and he, frankly, was all too curious to see how it would turn out.

[klausysworld]

Hear me out.....

I have this idea for you... hear me out.

Reader is camping in mystic falls....klaus just broke his wolf curse. His first rut hits him and he runs into the woods. He gets a whiff of a very good smelling scent. He follows it. Turns out he has a mate and she is not a super creature but a human. Hear me out now.... she's his true mate...and he considers her his omega.

So when he approaches her she's like a tad bit freaked out but she feels that same pull to him he does with her. She sits down on the ground and klaus let's her pet him...

Let's just say this reader is into...werewolves cause she reads a lot of fanfiction so in her mind her wildest dreams are about to come true.  And you can put two and two together.

Wolf!klaus fucking his human!reader as his mate. And after that moment they became inseparable. Your welcome. 😌

Dream or Reality?

Klaus ran far and fast, the pads of his paws thudding against the ground, wind blowing through his fur and that delightful rush of adrenaline had his undead heart pounding.

He dismissed Elijah’s annoyed callings for him and continued to enjoy the freedom he had longed for.

Everything was so intense now, even more that it already was. Every chirp of a cricket, every buzz of a bee, every crinkle of a leaf and every flap of a birds wings. He could hear for miles on end. As he looked around at his surroundings, the greens were brighter, the sky bluer. The the mud and blades of grass against his paws could each be individually felt and when he inhaled deeply, a wave of scents filled his lungs.

However one in particular stood out.

He made a sudden stop, his body skidding to a halt and his ears pointed straight up as he sniffed a few more times. His mouth watered and he pressed his snout down, following the delicious scent, chasing it as he heard the hum of a girl.

He slowed gradually and followed her as she weaves through the trees, a basket in hand which was filled with a range of wild berries. He sat down and watched as she picked from a large bush of blackberries, leaning a little closer to smell just how lovely she was. It had his claws digging into the ground and his tail beating the floor.

His eyes shone gold, bleeding into red as she bent right the way over to pick up her basket once she was finished picking from the high parts. Her short, flowy dress allowing him to see just about everything as her matching white thong left very little to the imagination.

Oh how he wanted to run up behind her and shove his mouth into her cunt. If she smelled this delicious, he could only dream of her taste.

But instead he decided to wait, follow her some more until it began to get dark and her stroll came to a stop. He looked around at the clearing she had chosen to rest at. Klaus kept low to the ground, the grass and flowers not hiding him as well as he might’ve hoped but enough.

He took a few tentative steps as she sat down against the grass, just watching the sun set. Her skin glowed under the golden hue and her hair lay beautifully against her skin. The white of her dress complimented her skin tone wonderfully, he could onto imagine how soft it would be against his tongue.

The thought alone had him walking straight to her, his muzzle brushing her shoulder making her freeze in place. Her head slowly turned to face him, wide eyes staring back at him and her breathing came to a stop.

He slowly sat before her, her lips parted slightly as he rolled his shoulders back and he sat tall before her. Her head tilted back to take in his height, a nervous breath leaving her as a soft growl rumbled through him.

She looked so weak in-front of him, so small and innocent. Oh how he knew he could just eat her up, in many ways.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, shock written all across her as maintained eye contact with him for as long as possible. He found it amusing how she tried to stand her ground by holding his stare, he allowed her to win this, allow her to feel as though she may have the upper hand.

Klaus brought himself down to lay on his forearms and back legs, his chest barely touching the grass below.

Her hand very slowly lifted, she held it out with fear flashing through her and a twinge of curiosity as he sniffed her hand. He groaned at the addictive scent of her blood underneath the surface and licked the soft skin of her palm. She giggled quietly at the tickle of his tongue as he dragged it up her arm and her other hand pet his head gently.

“Wow” she whispered under her breath and a smile tugged at her lips as he pulled his face away and looks down at her through hooded eyes. His head tilted when he caught the scent of something rather sweet. His tail whipped side to side when he realised the source of the delicious smell and lowered his head. Her eyes widened when his nose pressed to her lower belly and she gasped softly.

Her hands ran through his fur on his neck and down his back, well as far as her arms could reach from her seated position. When she leaned forward to touch his tail he took the opportunity to get his head under her skirt, the top of his snout pressed to her panties making her jolt and squeal.

“Shit” she whispered when she fell forward in surprise onto her hands and knees over the top of him. She kept still, unsure what her best move could be here, she couldn’t make any sudden movements, it might spook him and she didn’t exactly want to be with a violent wolf when it’s nose was rubbing against her panties.

An involuntary moan left her when his long, warm tongue pressed against her and she quickly rolled to her side and onto her back.

“Oh gods” she whispered when the wolf stood over her, licking his lips and sniffing her intently. She looked up wide eyed and even more so when he barked quietly at her before pressing his nose to the valley if her breasts.

Her mouth opened and closed as she stared into his eyes, a strange glint in them that told her he was definitely more than he looked.

Dear god she read too many werewolf fanfics. She was in a field with a fucking huge animal trying to feel her up and she liked it way more than she probably should.

“Okay, okay” she uttered to herself while slowly pushing herself up to be sitting again but he didn’t move, instead her face was hidden in his chest and his rustic scent was filling her head. She groaned softly at the addicting smell and found herself nuzzling her nose against his fur.

Klaus watched in both amusement and lust, his front leg lifted to wrap around her, his large paw holding the back of her head in encouragement as she huffed him in. Warmth spread through him, pooling at the pit of his stomach as her hands tugged his fur. God he needed to have her right now, make her his before anyone else could get even the slightest view of her.

His nose sniffed at the top of her head, her hair freshly washed and soft. Her cheek pressed to his chest and a small moan left her as he stepped forward and pressed a paw to her now damp underwear. His tail wagged and he turned his head to lick the shell of her ear and make her squirm.

She fell back against the grass as he pressed his nose to her throat to gently push her downwards.

“Fuck fuck fuck” she chanted as she closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his tongue along her neck. His teeth caged her throat, the action should’ve made her reek with fear but a low growl erupted from his chest at the flow of arousal she released as he bit down gently. Her hands latched onto his fur tightly, keeping his teeth in her as he pierced past the skin to leave his mark. “Oh god” she breathed as he licked over the wounds more moving his snout further down her body.

“This can’t be happening” she whispered as his canines nibbled along the swell of her breasts and pushed the top of her dress down to have more access. Klaus tugged at the fabric but she didn’t move to take it off making him huff and bark at her.

She looked back at him confused and shook her head slowly making him grumble before grabbing the skirt of the sundress and pulling it up making her yelp as he exposed her thong. Her hand moved to cover herself and she groaned when she realised how wet she was, not noticing the way his tail wagged rapidly when she pushed them down off her legs. “What am I doing” she mumbled to herself before glancing to the wolf.

“Sit” she whispered unsure but he did so and her eyes widened. “Okay” she laughed slightly and stood up, entertained by the fact he followed her. “Go on, go home” she shooed him, but he kept his nose nice and close to the source of her scent and followed her until she stopped at a large teepee tent. She sighed and went inside, closing it up before Klaus could step in making him growl softly.

Not that it was an issue, he just powered his way through and drank in the sight before him. Seeing her pull off her dress and pull out a skimpy pair of pyjamas. Perfect for his eyes but he also hated that she would come to an open area, anyone could come by, and wear such lack of clothing.

She shrieked when she turned to see him stood before her and grabbed her sleeping bag to cover herself. It wasn’t appreciated apparently as he showed her by grabbing the end of it and pulling it roughly like a dog would a tug toy. Her hold on it was nothing compared to his and she ended up fully naked again for his eager eyes.

“What the actual fuck” she whispered looking back at him with a slightly fearful, slightly aroused look in her eyes while his shone with lust and hunger.

Her legs pressed together, her hands awkwardly hiding her sex from his view. She took a reluctant step back as he stalked toward her much like a predator does his prey before closing her eyes nervously and praying to god that this animal wouldn’t eat her.

Oh but he wanted to, just a little differently to the way she was thinking.

So when his tongue licked at her slightly shaky hands, she moved them slowly in anticipation. Her eyes flew open when he nuzzled his nose between her thighs, nudging them apart and locking his eyes on hers and his tongue curled between them. “Oh fuck” she breathed as it slid along her folds, then between them until the tip of his tongue stroked her clit.

“This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” She told herself “it’s just a dream” she whispered with a long breath, her hands moving to pet the top of his head. If it were a dream then she could do this, just live out her dirty fantasies and wake up in the morning all hot and sweaty.

Klaus chuckled in his head at her words and continued his actions. Her hands in his fur felt delightful, and her taste on his tongue was more than heavenly. Her body was so beautiful from where he was, looking straight up at her. Her face was looking up, avoiding his stare making his tail wag lowly as he buried his face further into her cunt, tongue deep inside her and the blunts of his teeth nibbling the hood of her clit to have her thighs trembling, legs struggling to keep her stood up. Her nails dug into his scruff and her knees went weak.

He let his eyes fall closed as he focused solely on her. She was overwhelming in every aspect but he couldn’t stop craving her. Such an addictive taste, smell, feel. Her slippery pink flesh was so incredibly soft, smooth like silk and he could only imagine how it will feel around his shaft as he slides in and out of her.

His tongue reached up into her, feeling for and finding that spongey little spot within her. One stroke of his tongue was all it took for her legs to give out, knees hitting the base of the tent as she moaned loudly. Her arms moved out to ease herself down as she laid on her back, thighs open for him to indulge between.

“Fucking hell” she uttered under her breath as her hands grabbed him tightly and kept his face right against her. Her fucks bucked and a sharp cry left her when his cold nose rubbed at her hot clit, his tongue continuously curling inside her until she was spilling her pleasure into his mouth. Moaning loudly with no control over herself as she came over his muzzle, she pushed herself up on her elbows to watch him tongue dart out to lap up every drop.

His dark, dangerous eyes gazed right into hers, hunger was all she could see as he licked his snout clean with a low rumble echoing through him.

Klaus couldn’t think about anything else. He needed to have her right now. He took a seat before her, he looked down between his legs to see he his long, thick cock stood in desperate need of attention. He glanced back to her, seeing her lips parted and eyes dark as she whimpered at the sight of it. He sat a little taller as she crawled forward, nervously looking up to him every few movements before she was right in-front of him. God she looked pathetically tiny compared to him like this, and he loved it.

Her small soft hands reached forward to get a gentle hold on his cock. A grunt instantly left his throat as she kept her eyes on his, waiting incase he reacted threateningly. Her eyes flickered between his face and his dick, her breathing getting heavier as both her hands slid up and down his length, his thickness filling both hands more and more as she stroked him.

“Jesus fucking Christ” she whispered when she looked at it a little too long, watching a spurt of pre-cum leak down him making her spread it all over his cock. A soft moan left her lips when his hips jerked forward and she glanced to him before slowly leaning down.

Klaus’ tail whipped side to side as her breath ghosted his tip, growl like groans leaving him before he choked on his breath as her plump lips pressed to his cock. A gasp left her and he looked down to see if something was wrong but he felt her suckling at the slit telling him everything was just perfect.

His hips jumped forward, his claws digging into the ground as he stretched her mouth open. She moaned in pain at the sting of her face but his taste was so rich and addicting that she just ignored it.

Klaus rose so he was stood up instead of sat, his hips rocking into her little mouth as she sent a flow of vibrations down him. She too was on all fours as she seemingly tried to swallow him down. His head leaned down to lick over the top of her ass, the softness of his tongue making her whimper around his succulent cock. His tongue dipped down between her cheeks to taste her once more, and of course to feel the moans she released around him again.

He listened as his little mate choked around him as his swollen tip knocked as far back as it could. Her poor throat contracted around it until she gagged and he stepped back to spare her. She coughed a little and sucked at his tip a little more before pulling back to catch her breath.

Klaus stood tall and turned around, still stood over her but now in a position ready to mouth her. Though she was so small infront of him he would be nearly lead down to fuck her.

He licked her back softly as her breathing sped up and her head looked over her shoulder to see his strong form over her. She let out a lengthy breath, a small nod to her head she she tried to mentally prepare herself for the step she was taking.

Klaus’s back legs bent to bring himself lower, his large cock going between her legs and sliding against her dripping cunt. He admired how soaked she was, he wondered how long she had fantasised of this position. To be fucked by a werewolf.

Though her loud moan told him it must’ve been a while as his tip pushed inside her. Her pussy clung to him tightly and her gasps for breath were obvious as her little body stretched for him. Klaus wouldn’t have been surprised if she came as soon as he thrust himself inside her from the way her body reacted.

Klaus wasn’t sure if this was exactly ethical but neither one of them seemed to exactly care very much about morals at that moment. She tilted her head back to look up at him, his tail wagged at the sight of her glossy eyes. Her mouth opened and a whimpered “Please” left her soft lips. He listened to her pleas, bucking his hips forward and listening to the scream that she released as her head fell back forward to look down. His front paws pushed against the tent floor to thrust himself back and forth slowly.

Her moans were melodic, her velvet walls tight. Klaus only wished he could whisper his filthy thoughts to her.

He shifted his from legs, his paws grabbing onto her hips and his claws digging into her skin making her hiss. Her pain only lasted a second as his hips began to abruptly thrust faster.

“Oh fuck” she yelled as he roughly humped into her. He stood strong on his back legs, lifting her lower region up as he pounded her from behind, quite literally like a wild animal. Her palms lay flat against the ground as her body jolted forward each time his swelled tip smacked her cervix.

His panted grunts filled the air as well as her rapid breaths and moans. The tent felt much smaller as the air got thicker. Hard thrusts knocked the air out of her every second, sharp breaths leaving her as she felt her cunt spasm around his dick. Klaus fucked her faster, harder at the feel of her slippery walls squeezing him desperately.

Klaus felt something extra sensitive growing at the base of his cock and hitting against her tight little hole. She let out a pleasant cry as she felt herself be stretched out further.

Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open at the feel of his wolf’s knot shove in and out of her.

Klaus’s mind clouded over, he barely registered how her body shook and her screams got loud enough for the whole forest to hear. All he focused on was getting his knot so deep inside her that she was bound to him forever. His wolf clawed at her waist and hips as his hind legs steadied to fuck her as roughly as he could.

Her cunt clamped around him tightly, his knot locking inside her making her cry in pleasure when their orgasms mixed. His stuffing her full of his seed and hers exploding down her thighs. Her body fell exhausted immediately, the knotting taking its toll as it should for first time mates.

Klaus pulled out and whined as her arms gave out under her and she hit the ground with a thud. His tongue was on her face, trying to wake her up but she was barely conscious.

He circled her for a full minute before curling around her, wrapping her frame in his warmth.

His snout squeezed between her thighs which desperately tried to squeeze together. He lapped his tongue against her folds, cleaning her cunt and thighs so she wouldn’t feel sticky when she woke.

Klaus stayed awake while she slept. She slept for nearly 16 hours but he didn’t move. He abandoned any plans of hunting and terrorising civilians like he had originally wanted to when he released his wolf and instead smuggled his mate. He found himself with his muzzle in her pussy nearly every few hours no matter how hard he tried to resist, he knew it was making her sleepier but god he just couldn’t help himself. At least he managed to stop himself from fucking her again, he can only imagine how she would scream herself awake.

But he was able to hold some of his desires inside.

He kept her warm and safe for over half a day. Even when she woke, she was still drowsy and wasn‘y up to moving so he kept her comfy and pleased.

They both seemed to forget that the woods were open to anyone walking past. Elijah made the futile mistake of thinking his brother was killing the girl onto to find him with his furry face between her legs. Klaus nearly ripped his eyes out of his head.

Elijah left and returned a full day later with both men’s and women’s clothes, tossing them into the tent.

Klaus had turned back a few hours before and had to confirm the girls dreams, he was a werewolf.

“Hybrid actually” he told her and her eyes widened making him chuckle and kiss her lips softly. She wasn’t expecting such gentleness from the animal which had ruined her poor pussy but there he was, rubbing her skin to keep her warm and encouraging her to keep her eyes closed.

Klaus growled when Elijah threw the clothes in but somewhat appreciated it anyway.

He dressed y/n and then himself, scooping her into his arms and kissing her cheek.

“We’re going on a trip sweetheart, we’ll be finding many more werewolves and I’ll teach you everything you can know about the supernatural” he told her with a soft smile and slow strokes her hair as she nuzzled his chest.

[delirious-donna]

The Duality of Men [Part Five]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Being cooped up all day with Kento isn't as easy as it sounds. Time to tempt the stick in the mud out for a drink. What could go wrong?

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: suggestive, mentions of previous masturbation, humour, two idiots pining, mentions of alcohol, toxic male behaviour (not Kento), misunderstandings, white knight Kento, also very oblivious Kento

Part Four | Series Masterlist | Part Six

The morning dawned–bright and fresh. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the events of the previous evening almost felt like some lucid dream rather than reality. Only the dull ache that remained between your thighs served as a reminder of your toying fingers. Whilst you might have found release, it was temporary at best, and the encounter with Kento in the kitchen had only served to rekindle your desire for the man who was quickly becoming less of a stranger to you.

In an attempt to occupy your mind, turning it onto more pressing matters other than the slew of questions about the stoic male—his interests, occupation, and preferences in a far more intimate manner—you decided that focusing on schoolwork would be for the best.

That was how you came to find yourself seated in one of the two tall chairs that lined one side of the kitchen island, your coursework spread out in a sea of paper and textbooks. It was an organised mess, or so you would say, others might disagree, but it worked for you and that was all that mattered. Or it might have been had it not been for the appearance of your host.

Kento shuffled into the kitchen, his hair dishevelled from sleep and yawning widely. A glance at the clock told you it was an early start to the day for someone who was meant to be on vacation. He reached his arms overhead into a delicious looking stretch, and paused when his eyes blinked open to spy you fully dressed with a pen between your teeth.

“Morning,” he offered once he too glanced at the clock with a slight squint. It made you wonder if he needed glasses and if so, why didn’t he wear them? His voice was gruff, laden with sleep, and you did your best not to squirm at the effect it caused in your stomach. “You’re awake early, no?”

“I could say the same to you. Didn’t you say you were on mandated vacation? Oh, and good morning. There is coffee in the pot if you’d like some?” You added, leaning your cheek onto your fist whilst you admired him, emboldened by the knowledge he wasn’t awake enough to notice.

He grunted in response. Deliberately not looking whilst you smacked your pen against your pursed lips, and instead made a beeline to the source of caffeine that had roused him from his slumber in the first place. He admired your dedication at being awake to study so early. The question of what you were studying tickled the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. The more he knew, the harder it would be to keep his distance as he had vowed to himself.

Lazing in bed wasn’t on his agenda, it would be a waste of time when he could be reading or getting in a morning run on the treadmill. Perhaps in another life, he would have savoured the idea of remaining nestled within warm sheets, the morning sun streaming across the rumpled bed from the gap in the curtains, and… He paused, knowing that his mind was conjuring another body beside him, one that was across the room from him.

A distraction was what he needed.

“You study like… this?” Kento asked, nose wrinkled in distaste.

The pen in your hand was no longer gently patting at your lips, it was smacking hard against the marble counter edge and his eyebrow quirked at your clear irritation. He fought the smile that tried to rise, wisely hiding it behind his mug whilst he took another long sip.

“It… makes sense to me.” Your eyes narrowed, shifting your hips forward on the chair to lean over the counter, pen wagging in admonishment.

Kento held up his unoccupied hand in surrender, not wishing to cause you any further annoyance and longing for a slice of solitude that he wasn’t going to find in here. “Let me get out of your hair, I wouldn’t wish to distract you from your studies.”

You scowled after him, annoyed at yourself for finding that you were fixated on the dips at his lower back and the way his muscles shifted and bunched as he moved away and out of sight. It was far worse in the clear morning light; you could no longer fool yourself into believing that the broad expanse of his shoulders and the strength of his torso was simply a trick of the low lighting. It was simply him, and you rested your head on your folded arms while you processed that nugget of information.

The rest of the morning was spent in some semblance of peaceful cohabitation. Kento contented himself with running in his home gym, earbuds in place and you wondered what kind of music he enjoyed on your trip to the bathroom, peeking inside only for a moment before darting away, scared to be caught.

It wasn’t until lunchtime approached that he reemerged into the living room, fully dressed in a cream sweater and navy trousers.

By this point, you were curled up into the far corner of the couch with a book in hand. Whilst peeking over the top, you watched as he manoeuvred around the kitchen to make lunch. You must have read the same passage at least a dozen times and still, the words wouldn’t sink in. It wasn’t until he turned to eat, that he froze–plate in hand.

Of course, your coursework was still splayed out and possibly looking even more disorderly than before if that was at all possible. You waited, counting internally for the snarky comment, but as you reached fifteen… you glanced at him again.

“Are you really standing over the sink to eat?”

“I’m sure you have a suggestion as to what I should do instead,” he sighed in resignation with the plate balanced on his palm and half his sandwich clutched in his other hand.

“You could, y’know, sit on the couch like a normal person,” you chided with a roll of your eyes. “Or are you that afraid of crumbs that you’d rather stand over there?”

If truth be told, he did despise crumbs and unnecessary dirt. However, he wasn’t about to get into it with you about something you’d find trivial and likely tease him over. As if accepting your challenge, he marched stiffly to the other end of the couch from you and rested his plate precariously on his knees to finish his sandwich. His forehead wrinkled into a scowl, and you fought the urge to tell him to ease up or he’d prematurely wrinkle his face. Something told you he wouldn’t take too kindly to such an accusation.

Unfortunately, the calm of the morning didn’t last into the afternoon. For such a spacious apartment it felt awfully cramped when the two of you tried to focus on your individual interests. It was like walking on eggshells and your nerves were on a razor's edge for no good reason. More often than not you found yourself studying the uptight man rather than reviewing your seminar notes.

Nanami prowled from room to room like a caged predator, one that was not accustomed to enforced captivity and was losing its sanity with each continued tick of the kitchen clock. You were certain he had sat on every part of the couch, first seemingly engrossed in the newspaper delivered to his door but it didn’t last. Before you knew it he was back on his feet and standing at the panoramic window with both hands clasped behind his back.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, ignoring the beautiful sight of the late afternoon sun turning dark and fiery across the city. It would have been what you studied in his position but no, Kento watched the hundreds of commuters down on the streets. Was he… envious?

It appeared that way and he only strengthened the idea when he huffed, leaving a cloud of breath against the clean glass and turned on his heel to retrieve his discarded newspaper. The crisp pages snapped apart harshly under his grip and you nearly laughed at what you could only describe as rage reading.

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time and threw down your pen in defeat. After stretching your arms overhead and rotating your stiff wrists, you gathered your courage and rounded on the man who couldn’t settle into anything remotely relaxing.

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

Kento paused on the sentence he had already read ten times over. Was he hearing you correctly? “Pardon?”

Hopping down from the stool you’d sat at for most of the day, you approached slowly and shrugged. “It’s been a long day and I think we could both use a drink to relax us a bit.”

Why would you need to relax? He was the one wound tighter than a spring-loaded toy but he couldn’t even blame you, not rationally anyway. You’d spent the day studying diligently, only breaking to stretch your limbs, refill your water bottle or read your book. A book he was unfamiliar with, squirrelling away the title and author to look up later.

After his morning run and shower, the day had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. No matter how tightly he tried to cling to them, the minuscule grains escaped through the cracks until the hours were lost and he felt a sick sensation in his stomach. He tried not to consider the accounts he could have handled had he been in the office, or the clients he could have snared if he’d been permitted to admit the conference as planned. It wasn’t worth the turmoil it caused.

“I have a well-stocked liquor cabinet and there is wine in the fridge if it’s a drink you’d like,” he offered, moving closer to you and ignoring the desire to splay his hand at the small of your back to guide you towards his prized collection.

You shuffled your feet looking decidedly more nervous. His head cocked in curiosity, noting your habit to chew on your lips. He bet they tasted sweet.

“Kento… can we get out of the apartment? I bet there are a few nice bars around here, and well… c’mon, I don’t want to go alone.”

He may as well have sighed at the sound of his name on your lips for the second time. You might not know it, but he would have agreed to just about anything at that moment. For that reason alone, he found himself perched on a bar stool in a noisy but thankfully well-lit bar a few streets away from the apartment complex.

Your face was a picture of excitement, and he laughed discreetly whilst you leant on the bar waiting for the bartender to notice and take your order. Kento did his best not to appreciate how your light blue jeans hugged your backside, averting his eyes to admire the décor instead. He scolded his rapidly diminishing restraint, feeling more like a hormonal young man than he did when he was a hormonal young man.

“Vodka cranberry please, light on the ice. What would you like, Kento? It’s my treat.”

Oh hell no. He wasn’t about to let a student pay for his drink, no matter the circumstances. Meeting the eye of the young man behind the counter, he bristled at the amusement that was evident in his expression.

“Laphroaig, neat. Make it a double, please,” he rattled off whilst fishing his card from the wallet in his back pocket. At his side, you were beginning to protest, tugging on his sleeve and damn near bouncing on your stool. The bartender nodded and wisely chose to remain silent as he accepted the card and hurried away to fulfil the order.

“Nanami, I said I was going to pay!”

Kento huffed. “So, I’m Nanami again… where did Kento go?”

Two glasses were set down on folded paper napkins and it was enough to distract you, your fingers slipping free from his sweater. The amused bartender returned Nanami’s card with a receipt and discreetly moved away. Another wise decision.

“You’re a student and I am not. End of discussion,” he said with enough finality in his voice that you nearly acquiesced–nearly.

You couldn’t help but gawk at him in incredulity. Was he so unaccustomed to such gestures that he didn’t realise this was your attempt to say thank you for letting you stay in his apartment? He swallowed a long sip of his whisky that you had already forgotten the name of, but you were sure was extremely expensive. His Adam’s apple bobbed and your mouth ran dry.

“It was meant to be a thank you, dummy,” you groused, pouting as you raised your straw to your lips and sipped the crimson concoction you’d ordered. “Y’know, for letting me stay at your place?”

“Did you know that you say y’know rather a lot?”

Blinking, you met his hazel eyes and nearly whimpered at the warm glow that shone from their depths. It was like standing before a roaring fire, logs popping merrily from the leaping flames and they had a way of making you feel… special. His face softened when he teased you like this, with no scowls wrinkling his face. For a man who was definitely manly–all sharp jaw and angular cheekbones–those mischievous eyes cast a boyish charm over him and you found yourself leaning closer, your elbow resting on the bar until he cleared his throat and looked away.

Thankfully, you were able to navigate the rough seas of casual conversation without incident. Kento spoke about his work with a passion that didn’t seem likely for what sounded like a rather mundane office job. You teased him for his dedication and the long hours he spent behind a desk with limited social interaction. He took it well, or perhaps it was the alcohol that loosened him up.

His cheeks were warming nicely whilst the bar picked up around you. The steady stream of corporate slaves traipsed in and out with colleagues in tow looking to warm their bellies with a drink or two before the final trek home. Kento spoke fondly of his sister and told you enough embarrassing stories from their childhood that the simmering hurt from not even knowing Karin had a brother, melted away.

The atmosphere was a pleasant one and Kento was a pleasure to converse with when he wasn’t acting like he had a stick up his butt. In fact, it was surprisingly fun to goad him into huffing and puffing at whatever nonsense took your fancy, simply to see him stiffen and frown, his chest barrelling in indignation until he realised you were baiting him and easily so.

Kento couldn’t recall a time he enjoyed more than this one right now. He was never one for taking up the invites from colleagues to go bar hopping on a Friday night, often staying late in the office and catching up on emails rather than drinking himself into a stupor. Only now did he wonder if he was missing out on something better than what he thought would be no more than a nasty headache and clouded memories. Perhaps, if the right people—or person—it could be enjoyable.

You were funny, animated and scathing but not in a cruel way, or at least that was his interpretation. He appreciated your wit and your unique take on the world caused more than one or two belly laughs, which were worth it just to see how your face lit up in reaction. You were clever too, always quick off the mark when he deliberately tried to trip you up and honestly… he was falling.

Love was far too soon to even consider but mild infatuation? Maybe.

With your drinks now empty, he asked if you would like another and after giving an enthusiastic nod, he ordered two more before standing to find the restroom. The solitude gave you a moment to collect your thoughts, staring into the depths of the polished bar edge as you wondered how to proceed. You liked him, that couldn’t be denied now but it still felt too soon, not to mention the guilt you felt over lusting after your best friend’s brother.

Your reverie was interrupted when fresh drinks were set in front of you and a presence settled by your side. Glancing sideways you expected to find Kento but it wasn’t him. A young man in his early twenties smirked at you, swiping a hand through his slicked-back black hair. He was suited and booted like the majority of the patrons but you stiffened instinctively with how closely he leaned into you.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” He offered, clearly ignoring the fresh set of drinks under your nose whilst his arm draped over the back of your chair. The tips of his fingers brushed your shoulder, making you shudder and twist your torso away so he could no longer reach.

“No thanks. I have a drink and that seat is taken.” You pointed to the one he was occupying after lifting both drinks in what you hoped was an obvious show of disinterest.

The man laughed; a dirty smoker’s laugh that raised the hairs on your arms and roiled the contents of your stomach. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t lie. Liars aren’t as cute as you. I bet you bought both drinks so no one bothered you, right? I’m too smart to fall for that, all the girls are doing that these days.”

Every warning sign and alarm blared obnoxiously loud inside your head. If your instincts hadn’t tipped you off, his words certainly did. You were not the first woman to be subjected to his unwanted presence and you prayed that no one had fallen victim to his overbearing advances.

Undeterred by your previous movement to escape his touch, the man turned his body into you and this time, instead of trying to put his arm around your shoulder, he landed a heavy palm on your thigh. You openly grimaced at the unsolicited move, brushing his hand away and crossing your legs. Any sensible man would understand this as a sign to quit but of course, he seemed to only take it as some kind of sick challenge.

“Someone’s a little frigid. Let me warm you up a bit, I promise to be gentle,” he sneered, showing teeth stained from years of cigarettes and lacklustre oral hygiene.

You caught the eye of the bartender, he was watching closely and you were grateful that he was attentive.

Your mouth snapped open to retort sarcastically about his lack of perception skills, but at that moment the bartender, who you considered your safety net, moved away to the other end of the bar to serve a new customer.

What you didn’t know was that the man behind the bar knew that you were completely safe, he had seen what you had not. Nanami Kento was striding across the room and he was pissed.

At first, he had waited to see how you reacted to the man and his clear advances, unsure if you were into this kind of thing or not, but the second he could see your grimace and how your entire body leaned away from the man in his seat, fire filled his veins. The very second he touched you without invitation and continued to advance when it was obvious you weren’t interested, he saw red.

He would never understand the self-righteousness of some men, and their seeming belief that all women were fair game if they tried hard enough. It was not foreign to him, and this wasn’t the first time he stepped in to ensure the safety of a woman, often women he didn’t even know. This time was different and he was consumed with both rage and confusion at his reaction.

You weren’t his, he reminded himself as he stopped behind the man still leering at you.

A dark shadow fell over your harasser and your head snapped up at the same moment the man glanced around when someone tapped his shoulder. Nanami’s face was twisted with barely restrained fury, a thick vein popped on his temple and you gasped as the heavy waves of anger crashed outward from his stance. It was potent stuff, enough to tighten your chest when the edges licked at you just for being so close to the source.

Kento appeared broader, taller, and more angular. It must have been a trick of the light, but your heart pounded all the same. You weren’t even watching the man suddenly swallow dryly in the wake of Kento’s fury, no, you couldn’t rip your eyes away from him. The second heartbeat from the previous night was returning with vigour and you crossed your legs to draw your thighs tighter together.

“Leave.”

One single word imbued with enough power and natural dominance the man turned tail and ran for the door without even a backward glance.

“Are you alright?” Kento asked, retaking his seat and throwing back half his drink in one swallow. You watched as he sucked his teeth, his fingers digging into his eyes as if he were suddenly weary of the entire world. Not until he turned to you in question, gaze searching your face with uncertainty did you realise you hadn’t answered.

It was your turn to swallow the runny saliva in your mouth. “Yes… yes, don’t worry. He was a jerk but it could have been worse. I mean, it doesn’t happen often—”

“It shouldn’t happen at all,” he interjected.

“I know, but it’s okay.”

He grimaced but said no more. His anger was still palpable, but once where the flames had licked at you for daring to be too close, they now seemed to cocoon around the pair of you and it was a comfort. A comfort you fought against leaning into, failing when your frame swayed closer and your eyelids sagged.

The thought of how you might act if he were your man rose like oil on water, swirling images of clutching the front of his expensive cream sweater to pull him into a kiss that demonstrated a sliver of your gratitude. The kaleidoscope of colours shifted to the interior of his apartment, kicking hastily out of shoes whilst your tongues tangled and your hands roamed with abandon. Decadent heat caressed your chest, prickling your skin and causing you to squirm in your seat, all to the carefully guarded gaze of Kento.

He didn’t know what to make of your sudden shift in demeanour. You were jittery where you once had been perfectly comfortable, he wondered if perhaps you were experiencing a delayed reaction to what had transpired but what he didn’t expect was for you to reach out and run a finger along his forearm.

It was a bold move and one that you didn’t fully think through before you were in full flow. To hell with being Karin’s brother, you wanted to take the chance of seeing if you were compatible. He was ticking more and more boxes the longer you remained in his company and honestly, you wanted to know if he’d loosen up for you if given the right incentive.

“Do you make a habit of coming to the rescue of damsels in distress?”

His nostrils flared and immediately you knew that these were not the right words to use. “Don’t… I’m not interested in pity.”

All you could do was stare, slack-jawed at the absolute stupidity of this man. Did he honestly think you were the type to come on to any guy that came to your rescue? The anger that leaked from Kento seeped into you, fuelling your own and you puffed your chest in response. The man was dense, that much was clear but it was the slight against your assumed reasoning that bothered you the most.

“Are you for real? You think I would do this to just anyone that came along and helped me out of a bad situation?” You hissed through clenched teeth, letting your anger surround you like armour.

Nanami blinked, once and then again. He loathed to be seen as some heroic white knight figure, especially when he didn’t feel like one. Doing the bare minimum should not be praised, not when it is the very least all decent humans should be doing. It wasn’t the first time a woman had tried to proposition him after he chased some creep off, but it was the first time when he actually knew the woman in question.

Perhaps he misread the situation, yet that couldn’t be true either because that would mean that you were interested in him and most likely from before he had returned from the restroom. His head was pounding and it had nothing to do with the music in the bar or the alcohol that filled his stomach.

“I don’t–”

The legs of your chair scraped across the floor as you pushed up and out, halfway towards the door before he could even react to your hasty exit. It was your turn to be pissed and boy did you let it show. A couple leapt apart as they blocked your exit, and Kento was quick to down the final swallow of his whisky and threw down some cash on the bar before jogging after you.

You heard your name being called and knew that he was right on your heels. The feeling of foolishness made you want to cry and that only intensified how furious you were. How dare he make assumptions like that without warrant. A hand caught beneath your elbow and you whirled around only to be met with those uncertain eyes once more. Exhaling deeply through your nose, you reined in your temper and waited.

“I’m sorry?” Kento said, dropping his hand away from your elbow and rubbing at his neck sheepishly.

“Are you? Sorry, that is, because that sounded like a question to me. If you don’t mean it, don’t say it.” You tapped your foot against the pavement, holding his stare with unwavering determination not to be the first to look away.

“I made an assumption and that was wrong of me. This isn’t… it's not the first time I’ve been spoken to like that and I reacted out of instinct.”

“Yeah, well, I bet they hadn’t…” You clapped a hand across your mouth, startled by what you very nearly admitted and so casually too.

As quickly as your anger arrived, it dissipated just as fast. Instead, you were overcome with the memory of bedsheets twisted around your knees and your fingers busy between your thighs. You throbbed, remembering how you imagined Kento’s handsome face between your thighs, his chin and mouth swollen and sticky from the mess he’d made, and your fingers tangled in his hair to encourage him.

The image of your fantasy Kento blurred with the man standing in front of you looking perplexed. How on earth could you have nearly admitted stuffing yourself with your fingers whilst thinking of him and what it might be like if you invited him into your bed? It was comical, really it was.

“Hadn’t what?” Kento asked in confusion, if not at the sentence you left hanging then the way you seemed to double over as if you were in pain. You waved away his attempts to step closer, and he wasn’t certain if what he heard was a delirious giggle or a noise of anguish. What hadn’t those other women done that you had? There were a hundred possibilities surely, and yet, what popped into his head was the sticky mess he had made last night whilst thinking of you.

No, it couldn’t be that… it would be stupid to even think that you might have both sought relief whilst so close yet so far, only a wall keeping you apart. It was wishful thinking on his part, or so he thought. The way you burst into spontaneous laughter gave him further pause. He was grateful when you straightened and bumped your shoulder into his arm, and walked with him back to the apartment. Your anger forgotten and the atmosphere between you clearer than it had been moments ago.

But what if..?

[ynscrazylife]

tf141 finds a fallen goddess (tf141 x goddess!reader hcs, can be read as romantic or platonic)

Task Force 141 first finds you lying in the grass, the dirt, the mud in a small clearing while they were scouring the area on a mission. It’s safe to say that all four of them are perplexed to find a civilian here, and even more confused as they take in your fancy jewelry and lavish dress.

As soon as they see you, they all feel a shift in the air, like some aura . . . But they don’t know what it is.

Price is the one who makes the first move, though Gaz, Ghost, and Soap keep their weapons trained on you. He wakes you up, demands to know who you are and why you’re here.

You huff and tell him you fell. He asks from where, a goddamn tree? You point up to the sky.

They’re speechless and unconvinced, and you’re forced to explain that you are a goddess. You even demonstrate your abilities and, upon seeing that and feeling the aura . . . It’s impossible to deny. Many people believe in Gods, TF141 is somewhat knowledgeable about mythology, but it’s still a shock.

It takes a good few minutes of seeing your abilities and hearing your story for Gaz, Ghost, and Soap to stand down. Once they get over being stunned, they’re taken by your beauty and your kindness, and ask how you ended up crashed onto the ground.

“I fell,” you say and try to sit up. To your shock, you are met with something that you‘ve never faced before: pain. Weakness. Gaz moves to help and you allow him to sit you up and support you.

“Ye got anywhere to go?” Ghost asks, thinking that you’ll travel back to the sky or wherever you came from.

But you shake your head. Soap and Ghost look to their Captain and he makes the decision, offering you to come with them. For now.

It’s not much of a choice, so you accept and, held up by Gaz and Soap, go back to their base.

As much as they’re captivated by you, you’re also captivated by them. Ghost has you quite curious with how he wears a mask and none of the others do. You open up about being a Goddess and your culture, your life. They try not to be fascinated, but they are, and endless questions follow. You answer as many as you can, honest but careful.

They tell you more about themselves, too, explaining their duty in the military. They tell you what’s not classified. You haven’t talked to any mortals as much as this and you find yourself asking them questions as well.

There’s not much for you to do except to rest, but the team keeps you company. You even manage to crack Ghost’s tough exterior — eventually.

Price definitely does some research on you, what you have power over, your mythology. He likes you — it’s hard not to — but you’re still a stranger. A divine stranger.

Soap loves to talk. And flirt. He has fun, flirting with a Goddess. It’s definitely an ego boost for him.

Your sweet talking almost has Ghost taking his mask off, until he resists at the last second. “Sneaky lass,” he’ll say.

Gaz is definitely the friendliest. He’s the first of the group to fully put his trust in you.

Price feels guilty keeping a secret from Laswell, but he knows he mustn’t reveal your identity. He doubts she would believe him, anyway.

When the team sees you use your powers for the first time, any doubt they had about you went away. You were breathtaking. Watching you work so effortlessly was a beautiful sight.

After a few days, you feel secure enough to tell them what happened. You explain that you didn’t fall, you were pushed. By another God.

Even though they know how powerful you are, they’re still enraged.

“Pushed from that height???”

They’re protective over you. They treat you deserve to be treated by a Princess. Seeing that the Gods up there have failed to do that, they take it upon themselves.

You decide to stay with them for the time being. There’s not much you can do to help them out, but you try. They teach you about the mortal world and show you care and tenderness that you could hardly believe from four military men.

And, eventually, you do get Ghost to take his mask off.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER THREE ━━ Falling out of Focus

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: use of homophobic slur, underage drinking, smoking i think, tiny fist fight lol, more angst

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: so sorry i did not proof read this and it’s so dialogue heavy but here it is anyways and drama period

IF NOTHING can comfort Paige Bueckers, it’s usually a basketball court that she needs. It’s the place where she’s found solace nearly her whole life, at this point. The steady rhythm of the dribbling, the weight of the ball in her hands, the way her body moves practically on instinct with it now—all of it is usually enough to drown out the noise of the world. Apparently, not today. She feels like she’s playing in someone else’s body, like everything with her game is off. None of her shots fall, she turns the ball more than she assists, and, when, she shoots once more and the ball hits the rim, bouncing off again, she feels like she’s going to lose it.

Coach Cosgriff seems to feel the same way. “Paige! Come on!” his voice cuts, sharp and direct. Paige blinks, shaking her head a little to clear it, before getting back into the drill.

“Sorry, Coach,” she mumbles, forcing her feet to move. But it’s almost like neither her heart or head are in. The ball feels heavy, unwieldy, like it isn’t made for her hands anymore. She passes it to Taylor, who shoots her a worried look before continuing the play.

Paige can feel the eyes of her teammates on her, each glance a tiny needle pricking her skin. Normally, she’d thrive under the attention, but today, it’s suffocating. She feels like she’s spiraling, and she has no idea how to stop it. It isn’t just about basketball; it’s about fucking everything.

“Let’s run it again!” Coach calls, and Paige tries to push all thoughts that aren’t basketball out of her mind. But the harder she tries, the more insistent her brain becomes.

They run through the drill again, and—again—Paige finds herself a step behind. She’s supposed to cut to the basket, but her feet move too slowly, like they’re stuck in mud. Amaya passes her the ball, but Paige isn’t ready, and it slips through her fingers, skidding across the floor.

“Damnit,” Paige curses under her breath, running after it. She can feel her teammates’ frustration, their confusion, and she hates herself for being the cause of it.

“Paige, you good?” Maya asks as they pause for a water break. She’s careful not to sound accusatory, but Paige can hear the concern in her voice. “You’re not yourself today.”

“I’m fine,” Paige snaps, harsher than she intended. Maya blinks, taken aback, and Paige immediately feels guilty. “I’m just… off. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” KK chimes in, wiping sweat from her forehead. “You can talk to us, you know.”

Paige forces a smile, but it feels all wrong on her face. “I’m good. Just needa get my head straight.”

The words feel empty even as she says them. How can she explain to her teammates without sounding pathetic and stupid that she’s acting this way over a girl? Obviously, it’s not just any girl—it’s Dani. But still. A girl is getting in the way of Paige and basketball and it’s frustrating her so fucking much. She hates it. She hates all of it. She hates that every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is Dani slipping further away from her, replaced by Beau Hudson’s smug, indifferent face?

“Alright, everyone, bring it in,” Coach Cosgriff calls, ending the break. “Let’s focus up and finish strong.”

Paige nods, but her focus is long gone. The rest of practice is a blur of missed shots, half-hearted passes, and growing frustration. When it finally ends, Paige doesn’t stick around to talk to anyone. She grabs her bag, mumbling something about having to study, and heads straight for the locker room.

In the quiet of the locker room, Paige finally allows herself to collapse on the bench. She buries her face in her hands, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. She refuses to let them fall. Crying won’t change anything; it won’t bring Dani back to her, and it sure as hell won’t fix the gaping hole that seems to be growing in her chest.

Paige decides she needs a distraction. Something, anything, to take her mind off Dani, off the way everything’s falling apart.

—SO, a few days later, when Jalen texts Paige about a party, she doesn’t hesitate. She needs noise, people, a chance to drown out the thoughts that have cut off all her access to oxygen.

Paige can feel the bass of the music vibrating through the floorboards the moment she enters the house. The air is thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and the faint tang of weed lingering in the background. The place is packed—people spilling out into the backyard, others dancing in the living room, and even more just milling about with red solo cups in hand. It’s exactly what Paige needs—or, at least that’s what she tells herself.

Jalen and Thaliah walk in beside her, ready for a much-needed night out. Jalen has a grin plastered across his face, greeting people as they walk in, while Thaliah is more laid-back, scanning the crowd for familiar faces as she takes a hit from the pen in her hand. Paige, on the other hand, feels almost like she’s moving through fog—like the world is a few seconds behind her. But that’s the point of tonight, anyways. To blur the edges. To numb the ache that’s been gnawing at her ever since Dani pushed her away.

“Yo, you good, P?” Jalen’s voice cuts through her thoughts, his hand landing on her shoulder as they push their way toward the kitchen. He gives her a once-over, expression tinged with concern. “You don’t look like you’re feelin’ this.”

Paige forces a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “‘M fine,” she lies, grabbing a solo cup from the counter. “Just need a drink.”

Thaliah, pen still in hand, raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything, though there’s a look exchanged between her and Jalen. Paige ignores it. She isn’t in the mood for questions, for concern. She just wants to forget. Wants to drown out the constant loop of thoughts running through her head—Dani with Beau, Dani avoiding her, Dani blocking her out. It all swirls in her chest, a storm she hasn’t been able to control for weeks now.

With that thought, Paige downs her first drink in one long gulp, barely wincing at the sharp taste of Vodka and God-knows-what mixed into it. The burn isn’t enough. She needs more.

Within the next hour, Paige makes her way through three more cups of whatever mix of alcohol they’re serving, the edge of her thoughts blurring with each one, head starting to swim pleasantly, the fog that she’s been chasing slowly starting to catch up to her. Jalen and Thaliah drink too, but not with the same reckless abandon. Even they have their limits, knowing when to pace themselves.

But Paige? She doesn’t quite care about limits tonight.

“Bro, slow down,” Thaliah says, eyeing Paige warily as she reaches for yet another cup. “We’re supposed to be having fun, not getting wasted in the first hour.”

Paige rolls her eyes, ignoring the warning. “I am having fun,” she shoots back, though even to her own ears, her voice sounds a little too sharp, a little too defensive. She takes another long sip from the cup, the world around her beginning to tilt slightly. It’s like floating—like nothing can touch her, and that’s exactly what she wants. No feelings. No thoughts. Just nothing.

Jalen watches her, his buzzed and carefree smile faltering as he nudges Thaliah. “Hey, maybe we should—”

“I’m fine!” Paige cuts in, louder than she means to. Her hand tightens around the cup as she glances at them both, the alcohol making her words slur slightly. “I’m fine, okay? I don’t need a babysitter. God.”

She turns away from them, her eyes scanning the room for something—anything—else to keep her occupied. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to think. She just wants to not feel for a while.

She spots a group of people in the corner of the room, most of them looking just as drunk as she feels. Without another word to her best friends, Paige drifts toward the group, her steps a little uneven as the alcohol works its way through her system.

Jalen watches her go, his eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he turns back to his conversation. “She’ll be fine,” he mumbles, though there’s a slight hesitation in his voice. He glances at Thaliah, who shrugs, clearly tipsy herself but sharing the same concern. Nevertheless, neither of them are quite in the best shape to intervene. Besides, they both know Paige well enough to understand that trying to stop her won’t do any good.

Paige finds herself wedged between two guys she barely knows, both of them laughing loudly about something she isn’t even listening to. It doesn’t matter. She’s laughing too, caught up in the haze of drunkenness, the weight of everything she’s been carrying slipping off her shoulders for just a moment.

“Yo, you good?” one of the guys asks, his words slurred and slow as he nudges her with his elbow. “You look like you’re having a real good time.”

Paige grins, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest. “Yeah, I’m good. Real good.”

He sends her a matching grin in return before handing her another drink—something dark and strong—and, without thinking twice, she takes a long sip, the liquid burning as it goes down. She doesn’t care. All she wants is to keep the buzz going, to keep drowning out the thoughts that keep creeping back whenever she slows down.

Dani. Always fucking Dani.

Paige shakes her head, like she can physically push the thought away. She doesn’t want to think about her. Not about the way she’s pulled away, not about the way she’s acting like Paige doesn’t even exist, not about the way she’s with Beau now. Paige doesn’t want to think about any of it.

“Paige, what are you doing?” Thaliah’s voice breaks through the noise, and Paige blinks, realizing she’s wandered away from the group she was with, ending up near the back patio. Thaliah stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, a slightly exasperated but still concerned look on her face.

“Getting another drink,” Paige slurs, waving her empty cup like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Thaliah steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe you should chill for a minute. You’ve had, like, five already.”

Paige rolls her eyes again, turning away from her friend. “I’m fine, Thal. Seriously.”

Thaliah hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder toward Jalen, who’s still talking to a couple of people near the couch. She isn’t entirely sober herself, and her judgment is definitely a little clouded, but even she can see Paige practically spiraling.

“Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Thaliah affirms, her voice softer now.

“I won’t,” Paige mumbles, though she isn’t sure she means it.

Thaliah stares at her for a moment longer before sighing and heading back inside. Paige doesn’t look back. She wanders farther into the backyard, her footsteps a little less steady now. She finds a group of people near the fire pit, most of them drunk and talking over each other. She sits down on the edge of the bench, barely listening to their conversation as she takes another drink from the communal cooler.

Zoning out, she stares at the flames in the fire pit, the flickering light casting shadows on her face. It crackles, and she watches, the embers highlighting the dark air around her. Everything is a bit softer at the edges now, almost dreamlike, until something—or, rather someone—catches her eye.

A brunette girl sits down next to Paige, her face half-illuminated by the fire before them. She has softer features and warm eyes, as well as brown hair that falls around her shoulders in waves, light highlights coating it. Her cheeks are red with the unmistakable flush of alcohol. She glances at Paige, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. There’s something familiar about the girl, a feeling that tugs at Paige’s drunken mind. It takes her a second to place, but when she realizes why, her heart stumbles a bit: this girl reminds Paige of Dani.

The blonde blinks, her gaze instinctively drawn to the girl’s lips, her head swimming a little more than before.

“Hey,” the brunette slurs a little, her voice laced with the same inebriated giddiness that Paige feels. “I’m Delaney.”

“Delaney?” Paige echoes, feeling like she misheard for a second. She blinks again, her heart doing an unsteady flip at how similar the names Delaney and Dani sound to her. It throws her off for a moment, but not in the way she expects. Maybe it’s because she’s wasted, maybe it’s the loneliness she’s been burying, or maybe it’s just how much she misses her best friend. But somehow, Delaney seems all the more appealing to Paige because of it.

“Yeah,” Delaney giggles, leaning closer, her shoulder brushing against the blonde’s. “And you’re Paige Bueckers.”

Paige feels a smirk creep onto her lips. “You know who I am?” she asks, voice dipping lower, ego inflating slightly. She leans in a little, enough so the sides of their legs touch.

The blonde watches as Delaney’s gaze trails across her face and over her lips. “Everyone knows who you are,” the brunette murmurs. She pauses for a moment, her drunk smile widening slightly. “You’re hot.”

The heat rises in Paige’s chest at that, and she grins back, asking, “Oh, am I?”

Delaney rolls her eyes a little and Paige laughs. The air feels smaller now, like it’s just the two of them, cocooned in the haze of alcohol and tension. Delaney’s eyes sparkle as she stares at Paige, and without much more thought, they fall into a flirty back-and-forth, words blending into giggles and gentle touches that feel a little too familiar.

The brunette rests her hand on Paige’s knee, her fingers slowly trailing upward, and Paige doesn’t stop her. It’s easy. Too easy. Paige leans forward, her breath catching in her throat as their faces hover inches apart.

“You really are pretty,” Paige whispers, her eyes drifting to Delaney’s lips.

And before she knew it, the space between them disappears their lips crash together, the kiss hot and sloppy and fueled by too much alcohol. Paige kisses Delaney harder, trying to drown out the ache that’s been gnawing at her all summer—the same ache that Dani left behind when she cut Paige out of her life.

For a moment, it’s enough. Paige loses herself in the kiss, her hands sliding to Delaney’s waist, pulling her closer. Delaney’s hand is on Paige’s thigh again, this time higher, but the basketball player doesn’t stop her. The brunette tastes like cheap beer and something sweet, and Paige kisses her like it’s an escape.

But then, the sensation of being watched creeps up on her, sending a shiver down her spine. Paige pulls back a little, her breathing uneven and her lips swollen as her eyes darted around. She scans the yard and the back-end of the house, the shadows of people milling about. And then her gaze locks onto someone standing just by the back door.

Her stomach drops.

Dani.

Paige’s breath hitches as she stares at her. Dani’s watching her, her eyes dark and unreadable, arms crossed over her chest. Paige freezes, her heart pounding in her ears as she takes in the sight of her former best friend, looking so effortlessly gorgeous. She’s wearing jeans that fit her perfectly and a tank top that leaves little to the imagination and as soon as Paige’s eyes set on her, a familiar fire alights in her chest.

As soon as Dani realizes Paige has seen her, she looks away, turning her head and beginning to walk away from the back door as if she wasn’t watching at all. But Paige saw it. The tension in Dani’s jaw, the flicker of something in her eyes.

And suddenly, it’s like Paige is struck by lightning, jolted back into reality. What the hell is she doing?

“Shit,” Paige mutters, pushing herself away from Delaney, her heart racing. Delaney blinks in confusion, still dazed and flushed from the kiss.

“Wait—where are you going?” Delaney asks, her hand reaching for Paige’s arm.

“I—uh—I’ve gotta go,” Paige stammers, barely sparing her another glance before she’s up on her feet, leaving Delaney sitting there on the couch, confused and drunk. Paige barely feels a pang of guilt as she hurries toward Dani, the alcohol still swirling in her system, making her steps unsteady.

Paige stumbles inside the house, weaving her way through the crowd until she catches up to the Callan girl. She reaches out, grabbing Dani’s arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Dani, wait—” Paige’s words come out more frantic than she intends, her grip on Dani’s arm loosening when Dani turns to face her. Paige’s heart hammers in her chest as she struggles to form coherent thoughts. “I—I don’t know what’s going on, but can we just—”

Dani jerks her arm out of Paige’s grip, her face stony. “What do you want, Paige?”

“I don’t know!” Paige’s voice cracks, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t know, okay? I saw you staring at me, and then you—why were you even watching me with her?”

Dani’s expression remains cold, but Paige sees the way her fingers twitch at her sides. “I wasn’t watching.”

“That’s bullshit, Dani!” Paige’s voice raises an octave, her fists clenching as she fights to keep herself at bay. “You were staring at me. And her. Why?”

“No, I wasn’t!” Dani denies again, her voice sharp and biting. “It’s none of my business what—or who—you do at a party.”

Paige’s chest tightens at the bitterness in Dani’s words. She feels the sting of them like a slap to the face. “If you don’t care, then why are you acting like this? Why are you even here?”

“I’m here with Beau,” Dani says, her voice firm. “And I don’t care what you do. So, why don’t you go on back to making out with random girls, yeah?”

Paige’s breath catches in her throat, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “God, you’re so full of shit,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You act like you don’t care, but you do. I know you do. Why can’t you just admit it, for fucks’ sake?”

They stare at each for a long moment, face-to-face in silence, anger and something else surrounding the air between them. But before either of them can say anything more, Beau appeared out of nowhere, stepping between them.

“Is there a problem here?” Beau asked, his eyes narrowing at Paige, his tone casual but the tension in his stance clear. He steps in front of Dani like a shield, glaring at Paige.

The blonde rolls her eyes at him, her frustration doubling. “No,” she snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just having a conversation.”

Beau scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest. “Doesn’t look like much of a conversation to me. Looks like you’re harassing my girlfriend, Bueckers.”

Paige’s stomach churns at the word, the jealousy like a punch to the gut. It’s not unfamiliar at this point, but it still gives Paige the same effect. “Can’t you just fuck off?” she retorts with venom. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m her boyfriend, so, yeah, I think it does,” Beau argues, stepping closer to Paige, trying to intimidate her. But Paige isn’t scared of him, even in her drunken state. He may be more muscular—the football kind of body type—but she’s taller, a couple of inches on him, and she meets his challenge with a steady glare.

“I don’t give a shit what you think,” Paige bites out, stepping closer herself, their faces inches apart now. “But Dani and I? We have history. And you—” she jabs her finger into his chest, “are just a replacement.”

Beau’s face twists in anger, his hands balling into fists. “Watch your mouth, Bueckers.”

“Or what—” the blonde begins, but before she can get her words out completely, two figures are by her side, hands pulling her away slightly.

“Paige,” Thaliah mutters, trying to tug at her arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Jalen stands there too, shaking his head. “Yep, come on,” he says. And then he lets his gaze shift between Beau and Dani, glaring at the pair. “Neither of them are worth it.”

Paige’s jaw clenches, her eyes still locked on Dani’s, searching for anything that would tell her this isn’t over. But Dani won’t even look at her. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, her whole body tense.

And so, Paige id about to turn around, to let Thaliah and Jalen pull her away, when she hears Beau’s voice again.

“It’s good you and her aren’t friends anymore,” Beau says loudly, looking directly at Dani. His next words are sharp and venomous. “Don’t want a dyke like her corrupting you.”

The world seems to freeze.

Paige’s heart stops. The word dyke echoes in her ears, and the blood drains from her face. She can feel the heat rising in her chest, the anger boiling over like a volcano about to erupt.

Even Dani’s head snaps up, her eyes wide with shock. But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t defend Paige.

Without thinking, without even hesitating for a second, Paige turns and lunges at Beau, her fists flying before anyone can react.

Her first punch lands squarely on his jaw, sending him stumbling back. She feels pain erupt across her knuckles, and she shakes her hand for a moment. The shock on his face is almost satisfying—almost. But Paige doesn’t stop there. She she shoves him backwards now, hands at his chest, and he stumbles slightly.

“You fucking—” Beau starts, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Thaliah and Jalen are on her in an instant, pulling Paige back with more force now. Thaliah’s voice is almost panicked, trying to calm her down as Jalen stands between her and Beau, his hands outstretched like a human barrier. He glares at the Hudson boy, saying firmly, “Back the fuck up.”

“Paige, come on, it’s not worth it!” Thaliah’s practically shouting now, her grip on Paige’s arm tight.

“Let go of me!” Paige yells, her voice cracking with fury. She struggles against their hold, her eyes locked on Beau, who stands there, looking more shocked than anything. But there’s no fear in his eyes—only smugness, actually.

Beau wipes his mouth, glancing at the blood on his hand where her punch landed. He sneers. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Can’t handle the truth, can you?”

Paige’s vision blurs with anger, and she tries to lunge at him again, but Thaliah and Jalen hold her back.

Dani, who’s been frozen this whole time, finally speaks up. “Beau, just stop.”

Beau’s glances down at Dani, almost grinning. He clearly is enjoying the chaos he’s caused. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, babe.”

Paige is done. She’s fucking done.

“Fuck you,” she spits at Beau, staring at him from behind Jalen. He just smirks back. And then she turns her attention to Dani, adding, “And, fuck you, too. You’re such a fucking coward, Dani.”

Paige rips her arm from Thaliah’s grasp, turning from the group and walking straight out of the house, wanting nothing more than to just go home.

THE DAYS that follow are a blur of basketball practices, classes, and restless nights. Paige tries to focus, tries to lose herself in the familiar routine, but nothing feels right. Every time she steps onto the court, her movements feel sluggish, disconnected. She’s there, but she isn’t really present. Her mind is elsewhere, stuck in a loop of memories and worries that she can’t escape.

Coach Cosgriff notices, of course. It would be impossible not to. Paige has always been the one to set the pace, to push herself and her teammates to be better. But now, she’s lagging behind, missing cues, and snapping at anyone who tries to point it out.

“Paige, my office. Now,” Coach says one afternoon after a particularly grueling practice.

Paige knows what’s coming, but she follows him without protest, dragging her feet as she walks. The other girls exchange glances but don’t say anything. They know better than to try to talk to her when she’s in one of these moods.

Coach’s office is small, cramped with old trophies and posters of past teams. He sits behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he gestures for Paige to sit down before him.

“What’s going on with you, Paige?” he asks, leaning forward, his tone soft but firm. “This isn’t like you. You’ve been off for weeks now. Is it school? Family? Whatever it is, you need to get it sorted, because it’s affecting your game.”

Paige looks down at her hands, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s… complicated,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Coach sighs, running a hand over his face. “Life is complicated, Paige. But you need to find a way to deal with it. You’re the leader of this team, and if you’re not focused, the others won’t be either.“

“I know,” Paige replies, her throat tight. “I’m sorry, Coach. I’m just… going through something right now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Coach offers, surprising Paige. He isn’t usually the type to get involved in his players’ personal lives, but Paige guesses he’s worried about how much this is affecting her performance.

Paige shakes her head, though. She couldn’t talk about it, not without breaking down, and she couldn’t afford to do that. Besides, it would be more embarrassing than anything to have to explain how much losing someone—that’s technically still there—has affected her. “No, I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

Coach watches her for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. But you need to get your head back in the game, Paige. I can’t have you on the court if you’re not all there. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” Paige responds quickly, feeling the weight of his words settle on her shoulders.

“Take tonight off,” Coach says, surprising her again. “Clear your head, do whatever you need to do. But when you come back tomorrow, I need the Paige Bueckers I know back on that court. The season starts in less than a month, Paige.”

Paige nods, standing up to leave. “I’ll do my best, Coach.”

As she’s about to walk out the door, Coach Cosgriff stops her, saying, “Wait.” She turns, eyes curious as she meets his gaze, wondering what else he has to say. He offers a small smile, telling her, “I went through a tough time when I was your age, too. It’s difficult to be a teenager. But the best advice I was ever given is that whatever problem you’ve got going on—you gotta either drop it, forget it, and move on, or you fix it. I know it’s easier said than done, but it’s true.”

Paige lets the words sink in.

Drop it, forget it, move on.

Or fix it.

Fuck, she doesn’t know.

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 1

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

summary: it’s september 29th, 2003, and joel cannot wrap his head around the fact that sarah is truly gone. as he’s about to put an end to his own suffering…

warnings: mdni. suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, deathwish. loss of a daughter / family members. please do NOT read if this is triggering for you. swear words. reader is female, no description given. no mention of age. no use of y/n.

a/n: this is my very first attempt at writing tlou fan fiction. please be nice >: one-shot (maybe?). mainly joel’s pov but then changes to reader’s pov. this is by no means lore-accurate. also this is my interpretation of how joel lost his hearing in his right ear and got the scar on his right temple ― he did imply he tried to end his life after sarah’s death so this is how i imagine it happened. finally, this is not proofread and english is not my mother tongue, so please excuse any mistakes you might spot. enjoy! (or not? cry with me pls).

w/c: ~1.3k.

Had life been any different, Joel would probably not be in this position.

He had lost everything he held dear. His very reason for living. He could not wrap his head around the fact that Sarah was gone. Truly gone. He could still feel the mud under his fingernails ― his vain attempt to undo the work Tommy had put into digging Sarah’s grave.

It still felt unreal. His baby girl was six feet under, just a few yards away from him. But in his mind, he was still hugging her closely against his chest, feeling her warmth. Tommy had tried to console him, but there were no words in any human language that could sooth his broken heart, so his brother left to run the perimeter and give him some space.

The last few days were like a whirlpool of pain and tears ― agony filling up his lungs, constricting his throat. Joel could not remember the last time he had cried, but he had done so many times in the last seventy-two hours. He could not contain his own emotion any longer. Such torment was too overwhelming. A father was not supposed to bury his own daughter.

It was thanks to his brother that he had been able to put his Sarah to rest. After hell broke loose in Austin and that damn official had shot at them, Joel could not bring himself to recall what had happened afterwards. From what Tommy had told him, they ran for as long as they could ― Joel still holding onto Sarah’s lifeless body. His brother was able to secure a vehicle and they drove out of the city to avoid any more unwanted encounters.

That was how they got to Sam Houston National Forest. Under normal circumstances, they would have gotten there in under three hours, but it took them almost three days. Sarah loved that nature reserve. They would vacation nearby in the summertime when Joel’s schedule was clear of contracting jobs. Sarah, always full of life, would push her dad down the hiking trail, giggling, teasing him and his old knees.

Paralysed by fear, pain and guilt, Joel had only been able to watch as Tommy put a shovel to the ground and started digging. He only snapped out of his stupor when his brother murmured something as he kneeled before him to take Sarah away from his arms. Joel could not comprehend what Tommy was doing until the younger Miller put Sarah in the hole. That was when he had completely lost it.

It had been hours and Joel had not moved yet. His back against a pine tree, hands on his lap. His eyes fixated on his daughter’s tomb. Tommy had fashioned a cross with wood branches to mark the grave, wildflowers surrounding it despite being September. The contrast between the blooming wildlife and Sarah’s burial pit was gut-wrenching. So much that Joel had to close his eyes to stop them from watering once more.

Tommy had assured him this dreadful feeling would lessen with time ― maybe even go away. Joel had just looked at him blankly in disbelief. He very much doubted it. There was no way he could feel his heart beating again when it had been ripped out of his chest. Emptiness eating him up, nothingness taking over his soul, dread engulfing his senses. There was no coming back from this.

Truthfully, he could not see the point anymore. The world was ending anyway, why postpone the inevitable? Joel was sure that he would only burden Tommy ― in this state of mind, he was not going to be able to protect anyone, let alone his brother. In fact, he would just guide him to his death, the same way he had led Sarah to hers.

Joel opened his eyes and looked down. Tommy had left a gun on the ground to his right while he patrolled the surrounding area, in case he was interrupted and in need of protecting himself. What he was thinking about doing could be considered as “protecting himself” ― from his own thoughts, his own breathtaking pain.

His right hand wrapped around the grip of the gun while his index finger slid towards the trigger. As Joel put the gun to his right temple, his eyes locked on the makeshift wooden cross. He hoped he could be reunited with Sarah in Heaven, God knew he had tried his best in this life and had still failed. It was not enough. He was not enough.

Joel took a deep breath, eyes closed, and pulled the trigger.

Houston was in shambles. You just barely escaped that godforsaken city and made it to the closest nature reserve you could think of. It was the best idea, you thought, as people would be scarce in the midst of nature. So, you walked and walked, until you came across two men who had set up camp off the main trail. You kept to the shadows, not knowing if you should trust them or not.

The youngest one left a few minutes after your arrival, so you adjusted your position in order to not be seen. From there, you could have a better look at the older guy, who seemed rather defeated, sat on the ground, his back resting against a tree. His eyes bare, his face completely blank. You assumed his crushed expression was because of the events of the last few days.

Or, at least, that was what you thought until you spotted the improvised grave in front of him.

Tears welled up, gathering at the rims of your eyelids. You knew that feeling damn too well. Not only the outbreak, but life had also taken some very important people from you. The feeling of loss ― you perfectly understood how hard it could hit.

But you could not reminisce about old times, not now, when your own life was hanging by a thread. You were alone in this world, and you knew how fucking dangerous that would be for a woman. Human nature scared you more than some goddamn virus.

So you were lingering. You saw those two men, and you pondered your options. Something was telling you that you could trust them ― if you could trust anyone while the world was ending.

You came closer, making sure you did not make a noise. That was when you saw the raw emotion painted on his worn-out face. There was something about him that drew you in. His gloomy look spoke of hurt, but also danger.

And then you also saw his hand holding a gun to his temple.

You just acted ― without any concern for your own safety.

“NO!”, a painful shriek left your mouth as you ran towards him, your knees skidding through the dirt as you stopped by his side.

You wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, trying to pull the gun away from him, when the shot went off with a loud bang. It grazed the skin on his temple and blood started to pool on the fresh wound.

“Oh, shit”, you said breathlessly, pressing the palm of your hand against the gash to stop the bleeding.

His brown eyes focused on you, a mixture of shock and disappointment.

After what felt like an eternity losing yourself in those irises, he mumbled:

“Why?”

You tried to talk, but the words would not leave your tongue.

“I…”, you started to explain yourself, but was quickly interrupted.

“What the heck was that?!”

You looked up and spotted the second man, the one you saw walking away a few minutes earlier, running towards you ― rifle on hand, pointing at you.

Blood rushed out of your face. Was that how you were going to die after all?

“Tommy, wait―”

[absideon-ephemeral]

Dog Tags | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x (fem) reader

Summary: there is something about Bucky’s dog tags that drove both of you crazy.

A/N: SET AFTER THE SHOW THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER. I have a head cannon that Bucky ended up moving to Louisiana and buying a house close to Sarah.

Warnings: (hopefully) tooth rotting fluff, mild language, Reader described as having boobs, suggestive themes, illness, idk what I missed so read at your own advisory I guess.

There was something about them.

Those fucking dog tags.

He wore them every moment of every day: didn’t even take them off to shower or sleep.

They were just pieces of metal (although they had special value to him) so you couldn’t figure out why it drove you crazy whenever you caught a glimpse of them.

I was a good kind of crazy though. One that would make you go feral for him. You never voiced this to your beautiful lover, but he knew. Oh, he knew.

After finding out about your obsession from Sam a little birdie, he would make any excuse to show them off. In the shower, working out, cuddling? Bucky did it all. (His favorite was seeing them dangle and slap your face while he has you folded in half).

But his ultimate favorite ended up happening on a quiet Sunday morning. . .

———————————————————————

It was early. Early enough to just begin to hear the birds chirp and see the sun start to rise. Bucky unlocked your shared front door and crept inside as quietly as possible.

For the past week, he had been away on some diplomatic mission to tie up loose ends left from the Flagsmashers. His week was crammed full of press conferences, meetings, and the occasional man hunt for a left-over Smasher. And for the past week, his stress has been through the roof.

It all started when he had managed to forget his dogs tags on the bathroom counter the morning he left. For the rest of the week, an unsettling weightlessness sat on his chest and the absence of the familiar, cool metal was strange. The tags brought him comfort: it kept him grounded and reminded him of who he is. On rough days, they acted as a form of emotional support - reminding him that he is James Buchanan Barnes and not him. Without them, a strange hollowness followed him everywhere.

And to make matters worse, you ended up falling sick with something close to pneumonia the day after he left. He was helpless and couldn’t do anything more than call and pester Sarah to check on you.

So he felt empty and stressed, but now he was home and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with you.

As quietly as possible, Bucky set down his bag and toed off his mud-crusted boots, making his way to the kitchen after. He tried (keyword, tried) to quietly recreate his mom’s famous chicken noodle soup for you, but it was a bit hard when his metal arm ‘clinked’ against the pot and bowl.

Once he was satisfied with the meal he prepared, he grabbed a glass of water and made his way to your shared bedroom.

Nudging the door open, he was greeted with the sight of your sleeping form sprawled out on the bed. Setting the soup and water on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed to silently admire you.

There you lay, hair a messy halo on the pillow and small snores accompanying each breath. He took note that you were wearing his old red shirt with the words “can you give me a hand?” written across it (Sam had given it to him during a visit to Wakanda when he was an armless mess). But the thing he noticed most was the harsh rasp and rattle of your lungs with each breath. A frown fell upon his face as he decided wether or not to wake you up. On one hand, he wanted you to enjoy your, seemingly peaceful, sleep; but on the other, he knew that you needed to clear your lungs before you suffocated on mucus.

The thought of you not suffocating won over and he gently shook you awake. It took a couple shakes and the quiet repetition of your name to elicit a groan from you. From there, he began to gently coax you further into awareness.

“Come on doll, I’m finally home and want to see those pretty eyes. I need you to get up, hon.” He spoke softly.

Slowly but surely, your eyes opened and you had to blink a few times to clear them. Upon seeing the beautiful face of your lover you shot up, despite the protest of your sluggish body, and threw your arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much.” Your voice was hoarse from coughing and sounded so frail.

“I missed you too, darling. I know you’re probably still tired, but how about we take a nice, warm shower together, hm? That way we can both be clean and we can loosen up that gunk in your lungs.”

You simply nodded, too tired and on the brink of falling asleep against him. He wrapped you up in his arms and carried out of bed and to the bathroom. Once inside, he set you down on the toilet and turned on the shower all the way to hot. He stripped himself bare, save for his boxers, and then began to help you.

Kneeling in front of you, he placed his hands on your waistband, a silent ask of permission. You lifted your hips just enough for him to slide your shorts off. The shirt came next. But it’s what was under it that caught him off guard.

It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, no, he was used to that.

But it was the fact that you were wearing his dog tags.

His dog tags.

The ones he left behind and had felt their absence all week.

Sitting so prettily between your breasts, shining and slick with condensation.

For a minute his brain short circuited - snapping into a daze as the bathroom began to fill with hot, thick steam. But it was your voice that brought him back.

“Bucky?” The small call was followed by a series of coughs that racked your whole body.

He immediately sprang into action, rubbing your back and pushing your damp hair away from your face. Reassuring words spilled out of his mouth like a poem; guiding you through it and reminding you to try and breathe. By the time the coughing subsided and you could breathe again, your chest hurt and your lungs were so tired. Bucky could see your exhaust and it pained him to see you so tired.

“Whats on your mind?” The question caught him off guard.

“Nothing hun. Just thinking about how pretty you look wearing my tags.”

A small grin broke out on your face, “you like when I wear ‘em?”

His eyes met yours. “Honey, I absolutely fucking love it.”

A raspy chuckle escaped you. “Good. Cause I want to wear them if that’s okay with you. Especially when you’re not here. It’s like I have you right beside me no matter what.”

Bucky smiled and stood up, stripping you and himself of the remaining clothes and guiding you off the toilet and to the shower. “Doll, you can wear them whenever you want. You can wear them forever if that’s what it takes to make you always feel safe and loved,” he stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to hit him first, “but I will always be by your side. With or without those tags.”

A small smirk crept upon his face as you fully joined him in the shower.

“You don’t know the things you do to me wearing my tags. Actually, I want you to wear them every day. That way, everyone will know you’re mine.”

———————————————————————

And he kept true to his word. Everyday, he would place those tags around your neck, making sure they fell just right on your chest. More often than not it ended up with him bending you over the bathroom counter and watching in the mirror as his tags slapped against your tits. And he made sure you always had them when he was away as well. No longer had he felt anxious or empty without them for he knew that they were always beside your heart.

So, it’s safe to say, that his favorite way of seeing his dog tags, was on you.

[imshymorph]

I truly believe I was born to simply think about domestic soft!Price, at least it seems like that's the case.

It was late at night, much more than he’d expected to be. He carefully turned the key and unlocked the door, making sure to keep quiet. With the same level of quietness he got in, he left his duffle bag on the mud room’s bench and took his boots off.

- - - - -

He walked to the kitchen, his steps muffled by his socks as he moved through the house. A warm feeling spread through his chest and onto the rest of his body when he saw the container with leftovers with a note that simply read “John” in the fridge. He heated them, making sure to stop the microwave before its loud beeping could rattle around the house.

He showered in the downstairs bathroom, always having some clean pyjamas waiting for him in the cupboard. His body relaxed as the warm water hit his sore and tense muscles. And in an unconscious way, his hand reached for the milk and honey scented shower gel instead of his cedarwood one, all the grime and dirt caked on his skin finally getting scrubbed off.

He quietly walked up the stairs, avoiding the creaky step as he towelled his hair dry. Even more careful than when he opened the main door, he entered the bedroom. He let the towel fall into the laundry basket in the corner of the room before turning to the bed, having to stop for a moment.

It felt like a dream. Seeing you again after almost three months apart, in your shared bed, your shared house. Your relaxed and sleeping body barely visible, only the light moon rays that filtered through the curtains making the volume of your body stand out.

But it didn’t matter that he could barely make you out, because John didn’t need more. He could see you clear as day. It was like the first time his eyes landed on you, taking his breath away and filling him with warmth and comfort.

It takes him a few more seconds but he ends up moving again, rounding to his side of the bed to get in beside you. His eyes stuck on you once more when he realised you were sleeping in one of his shirts. His breath getting caught when he finally takes a proper look at your peaceful expression after such a long time.

All of his efforts to keep quiet and not wake you up until now go out of the window the second he’s fully laying down beside you. He’s completely smitten by you, and he can’t help himself when he moves closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. Your head fitting against his chest like a puzzle piece and his nose burying into your hair to smell the scent of your shampoo.

“John?” You murmur, voice so quiet and sleep laden as you move in his hold, your arms wrapping around him in return. “You made it back, darling.” It’s a statement, not a question. And gods, he really needed to hear it.

“I did, love.” He whispers back, holding you closer. One of his hands moving to find yours, his thumb caressing over your knuckles to feel the coolness of the wedding band that binds you together. His fingers intertwined with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m home.”

[mountainsandmayhem]

Right Person, Wrong Time

Joel Miler x Female Reader

AN: This is for @undercoverpena 's April Showers Challenge. And for once, I did not write smut. I know, who am I? This is not beta'd or really proof read. I'm basically having imposter syndrome over the whole thing soooo...Love you, say it back, bye!

You know that famous saying, “Right Person, Wrong Time”? Well, that was Joel Miller. He had the potential to be the absolute love of your life, but as a single father to a teenage girl and a small business owner, he just didn’t have the time right now. You were about to turn thirty, him thirty six in just a few days time. So, the night before his birthday you made the gut wrenching decision to end things with him. 

“What do you mean we should see other people? There’s no other people.” He proclaimed, eyes filling with tears, mirroring yours.

“It’s just not the right time. I want to get married and have a baby, Joel. Do you really want that?” You have to remain strong, it had only been three months, you hadn’t met Sarah or any of his family. Same with your side, he knew about your sisters but no one else was at risk of being hurt by this break up outside of the two of you. This was the right thing to do before you both got in too deep.

Right Person, Wrong Time.

Almost twenty five years later and you still find yourself replaying that conversation. Every September, Joel flashes behind your eyelids - still perfectly clear, almost like it had just happened yesterday. Dark curly hair, patchy scruff, big brown eyes and furrowed brows; one day he’s going to have a permanent crease between them from all his sexy scowling. If you focus hard enough, you can feel his rough and calloused fingers on your skin. You can still hear his deep and silky voice, almost managing to make you feel lighter every time he said your name or called you darlin’ or sweetheart.

“That feel good, Darlin’?”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go for me.”

The outbreak happened not even 24 hours after you broke up with him. Had he survived? There’s no way you survived and he didn’t. Your suspicions were confirmed the day Tommy Miller showed up.

For the most part you liked to keep to yourself, running the community garden. You’re thankful for the small and safe community, but word gets around. And when you hear that Tommy’s brother has come to town you shrink even further back into the shadows, unsure if you want to see him again. Would it hurt more if he remembered you, or if he had no memory of you and that conversation that has imprinted itself upon you? Joel Miller is your last memory, both happy and sad, before the world fell apart. 

Him, and the little girl he showed up with, left before you found the courage to approach him and soon winter took over Jackson, leaving you without the garden. Without the distraction from your thoughts of Joel.

The winter is long and brutal. April finally rolls around, and you trudge out into the rain and head to the dining hall for dinner. The gates open in the distance, but you’re lost in your own thoughts. This is more rain than you have seen in months. The garden is going to love it, you think. Just as you’re about to step up the creaky wooden steps you hear your name. It floats across the commune in a deep, gravelly, and oh so familiar voice.

You stop, tears flooding your lash line and the mud squeaking under your rubber boots as you turn to look at him through glassy eyes. Your lips part and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. The world around you melts away. All you can see and hear is Joel Miller. He’s aged, grey peppers his temples and facial hair, he has those lines that you knew he would permanently etched between his brows, but those big brown eyes are like they’ve been frozen in time as they dance around your face.

“It’s you,” he says softly, voice shaking in a mix of sadness and relief, as he takes a few steps towards you. “I-I can’t believe it. I’ve, well…” He rakes his fingers through his soaked curls as you stare at him. The rain is coming down in a steady sheet, the ground becoming a muddy mess, and both of your clothes completely soaked through. You haven’t taken a breath in what feels like hours. 

It’s you.

“I have thought about you almost every day since the world fell apart,” he continues, his warm voice washing over you like molasses. “When I was at my lowest I would think of that little dimple you get when you smile, or that time wine came out of your nose from when you laughed at that stupid joke I made. I don’t remember the joke, but I remember how happy you looked as the sun set and the orange glow lit your skin. I’d remember the way your face scrunched up when you tried whiskey for the first time. I would remember where all your freckles are, and how soft you were against my lips as I kissed every single one. I’d think of that first time we made love, how I’d never felt that overwhelmed with emotion for another person before, how in that moment I realized that I was truly fucked when it came to you. It was anything you wanted, sweetheart. Even if it meant you wanted to break up. I never should have let you go, darin’. I’m so sorry. I tried to find you before we fled for Boston.”

By the time he’s done talking you’re right in front of him, chest grazing his, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. You have no idea how you got that close to him. You don’t remember moving your feet. Joel Miller, your Joel Miller. Greyer, lines around his eyes, but yours.

As the rain pelts down you waste no time, reaching up around his neck as he lifts you up and into his embrace. Your noses graze as you whisper a quiet ‘I missed you so much’ into his lips. 

“I’m never letting you go, baby. Never again.” He says and then you press your lips into his in a searing kiss. It lights your whole body on fire, you feel like you’ve been hit by a defibrillator. 

You’re alive again.

====================

Taglist:

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[ashessonfire]

listen here, you DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO RIP MY HEART OUT OF MY CHEST AND THROW IT IN THE MUD AND STAMP ON IT WITH THAT LATEST KAZ FIC OF YOURS, GET IT? I'm completely… devastated. I never asked you for anything, please do a part two, I BEG YOU!

ps: darling, you write very well ♡

'Forgotten' Part two - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Prompt: Kaz slowly begins to remember your relationship, but what good is that if he has already tossed you aside? Can the Bastard of the Barrel save the one thing he truly loves?

You can find the first part of 'Forgotten' here!

- Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader (established relationship) - Warnings: A lot of angst, nothing too graphic, lots of emotion coming from Kaz + his crows, so much sadness, dont worry too much though ... :)

A/N: The amount of requests for this have been insane, once again i truly love each one of you, my heart is so full. I hope this is a good ending for the first part, im very happy with how it turned out!! P.S I am so sorry for the pain i seemed to have caused with the first post T-T ════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Glimpses of you tormented Kaz, plaguing his every thought. His mind seemingly fixated on the one person he had deserted out of pure spite.

It had been two weeks since you were outcast, and Kaz had prayed to the Saints that it would relieve him of the weight gripping his heart, ever since his memory was ripped away from him. Yet they seemed to laugh in his face, spitting back a far more excruciating punishment for his actions.

Returning his memories.

The second you had left his office, tears spilling as they swirled in your shining eyes, Kaz had felt something deep stirring within him, something resembling dread. Since then, he had begged any higher being for relief as realisation began to flood his senses, engulfing his every thought and action.

Wounds scattered his already battered heart, with the rest of the crows seeming to crush it further each day. Ever since you had slipped carefully crafted letters under each of your friend’s doors, you had melted into the shadows of Ketterdam, not a single trace of your presence left behind.

You knew Kaz ultimately wasn’t to blame, yet the scars he had painted onto your soul were excruciating, physically pushing you away from him to escape further agony. You too, prayed to the Saints that your boyfriend, or perhaps ex-boyfriend, would regain what he had lost, and remember you as his lover.

Wind swept through your hair, salt spraying your glowing features as you sailed towards Ravka, choosing to allow the breeze to blow your pain along the wind, and back to Ketterdam. Pushing Kaz to the furthest corner of your mind, you stepped off the ladder onto Ravkan soil, determined to reap the benefits of your misfortune rather than wallow in them.

Taking the outstretched hand of a grinning sailor, you allowed the warmth of his smile and the welcoming of the group around you to bathe you in some sort of content.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

It seemed as if your prayers had worked, as each day wracked Kaz with a new memory or emotion, each one undeniably interlinked with you. His feelings overtook him, spewing out in rageful fits or harsh punishments for anyone daring to cross him, deepening the rift forming between the boss and his crows.

The moment each crow had read your letter, it instantly clicked into place what had happened, despite your deliberate attempts to remain vague about the exchange which had stolen you from them.

Sitting in Jesper’s room, the crew remained sullen, intense emotions clouding the air, becoming unbearable. The suffocating atmosphere was fractured when Nina suddenly burst out, “I am going to kill him. I warned him to be gentle, yet he pushed my attempts aside, and now...this. The hit could have been hard enough to at least remove some of his stubbornness.”

Nina huffed, rage coursing through her blood at Kaz’s actions, had she not been clear enough? “He can’t just send her away, can he? I mean, I didn’t think he would have it in him to do that, even before those two got together,” Jesper seethed, confusion lacing his voice but an unmistakable anger matching Nina’s.

Wylan remained silent, picking at the rotting wood of the floorboards, too overwhelmed at the loss of you to comprehend his emotions. Inej similarly remained quiet, eyes fluttering shut as she soundlessly prayed to each Saint that you would return, and Kaz would finally see sense.

Despite the varied reactions to their boss’s stupidity, a common thread held them closely together, pain. To each one of them you meant the world, a prevailing light penetrating through the dreary Barrel life which often consumed its inhabitants.

You lit up the darkness of the ruthless city, aiding Jesper in amusing pranks often against Kaz, in which you would take the blame for, knowing deep down Kaz could never hold it against you.

You consoled Wylan when whisps of his past would haunt him, taking him on walks along the canal or making his favourite tea and taking in the views of Ketterdam from the rooftop. The warmth of the suns beams and your words washing away his nerves.

For the usually reserved wraith, you encouraged her confidence, easing her fear of touch in a similar way in which you helped Kaz. Around very few other people Inej could say she felt the same comfort and unconditional love that radiated from your mere presence. Nina could positively agree with how Inej felt, intensely missing her gossip companion and partner in crime. You knew every detail about her, and the rest of the crows, in a way nobody else could ever counter.

On the third week of your absence, the crows had seen very little of their leader, the few signs of his presence being the scraping of a chair in his office, or the beat of a cane on the panels of the Slat, indicating he was finally eating before walling himself up in his desolate isolation again.

Paperwork scattered Kaz’s desk, yet it remained as untouched as it was when he had exiled you. His days were spent calculating finances, unable to bring himself to plan a heist without you, with a distinct and vital element of his crew missing.

A sudden echo of weighted footsteps sounded outside of his door, their ascent bringing a chorus of hushed voices as the crows burst into his office. It had been days since they had last encountered their boss, his previous sighting confining him almost indefinitely to his room. It was in the early hours of the morning a few nights ago that he had finally emerged to gather some papers from the common room, when his attention snapped up to a sight that he was utterly unprepared to face.

Before him, by a fireplace laden with dim embers, sat Inej, Wylan, and Jesper, all three bearing cascading silver lines down their faces. Wylan’s breathing was ragged as he sobbed into Jespers chest, the sight of which triggering the other two. Realisation slammed into Kaz, knocking the breath out of his lungs, startling him with the intensity of emotion that welled up within him.

Not only had he destroyed the one true tenderness in his life, but he had also destroyed his closest friends too.

By this point, he had figured that he had long been captivated with you, and the most recent flashes of memory brought his relationship barreling down on him. Although patches were hazy, he had decoded exactly what he felt.

He was in love with you.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Before any of the group that had stumbled in could voice their opinions, the sight of their boss stunned them into silence.

Kaz remained hunched over his desk as always, but the ghostly paleness to his skin, the hollowed cheeks that protruded at sharp angles, and the grave circles etched underneath his reddened eyes deeply unsettled his crows. Nothing, not even Pekka Rollin’s greatest attempts to wound him, had ever resulted in Kaz Brekker’s complete and utter destruction.

Until now.

Inej quietly cleared her throat before courageously stating, “Kaz, we are going to find her. Not only are the Dregs seriously disadvantaged, but we also need her. Not just for jobs, even though you may not remember…” until she was cut of by a sharp voice.

Kaz’s head whipped up, glaring with a deathly warning at the people who stood before him. “I do remember,” he lashed out, voice deep and gravelly at the lack of use, “I remember everything now. You think I would have done that if I had known?”

His words echoed around the dim room, but it was something about Kaz’s face which caused the crows to collectively draw in their breath. A tear had freed itself from the confinement of his heart, snaking it was way down his ashen cheek, revealing to the group the torment he was being subject to by his own actions.

With a shaky hand, he procured a crumpled piece of paper from his waistcoat, holding it out to the group in a similar way in which he had done to you, the emotion in his chest pressing tightly against his lungs.

Jesper stepped forward cautiously, snatching it from his hands and unfolding the corners. The group peered over his shoulder to discover a meticulously thought-out plan to retrieve you from Ravka. Kaz glanced at the group, for the first time allowing them a glimpse of his true feelings, begging them silently to aid in his mission.

With a swift look to the others, they wordlessly agreed to Kaz’s plan, Jesper handing back the paper to his boss and giving a tight nod to Kaz, “Lets go then,” he declared.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Through a thorough process of force, Nina had coaxed the reality of your conversation out of Kaz, pulling up rage from the group. However, they excellently withheld it, knowing you would never blame Kaz for his actions whilst his memories fogged over, despite the pain they had caused.

The air around them cleared as the ship sailed away from the port in Ketterdam, the grey of the ocean blending into cerulean as the voyage to Ravka proceeded. If Kaz’s calculations remained accurate, you would be collecting information within the small harbor you had first landed in, leaving little ground for the group to cover in search of you.

Once they reached land, they split off into six desperate individuals, Jesper searching the market, Inej scouring the rooftops, Wylan inquiring with locals, and Nina investigating the shops that littered the town square. Kaz stationed himself inside a cramped booth at the busiest of the sparse bars that lined the town, his informants assuring him it was the most popular with Ketterdam’s visitors.

For the first time in years, Kaz felt sick with nerves. He remembered how anxious he had felt when he summoned the courage to admit his feelings, but the sheer force of his panic now tied him down and drowned him.

Tears poured frequently from his eyes during the weeks of your absence, the dread of not knowing how you were constantly squeezing at his heart. The knowledge that if something happened to you it would be his fault ate at him until he was a mere shell of the man you had loved.

A voice pulled him out of his daze, like a siren inviting a sailor to dance in the depths of the ocean, Kaz was defenseless against you. As he turned his head towards the sound, you also glanced over at the dark figure in the corner, heart ceasing its movements in your chest the second your gazes locked.

It truly was him.

Frozen by the sight of you, Kaz couldn’t comprehend his own actions, remaining frigid in his seat as he stared at you, eyes once again being subject to the sting of tears.

‘Pathetic’ he thought to himself.

You gave a kind smile to the men you were conversing with previously, quietly slipping into the opposite seat from Kaz. You parted your lips to begin small conversation, not wanting the tension to grow too intense, but your words crumbled as he shot out, “I need you.”

Confusion flooded you, yet the desperation flooding his eyes signaled that he wasn’t done, the words were just slowly configuring inside. You knew him well enough to give an encouraging nod, letting him calculate his next words.

“I need you to come back. I remember it all, and” he stopped himself, breathing shallowly as his lungs refused to intake enough air, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Tears leaked from his sunken eyes, his fragile appearance wracking you with emotion, the temptation to reach out to him becoming unbearable. Nobody but you had ever seen the Bastard of the Barrel break, yet he sat before you now, heart on full display for only you to see.

Yet you remained strong, answering his pleads by stating, “And how will that go? I know you lost your memory, but will you just push me away again if your feelings overwhelm you?” Before he could respond, you breathed out, “Kindness often isn’t free in this world Kaz, but when it comes to you, I would never expect anything in return. However, if you truly want me back, I need you to prove to me that it's really,” you paused,

“You.”

Instantaneously, Kaz reached for your hand, gloved fingers grasping desperately at your own, interweaving and caressing them in an iron grip. “I swear,” he started, “I will never let anyone harm you again in the way I have, my love,” a flood of emotion seeping into his words and gaze. “Including myself. I’m sorry,” he said, guiding your interweaved hands to his lips, the trembling a mere afterthought as he kissed your knuckles.

Smiling sadly at him, you tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, hearing a shaky sigh leave his lips at your touch, mere weeks leaving him in desperation for you.

“The others are here I suppose?” you questioned, earning a short nod from Kaz and a diversion of his gaze. Unwinding your hand from his, you stood up, glancing down at the sorrowful man, and offering a soft smile, “Lets go find them then,” heart fluttering as Kaz’s hand gripped your wrist, unable to go without your touch a moment longer.

Weaving your hand through his once more, your gaze softened as the tension carved into your boyfriends sullen face released, as the pair of you made your way out of the establishment, connected by the hands that gripped the other and the love that radiated between the pair. Once you had received at least a hundred embraces and kisses from the other crows, you embarked on the journey back to dreary city of Ketterdam.

Not once on the voyage did Kaz leave your side, exchanging soft touches in each moment, and gently whispering against your temple a breathy, “I love you,” as the sublime colours of the sunset bled into the ocean, coating the two in a golden haze.

Relief settled between you, having the other fully within their reach again.

As Kaz’s attention diverted back to the wide expanse of water before him, you pour all of your emotions into your next words.

“I love you too, Kaz Brekker.”

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

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[heartfullofleeches]

Hopping Ship

Yan Rival Restaurant Mascot + G.N Reader + Yan Restaurant Entities

Slow day....

Right in the middle of lunch hour too-

Scarce to see the restaurant so empty like this nowadays. After starting the new shift, you genuinely began to ponder if you'd finally lost your hearing due to the one-sided shouting matches from customers before realizing there had been a single since you clocked in and the silence surrounding you was very much real.

With so much free time, you finally got around to completing some tasks you'd be putting on the back burner for a while and a few you picked up while the janitor was out on personal business. They were gone every other week of the month, but you stopped wondering where they went after seeing them crawl into a black van one night after closing shit. It's impolite to watch coworkers who appear to be wearing your missing coat drag trash bags into unmarked vehicles after midnight.

You swept the floors, decorated the back office with some of the flowers the mascot left you and read a couple of their letters, created a sign out for the bathroom succubus to please at least put a towel beneath the door when she went on of her many "mandatory smoke breaks", and other duties which staked your claim as the establishment's most valued, living employee - all accommodating in the treat you rewarded yourself with once your break rolled around.

Sitted at the back of the fridge, behind the cooler you kept your gifted deer kidneys from the crying figure in the woods - a single fruit cup shined in all its syrupy glory. You tended to avoid eating coworkers food until their names appeared in the papers, but this little delight was stapled with a friendly letter for whoever came across it.

"For you~ (yes, the one reading this)"

That in itself should've been warning enough, but you were too hungry to care and not really in the mood for greasy fast food or ice cream from a bastard ghost. It was the perfect snack. Tiered with fruits representing all colors of the rainbow separated by rich, fluffy cream you assumed to be whipped frosting or some type of yogurt.

Snagging the cup and a spoon from the dispensery, you head back to the front to eat just in case anyone shows up. First bite in and you immediately notice something off about what you've just willingly ingested. What should've a sweet, succulent strawberry tasted exactly like strawberry cheesecake. The creaminess of its taste compared to its snappy texture threw you off entirely. You nibbled on an apple slice which tasted just like pie. Not exactly what you were going for, but you needed something on your stomach. Mindlessly chewing away, a faint hiss comes from beneath the counter.

"Psssst."

Must be another gas leak.

"Y/n - down here!"

You almost wish it had.

Peering underneath, you make contact with the frantic eyes of a former coworker. His face was caked in mud and his lips cracked from the clear signs of dehydration. You grab a cup of water from the soda machine which he near inhales, plastic and all. You take your seat back at the counter, poking around at your cup. "Hey, Noah. What happened to you last we I thought you the storyteller told you to go get lost in the forest and get eaten by bears."

"I was a boyscout growing up and all the predator animals in this area are dead. Get down - it'll see you!"

"What will?"

He tugs on your sleeve. "The rabbit thing that's been throwing everyone into that van! It's right outside!"

"Mm?"

Sucking a cube of peach cobbler off your spoon - you you peer outsife where another mascot stood - gloved hand extended a with flyer to the customer approaching the the door. The anthropomorphic rabbit was dressed in a red and white hybrid of a nurse gown and a 50s waitress outfit down to the pastel skates it wore on its large feet.. When the customer ignores the paper and went out of their way to walk around the strange figure, the creature dropped the flyer as it clasped its hand around their neck and hurls them into the open van beside it. Slamming the door on their ankle - the rabbit suddenly bends backwards with an audible crack facing the register as its ears dangle at its feet, waving at you with its Cheshire grin. You chase a grape around the container with your spoon.

"They seem friendly."

Noah pulls harder on your clothes. "Quiet! We need to call the police."

"Mmm... nah, they never respond to any of our calls anyway."

He groans into his hands. "Ughh- Ojay, we'll figure something out - just, don't make look that thing in the eye.

Bit too late for that.

The rabbit mascot had scaled the restaurant floor in about the same time it too you to swallow the bland frosting that served as a palate cleaner for the tooth rotting sweetness. It contorts to match your height, button nose inches from yours.

"Hello, hello, he-llo - where have you been hiding?~ I was looking for you. "

".... Hey, Noah? Can you actually try the police to see if they'll show up this time?"

The rabbit chuckles. "Funny too. I knew you were a catch from the second I laid eyes on you. That's why I had to make sure our first meeting was special and there were no..." Its eyes fall to the counter." prying eyes... Anywho! Did you enjoy the fruits I left for you?"

You shrug, mouth full of sugary melon. "I guess."

"Fantastic! Those at my establishment prioritize a healthy, and tasty lifestyle. I certainly hope you don't mind us treading on your territory, but it was the only spot in town fit for our dream. If all things go according to plan, you won't have to worry about the competition at all! Onto my big question - would you care to join our team? An experienced crewmate like yourself is just what we need and if you start this afternoon - I'll even make you manager! Even deal, wouldn't you say?"

"....not really."

"Great!-...." Its ears fall flat against its skill. I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I kinda like it here. Bring manager sounds like I'd have to do more work than I do now, and the the ball pit is a big factor to why I stay.

Soft clapping sounds from the play area. Confused, he mascot looks between your face and your half eaten cup. "Are you sure?"

You shrug again. "Pretty sure I am."

"Maybe take another bite and think about it harder?"

LYou shove the remaining bits of fruit in your mouth, using the time to chew as your grace period. "Positive."

"I see...." The rabbit's whiskers twitch as it snaps back to full height, spinning on their wheels towards the door. "No matter. I will be back for you another day with an offer you won't be able to refuse. Until then."

You look at the floor as they skate away. "I think it's leaving, Noah.... Noah?"

"Help me!"

You glance back up in time to see Noah being dragged outside and flung into the van as his captor grumbles something about just using sleeping pills next time. You official cross him off the schedule as you throw the cup away.

"If they'd just offer me their skates - I probably would've said yes."

You lick the spoon clsan as the ice cream machine whirls to life.

"Cheater!"

"Oh shut up."

[muzaktomyears]

In 1980 Peter Brown, a former assistant to Brian Epstein who later ran Apple Corps, managed the Beatles and was best man at John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s wedding, started work on the definitive account of the Beatles. With the American author Steven Gaines, he spoke to the three surviving band members alongside wives, girlfriends, managers, friends, hangers-on and everyone else in the Fabs’ universe. The book promised to be the last word in Beatles history. Then in 1983 The Love You Make was published, and all hell broke loose.

“They were furious,” recalls Gaines, 78, still sounding pained at the memory. “Paul and Linda tore the book apart and burned it in the fireplace, page by page. There was an omerta, a code of silence around the Beatles, and they didn’t think anyone would come forward to tell the truth. But Queenie, Brian Epstein’s mother, told us above all else to be honest.”

“Even she didn’t think we would be quite so honest,” adds Brown, 87, his upper-crust English tones still in place after five decades in New York.

Why did The Love You Make, retitled by Beatles fans as The Muck You Rake, incite such strong feelings? The suggestion of an affair between Lennon and Epstein on a holiday to Barcelona in April 1963, only three weeks after the birth of Lennon’s son Julian, had something to do with it, but more significantly it was taken as a betrayal by a trusted insider. Brown and Gaines locked the recordings in a bank vault and never looked at them again — until now.

“Very good question,” Brown says, when I ask why he and Gaines have decided to publish All You Need Is Love, an oral history made up of the interview transcripts from which The Love You Make was drawn. He is speaking from the Manhattan apartment on Central Park West where he has lived since 1971. “When [Peter Jackson’s documentary] Get Back came out, a journalist from The New York Times wanted me to talk. I told him I hadn’t talked about the Beatles since the book was published and suggested he go to someone else. He said, ‘There isn’t anyone else. Paul, Ringo and you are the only ones left.’ And I thought, do I have a responsibility to clear it all up, once and for all?”

After the death of Epstein in 1967, Brown assumed the day-to-day responsibilities of managing the Beatles and Apple Corps. He had on his desk a red telephone whose number was known only to the four Beatles. Unsurprisingly, given his insider status, the interviews make for fascinating reading. Paul McCartney, yet to be asked the same questions about the Beatles thousands of times over, is remarkably unguarded. Asked by Gaines if the other Beatles were anti-Linda, he replies: “I should think so. Like we were anti-Yoko.” On the image the Fabs had for being good boys on tour, he says, “You are kidding,” before going on to reference a notorious incident involving members of Led Zeppelin, a groupie and a mud shark, concluding: “No, not in the least bit celibate. We just didn’t do it with fish.”

Ono, speaking in the spring of 1981, not long after Lennon was killed in December 1980, reveals that she didn’t sleep with Lennon for the first two years of their relationship — “John didn’t know how to make a move” — and claims that she was blamed by the Beatles camp, George Harrison in particular, for getting Lennon onto heroin in 1969. “Everything we did in those days, anything that was wrong, was my responsibility,” she tells Gaines. But everyone, from the Beatles’ notorious late-period manager Allen Klein to the Greek electronics wizard/hustler “Magic” Alex Mardas — “the Mordred of the Beatles’ Camelot” according to Brown — has their own version of events.

Going through the transcripts reminded Gaines of the long shadow cast by Lennon. “I didn’t realise how sensitive the other Beatles were to John’s opinion,” he says, speaking from his home in the Hamptons, Long Island. “Paul worried about what John would say [in the event Lennon died before being interviewed] and was still longing for his friendship. George said that John didn’t read his autobiography because it was called I, Me, Mine. Those interviews were done before John’s death and Paul’s heart was broken, even then. It wasn’t just the break-up of the Beatles. It was more personal than that.”

From around 1968, the transcripts reveal how the key Beatles duo started to come apart. McCartney’s enthusiasm was only getting stronger. But Lennon grew increasingly bored and disillusioned. “You have to remember that John wasn’t in love with his wife Cynthia,” Gaines says by way of explanation. “He wanted to get away from the life he was leading and that’s why he started to experiment with drugs, all the way up to heroin.”

Brown says Ono was, and probably still is, a distant, mysterious character, exactly the kind of person Lennon was looking for, having done the right thing and married the sensible, quiet Cynthia after she discovered she was pregnant with Julian in 1963. “John told me about meeting this woman, and how frustrated he was that he couldn’t get to know her better; he couldn’t take her to lunch because it would cause gossip. I gave him the key to my apartment so he and Yoko could be together in private and thought, naturally, they were going there to f***. When I went home that evening, the apartment was untouched. They did nothing more than sit on the sofa and talk. That’s what they wanted: to know each other.”

Regarding the long-held, unfair suggestion that Ono broke up the Beatles, Gaines says: “Yoko came along at the right moment to light the fuse, but the dynamite was already packed. They resented her, she was difficult to understand and had a deep effect on John, but they were getting more and more unhappy with each other and needed to have their own lives. As people in the interviews say again and again, [the split] was bound to happen.”

It was Brown who in May 1968 introduced McCartney to Linda Eastman, an ambitious young American photographer whom he knew from his business trips to New York, when she came to London on an assignment to shoot the Rolling Stones. “I was having dinner with Paul at the Bag O’ Nails [a club in Soho] when she turned up, so I introduced them and he was obviously taken with her,” Brown recalls. “The following Friday, May 19, we were holding a party for 12 top photographers at Brian Epstein’s house in London when she walked in. Paul says I didn’t introduce him to his wife … but I did.”

If the book has a villain it is Klein, the New York accountant who took over management of the Beatles and sacked everyone around them, much to McCartney’s horror. As Brown puts it: “He was a hideous person. He even looked like a crook: sloppy and fat, always wearing sneakers and sweatshirts. Everything he didn’t like was ‘for shit’.”

You wonder why Lennon fell for him. “The interviews suggest it is because Allen Klein offered Yoko a million dollars for her movie project,” Gaines says. “She was enticed and John would do anything Yoko said.”

“I asked Mick Jagger to come over and explain to the four Beatles who this Allen Klein was,” Brown remembers. “And John, in his wonderful way, had Klein turn up to the same meeting, which was deeply embarrassing. It made Mick very uncomfortable too.”

Epstein, the man who saw the Beatles’ potential in the first place, is a central figure in All You Need Is Love. It includes a transcript of a recording of him from 1966, not used for the original book. It was in the possession of Epstein’s attorney Nat Weiss, and seemingly made by Epstein to mark the end of the Beatles’ final tour. He claims not only that Lennon felt remorse for the infamous comment on the Beatles being bigger than Jesus — “What upset John more than anything else was that hundreds of people were hurt by that” — but that the Beatles would tour once more. “There’s no reason why they shouldn’t appear in public again,” Epstein claims. They never did, unless you count that rooftop performance on January 30, 1969.

“Brian was driving them around the north of England in his car for a year,” Brown remembers of the early days. “This Jewish guy from Liverpool, who was gay, was with these guys who had been hanging around in Hamburg, so both had interesting backgrounds. They understood each other.”

For Gaines, a self-described “gay Jewish boy from Brooklyn”, Epstein is at the heart of the story. “Brian never felt the love of a real relationship. Then he found the Beatles. Everyone thought it would be just another of his phases, but he had tremendous feelings for John, both sexual and intellectual, and that’s what really pushed him. If there was one thing that started the whole thing off, it was Brian’s love for John Lennon.”

That love affair was the contentious issue of the original book. In his interview, McCartney says of Lennon going to Spain with Epstein: “What was John doing, manipulating this manager of ours? Sucking up to him, going on holiday, becoming his special friend.” It wasn’t the suggestion of a homosexual relationship that was troubling McCartney, but the balance of power tilting in Lennon’s direction.

“Paul wanted to be in charge, and he deserved to be because he was the motor, the driving force,” Gaines says. “Paul felt that John would steal away the power. He felt threatened by John’s relationship with Brian.”

“Paul always wanted to be active,” Brown adds. “After Brian’s death the world had to be carried on. Who was going to do that? It wasn’t going to be John, George or Ringo. Brian was my best friend and I was very upset [at his death]. I had to go to the court to convince the magistrate that it wasn’t a suicide, and the following day Paul set up a meeting so we could discuss what we would do next. I said we’d do it next week, and he said, ‘No, it has to be now.’ He was right.”

How did Brown and Gaines feel about the horrified reaction to the book, not just from fans but the Beatles themselves? “The world has changed,” Gaines says, by way of answer. “Now, after all these years, hopefully people can see it as a truthful, loving and gentle book.” It has been decades since Brown spoke to the surviving Beatles and he has not contacted them about this new publication.

What the interviews really capture in eye-opening detail is the story of four young men who became a phenomenon, then had to deal with the fallout as the dream ended. On December 31, 1970, the day McCartney sued the other three to dissolve the partnership, Brown handed in his resignation as the Beatles’ day-to-day manager and officer of Apple Corps. Ringo Starr said to him: “You didn’t want to be a nursemaid any more, and half the time the babies wouldn’t listen to you anyway.” Brown moved to New York and became chief executive officer of the Robert Stigwood Organisation. But the Beatles never fully left him, and in the wake of Get Back — and the news that Sam Mendes is to direct four biopics, one on each Beatle — he decided he had one last job.

“We have finished our responsibilities,” Brown says with quiet authority. “It is the end of the story.”

EXTRACTS

‘It’s like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!’

Paul McCartney on the Beatles signing Allen Klein as manager against his wishes

[John Lennon] said, “I’m going with [Allen] Klein, what do you want to do about it?” and I kind of said, “I don’t think I will, that’s my roll.” Then George and Ringo said, “Yeah, we’ll go with John.” Which was their roll. But that was pretty much how it always ended up, the three of them wanted to do stuff, and I was always the fly in the ointment, I was always the one dragging his heels. John used to accuse me of stalling. In fact, there was one classic little meeting when we were recording Abbey Road. It was a Friday evening session, and I was sitting there, and I’d heard a rumour from Neil [Aspinall, road manager] or someone that there was something funny going around. So we got to the session, and Klein came in. To me, he was like a sort of demon that would always haunt my dreams. He got to me. Really, it was like I’d been dreaming of him as a dentist. Anyway, so at this meeting, everyone said, “You’re going to stall for ever now, we know you, you don’t even want to do it on Monday.” And I said, “Well, so what? It’s not a big deal, it’s our prerogative and it could wait a few more days.” They said, “Oh no, typical of you, all that stalling and what. Got to do it now.” I said, “Well, I’m not going to. I demand at least the weekend. I’ll look at it, and on Monday. This is supposed to be a recording session, after all.” I dug me heels in, and they said, “Right, well, we’re going to vote it.” I said, “No, you’ll never get Ringo to.” I looked at Ringo, and he kind of gave me this sick look like, yeah, I’m going with them. Then I said, “Well, this is like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!”

‘You don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team’

Paul McCartney on Yoko Ono

Give Yoko a lot . . . that was basically what John and Yoko wanted, recognition for Yoko. We found her sitting on our amps, and like a football team, an all-male thing, you really don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team. It’s a disturbing thing, they think it throws them off the game or whatever it was, and these were the reasons that I thought, well, this is crazy, we’re gonna have Yoko in the group next. Looking at it now, I feel a bit sorry for her because, if only I had been able to understand what the situation was and think, wait a minute, here’s a girl who’s not had enough attention. I can now not make this into a major crisis and just sort of say, “Sure, what harm is she doing on the amps?” I know they would have really loved me. You know, we didn’t like Yoko at first, and people did call her ugly and stuff, and that must be hard for someone who loves someone and is so passionately in love with them, but I still can’t — I’m still trying to see his point of view. What was the point of all that? They’re very suspicious people [Lennon and Ono], and one of the things that hurt me out of the whole affair, was that we’d come all that way together, and out of either a fault in my character, or out of lack of understanding in their character, I’d still never managed to impress upon them that I wasn’t trying to screw them. I don’t think that I have to this day.

How Cynthia Lennon was driven to drink — at an ashram

Alexis ‘Magic Alex’ Mardas on Ono’s love letters to Lennon

Alexis Mardas was also known as Magic Alex, a name John bestowed on him because he was so taken with Alex’s inventions. Alex was handsome, charming, and a charlatan. (He sued The [New York] Times in Britain for calling him a charlatan and settled out of court. He’s dead now.)

[The Maharishi] was fooling around with several American girls. The Maharishi was making all of us eat vegetarian food, very poorly cooked, but he was eating chicken. No alcohol was allowed in the camp. I had to smuggle alcohol in because Cynthia wanted to drink. Cynthia was very depressed. John was receiving letters from Yoko Ono. Yoko was planning to win John. She was writing very poetic and very romantic letters. I remember those letters because John was coming to me with the letters, and Yoko was saying to John that “I’m a cloud in the sky, and, when you read this letter, turn your head and look in the sky, and if you see a small cloud, this is Yoko. Away from you but watching you.” Poor Cynthia was prepared to do absolutely everything to win John. She was not even allowed to visit the house where John was staying. She was longing for a drink. Now, drinks, they were strictly prohibited in the ashram, but when it was discovered that Maharishi had a drink, I said, “Just a second, at least equal.”

‘He’s become so nasty’

George Harrison on reaching out to John Lennon

What’s wrong with John, he’s become so nasty. It sounds like he hasn’t moved an inch from where he was five or six years ago. I sent Ringo, John, and Paul all a copy of my book. I got a call from Paul. He called me up just to say how much he liked it. I shouldn’t have called it I Me Mine, because that title was a bit much. I sent a copy to John. I’m wondering if he’s actually received it, if he’s received it, he probably doesn’t like it or something offends him about it.

‘I told John that ... it was just a nice feeling’

Yoko Ono advising John Lennon how to take heroin

George said I put John on H, and it wasn’t true at all. I mean, John wouldn’t take anything unless he wanted to do it. When I went to Paris [before I met John], I just had a sniff of it and it was a beautiful feeling. Because the amount was small, I didn’t even get sick. It was just a nice feeling. So I told John that. When you take it properly — properly is not the right word — but when you really snort it, then you get sick right away if you’re not used to it. So I think maybe because I said it wasn’t a bad experience, maybe that had something to do with it, I don’t know. But I mean so, he kept saying, “Tell me how it was?” Why was he asking? That was sort of a preliminary because he wanted to take it, that’s why he was asking. And that’s how we did it. We never injected. Never.

‘It was time’

Ringo Starr on the end of the Beatles

Ringo Starr: Well, I’m pleased it happened because in so many ways, I’m glad it’s not going now. It was time. Things last only so long. Steven Gaines: The Rolling Stones are [still] going. Ringo Starr: Yeah, but they’re old men.

(source)

[hope-drunk]

- wicked games | abby anderson

| you disobey abby, and she teaches you a lesson

| content warnings: daddy kink, spit play, hunter prey kink, top!dom!abby, bottom!sub!reader, abby’s kinda mean, f!reader, penetration, use of strap, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart, sweet girl), spanking, voyeurism, oral for like 4 seconds, i proofread this like one time so if you see mistakes avert your eyes.

| word count: 2.4k

You liked playing games with Abby.

It was the first clear day in weeks, the sun was shining, and the mushy ground wasn’t an issue to you. You wanted to go outside, see the sun, do anything, really. Abby, however, had told you it was too dangerous. The scars would be out because it was clear, and she didn’t want you caught in the middle. You, obviously, didn’t listen to her.

You found an old picnic table that was under a tree. Walking over, you made sure the wood wasn’t rotted before you sat down. You decided it was good enough and took a seat on the top of the table, opening your book to read in the shade. It was peaceful out, despite the humid air, and you were enjoying your alone time, easily getting sucked into the novel that was in your hands.

It was calm until it wasn’t, Abby burst through the back door of the building and it felt like a different type of storm had rolled in.

“Shit.” you mutter under your breath. You get up as quietly as you can from the old creaky table, and wander behind one of the large tree trunks, peering around occasionally to see if Abby is close.

“I know you’re out here, if you come right now, I won’t be mad.” Abby says, but she certainly sounded like she’d be mad. She sounded like she was mad.

Whether it was fear, or a secret desire for her to find you, you stayed put behind the tree. 

“I’m going to give you about ten more seconds to come out, or I’m going to come and get you.” 

You moved, but not to Abby. You walked further into the bulk of trees, and you could hear Abby counting in the distance. Once she had gotten down to one, it was scarier than when she was actually counting. You stood as still as possible, not knowing where she was, too afraid to look past the trunk.

“You wanna play games? Fine, but you better not let me find you.” Abby said, and you heard her combat boots start squishing in the mud. 

Panic swarmed your head. You knew you didn’t have anything to actually be afraid of, Abby would never hurt you, but she didn’t take well to you directly disobeying her. You find it in yourself to look out, and you see Abby at the table where you were sitting, inspecting the book that you had forgotten in your hurry. You try to think of the best strategy, but nothing seems good enough. It was useless to try and hide from her. The book makes a distinct thud on the table.

“C’mon, baby. This is useless. Come out, now.” 

You want to go towards her. The pet name along with the dominant tone of her voice makes your head swirl. But you only rush further into the woods. You run your hands over your face, trying to calm yourself down. You can hear her getting closer to you. 

Abby lets out a scoff. “You’re leaving footprints in the mud, sweetheart.” she yells. If she saw how close you two were, she would realize she didn’t need to raise her voice for you to hear her.

You’re quick to glance down at your feet, eyes being met with dirty shoes. You go to look around the tree, ready to give yourself up, but Abby isn’t there. You find yourself tracking her footsteps now. If you had had the upper hand at any point, you certainly didn’t now. For a moment, you wonder if she’s left you out here. But then, you feel her strong hands on your hips. She pulls you against her, your back against her chest, and you feel the familiar bulge in her pants rub against your ass.

“Found you.” she whispers in your ear, sending chills all over your body.

She uses her grip on your waist to turn you around. Abby’s gray eyes were now almost black. You felt completely boxed in by her. 

Cowering under her gaze, you let out a simple, “Hi, Abby.”

She scoffs at you, “The innocent act isn’t gonna work now, princess. Turn around and put your hands on the tree.”

You stood and stared at her. Partly trying to process her words, but also wondering if she was really going to do something to you in public. The thought of it sent a wave of warmth throughout you.

“Did I stutter?” Abby said, and you scrambled to do what she asked of you.

She hummed in contentment, rubbing her hands over your body again, before she’s bunching the dress you have on around your waist. She moves you slightly, arching your back so she has a better view of your backside. 

You feel the wind hit your ass and you suck in a breath of air. 

You crane your neck to try and look at her. “Abby, what if someone sees?”

“No talking. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna stay still with your hands on the tree, and the only sound that comes out of your mouth is gonna be you counting how many times I spank you. Got it?”

You nod your head, turning to stare at the bark on the tree. 

The first slap comes hard, it has your body lurching forward, and a quiet whimper comes out of your mouth.

“Count.”

“One.” you say in a broken voice. 

Another slap.

“Two.” 

And another.

“Three.”

You get to six before you start crying, and on the ninth you’re shifting your weight between your legs, trying to send a hint to Abby that you’re reaching your limit without actually telling her. 

She understands your movements, “Last one.”

She lands a harsh smack to the right side of your ass, one so hard that you can't help the sob that you let out.

“Ten.” you say in a soft voice.

You stand up straighter, letting the dress fall back down, the fabric feels rough against the bruising flesh. You turn around to face Abby, and her eyes soften for a second as she sees your wet eyes and cheeks. 

You sniffle, “Sorry I didn’t listen, Abs.”

“Mm, I bet you are. We’re not done yet, though.”

She connects your lips, and it’s hard to keep up with her speed. She puts your hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanks your head back, earning a gasp from you.

“Open.” she says.

Your mouth falls open easily, not wanting to displease the dominant woman again. Abby lets a long string of spit run into your mouth, and you swallow it without her asking.

She coos at you, “If only you were this good earlier. Get on your knees.”

Your knees meet the slightly muddy ground, and you wince at the mess that’s gonna be left on you. Abby unzips her pants, not bothering to even push them down her legs. The strap bounces out from where it was bound, and you swallow harshly.

“Open up, baby. You’re gonna get my cock all wet for me, yeah?” your head grows fuzzier at her words, and you look up to her with wide eyes before your jaw goes slack.

Abby’s quick to run her hands through your hair, getting a good grip before she’s inching your wanting mouth closer to her strap. You try to remember to breathe through your nose as she forces you down on the plastic dick. Abby holds your head down on it for a few seconds before pulling you all the way off. You gasp for air, trying to regain your composure. There’s drool hanging out of your mouth, and through your blurry vision you can see it start to drip to the ground.

“One more time, princess.”

She moves your head back to her cock, barely giving you time to adjust to the thick length back in your throat. When she pulls you off again, you can’t help but cough. She doesn’t let you recover though. Before you can do anything, Abby’s pulling you up from the ground. Once you’re standing, on wobbly legs, Abby bends down to remove your panties. She lets out a small laugh at the wet patch on them, and runs a quick finger through your folds before she shoves the cotton fabric into her back pocket.

“You get off on me chasing you, baby? You wanted to play a game, huh?”

Your face heats up, and you try your best to avoid eye contact with Abby’s threatening gaze. She stands to her full height and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Tell me, you liked it, didn’t you? You were getting off on it. I think you wanted me to find you, isn’t that right?”

The words slip off your tongue, “Yeah, wanted you to come and get me, Abs.” 

She looks down between your bodies, “Well, I’ve certainly got you now, babe.”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything gets muffled. Abby’s strap fills you up to the brim, and you let out a deep moan of pleasure, the fear of someone hearing you no longer crossing your mind. It’s you who’s looking down now, Abby has one of your legs hiked up around her waist, and you can see the strap disappearing and reappearing from the bottom of your dress. Whines are falling out of your lips at Abby’s fast-paced thrusts.

“Oh– God. Please.”

“What, baby? That feel good?” Abby laughs at you. “Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

“Feels really good, Daddy. Think m’gonna–” 

Before you can finish your sentence, Abby’s pulling completely out. You let out a no along with a cry.

Abby sports a faux frown, “Girls who run from their daddy don’t get to cum.”

“But— I said I was sorry! Please Daddy. I’ll be good, please.” You’re clawing at Abby’s broad shoulders, bucking your hips back towards the glistening strap. 

You don't think you’ve ever been this attracted to her. Clad in a green tank top and her cargo pants. Such a simple outfit, but it makes you feel like you’ve been caught for a real crime. Your head keeps growing fuzzier as you whine and buck at Abby. She wipes a stray tear that falls on your cheek, then you’re full again. 

A pornagraphic moan comes from deep in your chest. Abby lifts you up completely this time, and you waste no time wrapping your legs around her hips. Her strong arms are holding your thighs, keeping you steady against the tree as she bucks into you at a ruthless pace. She’s placing sloppy kisses along your neck, letting out grunts as she does so. You try not to make the mistake of telling her you’re about to cum again, scared of losing the impact of her strap on your gummy walls. But Abby knows your body better than you do.

“Y’wanna cum, don’t you, sweet girl?” 

Figuring it’s better to tell her the truth, you say, “Yeah Daddy, wanna cum really bad.”

Your eyes are getting glossy again as you try to hold in the bubbling feeling in your stomach. 

She hums, pulling away from your neck to look at you. “You gonna be a good girl if I let you cum? Gonna listen to me?”

Abby starts thrusting impossibly harder. 

“Yes! Gonna be good, I’ll do whatever you want, please.”

In the moment, it’s true. The only thought in your head is pleasing Abby, you would do anything for her, and let her do anything to you.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Do you think you deserve it?”

Your legs wrap around her waist tighter, trying to pull yourself down to Earth and answer her question, but all that comes out of your mouth is incoherent babbles, pleas for her to let you finish. 

“Alright, okay. Give it t’me, baby.” 

Your orgasm washes over you, and it feels like time slows down. You can still feel the strap slipping in and out of your dripping cunt. You whine at Abby’s pace, realizing she’s not slowing down at all. You try to get away from her, but it’s near impossible from the position you’re in. You aim for pushing her shoulders instead, still not able to form a sentence. 

“Nuh uh, don’t try to run again. You’re gonna cum again f’me.”

“Daddy– can’t. Too much.” you mumble, still trying to push her away.

“Hey, you said you’d be good, right? That you’d do what I want? I want you to cum again, so you’re gonna do that. I know you can, sweetheart.” 

You give her a weak nod, along with a sniffle.

“Okay, I’ll get you there, just focus on me, yeah? Gonna get you there, gonna make you feel real good.” she says. You think the last part was mostly to herself, but the thought slips from your head as soon as you start focusing on the thick fake cock inside of you again.

Your moans only get louder, and so do Abby’s grunts. The familiar feeling starts moving into your stomach again.

“Daddy, gonna cum. Please, please, can’t hold it.”

“That’s alright, baby. Go ahead, been so good for me.” she says while planting a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

If you thought the first orgasm hit you hard, the second one was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. This time though, Abby did stop her thrusts. Through your blurry vision, you could see her panting hard. She brushes a hand over your forehead, getting rid of the sweaty hair that lay there. She holds you up for a moment longer before slowly letting you back down. You wince as the slick runs down your legs, and once you’re fully on your feet, you groan, putting your chest against Abby’s and wrapping your arms around her neck. 

She lets out a chuckle, “You’re okay, promise. Did such a good job.”

“Never gonna run from you again, gonna be good.” you say, it’s muffled from how you’re standing, but Abby still hums in acknowledgement, rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back.

You both stand there like that, trying to catch your breath. When your mind feels clearer, you let out a small giggle.

“What?” Abby says.

“Why’d you wear the strap out here? What if I wasn’t even outside?”

“Manny saw you come out here and told me, I knew where’d you be.”

You pull away with a gasp, “That little snitch!”

She laughs again, “You can give him hell later. Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

[palskippah]

Hi!

Some Mareach thoughts regarding their pining for the other because that's my favorite headcanon ever for them, especially if it's painfully obvious that they like the other.

It's all rambling sjdksj Sorry if it's confusing to read! It's just all my thoughts on the matter, and they're loosely based on the drawings I did jsjds

Also, this all may not be very coherent? In the sense of time and stuff, I wrote it on the spot, honestly sjsj

Now, Peach has been in love with Mario for a long time. Before he saved her for the first time, and maybe even before he became the helpful hero of the Mushroom Kingdom.

He was nice to her, respectful and liked to have fun- never mind that she was a princess. With her subjects Peach couldn't exactly run and jump and just play any time outside of the official games (unless it was little children, they loved it, but once they got bigger, they realized she was The Princess, and must be treated with excessive respect and distance, apparently), but with Mario she could get her nice, pink dress dirty with mud or with stains of green grass, get leaves in her hair, or overall be a mess, regardless of the situation. He'd just laugh with his equally dirty overalls, instead of fretting over her nice clothes being ruined.

They'd have simple competitions, who gets faster to that one tree about ten meters away? They'd push and shove to get there quicker, both using their abilities for it. Peach would levitate a rock for it to get in Mario's way, and Mario would jump very high to go past it easily. And whoever won earned a kiss from the loser (alright, Peach shamelessly set that rule, whatever for her to place her lips on Mario's round nose or to get his mustache to tickle her cheek when his lips placed a loud kiss on it).

It was fun and simple, and Peach felt truly relaxed and appreciated when she was with Mario, in a way that with her cousin Daisy or her father Toadsworth she just didn't. Her heart would beat faster, and she'd look forward to seeing Mario's blue eyes and his silly nose and his handsome mustache. And to hear his accented sweet voice, or to see him communicate with gestures, where Peach would do her absolute best to interpret it the best she could.

To simply be by Mario's side could made Peach's whole day.

After she was rescued though, she saw him in a new light- a heroic (and very handsome-) light. He fought against a koopa many times his size and simply flung him out by the tail! Then Mario effortlessly lifted her in his arms and ran her to safety. Mario kind of literally swept her off her feet, and Peach felt that she fell a little more in love with him, in a way that she knew she never would be able to forget or be able to get over it.

But something Peach is very glad of, it's that there's no need to forget or get over it, because Mario likes her too. A lot it seems. The first time he saved her, and once they were back at the castle, Mario seemed to reach for his hat to do a playful bow as he usually did for the princess, but Peach was excited and loved him so much and felt so cared for, that she impulsively leaned in and kissed him on the nose, halting Mario's movements. She muttered in a sweet, loving voice: "Thank you, Mario."

And by the stars, the way Mario's cheeks went pink and his eyes bright, as if something wonderful just happened to him, made Peach's heart sing in happiness. Could this mean that he could love her too?

So, Peach started to be clear in her intentions. She'd be sweeter, she'd get him gifts, and treat him like a king that deserved everything in the world. Because to her, Mario did deserve everything and more. Peach invited him exclusively to eat cake with her, they woudl go to picnics on their own ,to enjoy each other's company. And Peach would very tentatively reach his hand when she could or kiss his face if the situation allowed it, even staright up hugging him, with no excuse or reason to (simply because she wanted!)

To any outsider, it was clear the princess was courting Mario, but to Mario, it was just his good friend being more friendly, which was great! He was very glad to be a closer friend to Peach. So, Mario started returning the efforts, he'd give her silly things he found that reminded him of her or make the time to spend his afternoons with her. He'd be more affectionate in the way Peach was, saying outright what he liked of her or cheering for her in enthusiasm at their games (Mario saying, "I love you, I love you so much!" while clapping).

But it didn't go past that.

Peach wasn't sure if Mario was being oblivious or she wasn't being clear enough- But he'd blush and do silly dances when she said something particularly sweet to him, and his eyes would soften when looking up at her. So, Peach was very confused. Why, even when she said, "I love you, Mario", he answered with an enthusiastically, "I love you too, principessa!" and... that was it. As if Mario just didn't notice that Peach was trying to go somewhere with all their courting (Thinking about the "we look like a couple :3" "A couple of besties! :D").

I'm thinking that ever since they became friends, Mario has had at least a little crush on Peach, and how could he not? She's so beautiful, and nice, and funny. Mario doesn't think she'd be interested in him in a romantic sense though, because he knows very well she cares about him! But romantically? Princess Peach could have anyone she wanted, and there must be other royals more worthy of her love. So, why choose Mario? What could he possibly give her that another guy or woman in a much higher position couldn't?

Mario is very sure of himself in some ambits, and then in others not so much. When time goes on, he truly believes he's worthy of being Peach's hero, because he's strong, agile, he can jump very high, he's smart too! If Peach is in trouble, he will find a solution or a way to rescue her and make sure she's okay. He trusts his physical abilities very much, that's why he trains and does his best to be as strong as he can! What else can Mario give Peach if he can't be useful for her safety-

But he doesn't think he's good enough to be anything else besides that. Because Mario isn't worthy to hold her hand simply because he wants to, unless he's pulling her and running away from danger. And Mario couldn't just hold Peach in his arms in the way a bride is held by the groom, because he only does that if he needs to get Peach away from a castle or danger, again. Or to kiss her cheek just because he wanted to show her his fondness, without having to purposely lose their races.

Mario just wasn't good enough for that, and it always made him realize that no matter what he did, he'd never feel worthy, because he'll always just be Mario, Mushroom Kingdom's and Peach's hero. And Mario was okay with that, really. And what difference does it make, anyway, if Peach doesn't feel the same way. She was so sweet and considerate, always looking out for people she cared about. Mario was just very glad that he was in that group of people that Peach deeply cared for. And he knew he was there, because she did so many nice things for him! Bake him a cake, even when he didn't help her in any significant way prior to it, or hug him out of nowhere or look at him sweetly- it was as if they were dating! And it made Mario immensely happy, because if he tried hard enough, it was as if Peach only had eyes for him, and only did nice, sweet things for him. And looked at him with her beautiful sky-blue eyes, full of love for Mario, as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

When he saved her for the first and she kissed him and looked at him as if he was something precious and loving, he felt that maybe Peach could see him as a romantic partner, worthy of very nice things and very nice people such as Peach. But then she said, "You are my hero!" and that hope shattered, because right- hero, Mario was a hero. He was good in helping and saving the day and that's why people liked him! That's why Peach appreciated him too. So, Mario smiled brightly anyways and jumped in joy, because he's happy to be Peach's hero!

In the privacy of his own room, Mario would allow himself to feel sad about the matter, about feeling too little like a person and too much like a hero sometimes. Hoping it could be the other way, or maybe both ways. Anything so Peach could think of Mario and be pleased with the person he was, rather in all the things he could do. (Does that even make sense? it's me, Kym, asking ASJKJS)

And you can bet that Luigi was witnessing all of this, especially Peach's fruitless courting, and Mario's lovesick pining. He'd see the princess acting in the same way a loving partner would, and Mario relishing in the attention, very clearly in love. And then Mario would say something that sounded way to close to friend-zoning, and Peach would look briefly caught off-ward, most likely confused.

And Luigi couldn't blame her, when Mario himself didn't think she was courting him! The idiot (both affectionate and derogatory) didn't have enough confidence to think a princess could like (and love) him. Alright, well, if Luigi had a royal person hopelessly in love with him, he wouldn't believe it either- because he's just little ol' Luigi! Nothing special. But Mario? He was the specialest guy around! But he was so insecure too and wouldn't just see that Peach was almost desperately trying to get him to see that she loved him and wanted to be much more than just friends.

For God's sake, she said 'I love you' to Mario, directly to his face, and not even that seemed to change his thoughts of not being good enough or her not wanting anything besides friendship. Worst part, Luigi had to see his bro pining in their house, sighing, thinking of the princess, and out loud wondering what she was doing. He'd always be thinking of her, Peach this and Peach that- And it's not that it bothered Luigi or angered him, it's just that it was frustrating! The woman was right there! Peach could be with a huge MARIO, WANNA BE MY BOYFRIEND? <3 sign right outside their house and Mario would ask Luigi for which brother it was.

It frustrated him and made him feel sorry for his bro. Mario had something so good right in front of him, and due to his insecurity, he couldn't allow himself to see it.

After months and months of implying a relationship and Mario just, not noticing, Peach started to realize that... maybe Mario just didn't feel the same way. And maybe he just didn't know how to let her know it. Maybe Mario was being nice and returning her efforts just to not hurt her feelings, when all he wanted was to just remain friends. It made Peach feel so sad and so ashamed, had she just been forcing her feelings on Mario? A worse thought crossed her mind, has she been making him uncomfortable with her actions? And all these months...., Peach wouldn't forgive herself if that was the case. Maybe all those blushes and soft eyes and shy smiles were just the things she wanted to see.

Stars, she had to fix it. So, Peach stopped inviting Mario on his own to her castle and baking a cake with his favourite flavors in mind, and started inviting both brothers and also friends. She stopped leaning to hug him or kiss him, and when they'd win or lose races, Peach changed the rule into a high-five, meeting Mario's kissy lips with her palm the first time it happened. She truly hoped her efforts of a romantic relationship could just be forgotten, and not affect their friendship.

Mario was devastated with the change in Peach's behavior. She no longer invited him to the castle, and he didn't receive any more letters with 'Come to the castle, I've baked you a cake! <3', and the worst part- when he ran especially slow to get to kiss Peach in the cheek, and he was right about to do it, Peach's hand received him instead of her face. She smiled cheerfully and said, "Let's do high-fives from now on, yes?'

It was as if Mario's heart shattered- it was the last piece in the puzzle that indicated that he was no longer as loved as he used to be by the princess. Mario was treated like, like Luigi was! Which, honestly, was still very good, but! Mario used to be special! Peach used to treat him like he was someone noteworthy and worthy of the nicest gifts and her nicest smiles, and now it was no longer... If there was a little sliver of hope in Mario that they could be something, it was entirely gone. Now he couldn't even pretend that she loved him romantically, and it made him so, so sad.

Was it something he did? Mario should just ask, shouldn't he? God, but he just couldn't, he was a coward. What if Peach told him she no longer liked him at all, and was trying to slowly distance herself, and she actually hated Mario now?! Obviously, Mario was being dramatic, but he just wanted to explain why Peach no longer treated him in a special way...

That's all I've got 🧍

[fictionalgap]

Steal My Heart

(chapter4)

Pairing: Kit Thantalos x Reader

Summary: Kit makes you a surprise.

Warnings: Swearing, underwater kiss😉😉😉

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Song Recommendation: Fire on fire - Sam Smith

You and Kit have been riding for two hours. Wherever Kit wanted to visit, It was really close to where your mother stayed.

"Kit, why are we here?" you asked suspiciously.

She stopped in front of your house. You stopped when she stopped.

She got off from the horse and landed on her feet. She approached to you and said "Suprise!" with a giant smile.

Your mouth moved but no words came out. You didn't know how did she knew you lived here but you were happy that she brought you here.

You saw your mum at the door of your house.

"Y/N!" She ran at you with open arms.

You got off from your horse and ran to her. You hugged and Kit watched you from where she stood.

"I wasn't expecting you too soon." your mother said with excitement.

"Should I go back?" you teased her with a smirk.

She playfully hit your shoulder then hugged you tighter. You broke the hug.

You turned to Kit. "This is Ki-, the Princess of Tir Aslee-"

"Your highness." your mum bowed to Kit.

"It's really nice to meet you. Just Kit is enough." she smiled to your mother.

"It is really nice to meet you too, Kit." she smiled then looked at you.

"Don't stand there, come in. " Your mum hurried into your house.

You all walked into the house. You and Kit were sitting in your kitchen. Marlene and kids were out somewhere. Your mum was brewing some tea as you fidgeted with your fingers anxiously.

"Thank you." you said to the girl next to you with a smile. "Don't. I just wanted a break from the castle." she pushed the subject away. A pleased smile obvious on her face.

"How did you know I lived here?" you questioned.

She cleared her throat after she avoided your gaze.

Your mum came with teas and placed them on the table. You both took the cups.

Your mum sat down with a wide smile.

"So, tell me everything."

Kit told her how you saved her life. You told about how Queen forgave your crimes and had a generous job offer for you.

Your mum told Marlene and her kids were great to her. They were able to live well since she was town's healer and made more than enough money. She told you she helped her during she was working and also take care of the kids.

You were grateful Marlene was there for your mother. You knew your mother wanted to give up on doing theft long time ago.

Your father didn't want to. He was a good man but he liked stealing so much it was almost like he needed it.

"Once a thief, always a thief." you remembered his words to your mother after she told him she didn't wanted to do this anymore.

After a couple of hours it was almost evening. "We should get back." you turned to Kit.

Kit nodded and stood up from her seat. You felt her hand brushing yours.

You said your goodbyes then got back on the road to the castle.

"You never answered me." You asked her calmly.

"Hm?" She turned to you.

"How did you know I lived here?"

She sighed nervously.

"You know that while were training your letter fell down. When you went to drink water I read it before I gave it to you." She looked down.

You stopped riding your horse. Your face fell with disappointment. Never in a million years you would think of her as someone like that.

"I know It's not nice to read someone else's p-"

"No. It's not and-" You started to get angry but something stopped you.

Your eyes got bigger when you looked at her direction.

"Kit. Don't move."

Kit's eyes widen with fear and she had the urge just to take a look but she couldn't.

She had a big hairy spider on her shoulder.

You didn't know how the hell she didn't feel that. It looked big and poisonous.

'What is with the Princess Of Tir Asleen and poisonous animals?' you thought to yourself.

She eyed her left and with realization her eyes got wider and she panicked for a second then fell from the horse.

She fell into the mud and now she was covered in it.

"Fuuuuuck!"

You snorted as you ran to her, saving her from the mud and the spider.

Spider was barely in the mud, was already crawling its way out to the clean grass.

You held Kit's hand and helped her up.

"Come on, there is a pond over there."

She groaned as she followed your lead.

She got rid of her outer clothes and you both washed them . You were glad it was Summer. It would dry quickly.

"I am sorry."

You looked at her direction.

"I shouldn't have looked. I just I didn't know why I did it. I - I guess I was curious or I-I don't have any excuse. When It's about you I just want to know more. A-and I guess I got excited."

You knew she was telling the truth.

You nodded to her and to yourself.

She looked at you as she was waiting for an 'I forgive you.'

Instead you stood up and wondered around the pond. She got up from her seat and stood next to you.

She looked in your eyes desperately. "Y/N?"

You stared at her coldly and she frowned at your expression.

Then, all of a sudden, you put your hands on her arms and pushed her to the pond in front of you.

"Wha-" she managed to get out before water splashed around and your giggles filled the woods.

She got up to the surface and swam her way back and got off from the water.

You expected an annoyed look on her face but she was smiling. She came next to you with her arms on her waist.

She bit her lip and nodded to herself. "I deserved it."

You laughed. She smiled as you laughed more.

What you didn't expect was her pushing you into the water.

You found yourself in blue-green pond and you saw her jumping in the water again. She was swimming to your direction. You looked at her with a smile. There was enough light inside the pond. Thanks to the Sun. You could see her clearly.

You saw her looking at you softly. That look melt your heart but also It awoke something inside you. You pulled her to yourself to give a peck to her lips. You looked at her face. It was blank. Than you swam to the surface and took a deep breath. When you saw her coming right after you. You couldn't find the courage to face her.

You took a deep breath and dived into the pond. You decided to wait there as If that was a good solution. You saw her coming down. She had a happy expression on her face as much as someone can when they are holding their breath. She came down to your level.

Then something you never could have guess happened. She held your cheeks with both of your hands and kissed you. You relaxed into the kiss as you felt her not hating this.

Your smile met your eyes as she clinged onto you. You looked at her eyes as she looked at yours. You held her arms but she smiled and pulled you to the surface with her.

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[jamdoughnutmagician]

Through The Echoes.

Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count:1,025

He shows up at your house covered in mud in the rain, but the problem is, he died two months ago.

Taking a little break from writing A Slice Of Life to take part in the Stranger Prompts, courtesy of @bettyfrommars , @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing

Eddie Munson Masterlist // Masterlist

Two months, that's how long ago Eddie's funeral had been. There hadn't even a body in that dark wood casket, just a bouquet of white roses and guitar pick on a chain necklace set on top of the casket as it was lowered into the ground.

It had been a quiet gathering of people, his uncle Wayne, who still believed his poor nephew had lost his life to the devastation of the so-called earthquake, and you, and his new-found group of friends who knew the much stranger truth.

Robin wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders as you shook with quiet sobs, holding your head in your hands, knowing that you would never get the chance to ever see Eddie again. To tell him what he means to you. To tell him how you feel for him way deeper than friends do.

That was two months ago.

The rain patters heavily against the windows as you tie your hair back, getting yourself ready for bed, taking one last longing look at the picture sitting on your dressing table. It was a four picture collage of you and Eddie from a photo booth, pulling increasingly silly faces at the camera to make each other laugh. He had taken you to the fair that had come to town, showing off his skills in trying to win you the giant stuffed teddy, which he had done with an all-too cocky smirk.

Your heart pulls when you look at that picture, the unassuming innocence of two people who didn’t know what was waiting ahead of them.

You kiss the photo in the frame, as you had done every night, before setting it back down on your dressing table and getting into bed.

Just as you were about to reach for the book on the bedside drawer, to read a few chapters before falling into an ultimately restless sleep, you’re roused by a heavy fist knocking at your front door. The sound echoing throughout the house. You untangle yourself from the sheets and reach for your dressing gown before sliding into your slippers and padding your way downstairs.

Who could that be at this hour? And what on earth could they possibly want that it couldn't have waited until morning?

However, it wasn't the splatter of cold rain that had your blood running cold as you opened the door, no.

There, stood in the doorway was Eddie, your Eddie, clothes sodden through and caked in mud. His dark eyes are red-rimmed as though he hadn’t known a decent night's sleep in a long time. The once familiar bounce of his frizzy hair is now plastered to his skin, raindrops clinging to the wet strands.

You could scarcely believe what you were seeing. Was this some kind of sick dream that you were going to wake up from at any moment? A manifestation of your grief?

Then he spoke. As plain as day, letting you know that this wasn’t a dream, no, this was real.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” he mumbles out, sadness and exhaustion clear in his voice.

Then, as if on auto-pilot, you bring your arm around him, ushering him into your house and upstairs to your bedroom, giving him a towel to dry himself off with.

 “I-uh, I’ve still got some of your old clothes, you know so you can have something warm to change into.” you say shakily, handing him over an old Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms.

He had left a few of his things in your room from the countless times he’d stayed over, staying up with you late into the night just talking. You had fully intended on giving them back to him, but after losing him you just couldn’t bring yourself to part with them. Not when they still smelled so much like him. That familiar warm smoky scent that lingered on the soft cotton of his shirts.

The unspoken question of ‘how are you even here right now?’ hangs in the air as silence falls between you.

“Right, well I’ll give you some space to get changed.” you tell him as you take the damp towel from his hands and take it to the laundry hamper down the hall.

When you return to your room you see him as he’s pulling the t-shirts hem down his body, your eyes catching on the sliver of skin, the angry red scratches and splotchy purple bruises that litter his body.

The silence between you both is awful. You used to be able to talk about everything and anything, no topic was off the table, conversation with Eddie was so easy.

“I guess I owe you an explanation, and by God I wish I could give it to you, I really do, but I just don’t know what happened to me.”

“Eddie..” you start, but what were you going to say to that? Where have you been all this time? I thought you were dead? Everyone’s missed you. I’ve missed you. 

“I don’t remember anything, all I could remember is you, and I don’t know, just the thought of you brought me comfort when I felt lost and alone, and I knew that I had to find you. That I had to come back to you.” he said, his shoulders slumping as his head hangs down, hiding his face from you with his dark shaggy hair.

“Eddie, look at me, please.” you say with a steady breath falling from your lips. “Whatever you need, I’m going to be here for you. I’m going to help you, okay? I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you ever again, I swear.” 

“I don’t know if you can help me.” he sounds so scared and unsure of himself and it shatters your heart to pieces. “I keep hearing things, and seeing things that I don’t understand and everything just always feels so fucking dark.”

You wrap your arm around his cold, frail and bony frame, pulling him closer to your warmth.

“We’ll figure something out, I promise.” you chance a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “We’ll do this together.” 

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