#i'm terrible at coloring blond hair

[mergaliscious]

if your drawing hair tutorial doesn't go over curly and kinky hair, you're not teaching "how to draw hair," you're teaching how to draw straight hair.

if your rendering skin tutorial doesn't go over dark skin, you're not teaching "how to render skin," you're teaching how to render white skin.

if your sculpting and rigging human bodies tutorial doesn't go over fat bodies, you're not teaching "how to sculpt and rig people," you're teaching how to sculpt and rig thin people.

it's fine not to know everything about a subject and not to know how to do a specific thing, but don't pretend you can teach how to do an art technique in general if it only applies to models/characters/etc of a certain privileged status

[shutit-haha]

"Katsuki," you swayed, "I think I might have been roofied."

"What!?" He gives himself whiplash from how fast he turns, neck cracking and muscles giving a slight pull. The two of you are in some damn frat house because someone invited you and you REALLY wanted to go. Knowing full well that you would stay here for an hour tops, half-hour if everything was already in full swing. This was certainly knew though, I mean 45 minutes in and you've been ROOFIED!

"I said," you leaned against him. Closing your eyes and attempting to take deep breaths even though those very same breaths seemed to make it feel worse. "Sorry Kat," you grabbed at him tightly with your hand. "My stomach's getting all swirly."

He goes into full fucking panic mode. His large hands wraps around your arm a little too tightly dragging you into the crowd with him. He's moving like a fucking linebacker just shoving whoever's in his way. The blonde takes a sharp left turn around a corner yanking you into a hallway with him. The lights here are shut off making it damn near pitch black. His shoulder slams into strangers making out and dry humping and the two of you cringe at the moans that come from the many bedrooms. The floor underneath your feet is sticky, and with the way you feel right now it's a fight just to rip yourself off the wood. Your muscles feel heavy, eyes barely open. The world keeps swirling and spinning, bright colors popping out at you even in the darkness. There's this terrible throbbing between your legs, making your thighs tremble slightly.

"Kat," you whine. He kicks open the bathroom door throwing out the couple currently occupying the space.

"Yea," he gently guides you over to the toilet bowl. "Wait actually don't fucking touch anything in here, it's all disgusting. Bastards don't know how to fuckin act." He's tugging you out into the hallway again, the couple from just a few seconds ago scurrying back in.

"Katsuki," your legs are struggling to keep up. You feel weak in the knees, stumbling over yourself as a result. Your hearing comes and goes, a war between absolute silence and migraine inducing noise. "Bakugo I can't," air escapes you in huffed breaths. "I can't keep up, please," you beg him.

The blonde -still rushing for a reason you don't understand anymore- scoops you up in his arms. "I'm gonna get that shit out of your system, and kill that asshole. Fuckin scum, piece of shit doesn't deserve to walk the earth." He grumbles clutching on to you even tighter. Your brain is so fuzzy you giggle at his silly words. "What," he looks down at you for a quick second.

"Hot, Kat. Tired," you yawn. Moving with large strides Bakugo carries the two of you out of the fraternity. You shiver the moment the cool air hits your sweating skin. "Cold," you whine curling into him and wrapping tightly around his neck. The poor man chokes with the grip you've got him in. How the hell is he expected to breath in a condition like this?! Not only that but you're pressed flush against him with the way you've twisted yourself around.

"HAH, didn't you jus' fuckin say you where hot?!"

"I'm hot on the inside Katsuki," you screech and wail. You say it like it's common knowledge and it kills him a little. "Wait," your hands fly outward. "I got throw up." The man damn near drops you, only half careful of how he's handling you. Your feet hit the ground and you bend at the ankles and then knees. Just as you're situated it all hurls itself back up. It's ok though, because he's here to hold back your hair for you.

"Gotta get your dumbass home," he mumbles under his breath. You whine bringing your hand up to your mouth to wipe away the mess, only for Bakugo to grab at your wrist. "Don't you fuckin' dare, that shit's gross."

"How am I supposed to clean myself," you look up at him with big blown pupils. Your lashes leave long shadows on your face from the streetlight, lips puffy from whatever drug was forced into your system. There's water lining the bottom of your eyes, a result from emptying your guts, and you're still so hot.

"Just hold on a minute, dammit." His head whips around in search of something, though to no one's surprise there's not much to clean with on the front lawn. His eyes fix onto the door, resignation settling in. "Don't you fucking move from here," he points down at you aggressively. "Do you understand?"

You nod absentmindedly, hand coming up to your mouth once again.

"Don't do that shit! Just sit still dammit, I'll be right back." He hates having to run back into that fucking mess of a party. It reeks worse than it did before, the odor much more noticeable after breathing in some fresh fucking air. He fears that if he makes the wrong step he'll roll his ankle from the sticky floor, and then theirs all the bodies. These jiggling, sweaty bodies, in sync and yet still so far off beat. He's quick, bulldozing through all those extras to get to where he's going. You've been fucking drugged by one of these damn creeps and part of Bakugo worries that they'll find you while you're all alone out there.

"Katsuki," big gooey smile, when he emerges back outside. A shiver racks through him, the cold catching him off guard. He immediately steels himself right afterward determined not to let it happen again. "Katsuki," you sing, "kat-suki, suki, kat. kat, suki," you giggle and then smile. You're clearly out of your damn mind, body rocking back and forth while your hands grip onto your ankles tightly. You look like a fucking kindergartener, at the thought of that he snorts.

"Here," he throws the whole paper towel roll at you.

"Thank yoou," more singing, and an even bigger grin.

He only spares you a couple seconds to clean yourself before he's yanking you up onto your feet. The rough skin of his hand wraps around your elbow, and you stumble right into his side. The roll is hugged close to your buddy like some sort of stuffed animal, thighs pressed together tightly. "Can you carry me again?" Your eyes fall shut sleepily, cheek resting against his hard shoulder.

"Hah!?"

"Please," your hip presses against his now. "Please, I'll kiss you if you'll do it for me."

"Don't say that shit," his cheeks dust pink like a school boy.

You giggle, "I'll kiss you even if you don't pick me up." Paper towel roll still pressed against your chest, you lean into him lips grazing under his jaw. "I wanna kiss you," you hum breathing in his scent.

"Don't say that shit!"

"But I wanna kiss someone," you whine.

"Someone?"

"Anyone," you kiss the flesh at his jaw and neck.

"That shit's getting to you."

You nod absentmindedly again, placing another kiss on his warm skin. "Mhm, I think so."

"I'm taking you home," he bends at the knees slightly begrudgingly picking you up.

"Mmmm," you hum, "I like the sound of that."

He squeezes your thighs harshly receiving a slight hiss from you. "Gotta fucking behave if I'm gonna be doing this shit for you. Not gonna fucking baby you for you to be a brat."

Your arms wrap around his neck bringing yourself as close to him as possible. That damn paper towel roll still smooshed between the two of you. "Does that mean you're gonna punish me?" It was said so innocently, still made his cock twitch.

"Don't say that shit," he growls at you, jostling your body as a way of adjusting himself.

"I'm sorry," you kiss his neck, "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that shit either."

"But," you grind against his abs, "I need to feel something."

"Not me! Take care of yourself later," the thought of you touching yourself quickly popped into his head. Once again he was jostling you to adjust his pants.

"You feel so good," another innocent comment as you grind yourself against him.

"What's I say about behaving," he snaps at you.

"But you said to take care of myself."

"Later!"

"Are you gonna punish me now?"

Thank god the car was coming into view. "Oi! I'll fucking drop you!" He hakes his head, "the hells your obsession with that shit."

You shrug, "like how your hands feel on my ass." Another kiss to his neck, and then your hips jolt on their own grinding against his hard abs. This time you just can't stop yourself, the pit of your stomach feels like it's on fire and the way your muscles are contracting- you just have to. You need too.

"Hey," some part of his subconscious had clearly been paying attention to you. The part about his hands, and the punishment, because his hand came up and then down in one sudden slap. You could hear it whoosh in the air, and then that crackle when it met your rear. You stilled, moaning and arching your back. He nearly fucking dropped you, the one hand holding you completely unprepared for that hell of an arch.

"Fuck," you panted. Your lips kissed a trail up his neck and then nipped the skin behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry d-" You bit your lip, suppressing what so desperately wanted to be said.

He fucking dropped you.

Your legs where shaky, knees buckling soon as your feet hit the floor. You expected to fall onto your knees just like you did on the lawn, but he slammed you up against the car. Your back roughly hit the metal, one hand keeping your hip trapped against it, the other hand keeping hold of your wrist. "You're driving me fucking crazy you know that," he spat in your face. His breath fanned against your skin, eyes burning. "I have no clue what that fucker gave you but-"

You kissed him, hips wiggly in his hand in search of friction. He bit your bottom lip, teeth sinking into plush, your back arched. "Fuck me, please. Please just fuck me, swear I'll stop after that. It'll make it stop just fuck me please just-"

He leaned back in, mouths smashing together, teeth clinking just before he forces his tongue in catching a taste of your mouth. Aphrodisiac, "bastard gave you a fucking rape drug."

You shake your head, hips wiggling with more vigor. "No want it," you breath heavily, "want it."

He shoves you aside, opening the passenger door for you, "just the drug."

"No," you're crying now. Hand venturing down to your waist band to give yourself some kind of relief. "Want you," you bite your lip when your hand grazes your clit. "I-" pant, "want you." All your weight is held up by the car, eyes shut to better see the fantasies. "Fuck," you groan.

He doesn't know what to do, he's kind of just watching you. It feels gross, feels wrong but, fuck he likes it. Mouth agape while you fuck yourself to him. It's not real. He's gonna wale up. It's just a wet dream, a movie.

"Wanted you since-" gulp, "that compression shirt, at the- at the gym." You whimper at that, "sweat, nipples were hard." Your eyes open all half lidded and hazy, pupils having consumed whatever color was once there. Your sclera isn't even visible anymore. "You're such a whore," as if your fucking pussy wasn't literally squelching right now.

That was it for him, you weren't gonna fucking insult him like that. As if you were some fucking saint. Yeah, right. He slams the passenger door shut, the back door flying open followed by him quickly shoving you into the car. Your back bounces on the leather seats, one hand quickly rushing to yank down your pants and underwear. The burly man climbs in right after you moving with quick hast, he shuts the door behind him with another loud slam.

"Keep that fucking mouth shut," hand squeezing a the sides of your throat. He's fucked once or twice, never like this. In the back of his car, cock aching, in such a hurry. With the way you were acting it seems like it's only take a couple strokes before you tapped out, you had already been edging yourself in a way. (I mean with you grinding and whatever else and him stopping you every other five seconds.)

He unbuttons his jeans, briefly thinking about turning on the air-conditioning only to decide against it. Fuck it, let the windows fog up. (That'd be new too.) Katsuki doesn't even unzip his pants he just tugs at the sides and forces the zipper to go down itself. You brely catch a glimpse of his boxers before those too are tugged down his muscled thighs. Damn gym rat.

He rudely slaps away the hand you have between your legs, only to smack his dick against your clit. "Condom," you mutter.

"Didn't I say to shut up," it's a nasty snarl, yet still you have the balls to smile at him.

"Please," you spread your legs for him.

"Didn't bring one," fuck please don't tell him this is what's gonna cock block him. He'll fucking destroy this car with the amount of anger that wants to blow. Yet you ever so seductively reach into your bra and pull one out.

"Here." You take it between your teeth tearing at the packaging while he pumps himself. You pass it over to him, the wrapper gracefully falling somewhere underneath the seat, condom rolled on in a blink. No prep, just his dick getting shoved into you.

It's a stretch, a painful, hissing stretch. Your tugging at his shirt pulling it off of him while you adjust, his hands sliding up and under to unhook your bra. "Move," it's a command, an order. And despite his big fucking ego, he listens to you. One large hand placed next to your head, the either forcing your shirt up as it ghost over your body. Your scratching at his back, and rubbing his scalp. It's an odd combo of pain and pleasure for the both of you as a result. "More," you're shouting now, "more," you gasp.

"Take your shirt off," his voice is gravelly and out of breath. The hand once fondling with your breast is now gripping under your thigh. It's pushing your legs up and up and up, till they're resting right on top of his strong shoulders. Your pussy clenches around him upon feeling the muscle moving under your legs. His mouth comes down to suck your right nipple, eyes staring dead into yours.

Fuck you're cuming, quick with his name on your tongue. "Not fuckin' done," he groans, grinding into you with another thrust. "Don't even think about movin' didn't-" He hisses, "fuck, didn't get to cum yet." Another grind and then he's bringing a calloused finger to your clit.

"Katsuki..."

"Yeah baby," it's low and husky, drawing more slick from you.

"Was lying about the condom." He gives you a harsh thrust at that, clearly fucking pissed. "Don't give a shit about it," he nearly pulls all the way out to slam back in. "Just wanted to-"

"Get to the fuckin' point," other hand squeezing at your throat.

"Want you to come in me," you're fucking yelling. "Please," begging.

"Fuck baby, that's enough to make me come on the spot."

You whine at that, "no."

"No?"

"No, please. Inside please."

He pulls out, smirking when he sees how your walls clench around the empty space. "Missing me," he teases rolling off the condom carelessly dropping it onto the floor. In a snap he's back in, three strokes and then he's gone.

The liquid is fucking hot, it's scorching. You wanna taste, wish you would have gotten the chance to. The thought of that has your walls fluttering and coming a second time. Your eyes are all dazed and glossy, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. Carefully Katsuki pulls your shaking legs off his shoulders, while your hand reaches up to push his hair out of your face. "Fuck you're a brat," your lip tint smeared all over his lips.

It makes you smile all soft and gooey. "I'm tired now."

He snorts, pulling your underwear back onto you. "'Course you are," he tugs on his boxers and jeans. "Don't let any of that shit spill out you understand me?" He's pointing at you, face back to that scowl. You nod, pulling your pants back on. The both of you tug on your shirts, he moves to the front while you remain laying in the back. You find a sweater of his and tug it on while he starts the car, rolling down the windows to air the thing out.

"We're doing that shit at least one more time," he says pulling the car out of park.

"You're place or mine," you smile at him through the rearview mirror.

[stawberrypimpsimp]

Alastor x Reader: The Radio Demon Enjoys a Treat

Word Count: 2,321

You were sick of working for Valentino. He was an asshole, a terrible demon. He has you working non stop but at least you aren't his favorite toy like Angel. You didn't have it as rough as him, he had it bad, but you two formed a quick bond. The mutual hate and restraints Valentino had brought you closer. Angle was able to escape Vals grasp just a bit. He moved out to a hotel, called the Happy Hotel, he said. You envied him. How you wish to escape the clutches of that monster.

Angle cared for you deeply. You wanted to ask him if there was room for you in this hotel. If you could have the temporary escape he gets. You decided to meet up with him at Consent, a sex club.

“Hey there sweet tits!” Said Angle walking up to you at the bar.

“Angle! How’s being a dick sucking slave going for you?” You said laughing

”Oh its great.. Vals got me doing gang bangs back to back. Fuck Im tired!!” Angle said, waving the bartender over for a drink.

“Two twink cosmos”

Next thing you know your 8 shots in and grinding on some random ass sinner. You forgot to talk to Angle about the hotel, to drunk to even remember what the night was about. Out of the corner of your eye you see Val. What the absolute fuck?! Can’t I get away from this sex fiend pimp. You dance your way over to Angel nudging him and slyly pointing out towards Val.

”Ugh.. I don't want to deal with this right now.. Let’s fucking go.” Angel says

You nod in agreement following his lead out, luckily you both sneak past without being seen.

“See ya tomorrow Angel!” You say walking away waving you hand and stumbling into a pole.

”Look youre way too drunk to get home and I'm pretty drunk as well. The hotel is right around the corner. You can stay the night there! I mean Charlie would be happy to meet ya.” Angel says grabbing your hand.

“Thanks Angel I owe ya one.” You say stumbling along his side.

He wasn’t nearly as drunk as you but hey at least you were able to let go for a bit and enjoy yourself.

You both walked up to the hotel, and oh boy was it a bad stay. Extremely disheveled and musty. Angel opened the doors for you and you both walked in. Inside wasn’t as bad as outside you guess but absolutely not what you were expecting when Angel talked about residing in a hotel.

A blonde girl in a red suit comes up to you grabbing your hand and shaking it profusely.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, welcome to the Happy Hotel!” She gets all sentimental and teary all of a sudden. “Angel, I can't believe you brought someone here!”

She was loud, a lot to take in but hey it helped you sober the fuck up but obviously still head ache inducing.

“Uhhhh Hello?” You said with confusion.

“Okay Okay let me show you around! Here we work on rehabilitation and bettering yourself. Let me Introduce you to everyone!!” Charlie said, overly excited.

”Okay sooo you already know Angel! So that introduction is off the list.. Hmm.. OH OH THIS THIS RIGHT HERE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN ALL OF HELL! VAGGIE! She is my girlfriend and here to help” The blonde demon said with pure excitement and love. She grabbed the hands of a girl with gray skin and hair that resembles moth wings.

”Hi.. Uh yes I’m Vaggie nice to meet you.” She says with an awkward smile.

Once Charlie stops looking and admiring Vaggie for a little longer she takes my hand dragging me over to what you can describe as a bar. It most certainly does not fit in with the color and decor of the place but you kept you mouth closed.

“This is Husker he is the bartender! He comes off all grumbly and grumpy but I swear he has a soft spot!!”

Husk who appears to be a cat like creature with a theme of playing cards to him. He looks up from the glass he is pouring then looks back down grumbling to himself. Oh well guess grumbly was the perfect word to describe him.

“Hello…?” You say hesitantly. He only gives you a look up again and a nod taking a swig of the glass of booze he just poured.

You look over and see a small little creature running with a knife stabbing bugs. You cant take your eyes off her as she takes the knife and impales a bug. Ew but at least keeping the place.. clean..?

”That over there is Nifty. She is the maid and in charge of keeping the place tip top shape.” Charlie says smiling avoiding watching her stab a few more bugs.

”Do you know any bad boys? You're just a girl.” The short girl said, wide eyed in excitement.

“Sadly yeah, work with a whole bunch of them but thats a topic for another time..” You say looking down trailing off your sentence.

Thankfully that stopped the conversation between you and her and she went back to stabbing bugs. Out of nowhere a black shadow witha green smile appears next to you forming into the shape of a demon. A handsome one at that. Tall and lanky in a striped red suit, a cane resembling a microphone right at his side.

“Well hello dear, I am Alastor the host of the hotel, an absolute pleasure to meet you!.” The demon says charmingly with a grin so wide it almost reaches his eyes, but his voice was off. It sounded like his voice was being broadcasted over a radio.

“Oh, hello?” You say a bit nervously as this man just came out of nowhere.

He grabs your hand bending down giving it a soft kiss. Everyone stopped and looked mouth open and shocked.

”What the fuck freaky face?! You ain’t never done that before.” Said Angel with a surprised look and then a laugh.

Charlie clasped her hands together and gave a long aweeee. You had no idea what was going on why everyone was acting so weird.

“Heh?” You say loudly looking confused and into Alastor glowing red eyes as you try to study what the schlock is about over him.

”Well I've never seen him be so… so gentle?” Charlie said still in awe with hearts in her eyes.

“Charlie my dear, I am simply just being a good host!” Alastor says keeping his smile wide and letting out a chuckle.

“Suuuureeeeee…!” Charlie says teasingly as if she could convince Alastor that she believed him.

“Now let me show our new guest around the hotel. Shall we?” He says in his static voice putting his arm out for you to hold onto.

You look at Angel and he gives you a wink and big grin. Looking at Alastors arm you grab it and begin to walk with him. Using his other hand holding his cane he starts to point out where everything is giving you a tour.

“..and hear darling we have my room!” Alastor says with a smirk.

You feel your face go a bit red. Why is he showing me HIS room?! You deal with horny men all day but this demon is getting you flustered. He opens the door letting you walk in first. There was a dark forest at the hall way point leading to who knows how far. Although it was beautiful. You stand here admiring it till you feel something behind you.

Alastor has his hand on your waist the other on your thigh. Slowly he slides his hand to your upper thigh, leaning into the crook of your neck.

”Well yes it's quite true I put everyone in awe over my affection, but I just simply couldn't stop myself. You are quite a cat my dear. Let me show you how a lady like you should be treated.” Alastor said with his radio voice but in a cooing tone.

Your face goes absolutely red. Shivers go up your spine all the way to the tip of your head. You could melt in his arms with how gently he is touching you. Shaking your head slowly you give a soft nod not even able to get out a word.

He glides his hand up your thigh to your crotch, he takes his hand and slowly starts rubbing it back and forth applying just enough pressure to have a decent amount of friction. The hand on your waist turns into him gliding his finger tips up your stomach making you do a soft gasp. He then reaches your chest and cups your breast. He slowly massages it in the same pace that his hand is going at. His face now buried in your neck kissing it softly. Then you feel a sharp pain letting out a small yelp. He lifts up his head slightly and whispers in your ear with a low radio tone.

”My apologies dear, I couldn’t help myself with how tender your skin is.”

He goes back to your neck licking it softly tending to the wound he left you. You didnt mind, it felt good and exciting. He moved his hand now to the rim of your pants.

“May I show you a good time darling?” He says in a static coo well running his fingers around the rim of your pants playing with them.

You give a simple nod. How does he have you in his clutches so easily? He takes his hand and slips it in your pants.

“Oh my, look how soaked you’ve become.”

He takes his hand and begins to feel your pussy. Running his fingers around your lips then pressing a finger on your slit going up and down slowly well his thumb rubs your clit.

God damn what the hell. You could hardly think, just focusing on all the sensations Alastor is causing you to feel. Your body entranced by the places he’s touching.

“Bed..?” Is all you managed to get out with a moan. You've been holding the moans in your throat as if they were trapped and couldn’t escape but that wasn’t because you weren’t feeling good it was because you were feeling so good. He raises his head to your ear once again.

”As you please my dear.” He says in a deep tone that broadcasted through your ears.

He removes his hands and swoops you off your feet. Holding you in his arms bridal style then setting you gently on his bed. You keep your eye on him, staring into his deep glowing stare.

“Let’s get these off of you shall we?” He says witch a chuckle.

Taking his finger he rips the seem of your pants making them fall off, now on to your panties. You look at him with lust as he returns the same look.

“Now be quite we dont want the other curious of the noise my sweet doe.” He says in his charming radio voice.

He gets on his knees and sets your legs on his shoulders. Alastor begins to kiss your inner thighs. Softly sucking on your skin then gliding his tongue up a bit to the next piece of flesh he is going to tend to. Unspoiled another sharp pain is felt. You knew what it was of course, but oh did it feel good. Between the bites, kisses, and licks he makes his wary up to your pussy. Extremely wet all ready for him to dine on. He wrapped his arms around your thighs digging his hands into them and leans his face in your aching wet crotch, not licking it just yet. He lets out a few heavy breaths causing you to shiver in delight, finally he takes a lick of your slit. His nose nuzzling your clit. He takes his tongue from the back of your pussy gliding it between your lips then finishing it off with a flick of his tongue on your clit. Quickly you took your hands covering your mouth choking back a moan you so desperately want to let out.

“Oh dear.. it appears you may need some help staying silent.”

Next to you a black hole appears on the bed and a tentacle slithers its way out. Black and slick it wraps around your mouth muffling the sounds you cant help but let out.

“Back to business..”

He thrust his head back between your legs licking your increasingly wet slit. Moans attempt to leave your lips but they cant. Arching your back indicating your about to cum he pulls away just barely enough to where you can only feel the tip of his lips.

”Not yet dear” He says smirking.

Damn that smile never leaving his face, that old times radio voice, he is driving you crazy.

Once he knows you won’t reach your peak just yet he wraps his lips around your clit. He starts sucking on it softly, nibbling on it unlike his hard bites, using his tongue sliding back and forth providing flicks. As he does so he slips two fingers inside of you. Dear god. Yes god, this is pure bliss. Alastor begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, now adding a curl to his fingers touching your sweet spot. He continues to pull them in and out. You arch your back and feel sweet realese. You cum on his fingers, him still sucking your clit and slowing down his pumps letting you ride out your orgasm. He pulls out his fingers and licks them clean.

”Im not usually one for sweets but this was a dessert I deeply enjoyed.” Alastor said standing back up looking over you taking in what he will now claim as his darling doe.

[shanastoryteller]

happy valentine Shana!!! I can't believe i made it finally jgfcjjcgjgx i would love to see some fma (Sacrifice is free/ed&ling betrothed/What They Expect) or more of Lord Arthur De Bois, or time travel Jiang Cheng/drarry, or Avengers' Three Faced Goddess! (can anyone tell I Cannot choose favourites? They're all so gooood) and if none of those sound appealing, dealer's choice! thank you!!

continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

It's sort of awkward, because Eden insists on thick tights and long sleeves and keeps her gloves on, but Catherine takes it in stride and doesn't react with anything more than a single raised eyebrow. Maybe she thinks she has some sort of terrible skin condition on her limbs, or something, because she's perfectly fine with plunging necklines and the lacy bras Catherine shoves at her.

She hasn't worn anything besides a sports bra since she's had breasts. They're not exactly comfortable, but compared to the constant, background ache of the automail it doesn't even make a blip on her radar.

Besides. They make her look like a girl, shoving her breasts up front and center, and their size had been an annoyance when passing for a boy and a comfort when she looked at herself naked in the mirror, searching for the girl she was rather than the boy everyone saw, but this is different.

"Wow," Catherine blinks, tilting her head to the side.

Eden flushes and wishes that at any point she'd learned how to talk to pretty girls outside of life or death situations. "I hadn't realized they - I'm not used to wearing, um, girly stuff."

"You look good in it," she says, touching Ed's back and shifting her to face the mirror.

She's in black tights and boots with a chunky heel, taller than the ones she normally wears and sleeker, stopping just below her knees. She's wearing a dark green dress with a deep neckline. She's used to be hard lines and sharp edges, but she looks soft here, her hips and breasts curving out from her waist and the dress somehow minimizing the breadth of her shoulders, or maybe it's just that with all the skin on display in the center, her shoulders just don't get as much attention. She'd had to build them up, to make the automail balanced, to make sure her body could support it, and she'd always hated how masculine it made her look. But looking at herself now, she wonders if that just wasn't in her head.

Green's never been a color she gravitated towards, but the dark color makes the gold of her hair shine, brings out the warmth of her eyes and the pink of her lips.

"You're really good at this," she tells Catherine, throat tight.

Catherine grins. "You are a beautiful canvas, Eden. It was not difficult." Ed's face burns. "Do you have plans for dinner? We could have it at my home. I am, honestly, dying to curl your hair."

Ed hesitates, because her shade of blonde is rather distinctive, then takes a second look at herself in the mirror. No one is going to think she's the Fullmetal Alchemist looking like this. "Okay, yeah. Sure. That'd be great."

~

Catherine knows that Eden is military at first glance, seeing her elder sister in the way Eden stands and moves. She looks young, but she can't be that young, not when she has the stance of someone who's been enlisted for years.

She figures that Eden is looking for clothes to wear outside of her uniform for the first time and something in her softens at how insistent Eden is on keeping certain parts of her body covered. Her siblings have scars too.

When they get to their home, Eden seems slightly surprised at the grandness of her home, but gets over it quickly, which Catherine almost expected. She hadn't looked at a single price tag as they'd been shopping and had paid for her bags of purchases with a nonchalance that spoke of a familiarity with money, although that leaves Catherine to wonder how she ended up in the military in the first place. She hadn't gotten a last name out of her, but Catherine is familiar with most military families, and she would have heard if any of their daughters had enlisted.

"Your bedroom is so pretty," Eden says, looking around at her pink, frilly room filled with flowers and clothes and gilded in gold with a soft wistfulness.

Catherine loves her. "Thank you. Here, sit at my vanity, let's play."

Eden laughs and pulls her hair out of the hasty ponytail she'd pulled it into, letting Catherine run her hands through it and carefully brush out every knot. It's gorgeous, thick and silky and the most wonderful shade that Catherine's never seen on anyone else.

People always act so oddly with her because of her family, even those similarly situated looking down at her for her choices, to be neither an officer nor married to one, but that's just not what she wants right now. It's nice to hang out with another girl that just treats her like a friend.

"MY BELOVED SISTER HAS RETURNED!" booms from what sounds like the first floor.

She sighs.

Eden goes rigid in her chair, eyes wide. "What - why-"

"It's just my brother," she says soothingly, concerned with how pale Eden has gotten. "He's harmless, really."

"Brother," Eden repeats. "Fuck. Fuck! I'm so stupid-"

"It's okay," she says in alarm, "Eden, what-"

She gets to her feet, grabbing her hands and looking at her a desperation that Catherine doesn't understand. "He can't know I'm here. Who I am. Do you understand? It's important."

She doesn't understand. "Eden-"

There's the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way and Eden wrenches herself away, bolting for the other side of the room. She claps her hands together, then presses them against the wall, and in flash of light she's disappeared.

Catherine stares. mouth agape.

She's familiar with alchemy. The skill has been passed down her family for generations.

Eden didn't use a circle.

"I HEAR YOU HAVE MADE A FRIEND, DEAR SISTER!" Alex shouts, flinging open her door and flexing in the doorway. "I WISH TO MEET YOUR NEW COMPANION!"

She picks up a pillow from her bed and lobs it at him, hitting him right in his stupid curl. "We're having girl time, go away!"

"Ah, girl time!" he says. "A storied tradition that has been passed down the Armstrong family for many generations!" He looks around, seeing her empty room, and his eyebrows dip together.

She grabs a makeup brush, holding it up threateningly. "You know what else has been passed down our family for generations? The art of knocking! Go bother Momma!"

"Where's," he starts.

Catherine throws the brush, pointy end towards his eyes.

He ducks, retreating to the safety of the hallway and closing the door just in time for the brush to hit it.

She takes a deep breath, calming her racing heart and smoothing her hands down her skirt. She crosses the room, knocking against the wall and whispering, "Eden? He's gone."

There's nothing for a moment and then there's light and heat and she's looking at the the inside of her house, pipes and insulation, and Eden standing there in the center of it, eyes blown wide and lips trembling.

Eden, who won't let her look at her limbs and doesn't know how to wear girly things and uses alchemy without circles and recognizes her brother from his voice alone.

"I'm sorry," Eden whispers, arms wrapped around herself, trying to make herself small. "I just wanted-"

Catherine interrupts her, reaching out to place her hand over the arm Eden had been careful not to let her touch and is unsurprised to feel hard, unyielding metal. "The art of secret keeping had been passed down the Armstrong family for generations."

Eden's eyes snap to hers and Catherine smiles, squeezing her arm and hopes that she can feel it. Slowly, wondrously, Eden returns it.

[poisonlove]

Addyy | w.a

Y/N transfers to the prestigious "Nevermore" academy and becomes entangled in an eccentric and mysterious world. In her dorm, she shares spaces with Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams, both possessing intense personalities. Navigating complex dynamics, y/n delves into unique relationships and secrets, exploring the dark side of the academy.

Part 1

I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh.

I had just arrived at the Nevermore academy for less than five minutes, and I was already stressed from the never-ending talk of the director. Yes, the academy is prestigious and blah, blah, blah.

"Usually, we don't admit mid-year students... but her grades are excellent" Principal Weems says as she walks down the corridor, the sound of heels echoing. "All right, Miss... we don't have any more rooms... so you'll have to share with someone," she said with a slight smile.

"Yeah... okay," I replied with boredom.

I tried not to look back out of annoyance and just returned the smile. The blonde took two steps toward a wooden door and opened it for me.

"Welcome to the Ophelia Room... if you need me... you know where to find me," Director Weems gave my shoulder a squeeze and turned away, walking off.

A confusion of colors assaulted my eyes as a perfectly divided room greeted me. One side was terribly black and macabre, while the other was a riot of colors.

I suppressed the urge to vomit.

In the middle of the room, two girls were in the midst of a quarrel.

"Turn off this horrible music; it's time for my writing," said the shorter girl, looking at the blonde in front of her with inquisitive eyes.

She wore a gray-black uniform, much like the rest of the room. Her hair was neatly tied in two perfectly aligned braids that gracefully fell over her shoulders. Her skin was very pale, almost as if she were dead. As far as I could see, her lips were tightly pressed.

She showed no emotion.

The other was notably taller, with a blue-black uniform and blonde hair with shades of two different colors. She literally bared her nails in defense.

"This kitty has claws and is not afraid to use them," the blonde said with a challenging finger.

"Turn off this thing," the dark-haired girl repeated.

"I do what I want; after all, Taylor Swift is much better than the cello solo you play every night," she replied venomously.

I decided to intervene.

"I disagree," I said, placing my suitcases on the floor.

Both turned toward me. Brown eyes met mine, and a faint smile spread across her lips, immediately replaced by a darker look. Blue eyes lit up upon seeing me, and a smile spread across her lips.

"I hate Taylor Swift," I confessed, and the shorter one looked at the girl with disdain. The blonde snorted and turned off the music.

"However, I'm y/n," I added, approaching and shaking hands with the blonde.

"Enid Sinclair," she replied.

I glanced at the dark-haired girl who had turned her back to me, walking towards her desk.

"Sorry," I whispered to Enid and broke the contact between our hands, walking towards the center of her roommate. I put a foot outside the line, and a creak made the girl freeze.

"Stop, if you want to live," she said with a cold voice, putting a hand on the chair.

"Don't listen to her; she's always..." Enid began, but I didn't let her finish. "And what if I don't want to?" I asked.

I walked and approached her even more. Suddenly, she turned towards me, looking at me seriously.

"Y/N," I repeated, and she continued to look at me without blinking. I dangerously approached her, and she looked at me without moving a muscle.

"Things, I think we should bury her sooner than expected," Enid said with concern.

Our faces were very close, and I gave her a faint smile. She looked at me curiously, surprisingly turning her gaze away with her cheeks reddened.

"Wednesday Addams, now if you don't mind, step aside from my path," she whispered softly, authoritatively. She turned completely towards the desk and sat down, starting to manipulate the typewriter.

"Incredible," I whispered with a triumphant smile.

"I can't believe she didn't kill you for invading not only her room but also her personal space," the blonde said in amazement.

"Don't get your hopes up, Enid. I just wanted to be... kind," Wednesday said, almost disgusted by the last word. "Now shut up before I start thinking about taking away your privilege to speak," she said casually, focused on the paper in front of her.

"She's back," Enid laughed.

"Y/N, do you want to take a look around the school?" Enid suggested.

"I've seen enough... but okay," I smiled and approached the blonde. "I want to avoid getting killed... especially because I'll have to share a bed with Wednesday," I said hastily, almost running.

Enid laughed, and Wednesday froze in place, surprised by my words.

...

"Your friends are really... peculiar," I said with a half-smile.

Enid and I walked through the halls of Nevermore. The blonde had introduced me to her circle of friends, and we explored the school's gardens. I had a nice afternoon, but it was getting late, and it was time to return to my room.

"They're just idiots" Enid replied, gesturing. "Ajax, huh?"I asked with malice, raising my eyebrows, aware of Enid's infatuation with this guy.

"Shut up"she mumbled weakly, blushing. The blonde quickened her pace and entered the room, trying to dodge my questions.

I laughed and followed her.

"Come on... tell me"  I murmured with a 5-year-old's voice. "Tell you what?" Wednesday suddenly intervened. I turned to the right side of the room and smiled when I saw the image of little Addams.

"Addyyy, you finished writing, I see" I said with a finger of happiness.

The mentioned one furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Addy?" she repeated.

"A nickname... don't you like it?"I asked curiously, tilting my head to the side. "I hate it" she said coldly, looking at me without blinking. "Now tell me what you wanted to know about Enid" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It doesn't matter, Wednesday, it's our business" The Blonde intervened, sliding under the sheets. She yawned slightly.

Look, she's already in pajamas.

Wednesday didn't say anything and just approached her bed and sat on it.

"y/n/n, do you want to sleep here?" Enid proposed, leaning on the bed, looking at me with tired eyes.

"She doesn't need it; she'll sleep with me" Addams replied absentmindedly as she slid under the sheets. "You heard the boss"  I joked as I walked towards the suitcase that had been moved next to the bed. I took off my shirt and pants.

"What... what are you doing?" Wednesday asked timidly. I took the shirt out of the suitcase and looked at Addams. Her eyes roamed my body, stopping for a few seconds on my stomach.

"Am I putting on pajamas?" I responded with obviousness. She blinked and looked at me again. "Okay" she responded coldly, but her flushed cheeks made me smile slightly at the cuteness.

I put on the pajamas and lay down next to Addams; there was a noticeable space between our bodies.

"Goodnight Wednesday, night y/n" Enid said, turning off the light.

"Don't call me Addy if you want to keep all your fingers in place" Wednesday replied before turning around and giving me her back.

"Goodnight to you too..." I mumbled to myself.

◇◇◇

A slight squeeze on my side made me open my eyes; darkness surrounded the room, and an unsettling silence reigned between the walls of the academy.

I slowly looked down, and inevitably, a smile appeared on my face. In front of me was the image of Wednesday hugging me, and it was damn adorable. Addams' arms were around my stomach; her head rested against my chest, and sighs escaped her lips, making me tremble slightly.

If I move and wake her up... she'll probably kill me

I stayed still in my place and closed my eyes again, relaxing in the arms of little Addams.

◇◇◇

My body collapsed against something hard and cold; an unpleasant pain pricked my back, and my breath got stuck in my throat for a few milliseconds. "But what..." I'm dragging the words, opening my mouth, trying to get as much oxygen as possible. My eyes moved to the figure of Addams looking at me slightly amused from the edge of the bed.

"Addams" I muttered between teeth, looking at the responsible with anger. I closed my eyes and started to breathe slowly, trying to calm down and avoid causing a kinetic storm. "Why did you throw me off the bed?" I asked slowly, rubbing my elbow to alleviate the pain.

"You hugged me tonight; you're lucky I pushed you instead of inflicting excruciating pain" she said coldly, getting up from the bed.

"I didn't hug you! It was you who did it" I said as I got up from the floor. "No" she simply replied, looking at me without blinking.

"Apparently, you were the one who needed some affection"  I responded, pointing with my finger at the uniform leaning on the chair, making it levitate in my direction.

"I don't need affection; I hate physical contact and all of humanity... and especially, I don't need you" she affirmed and headed to the desk.

"Shut up, Things.." the raven-haired girl whispered as she grabbed her jacket.

"Enid?" I asked, looking to the left side of the room, searching for the girl's wolf mane.

"She already left" Wednesday said, grabbing her backpack.

"Perfect" I replied, heading to the bathroom, getting ready for class.

(...)

"Can you believe that Addams threw me off the bed this morning?" I asked Xavier.

The artist smiled mockingly as he tapped the desk with the pen.

We were in the greenhouse attending a lesson from Professor Thornill, and for the occasion, I decided to sit next to Xavier since I was still angry with Wednesday and had no intention of talking to her at least for today... Besides, she didn't seem interested in talking to me. I looked at Addy's profile... coal eyes focused on her notes; I shook my head disconsolately.

"Actually, it doesn't surprise me... but I'm surprised she didn't take out any organs or cut off a finger" he smiled as he concentrated on writing something on paper.

I looked at my notes, and I hadn't written anything at all..."Damn it..." I whispered, resting my head on my hand.

"What's wrong?" Wednesday turned around and looked in my direction. Her eyes met mine with indifference.

"I didn't write anything..." I affirmed sadly.

"This is because you've limited yourself to talking all the time" she replied monotonously, looking at my completely blank sheet.

" Don't tell me..."  I whispered mockingly; in response, Wednesday rolled her eyes. She turned again, giving me her back.

"Well, guys... the lesson is over... you can go" Thornill said in a high-pitched voice, smiling at her students.

I got up from the chair, took the bag, but perfectly aligned sheets in the corner of my desk made me freeze in place. I looked up and saw Wednesday Addams watching me.

"These are..." I took the notes from the bench, and inevitably, I smiled at the perfectly ordered and impeccable handwriting.

"Don't get your hopes up... you were just pathetic with that dejected look" she replied coldly.

Her words didn't hurt me for a second; I found Wednesday's gesture damn adorable. The girl turned her gaze annoyed and walked quickly towards the exit of the greenhouse; seeing her smile had caused me a strange and annoying sensation in the pit of my stomach.

As if spiders were spinning webs inside.

[coconutcordiale]

do not disturb

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

warnings- 18+ only minors DNI, what's a plot never met her, explicit protected piv sex, lil corruption/innocence kink, choking (pls look up the correct way before doing it), hangman's dirty mouth, size kink (if jake doesn't have a big dick I'm staging a revolt), brat tamer hangman if you squint, inexperienced ish reader (tried but I'm a hoe so idk if I managed it), no kink negotiation here (talk to your partners first irl), safewords not explicitly stated but I promise this is consensual af, excessive pet names, exasperated sleepy friends to lovers

length- 4k this was supposed to be like 1k I don't know blame hangman

an- this is just smut w lil fluff sprinkles. i'm a hangman girl (read: I'm obsessed with glen powell) so I felt some type of way about being mean to him in tailspin & that's why this now exists. also idfk what this even is sorry! hope it's not terrible ok ily bye

Technically, it’s the middle of the night. 

That’s why you’re burying homicidal urges when you hear knocking on your hotel room door. 

Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now. 

“Hangman,” you greet drily. “Why the fuck.”

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re not unhappy to see him, per se, but it’s well past acceptable social hours. He’ll have to forgive your less than enthusiastic welcome. Part of you thinks you might still be sleeping.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish for waking you up. Well, about as sheepish as Hangman is capable of looking. “Coyote said he was bringing someone back to our room. Can I crash with you tonight? Everyone else is either hooking up or dead asleep.”

Fucking weddings. 

You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him. 

A testament to your willpower, you sigh instead, briefly wondering if it’s really that bad to force him to sleep in the hallway, before opening the door and stepping to the side. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.

“Cool pjs.” He smirks again, raking his eyes up and down your colorful matching shorts and shirt set. 

“Bite me.”

Hangman smiles good-naturedly causing you to idly wonder if anything has ever bothered him in his entire life. 

“You’re real cute when you’re tired,” he says instead of being offended and now you’re debating if you actually should slap him, or maybe yourself for the way his compliment brings heat to your cheeks. 

“Where’s Phoenix? Thought you were sharing a room with her this weekend.”

Your stomach drops as you consider that Phoenix might be why he came to crash in your room, and you try not to make a face at its betrayal. 

“She’s probably in your room with Coyote,” you deadpan to cover up your discomfort, and then relish in the way his mouth drops open in surprise. “Christ, aren’t you supposed to be smart, Hangman? I’m kidding, she met someone at the reception.”

You know you’re being a little more abrasive with him than normal, but you can’t quite help the jabs that come out when you’re feeling uneasy. 

And Hangman does nothing, if not make you very, very uneasy. Especially like this, with his blonde hair soft and flopping all over his forehead, that old t-shirt clearly having been shrunk in the wash over the years straining across his chest, riding up a little high above his sweatpants. 

The gears are clearly turning in his head, no doubt forming something witty to gain back the slight upper hand you’ve gained in this verbal sparring. 

You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.

Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.

You’re contemplating if you could get away with taking a cold shower when he finally looks around your room, its distinct lack of two beds apparently killing whatever comeback he had on the tip of his tongue. 

“I can sleep on the floor.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and his uncharacteristic awkwardness is starting to make your skin itch. 

Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.

You’ve seen the girls he usually goes home with. Even if every single one of them wasn’t annoyingly beautiful, you already know where you stand with him. For all intents and purposes, you’re just another one of the guys. Sure, you don’t take a different conquest home every other night like the rest of them, but you banter and compete with them like buddies. 

And since you and Hangman are just buddies, you roll your eyes for appearances. “Just get in the bed, Seresin. It’s huge, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugs, like he’s giving himself credit for his half-assed offer and goes to pull his sweatpants off. You give him a withering look of disbelief, studiously avoiding looking at the way his boxers stretch over his muscular thighs. 

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

He just gives you a dazzling smile in response, and you spin away from him before everything inside you melts. 

Turning the thermostat down, you shoot an evident you’re welcome stare in his direction, but his sweatpants remain in their place on the floor. He’s laid out on the bed, all tanned skin and muscle, arms crossed behind his head in a way that’s surely meant to draw your attention straight to his biceps. 

Deep breath, you tell yourself. You can do this, just lay down on the other side and don’t be weird. 

You get in and pull the covers tight, hoping the shiver that runs through you as the air conditioning kicks on isn’t noticeable. 

“And I’m dramatic,” Jake huffs, getting under the blanket and rolling closer to you. You tense, merely out of reflex and a frown creases his eyebrows almost imperceptibly before he gets comfortable on his side, pulls you into his arms. “Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who?  You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm. 

“Would never do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbles, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice that feels like he’s making fun of you.

Mocking aside, that's definitely true.

You'd never expect him to do any of the things you want him to, either. There's a reason your apprehension stems from you crossing some sort of invisible line with him in your bed and not vice versa.

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.

“How come you didn’t ask anyone else to come up and keep you warm?” Jake teases, after a few moments of silence where you were busy focusing on the whirr of the air conditioner and trying to ignore your pounding heart. 

You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing. 

“The curly haired guy, from the wedding,” he supplies helpfully to answer your confused expression.

Oh. You’re surprised Jake noticed you talking to him at all. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with him. We were just chatting.” 

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“That’s not really my thing,” you say quietly, as if he doesn’t already know. He knew enough to know you wouldn’t have anyone up here with you, after all.

It’s so much easier, laying here in the dark, not having to meet his beautiful green eyes, to be honest. All your jabs having melted into smooth, silky edges at the warmth of his body.

There’s a playful lilt to Jake’s voice again. “Sex?”

You smack him lightly on the chest. “One-night stands. I can never get comfortable enough with a stranger to have a good time, things are just better for me when it’s more involved.”

When there’s feelings, you don’t say, because you’re pretty sure he can put two and two together without you having to spell it out.

You still kind of wish you hadn’t said anything, are kicking yourself for admitting that out loud when he cuts through the anxiety of your internal monologue.

“Nothing wrong with knowing what you want, darlin’.”

“It sucks sometimes,” you admit. “It can be a little lonely.”

“Better than being with the wrong person if it’s just going to make you feel bad.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.

“Feels nice,” he comments, pulling you in closer.

Spurred on by his praise you keep going, wandering down his back to where his shirt rides up. You look down and see that little strip of blonde hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, slung low enough that you can see that stupid Adonis belt on his abs. Your hand moves to the front of him of its own accord, tracing the ridges there, brushing dangerously close to the strip of elastic at the top.

Jake’s arm pops up so he can support his head with his hand, looking down at you imploringly. “What’re you playing at, sugar?”

You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.”

He’s definitely smirking, you can practically feel it in the air above you, but you’re sure as hell not going to look up and see that self-important grin for yourself.

He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail. The dusting of blonde hair surprises you a little, having expected Hangman to be too vain to leave any hair around that might distract from his physique.

You’re silently wondering if he has any hair on his chest when he catches a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You see his green eyes darkened, studying your face for something. You’re not entirely sure what.

Apparently finding what they’re looking for his expression softens, the hand supporting his head going to brush hair away from your face and you break eye contact, feeling small under his undivided attention. His fingers hover for a second, like he wants to do something more, but go to rest on your pillow instead.

“Thought that I had you pegged wrong all along for a second there, using lines to get in my pants. That’s not really my thing,” he mimics, smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, I’m—Jake, I’m not—” you stutter, certain you must be bright red now. Your fingers are playing with the hem of his t-shirt, nervous and fidgety energy working to get released.

I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.”

What.

Everything inside your mind shuts off.

All you can hear is the humming of the air conditioner, the slow intake of air into his lungs. Something inside you clenches.

You’re fairly certain a sound that closely resembles a whimper breaks from your throat, but you can’t know for sure, since all thoughts have been erased from your brain.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, breathing in and out evenly for a couple seconds, regaining control, before he speaks again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have said that. I won’t, told you I’d never do anything you don’t want.”

You already know that. That’s not the problem. The problem is how many nights you’ve already spent wishing his fingers were on you instead of your own. How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.

Now, though, those walls of certainty seem to be crumbling at every edge. 

“What if I want you to?” You ask quietly, barely above a whisper. It almost gets stuck in your throat, but you force your lips to form those words and let them leave your lungs.

Jake’s entire body goes tense.

But then he rolls over, putting you on your back and caging you in with his arms.

“You mean that?” He’s looking at you intensely, so intensely you might be frightened if you weren’t distracted by the weight of him on top of you, by every single scorching point of contact between you. 

All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.

He chuckles. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Jake ducks his head to kiss you, it’s sweet, sweeter than you ever would’ve expected from him. Sweeter than you thought it would be when you were hiding beneath the sheets in your bed, with your fingers on your clit, choking back his name. 

But then he slides his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss as he tangles a hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you moan straight into his mouth. His lips move down to ghost over your neck, across your jaw. 

And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?”

Your thighs clench together, heat blooming in your stomach and you notice, all at once, how wet you really are, slick pooling between your thighs under the wispy material of your sleep shorts. 

You open your mouth to say yes, desperately trying to find your voice, to find your familiar jabs so you can go toe to toe with him like normal, but all that comes out is a squeak. 

His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.

He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.

Jake’s eyes go wide for just a second before something wicked glints in the thin ring of green left.

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t know how to explain. You may not do this kind of thing a lot, but you know what you like. Your imagination has certainly run wild enough times.

But any words that might’ve been readying themselves to leave your lips wither into nothing the moment he squeezes your neck.

“Jake,” you gasp, words breathy underneath the fingers around your throat. “Jake, I…”

“Hmm, what’s that, sweetheart?” His hand relents a little so you can answer, but you immediately wish he’d tighten his hold again.

“Yes, Jake,” you whine. “I want you to ruin me.”

And you don’t know what’s come over you, if you were even an ounce more present in your own body you’d probably be embarrassed.

But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin. 

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?”

You don’t have an answer for that because you’re not trying to do anything, you just want more.

Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening. 

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed. 

He peels your shirt up and over your head, letting out another obscene groan at the sight of your bare chest. 

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs. 

You fist your hands in his shirt in answer, tugging upwards, figuring fair is fair. You’re trying hard not to blush, not to show how his approval makes you light and fuzzy. He grins and sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt up and over his head, ruffling his floppy hair in the process. 

Lips parting unconsciously, your tongue flicks out to wet them. You knew he was built, but it’s overwhelming, really, to have all that tan skin on display just inches from your face. You get to run your hands up the length of his entire chest now though, leaning up so your fingers can dance through the tuft of blonde hair near the top.

Jake pushes you down on your back, firm, into the pillows. Smiling deviously when you pout and immediately clench your fingers in the sheets beside you, when your thighs press together, seeking some sort of relief to the ache between them. The seam of your shorts presses just right against your center, and you let your head fall back with a soft moan. 

Something akin to dangerous flashes in Jake’s eyes, as he hooks his fingers in your shorts, pulling down in one swift motion and tossing them off the bed before you can gain any more pleasure from the thin material. He pushes your legs apart and groans at the sight of you, glistening wet for him. “God, sweetheart, look at you.”

Just when you think you might die if he doesn’t put his hands on you, if he doesn’t touch you, if he just keeps looking at you like that, like he wants to devour you; he swipes a finger up your slit, tip pressing lightly, teasingly against your bundle of nerves. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. He slides a finger in, curling it exactly right on the first try and you can’t help but keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.  

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, eyelids going heavy as he presses rough figure eights on your clit. “Want to get my mouth on you, get my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy, but I can’t wait, darlin’, been thinking about this for too long.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot. 

Reaching down to the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet, and you want to tease him, presumptuous much? But any semblance of thought goes out the window when he pulls his boxers down, hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth is suddenly, immediately sandpaper dry. 

Fuck.

Of course he’s huge. No one with an ego as colossal as his doesn’t have a reason, or several to back it up.

You don’t even hear yourself saying it out loud, don’t even realize the curses forming on your tongue, until he grins, eyebrow raised, chest puffed out in pride. “Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, to figure out that you should answer, since you’re transfixed on him, on the strong fingers rolling the condom onto his length. If you had any sense of self-preservation at all you might be genuinely worried about his question, about not being able to walk tomorrow. 

Hopefully you don’t sound as winded as you feel when you tell him to shut the fuck up. 

Before you can bother with any stupid survival instincts, you’re pulling him down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, savoring the grunt it draws from him as his tip reaches your folds.

“Love it when you’re mouthy, darlin’, nice little challenge for me,” he promises, before pushing himself inside of you. 

He goes slow, tortuously slow, and you screw your eyes shut tight as your walls flutter trying to adjust to him. You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.”

The stretch of him seems to go on forever, just on this side of agonizing, but way too good for you to care about the pain, too good to be real and you can barely focus on anything else. Can barely hear Jake’s molten honey voice repeating a slew of continuous praises in your ear, can barely register the weight of his body covering every inch of you. 

Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed at home, covered in sweat, grinding into your bed, achingly alone. You’re almost certain of it.  

But then you feel his lips on yours again, hand holding your cheek, gentle, affectionate as he bottoms out. When he finally moves, the heavy, slick pull of him in and out of you reminds you that you’re here. 

You don’t even recognize yourself, mewling, long string of unintelligible noises tumbling from your lips. 

Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?”

You can only hope those were rhetorical questions because he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, picking up the pace, new angle hitting that spot deep inside you again and again, and you can’t form a single thought, let alone words. 

Jake’s fingers find your center again and press against your clit in heavy, decisive circles, winding that coil in you tighter and tighter. 

“So close,” you whimper, fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

He smirks. 

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes rolling back and ears ringing, mind engulfed in the heat burning in your belly. 

He’s still grinning smugly as one of those large hands comes back to your neck. 

You whine, high-pitched and breathless, eyes fluttering closed, gripping the hand around your neck as he applies pressure, desperate for something to hold onto, and you think you’re trying to form words, some of them may even be making it out of your mouth, something along the lines of please please please, let me come, Jake, I can’t, JakeJakeJakeJake…

“So pretty all fucked out like this, stretched around my cock.” His gaze is fixed on where he’s plunging in and out of you, tone almost reverent. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me, wanna feel you, want…”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re focused on where his fingers dig into the sides of your neck, tipping over the edge, string of lights inside of you tangled and blowing a fuse. Everything bursts all at once and you’re clutching Jake’s arms so hard you’re positive you’re leaving marks, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t care because you’re in a free fall, toes curling in bliss. 

When you come to, you’re just barely aware of his pace growing erratic, hand on your throat loosening as it goes to brush your sweaty hair back from your forehead. His thrusts are getting shallower, mouth spewing a litany of jumbled praises so tight, so wet, so perfect baby, when suddenly he’s arching over you, hands tight on your hips as he empties into the condom. 

You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.

Distantly you can hear his heavy breathing, feel his weight on top of you but you don’t fully register it. 

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows. 

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?” 

That cuts through the haze enough that you kind of want to slap him, for the arrogance littering those three little words. Or yourself, for helping his ego grow any bigger. 

As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up. 

When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could. 

+

Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe. 

But you take one look at the smirk on his face, the mischievous glimmer that seems to linger even in his sleep and the butterflies in your stomach turn to stone.

You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.

You’re lost inside your own head, fighting the panic rising in your chest when he yawns, rubbing his eyes before tucking himself back into your side, impossibly closer.  

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin. 

It’s his turn to pat himself on the back as your mouth drops open in shock. 

Jake grins, eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

[littledovesnow]

pretty

Request: oh hi! i'm so happy to hear that you're writing fluffy fics for coryo! i need more of this kind of content and i just read your fic and i loved it! could i request a peacekeeper!coryo fic where reader is lucy gray's best friend and she has a crush on coriolanus but gets terribly shy around him like she can't look at him in the eyes, he's just too pretty (she's just like me), lucy gray knows this and makes fun of her while trying to get them close to each other. then one day they go to the lake (just like the scene in the movie) and coryo sits by her side and she's like freaking out on the inside and he asks her if he did anything wrong or something bc he already noticed that she goes silent around him and reader starts talking very nervous about it and admits that she finds him very pretty meanwhile coryo just finds everything so extremely cute? the ending is up to u 💓 sorry if this is too long!

a/n: is this good because i don't know how to write a district!reader (don't even get me started on the Appalachia accent i am doing my ancestors DIRTY)

-----

You laughed at Maude Ivory as she flounced in the water, blonde hair sticking to her forehead.

You and the rest of the Covey had decided to spend the day at the lake, wanting to soak in the warm weather as much as you could before heading to the Hob for an evening of singing.

“You gonna sing that new song I’ve heard you working on every night?” Lucy Gray asked, turning her head to look at you, knowing smile on her face.

Flushing red, you shrugged at the brunette. “Not sure. I don’t know if it’s well and finished yet.”

Lucy Gray hummed, turning back to let the sun’s rays hit her face, eyes closed. “Sejanus said he and Coriolanus would be there tonight, and I think the song is wonderful. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to sing it in front of the muse.”

You chuckled, pulling at the grass around you. “And just how do you know who the song’s about?”

It was Lucy Gray’s turn to chuckle, sitting up and focusing her attention on you. “We’ve been best friends for ages, I can tell when you’ve got your eyes on someone.”

“I-”

“Someone who I know has some pretty strong feelings for you, too.”

Shaking your head, your gaze was deadest on the ground beneath you. “Not possible, why would someone like him take any interest in a woman like me? Don’t forget, Lucy Gray, you may have won the Hunger Games, but we’re all still district. I doubt he even sees me as a person.”

Frowning, Lucy Gray chewed on her lip. “Coriolanus doesn’t think like that. Sejanus is from District Two, and he doesn’t think less of him.”

You sighed, knowing Lucy Gray wouldn’t put this to bed unless you relented. “If I sing my little ballad tonight, will you finally stop trying to set us up?”

Lucy Gray agreed, playful smirk on her face. “Only because he’s going to love it.”

-----

Coriolanus dawdled behind his bunkmates, fiddling with his dog tags as a few handfuls of Peacekeepers made their way to the liveliest barn in all of District 12.

He smiled as he heard Maude Ivory take the stage, eyes traveling around the band to see if he could find you.

“Going to finally nerve up and ask her out tonight?” Sejanus asked, settling into the stool next to his friend.

He snapped his head towards the Plinth boy, who wore a lively smile. “What?”

Sejanus nodded his head towards where you were currently talking to Lucy Gray, both wearing colorful skirts. “Lucy Gray, I always see you watching her while she’s singing. It’s obvious, I’ve seen it since you were her Mentor.”

Coriolanus was tempted to correct his friend on the name, having had a talk with Lucy Gray after her victory, both settling on the fact that there were no real romantic feelings, instead the two had agreed to remain friends so long as Coriolanus was in the District.

“Alright, this next one’s a new number!” Lucy Gray commanded the stage like no other, introducing you. “I’ve been listening to this one while it was being written, and I have to say y’all, it’s one of my favorites!”

You took a deep breath, smile on your face as you began to strum the guitar, voice carrying to all corners of the Hob.

Coriolanus was mesmerized, eyes never leaving your figure as you crooned, face heating up as you two made eye contact, frowning as you quickly averted your gaze to another area of the room.

It was a common occurrence whenever you two had met each other’s eyes, you were often quick to look away and rarely look back in his vicinity again.

At first he wondered if his Peacekeeper uniform was the cause of it, but after seeing him in more casual clothing, you still reacted the same when he looked at you.

You finished your song, introducing Barb Azure before disappearing to the small shed that the Covey used a backstage area.

Lucy Gray gave your hand an encouraging squeeze as she passed you, walking over to her former mentor. “How’s Peacekeeping treating you?”

Coriolanus shrugged, not wanting to go into detail about his work. “Mostly just patrol and catching those damn birds.” He was still in a one-sided fight with the mockingjays and jabberjays.

“Well, we’re going to the lake tomorrow. Wanted to see if you and Sejanus would be interested in joining?”

“The lake?” Coriolanus asked, he wasn’t familiar with a lake within District 12’s limits.

Nodding, Lucy Gray looked back as she heard Barb Azure finish her song. “Just outside of the forest, meet at my place tomorrow and we can all go down together.”

Coriolanus mulled the thought over as he was once again left to his own devices, hand going back to fiddling with the dog tag on his neck.

-----

“You what?” You asked, pulling a ratty pair of shorts over the makeshift bathing suit you had on.

“I invited Coriolanus and Sejanus. They’re my friends, thought they deserved a day at the lake, too!” Lucy Gray acted innocent, though there was an evil glint in her eye.

“D’you think they’ll go swimming?” Maude Ivory asked, eyes light with the prospect of swimming.

You ignored the young girl, instead following Lucy Gray out back to gather some berries for a picnic basket. “You didn’t think to run this by everyone? They’re Peacekeepers, Lucy Gray.”

“They’re Peacekeepers because of me.” She replied, voice void of emotion. “And besides, didn’t think you’d be so against wanting to spend the day with Coriolanus.”

You wanted to reply, wanted nothing more than to scream that there was never going to be anything between you and Coriolanus, but you refrained, knowing Lucy Gray did have a point, and the two men did deserve a day away from their co-Peacekeepers.

Finishing gathering things for the basket, you felt your palms grow clammy as you heard the two men clamoring around in the house, along with Maude Ivory’s cheerful explanation about the lake and surrounding meadow.

Looking up when you heard the door close, you were greeted with the Covey, Sejanus­—who had Maude Ivory on his shoulders—and Coriolanus.

“Hi everyone.” You smiled, quickly looking away from the blonde. “To the lake, we go.”

You walked in a peaceful silence behind everyone, halfway distracted with thoughts of swimming and sunbathing, the crisp and warm air perfect. You watched as Lucy Gray walked alongside Coriolanus, the two seemingly teasing each other as they chatted, laughter flowing freely.

-----

Having spent a short while in the water, you were now sitting along the shore, a short way’s away from where Maude Ivory, Lucy Gray, Sejanus, and Tan Amber were finishing off the picnic foods.

You looked up when you felt a pair of eyes on you, blushing when you saw Coriolanus sitting down next to you, keeping a laugh in as his knee popped.

“Thought you’d want to enjoy the water and fresh air.”

“Can I ask you something?” Coriolanus asked, paying no mind to your attempt to dismiss him.

Looking away from, you squinted as the sun reflected off of the water behind him. “Already did.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” You asked, genuinely wondering what he was talking about.

Coriolanus mulled over his words for a moment, not sure how to go about the conversation. “Whenever we’re in the same room, you always come up with some excuse to leave. You never look at me when you’re on stage. Have I done something wrong?”

You felt your heart grow sore at his question, he sounded helpless, hoping you would be able to explain your actions. “I- no, Coriolanus-”

“Coryo, you can call me Coryo if you want.”

Nodding, you looked at the man. “Coryo. You didn’t do anything wrong, no.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed, head tilting.

You sighed, watching a bird dive down and grab a fish out of the water before taking off again. Oh, how you wish you could fly away right now.”

“You’re different.” You said, setting down the flowers you were weaving. “A lot of the guys here look similar. Tired, faces freckled from the sun, hair permanently tinted with the coal. You- you’re pretty. Your skin free from freckles, hair clean and bright. Well, at least it looked clean on the Games.”

Coriolanus, who had a small smile on his face, spoke up once he realized you were done talking. “You think I’m pretty?”

Taking his tone as him joking, you made a move to stand. “I knew it was a mistake telling you.”

“No, no,” Coriolanus took your hand, stopping you from standing. “I didn’t mean it in a negative way. I just, no one’s ever called me pretty before.”

You were unsure of what to say, so you shrugged lightly, chewing on your lip.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty, too. Beautiful, even.” Coriolanus replied, smile on his face growing.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Don’t let Lucy Gray hear that.”

“Why? She and I both agreed there’s no romance between us.” Coriolanus looked back at the group, seeing Lucy Gray look over at the two of you a few times, stopping to send an encouraging thumbs up.

The two of you laughed at her actions, before Coriolanus turned back to meet your eyes.

This time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you kept his gaze until he broke into a wide smile. “Would it be alright if I take you out tonight?”

“Out where? The Hob?” You joked, the list of possible date locations in District 12 were limited. “But yes, Coryo, you definitely can.”

-----

a/n: will i learn how to end a fic this year? let's wait and see! send requests in!

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Sex on The Beach (What a Treat)

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: You love being a part of the Dagger Squad, but you're well aware there isn't a lot going for you as a woman. You go out on dates - often. But none of those men every meet the mark. Can one drunken night on the beach and one gorgeously bespectacled WSO change your mind? Only the ocean and its waves and your own beating heart can say.

Themes: Virginity, First time, Dirty Talk, Jake has a surprisingly terrible sex story (it's right in the beginning)

Warnings: Bob Fucks!

Word Count: 3291

A/N: This fic is wholly self-indulgent and came to me in an ovulating daydream right in time for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month! I hope you all enjoy it! I'm proud enough to say that yes indeed, Bob Floyd fucks!

Thanks to @horseshoegirl for beta reading this fic for me and telling me that I wasn't writing Bob terribly.

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

The night is cool and clear. A salty breeze rifles through your hair and dampens your face in soft gusts. It’s late, but on the other side of the bonfire, the other Daggers are continuing the party. A part of you is sure the party will still be going when the sun rises. You’re drunk, inhabiting that state of being between tipsy and drunk off your ass. Your cheeks feel hot, and your tongue is uncooperative. You’re not sure when the conversation veered right into a discussion of sex, but it did. You’re also not sure why you’re helplessly giggling about sex with Phoenix and Hangman, of all people.

“And then she bit me!”

You and Nat take one look at each other and cackle. You inhale a little and giggle out, “D-did she really bite your…?” 

Jake nods ruefully, a blush rising on his chest as Nat falls back with another delighted peal of laughter. You’re not sure you can look at the man when he looks like he’s still in pain just at the memory of what happened. His blush seems to intensify the more your delighted laughter rings out, and every time you look at Nat, it sets you off again and again. You feel like you can barely breathe; you’re laughing so hard. 

When you gasp for breath and sip your drink, your cheeks feel hot, and you can feel the sweat on your temples. You hold the frosty bottle up to your face in a futile attempt to cool off a little. It’s not like you’re wearing too many clothes, choosing to sling on an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of cutoffs over your bikini when the night cooled.

“You know, you’re laughing awfully hard for a girl who hasn’t said a word. We’ve heard from Tash. You’ve obviously heard from me. It’s your turn.” 

All of a sudden, your mirth dies off, instead turning into a cold sweat prickling across your exposed skin. You’re trapped in their gazes, Nat’s whiskey eyes staring you down coolly amused while Jake’s absinthe-colored orbs seem to glare right through you.

“Come on, Artemis.” 

When Nat begins to plead along with Jake, you cover your face with your fingers and collapse until you can hide your face in your knees. 

“Seriously, Artie. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, I’d love to know if you can top getting bitten on the dick mid-blowjob!”

“Seeing as how I don’t have a dick, that would be kind of hard, Bagman!” You deadpan.

But neither of them is pleased with your only input to the conversation so far. They keep needling you, poking and prying. Jake keeps calling you Artie, too, like only he ever has. Ultimately, that’s what has you lifting your head and glaring right at him.

“Don’t call me Artie!” You point at the grinning blond and wag your index finger.

“There she is!” When your glare narrows, he mimes, zipping his lips closed.

You can’t make eye contact as you spit out in a low hiss barely audible over the hissing fire, “I-I’ve never had sex before. I’m a virgin.”

But they heard you, if the wide-eyed glances they share are any indication.

“How is that possible?” 

Nat wraps an arm around your shoulders. You shrug, staring into the distance behind Jake’s head. Unconsciously, the three of you have gravitated to the spokes of a triangle, your legs tangled in the center of the blanket in a pile of sand-encrusted limbs. You’re pretty sure you’ve got Jake’s foot poking into your shin, and one of Nat’s legs is slung across yours.

“I’m always going out on dates, so that can’t possibly be true, right?” 

But, you have to snort just remembering those dates. “Those guys have always just fallen flat. They’re perfectly nice, decent guys. But we never seem to click. There’s no spark when they kiss me clumsily goodnight outside my front door.”

“Maybe you need to look a little bit closer to home for that kind of intimacy?” 

Your head snaps up at the sudden loud, obnoxious tone in Jake’s voice. 

“C’mon Tash. Our Artie is a little boring right now. What do you say we go grab a few more drinks?”

You’re too drunk for this shit, and you’re grumbling that fact as you watch Jake and Nat trip and lean over each other as they walk toward the other Daggers. In truth, it would probably make sense if something was going on between the two of them, though you wouldn’t bet on it.

“Y-you’re a virgin?” 

The words are said so quietly you half think they’re a figment of your imagination. But you know that voice too well to think you're dreaming.

“But you’re so pretty, Artemis. Those men didn’t deserve you, not at all.”

You smile and pat the blanket with your hand. Bob sits gingerly on the edge of the blanket with his back to the Daggers.

“It’s nice of you to say so, Bob.” His cheeks are pink, and his blue eyes are dark and deep as they stare into your own.

“I’m serious. If it were me, I’d have kissed you until your head was spinning, and those pretty lips were all swollen for me.” You can’t breathe for a completely different reason in comparison to all those minutes ago. You can smell whiskey on his breath, coupled with the smokey sweetness of the bonfire and the floral notes from his cologne.

“Why haven’t you, Bob?”

“I’ve seen the guys you go out with, Sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you can see stars reflect in his lenses, refracting over navy eyes, as he tips his dark blonde head back. “They’re sexy, suave, and debonaire. Why would you pick me over one of them?”

The self-deprecation in his voice has your mood sobering unexpectedly fast.

“You’re just as sexy, suave, and debonaire as they are, Bob.” He snickers gently at your phrasing.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Unconsciously, you lean forward, needing to get closer to him. One of his hands rises to cup your cheek, and your eyes flutter.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” you muse.

 He hums, and his big thumb swipes gently across your cheek.

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t trusted any of the men I go out with.”

“And you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The moment feels electric, like sparks skittering across your skin. Bob’s eyes keep glancing over your lips. The alcohol flowing through your veins frees your inhibitions as you stand and brush sand off of the back of your shorts. Bob blinks at your sudden movement, mouth parted sweetly as you reach for his hands. When he’s standing, he runs his hands through his hair, leaving minute grains interspersed through the golden threads. You can feel his gaze on your skin as you bunch the blanket over your forearm.

“Come here.” You take his hand in yours, gently tugging him away from the bonfire and your friends. Nobody notices your disappearance, which suits you just fine. You make for the little lifeguard shack a couple hundred feet down the beach and lay the blanket out in its shadow.

“What're we doing all the way out here?” 

Instead of responding, you fist your hands in his shirt and tug his mouth down until it meets yours. The kiss starts clumsy and bumbling, just a brush of skin to skin. It feels like Bob is trying to figure out how genuine you are, so you keep the pressure light. Already, this tender, fumbling kiss is a million times better for you than those first kisses with those other guys. When Bob gasps and his big hands curl around your hips, you moan.

That small sound leaving your mouth makes Bob wild. His hand wraps around the base of your skull as he licks into your mouth. It feels like you're burning up, skin bursting fever hot just at his touch. His hands divest you of your button-down and your shorts; his fingers are studied and quick as he whispers filth into your ears. His tongue traces hot over your pulse, sucking and nibbling and teasing. You chase after his mouth when he pulls away, whimpering as you rub your thighs together.

“You’re so beautiful for me, my lovely Ari.” His eyes are dark now, just a thin rim of blue wrapped around his pupils as he presses you down onto the blanket.

You’re keening, babbling his name as you straighten his glasses. There's a fond, tender look in Bob's eyes as he dips down to kiss you again. 

“Shhh, darling.” His mouth drags wet over your collarbones. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

When his calloused fingers drag your bikini top away, you shiver. Your nipples are peaked and hard as he gazes down at you. It should feel weird being so exposed to a colleague and friend, but all you want is to feel the hard length in his swim shorts pressed up against you. 

It's not a choice at all as you mewl, “Please.”

You could fall in love with Bob Floyd's smile, the smirk covering his face when he's feeling confident. When he wraps his lips around the peak of your breast, licking at the swollen flesh with his hot, wet tongue, you’re sure you could fall in love with his mouth, too. You feel like you’re drowning as Bob Floyd kisses over your stomach, placing tender kisses across the stretch marks slicing silver over your skin, as he kneads at your ass with big hands before undoing the knots of your bikini bottoms with his teeth. When the fabric falls away, you exhale, unsure when you started to hold your breath when you know you will need it. You can feel the heat of his breath against that most intimate of places, making you squirm.

“I've got you, Ari.” Even the endearment he's chosen, based on your unfortunate callsign, makes you ache for him. “Mmmm, you're so wet for me.”

His fingers dip gently through your folds, the slow, languid motions making something simmer in your veins. His fingers already feel different from your own, filling your sopping cunt in ways that your own can’t. The brush of his tongue over your clit has your hands burying in his hair, tugging at the soft strands. But his mouth doesn't stay there, nipping at your hips, the tender skin between your thighs, at the soft skin where your pelvis meets your legs. You lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth, babbling his name in whispers and moans. The buildup of your orgasm is already different from when you use your fingers; it is more intense and more fulfilling. When he traces figure eights over your clit with his tongue, you come hard, thighs shaking at the effort of holding them open around his head.

“So beautiful when you come,” he rasps. His glasses are fogged, and his lips are slicked with your release as he settles in between your parted legs. You tug Bob into a kiss, sliding your arms around his neck until his weight rests on you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you slowly and sweetly.

“Are you sure you want me to do this for you, sweetheart?” His cheeks are pink, his hair falling onto his forehead as he growls the words out. 

“All you have to do is tell me, beautiful.” When he nuzzles your breasts and lays an open-mouthed kiss over the peaks, you’re more sure than ever. “We can stop the minute you’re not comfortable anymore. This is about you, after all.”

“Come here, Bobby.” 

He looks almost startled as you pull him back into a kiss, sliding your hands under the fitted shirt he’s been wearing all day. His skin is warm and silky smooth, lean muscles flexing under your curious touch.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You’re whining as you drag the shirt up, and you have to moan when he finally yanks it off. His hair is standing up on end, and his glasses are askew, but right now, you're not sure there is a sexier man on the planet.

“Fuck, you’re hot, Bob.”

His blush deepens, eyes wide at your horny declaration. 

“I mean it.”

You tug at the knot of your bikini, wrestling with the strings with clumsy fingers. 

“Come here, sweetheart. I’ll get the knot for you.” 

You should feel ashamed, naked out on the beach where anyone could happen to see you. But you’re not ashamed at all. His hands gently pushing your hair over your shoulder and his mouth kissing the nape of your neck are why. When the triangles of fabric fall from your skin, you turn and kiss Bob again. You could get drunk off of the feeling of his lips against yours, off the way he licks into your mouth. Emboldened by the look in his eyes, you let your hands trail down until they dip below the waistband of his swim shorts.

“God, sweetheart. There you go.” He’s grunting and gasping against your mouth as you wrap your hands around him. For the first time since you kissed Bob, you feel a little out of your depths. He’s big, so big that you need both hands to hold him, big enough you’re not sure he’ll fit. When you voice your worries in a quiet, gasping whisper, he chuckles.

“It’ll fit in that pretty pussy, baby. Just gotta work you up good, and it’ll slide right on in.”

You squeak as he lays you down again because, for the first time, you can hear his accent as he drawls out the words. From this angle, your mouth parts in shock at the sight of him. Bob’s biting at his lip as he rolls a condom on, and that sight makes you giggle a little.

“Of course, you have a condom on you.” 

When he snickers, you know you’re going to want more of this with him. “I, um… Jake gave it to me.”

You cover your face with your hands and squeal a little more.

“He’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months now, darling. I wish I’d known a few shots of tequila and a conversation about sex would be all it would take.”

“Are you calling me easy, Bob Floyd?” You’re pouting, but it doesn’t last for long as he seems to blanche at your teasing. When you laugh, he dips down to kiss you, and you hum at how good it feels. 

“I think we’re both a little easy for each other. All we needed was a little push.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, smoothing over the flesh as he parts your legs a little more. 

“It’s your last chance to stop this, Ari. You just have to tell me.” You can feel him hard against you as he kisses you again. “We can get dressed and just walk back to the bonfire. Maybe we can try again later.”

“We’re not stopping, not now, Bob.”

Your voice isn’t exactly firm, more breathy than anything, but it makes Bob smile. He guides himself into you, and from the first press, you’re sure you’ve never felt so full. It doesn’t hurt, but it does feel uncomfortable.

“Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart.” There’s sweat beading up on his temples, and his jaw is tight as he growls out the words. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Relax for me, baby.” You melt when he kisses you, shivering at the feeling of his bare skin pressing into yours. He rubs gently at your sides, calloused fingers gentle as they pluck at your nipples. It’s when he kisses you again that you relax. Inch by slow, incremental inch, Bob fills you. He kisses you when you tense around his length, a WSO’s patience and talent filling each heavy moment. 

When he bottoms out in you, you feel like a live wire. The sparks floating across your skin are back, arcing through your veins until they’re molten with lust. The first few times he pulls out of you and presses in again, it feels just as uncomfortable as that first slow slide. When his fingers find your clit and massage it in counter rhythm to the push-pull of his cock, you gasp, open-mouthed and silent. All of a sudden, it feels so good; you couldn’t describe it if you tried.

“Fuck,” Bob’s vocal in bed. You wouldn’t think it, looking at him. It’s also incredibly flattering. “You’re so tight for me, Ari. Fuck, baby girl. Your pussy’s perfect. I’m so lucky.”

You’re gasping and moaning, trying desperately to quell the feral sounds spilling out of your mouth. Each thrust has your fingers scrabbling for purchase in the beach blanket under you, knuckles whitening under the pressure. Unbidden, you can feel your orgasm cresting, stronger than the last.

“Bob,” You’re nearly sobbing because everything you feel is nearly too much to handle. “Please, Bobby. Gonna cum!”

When those talented fingers find their way to your swollen clit and massage it, you come. His hips stutter even as your legs wrap around his waist, and he roars against your chest as he comes after you. You feel like you’ve been stunned. If this is what sex feels like, you’re not sure why you waited as long as you did. Or maybe it’s not just the sex that was mind-blowing, but the man you just had sex with? He’s blushing again, sweat dripping down his chest as he helps you dress with slow deliberate motions. You steal kisses whenever you can, because, yeah, you're falling in love with his mouth and his tongue and his voice.

“Got to get you cleaned up before we head back to the bonfire. C’mon, Ari.” 

After everything you’ve done with Robert Floyd, holding hands shouldn’t make you giggle so much. But you need his helping hand in more ways than one. There’s already a dull ache at the base of your spine, but you refuse to let that feeling beat you. 

Unfortunately, Bob leads you back toward the parking lot, squeezing your fingers and smiling softly at you as you lean onto him. But everything is dark and silent the closer you get. The bonfire is glowing embers in the sand, and all of the cars are gone from the parking lot. Your bag is sitting in the tailgate of Bob’s truck, and you have text messages on the device explaining how everyone has headed out. They’re from at least an hour ago.

He better be good to you, Artie. 

Jake’s message is the only one in which your friends allude to knowing what happened between you and Bob. When you turn back around, Bob’s biting at his bottom lip, worrying the flesh with his teeth. His hands are in his pockets, and for the first time, he seems anxious.

“Can I take you home, Ari?” 

You hum, tugging his mouth down to yours for another kiss.

“Take me home, Bob.” Your voice is a whisper as you let Bob crowd you against his truck.

“I can do that, Ari. But, can I also take you to dinner sometime, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” You shiver as he kisses your pulse. “But only if I get your big dick again, Bobby.”

He swats your ass as he helps you into the cab of the truck. 

“Everything I am is yours, baby girl.”

This sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Though, given the chance, you’re going to avoid having sex on the beach again. Sand rubbing you raw isn't quite so fun when you'd rather have Bob do that for you.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@shanimallina87 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32

[twst-kumi]

Weeping maiden

Prologue part 2

Name] was woken up by Flora, an old fairy who worked in RSA to help around. She decided to take care of her, mentioning how she used to take care of a teenage girl in the past.

“_I hope you had a good night darling. I prepared a surprise for you.

_Good morning Flora.”

[Name] yawned before walking down the stairs to the living area. She looked at the red fairy going around using magic to prepare breakfast. Flora then pulled a small box on the table.

“_Here, I made it myself.

_Thank you, Flora.

_The Headmage said he didn't have a girl uniform. So I asked him to give me some tissue here and there to make your uniform.

_Thank you, I love it but… it's pink.

_Yes! Lovely isn't it?

_ Isn't the school uniform white and Blue?

_But pink would be better for a sweet princess like yourself.

_ I'm not…

_Now, now, you will be late. So dress up and off you go.”

A knock was heard on the door before the young girl could even argue back. She looked at the fairy leaving for the door as she took the uniform. [Name] came back after some time.

Flora was chatting with a young man. With his long pale blond hair, light purple eyes, and a sleepy look he looked so soft and delicate. He wore the school uniform with a pink and blue cardigan inside. It was as if the colors tried to mix. His eyes twinkled when he saw her.

“_Good morning, I'm Aurelius a first-year like you. The headmaster asked me to be your guide since we are in the same class.

_ I'm [Name], let's be friends.

_It would be my pleasure, Princess.”

The young girl felt a little bashful. Aurelius smiled teasingly as he held his hand to her. [Name] walked with the young man, he held her hand all the way. She felt like she may have to say something but didn’t dare. Chatting with him was surprisingly easy even when her social skills were so low. Aurelius was a good listener.

As they walked upon the main road, she could see two rows of statues. Like in NRC, they seemed also to have important people they were inspired by. Noticing her curious look, Aurelius tactfully started to talk about them.

“_This is the Seven Lights, their equally renowned like the great seven. Oh, but you must not know them too. I will tell you more about them afterward if you want.

_It’s okay, can you tell me more about the seven lights?”

Aurelius looked excited by the prospect, he eagerly started to blabber about them. [Name] smiled not even noticing the slight blush on his cheek as he talked with her.

“_Sure, the beautiful princess you see there, is Snow White. They say that she was so beautiful that she had to flee from her home. She took care of seven children in a cottage deep in the forest. She came back after she worked hard and discovered a seven-jewelled mine. She ended up saving a kingdom from a terrible queen and saved the kingdom from bankrupt with the mine. Her dorm is Apple Red, they have the most hard-working people here.

_You would never have imagined it, looking at her. She looks so delicate.

_I know, it’s incredible, right? The next one is my dorm. Belle-Rose is based on the famous beast Tamer. She tamed a terrible beast thanks to her knowledge and saved her village. It was said that she was a dreamer and enjoyed romance stories a lot. It must be why I’m in this dorm.”

Both laughed as they looked at the other statues.

“_This little girl is…

_The lady in blue. She saved a kingdom from a tyrannical queen.”

They turned around to see a delicate-looking boy. His hair was short and platinum blond. It gave him an icy but soft look coupled with his light blue eyes. He smiled softly before lifting her hand to put a light kiss on it. Aurelius frowned a little uncomfortable by the boy’s action. Even more so when he looked at the violet-eyed boy and had a small smirk. Aurelius could tell they weren’t going to be big friends.

“_Alexis Lewis, a first-year from the Whitecourt dorm. Nice to meet you, my lady.”

[Name] could hear his British accent even when he talked. His eyes looked calm but she could see a small gleam in it. A teasing little light barely contained behind his smooth appearance.

< previous next >

[shintin]

The Hickey on Your Neck

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Only seconds before closing your eyes do you realize that the dreams you had forgotten among the lust and thrust of your lover were the life you were destined to lead.

Or a story about how You and Vash fucked from dawn to dusk on his birthday.

Word count: +17.5 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Trigun au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, established relationship, soft/dom Vash the Stampede, too much fluff and kissing, scar worship, plant patterns display, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie,  fingering (with prosthetic arm), unprotected sex (c’mon! We want his seeds), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, two smut scenes (one romantic, other hardcore), aftercare, emotional trauma, violence, blood and gore, post-Trigun Stampede but no manga spoilers.

Notes: I'd never written a Trigun fic before, but with this Vash brain rot, I'm sure it won't be the last. I originally intended to name this fic "Sleepless Nightmare" after TOMBI song, but somehow changed my mind. You'll see why. "Elay" in my mother tongue means the Moon of a Tribe. A nick name Vash will use for reader.

By the way, you can also read the Disclaimers and Writer's Note at the end.

Song Recommendation: The Hickey on Your Neck Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.

Back to master list.

07:30 pm – July 21st

A hole had been left in your heart. Throwing yourself backward, you tripped over your feet. Your head slammed into the floor as your arms did little to break your fall. It was a pain you'd never known, a pain you never thought you could feel, never would have even imagined. From the inside out, you were lit on fire by a bullet that went off in your chest.

All of a sudden, everything slowed down.

So this, you thought, was what dying felt like.

You blinked, and it seemed to take forever. The images before you were unfocused, with colors, bodies, and lights swaying in unison and stilted movements blurring. Your ears couldn't hear clearly. All the sounds were garbled, warped, and too high or low.

Who … she?

I asked for a tall, blond man with … eyes, and the folks pointed at her.

How come … shot her …?

She said … had never met such a man.

… idiot! What if she's with the gunman?

Whatever. … doesn't draw a gun anymore; rumor has it.

What a moron! The man may not kill, but … wiped out … whole city!

What … … we should … then?

If … … his girl, … … screwed up!

… the bounty! … get lost before the news …!

It was like all the words were banging into each other, colliding again, spinning around you. Your name seemed to be being called, but you couldn't hear it. Everything was muffled, slippery, and off-balance, like it was there, just out of reach, but you couldn't find it.

Heavy footsteps stomped, stomped, and stomped the ground, and a familiar face appeared before you. The shape, the golden and green colors drew your attention, and you tried raising your hand to feel his warmth once more and assure him that everything was okay, but it was too hard, and suddenly you couldn't breathe. Your throat felt like it was being slashed, holes punching into your lungs, and the more you blinked, the less clearly you could see. The tightest breaths, tiny little gasps, were soon all you could manage. Pain, pain, and more pain followed the dizziness and lightheaded feeling. It was terrible, never seeming to end.

Your sight suddenly went dim. Blindness overtook you.

Blood dripped from you rather than being seen as you blinked, blinked, and blinked in a desperate attempt to regain your vision, but all you saw was a cloud of white. A short frantic gasp and the pounding of your eardrums were all heard. Some warm sensation spread throughout your body as the fresh blood pooled under you.

You knew your life was about to evaporate, and it only made you think about how short you lived with him and how he would blame himself for your loss. Leaving your tears to fall, you whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Vash."

05:45 am - July 21st

A sharp intake of breath caused your eyes to fly open. Your skin froze in a cold sweat as your brain waded in waves of distress. Inhaling as much as possible was the only thing you could do. Your chest heaved, and your heart raced. You looked around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the white ceiling.

Your hands reached your throat and chest. No blood. No holes. You could feel your pulse. That must be the sound of your heart, at least, you hoped.

There was a strange feeling in your gut, like your instincts were stumbling through mud, and your bones were filled with stones. Your eyes shifted to the other side of the bed, and you sighed in relief. The reality sleeping next to you brought a moment of clarity. You sat up on your elbows, head spinning as you glanced at the nightstand.

The glass was empty.

You slowly pushed the sheets aside and felt more awake with your bare feet touching the cold floor. Picking up the glass, you tiptoed toward the murky kitchen.

You reached for the pitcher on the table, but the water never made it to your lips; instead, your trembling hands grabbed the faded and scratched edges of the cabinet as if letting go of this old piece of plywood would plunge you into the blackhole of your nightmare.

A muffled whimper escaped from the bottom of your throat, and you whispered, it was just a dream. Yet, your white knuckles became wet as tears streamed down your face, blurring the cracked tiles before you.

You shouldn't have cried. You should have been stronger. Not just for yourself, but...

Incoherent thoughts still occurred to you as you pressed your palm to your lips—a fruitless attempt to stop any further crying from coming out.

It was just a dream. Everything was fine.

Your glistening eyes were fixed on the glass of water as you took a sip and pushed the venom-like lump down your throat. Nobody was going to lose anyone. This fear was deeply buried under the sands of your heart. Why did it have to appear today of all days?

A chill ran down your esophagus. Your hand shook involuntarily, and a few drops of water slid from the corner of your mouth to your chin and neck and then ran to your perked nipples.

Looking down at your body, you wiped the drops away before feeling cold. After all, this planet didn't earn its name, "Noman's Land" for nothing. The weather could get pretty chilly and cruel in this desert when those two suns weren't out. Moreover, let's not forget how many people were denied heat due to a lack of resources. Ugh! So, it's not like you didn't know you should've worn something, but God damn it! You woke up feeling a great deal of fear. Fuck! Still, you weren't eager to catch a cold. At least, not today. As you were about to return to bed, you suddenly stopped. Random images filled your mind.

Tears staining emerald green eyes, red flowers blooming on blood, and heart-wrenching screams fading in the night, all in an empty room filled with balloons and mud.

The next gulp of water tasted salty, leaving you feeling numb. Tears must have flowed down your cheeks. You lowered your glass and let your thoughts drift away.

There was a flash of your limp body in your mind, accompanied by a sharp twinge in your gut, a screaming sensation in your body, as if your lungs craved for air.

You wicked away the images, expunging thoughts of pain and death from your mind. The churning in your stomach began to slow, but your skin took on a damp, clammy sensation in its wake. You struggled to recount the things you had eaten last night. It must be it. No doubt, you had eaten poorly.

It was just a dream. What the hell was wrong with you? Crying over a dream? What were you, five? No, not today! Not today! Not today! Get your shits together!

After a moment of hesitation, you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, ran your palm across your forehead and nose, and stopped it on your mouth before glancing at the bed.

Your pale face bloomed with a faint smile as you saw the sight—a miracle in this barren wilderness.

The curtains of the half-open window fluttered lazily with the morning breeze, letting the suns' rays play upon his scarred shoulder blades now and then, and run their greedy fingers through the golden waves of his hair, an enraged sea of sunflowers bounded by rough rocky beaches on the side. Oh! His undercut was glorious from where you watched.

He was sleeping with his eyelids slowly moving. The corners of his lips were curved upwards. Today seemed to be one of those rare days when he was free of the burdens of his past. Was he dreaming? What was his dream about? Love? Peace? Foods? Probably sweets!

You tried to avoid the woods squeaking beneath your feet as you walked back. Putting the glass of water next to the orange-tinted shades, you slowly climbed back under the warm sheets without shifting the mattress too much.

Once your head touched the pillow, cinnamon, and caramel again filled your nostrils. The man ate so many donuts that you feared he would become one. When you pictured it, your smile reached your eyes, and you giggled silently.

Like on the days you woke up early, you rolled over to face him and let your eyes roam over his abs muscles and those beautiful V lines guiding you to his secret paradise. Other than the massive gash across his chest, he had several cuts on his arms, wounds on his shoulders, and scars all over his back and legs. This man was a walking history, marked with painful memories, and luckily, your lips had perfectly mastered the story behind every blemish, slit, and stitch on his body.

It wasn't that simple, though.

When you first met him, he was a broken man covered in an old cloak, his eyes filled with agony. He was consumed by remorse, but nonetheless, he was still full of life and willing to try and glue back all his broken parts. Indeed, it was a challenge for him, and somehow, it didn't come easy to you either. Your heart ached when you removed each piece of clothing from his body. You cursed those who hurt him. It took you time and love to learn how to cherish those wounds instead of looking at them with pity. And little by little, your eyes learned to see a delicate kind of beauty in them, as if, every once in a while, you could see the sunlight shining through the cracks of his heart, lighting up your world in a most wonderful way.

Perhaps that's why after years of running, running, and running, he stopped for once and decided to rest. Something about you must have felt like home. And how lucky you were to have this?

06:30 am - July 21st

You couldn't look away from him, your mind unable to comprehend the perfection of this happiness. He was so ethereal you could hardly fathom that he was yours, wanted and loved you. You couldn't even hear yourself think over the rush of blood in your ears. The sight of him sleeping beside you, relaxed and vulnerable, was causing wild, desperate thoughts to race through your head. God! The fantasies you'd had about him. The places your mind had gone.

You sighed and brushed your face to the pillow, hoping he would roll over to you in his sleep so you could get back into his arms and the legs draped around you. Your eyelids peered at the glistening prosthetic arm in the soft light of the down. Could he feel your warmth whenever you kissed those fingers? How come you had never asked? There were many things you hadn't asked him yet.

Maybe you should start tomorrow? Hm? It's not like the world was ending today.

"You're going to come back over here, or you want to leave me cold and lonely?" he murmured, the raggedness in his voice confirming that he had been sleeping. Your gaze shifted upwards to meet his eyes, only to realize they were still shut, but his lips were painted with a playful grin.

Something inside you melted. It moved by his words, his smile, and his voice.

"I thought you were asleep." You scooted closer, and he wrapped his arms around you, cautious not to accidentally hurt you when he slipped his left arm beneath your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up." Your forehead pressed against his chest, and you felt the coldness of the iron mesh against your skin. His chin rested on your head, and his toes caressed your legs. The prickles of scars and fine hairs of his limbs tickled yours, and you felt blessed.

Funny how your nightmare faded the moment you felt his warmth like he burned a hole right through your head and pulled all your thoughts out. Well, other than that, it seemed like this morning, everything about him was exactly what you needed. His voice was calm and caring, his arms protective, and his presence comforting. You didn't want him to let go of you.

"Even if you had woken me up," he said, his artificial fingers sinking into your hair, and he continued, "I wouldn't have minded." A light kiss on the crown of your head followed his honest words. Even though this man kissed you every day and night, you could feel a silent giggle seeping into your body, causing your face to blush bright red.

Vash yawned soundlessly as he pulled you closer, his eyes still closed. The two of you were so close, too close, but never close enough for him. You had come to realize that your body heat did more for him than any blanket could. It was always in his eyes, aching with a desperate yearning he could only meet with you and your touch.

A joyful happiness settled between you as his hands drew shapes and patterns alongside your spine like those bright ones sometimes you could see on his body. Your lips curved into a smile as you watched him. His hair thick and blonde. The lines of his body sharp and robust. Damn! He had everything about him beautifully crafted. His nose. His chin. His ears and eyebrows. The eyelashes any girl would kill for and those turquoise-green eyes you longed to see. He had a gorgeous mouth.

You lingered too long there, your eyes betraying your mind.

Vash smiled. "What are you doing?" He fiddled with your hair, wrapping a lock around his finger.

In response, you sighed. Clearly, you would never discover how to avoid getting caught red-handed every time. "Just enjoying the view," you said, still staring at his mouth. You reached and touched two fingers to his bottom lip only to feel a rush of memories.

Long nights. Early morning. His mouth on you. Everywhere. Over and over again.

07:15 am - July 21st

He laughed sheepishly at your response.

You brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. His hair had grown a little long. You stroked his cheeks and drew his head back toward you, pressing your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his prosthetic arm while his other embraced you tightly. You could feel him smiling against your lips.

He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy. You should have been afraid and wanted to hide it, as he was the most wanted man on the planet, but love had made you bold and brave.

You pulled back and studied his kiss-inspiring lips. Your whole body was filled with a warmth you wanted to share with him because it was pure, and so was he. There was no way for you to find the right words to describe how you felt.

The morning light was shining through the windows at the perfect angle and time. His muscles were taut, bathed in gold.

"Can you lie back, Vash?" you asked, pushing his shoulder back toward the bed. Finally fluttering his eyes open, he lifted his head in your direction.

Oh.

God.

His eyes.

He blinked dark lashes, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty, unlike anything you'd seen before. The way a person could convey so much with a glance caught you off guard. He had an extraordinary amount of pain paired with even more extraordinary passion.

His face spread into a wide smile the moment he saw you. These smiles, they changed him, and moments like this killed you a little.

He had the kind of face that made you forget where you were, who you were, and what you might say or do. You held his face in your hands as you laid his head down on the pillow. A half-lidded gaze sat on his face as he leaned to your touch, and you kissed him. Slowly, this time. His eyes fell closed. His mouth responded to yours.

Your fingers moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your mouth followed them. Soft lips caressed his earlobes and nipped the tiny single hoop, hot breaths hitting his skin, surprising a giggle out of him.

His hands reached up to pull you closer, but you stopped him. "No," you whispered. "Don't move." Without a second thought, he dropped his hands.

"Lie back and keep your eyes closed," you muttered, and strangely, he didn't object. His obedience led to you kissing him everywhere. His cheeks. His eyelids. His chin. The tip of his nose and the space between his eyebrows. All across his forehead and along his jawline. Every inch of his face. Soft, small kisses that said more than you ever could. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to feel it in the way only he could, the way he could sense the depth of your emotions. You wanted him to know and never forget.

And you wanted to take your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he gasped. You peeked up at his features only to meet a crooked grin on his face. The moment was worth savoring. It seemed like Mr. Vash was enjoying himself, so your tongue continued to adore his arm's sculpted hills and valleys, the perfect shape of his torso.

You breathed in the scent of his skin and took in the taste of him as your hands ran down his abs, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso. You kissed around his navel, and the trails of fine hair underneath caressed your lips. He kept reaching for you, trying to touch you until you told him to stop.

"Please," he said, taking a deep breath. "I want to feel—"

Even though he couldn't see you, you raised your brows with a head tilt and gentled back his arms. "Not yet. Not now."

He let out a breath in protest and crossed his arms behind his neck until your hands went further down and his eyes flew open. Blinking at him, you found out you were still fascinated by his eyes—such a stunning shade of green. "Close your eyes, Vash," you had to tell him.

A big gulp of air filled up his Adam apple. "No." He hardly spoke.

"Close your eyes!"

With his sharp gaze following your every move, he shook his head and leaned on his elbows.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes, and your hand grabbed the base of his hardness.

As soon as your nails brushed the skin of his length, he sat up and stared at you. He was breathing so fast you could hear and see his chest moving.

With a smile, you looked him in the eyes and leaned your head down. Your mouth took in the tip, and your tongue traced circles as Vash gasped. The sight of your bent head made him bite his lip. No doubt every fiber of his being demanded you to take him fully in your mouth, but he wanted you to call the shots. Allowing you to control the pace pushed him to the edge. He enjoyed the thrill of knowing he was at your mercy.

Soft hairs of his thighs against your ears, your nose skimmed his sensitive areas, and your lips kissed all over those favorite parts. The smooth skin of your fingers rolled around was warm and delicate, so fragile you were afraid you might tear it with your teeth. You felt his hardness throb against your cheek, pleading with you not to neglect him. Your thumb rubbed the pre-cum off the pink tip as you raised your head.

You looked up at him, his hair gleaming like golden flames, his cheeks drenched with sweat, and his lower lip stuck between his teeth, and you realized that his eyes looked at you with a look of something like trepidation, as if he was nervous. His face was still flushed red, and he had an expression somewhere between unworthiness and pleasure. With every stroke, his breath grew heavier. Obviously, he wanted more but was trying to contain his desire. Did he feel he was getting something he didn't deserve again?

There was no way you could let him be alone with these thoughts. So, before his dazzled eyes, you licked your thumb and watched how blood drained from his head and rushed straight to his torso. In surrender, he fell back; his eyes squeezed shut. You closed your mouth to half his length, and he turned his face to the pillow, stifling a moan. A tremor ran through his body, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. Your hands ran down his legs, grabbing them just above his knees and inching them apart so you could trail kisses down the insides of his thighs.

He looked like he was in so much pain. So much pain.

You licked the pain away.

Twirling your fingers around the length, you took the crown in your mouth. Only enough to tease. Too little to satisfy. Your lips gently pressed against it, and when Vash was ready to scream, you accepted his whole length in your mouth.

Your lips were sealed tight as you hummed and increased the speed of your ministration. He threaded his fingers through your hair and molded his hands into your head, not to push you further down but to tilt your face up.

His forehead and neck were dripping sweat. The lines of emotion on his face were so deep you wondered how you must look to him. His throat bobbed, and you felt yourself drown in his eyes, enigmatic yet expressive, like sea foam, tempestuous but very calm. His fingers trailed over your salivate-covered lips, and you noticed that the sadness in his eyes had receded.

The world was suddenly brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.

07:40 am - July 21st

Taking hold of you by the arm pits, Vash pulled you in until your chest touched his. Next, you were rolled over so that your back touched the mattress, and he crawled onto you. Now his arms were propped up on either side of your head so he would not crush you under his weight. Looking into his eyes, you were pinned in place. His urgency ignited your bones. The polished planes of his face glowed with rivulets of sweat. His hardness was poking desperately against your thigh.

"I want to … …, …," he whispered. Intoxicated, you couldn't digest anything except his body hovering over you.

"… ?" His body pressed closer, and you realized you were paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in your lungs.

His eyes were heavy now in a way that worried you, but his gaze was still so tender, focused, and full of emotions you could hardly bring yourself to say anything. As your words faded, they became an unspoken whisper. Your lips glued together.

Screams.

Death.

Screams.

Your heart suddenly raced. What if these moments were destined to expire?

The sound of a clock striking midnight. A pumpkin carriage. The possibility of losing him.

You didn't want your arms to be deprived of his warmth. His touch. His lips, God, his lips, his mouth on your neck, his body wrapped around yours. The nightmare had caused this all, you knew, but the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into you.

Blinking fast, you swallowed back the fear building in your throat. God! He was speaking with you, but you couldn't hear him.

You were worried, really worried something was going to happen to him. What if bounty hunters found him? Could his brother hurt him? No. No. No. Even though you were only a human, you would never allow such a thing to happen. You just couldn't. You...

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, so soft. His arms were stronger than all the bones in your body. He pulled your figure close. You heard the beats of his heart humming deeply within his chest, and the steel of his arm encircled your whole body, releasing tension from your limbs. The icicles in your body were melted by his heat. Something about this frame made you want to freeze it forever. "You okay, Firefly? Wanna stop?"

The words he said sent waves of emotion coursing through you. He could read you like an open palm. You weren't lost before you met him, but you were never found until he laid eyes on you. Your tears stung as they fell backward down your throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, Vash," you said before closing your eyes.

He searched your face, unsure what to do, hesitating, until you felt his lips on your shoulder, tender and scorching, so gentle you could almost believe it was the kiss of breeze and not a man.

Again.

This time, it was on your collarbones and felt like an ache that needed to be soothed. You didn't want to do anything to stop his mouth from touching your body.

He pulled back.

Desire.

Crave.

Need.

Again.

Your eyes refused to open.

His finger grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, the curves, the seams, and the dips. You felt him so much closer, his body heat filling the air around you, along with his smell and something sweet, until nothing was left. Your senses were so engulfed in his scent you didn't even realize your back was arching toward him as you breathed him in until you found out his fingers were no longer on your lips because his hand had gotten around your body.

"So, where do you want me to kiss you?" Vash whispered, his chest heaving, his words almost gasping. A wave of blistering heat moved through you, sealed shut your mouth. You didn't specify precisely where you wanted him to kiss you, and he didn't seem to have any difficulty selecting the spot. 

He whispered your name as he kissed the corner of your eyebrow. "Here?" His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, and your body squirmed slightly. "Or here?" He pressed a kiss against your neck, right beneath your ear, and you tipped your head to let him in, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster, as he murmured, "tell me."

Clasping your warm fingers with his cold metallic ones, he hovered over you to kiss your throat. You were the oxygen he desperately needed to breathe. His body was almost on top of yours, one hand in your hair while the other held yours delicately yet firmly. His lips crushed yours in no time.

A kiss like this was like swimming in honey rivers, like being dipped in gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss and not realizing you were drowning because you were too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing mattered anymore—neither your nightmare, this room, or the whole fucking planet.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This moment. These lips. This strong body pressed against yours, and these firm hands that always found a way you bring you closer. Oh, My Gosh! You wanted so much more of him. You wanted all of him.

Your eyes opened up.

Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, dancing over his broad shoulders, pressing into his dimples, and squeezing his hips.

Your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair when he broke for air with a groan, but you pushed him back, kissing his neck, arm, collarbones, and chest. It was amazing. Being with him, touching him, holding him like this. The rush of adrenaline was so intense and euphoric that you felt invincible.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking. Your skin was scorched everywhere he hadn't touched you.

He kissed your top lip.

He licked your bottom lip.

He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples and cheeks across your jawline. Then your neck, behind your ears, the space between your breasts. He nibbled your nipples and left trails of kisses all the way down your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly his chest was hovering above your hips.

Grasping your calves, he spread your legs apart just enough for his head to fit between. Your thighs were lifted, and you couldn't see him anymore. His only visible features were the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that sight was lost, with your head falling backward and muffled moans leaving your mouth.

Vash ran his hands down and up around your bare upper thighs and ribs, and he held your hips to make you stand still. Your eyes lit up like small firecrackers every time his hair teased your groins until his lips kissed you there, and fireworks exploded in the back of your head.

As his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue played around to make you scream aloud. His mouth brushed against your skin in places you couldn't see but felt deeply. Oh my! You were out of your body, touching stars, when you realized he was working his way up your body, leaving two fingers of that prosthetic arm behind.

"It might feel a bit cold," he said as his nose glided the skin of your stomach, leaving random kisses around your breasts and collarbones just to ease your tension. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" His hair was a mess, the wetness on his lips all familiar.

A nod came from you in response. He almost seemed to be smiling as his fingers slipped inside your slit, and your nails dug into the fabric. Moaning, you felt his warm hand brushing your hair backward as the other moved up and down inside your walls.

Your mouth was parted in a silent moan, and his small pecks covered you all around. There were tears in your eyes, baby hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead.

As his thumb and two fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You grabbed his free arm, and he pulled himself up, onto you, on top of you. As if reading your thoughts, he kissed you hard. How strange, yet sweet, all you could taste was you, yourself, on his tongue. You moaned at the taste, and he opened his mouth more for you, allowing you to brush your tongue against his teeth.

The stinging coldness of his fingers was long gone. You had forgotten everything. There was something you shouldn't have forgotten, but you couldn't even remember why, what you were forgetting. Amid his length caressing your side and those digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

You could die from this, you decided. From wanting him, from the pleasure of being with him.

You must be smiling because he was looking at you and smiling too. His forehead was pressed against yours. His skin was flushed with heat. His hand had kept your head still. Your hands gripped his nick, sliding into the hollow behind it. You placed your palms just above his nape, and your fingertips gently began to squeeze and massage his undercut.

"Va-sh."

For a moment, you thought life poured out of you, or maybe your vision fractured as release barreled into you, and you grasped his name over and over again till your body calmed under his weight.

08:10 am- July 21st

Your eyes landed on his glistening wet metallic fingers, and you were dripping, burning, melting with anticipation. He was still on top of you when you thought you heard him speak, his mouth close to your ear.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed your brow. It never occurred to you that he could be like this, so human, so real, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face. You were about to mutter all the words and worries you held in your chest, but suddenly he stood up and stared blankly at the other side of the room.

You followed his gaze to the pane of glass separating you from the reality outside. You awaited his lips to part. You waited to listen to him speak. His eyes weren't revealing anything about what he was thinking, what was going on.

Something about the realization struck fear into your heart. In the span of a single instant, darkness surrounded your vision. Images appeared in the blur of your sight again.

The petals of red Geraniums floating in the sky, a boy running through blood-stained sands, the time speeding up and slowing down in fits and starts, streaks of green and red staining your dilated eyes, stars exploding, lights flashing, sparking, and then it's all darkness and Vash's screams.

You shook your head.

The images disappeared, but the heartaches and fears lingered, and you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe. Your lungs begged for air, but you looked around for Vash instead.

It seemed he wanted to scream, but you knew the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Those thoughts would expand in his head, explosive and angry, pressing against the ridges of his mind, and then he would hide them behind a smile. As he always did.

"Vash?" you called, just before witnessing how a car's radio sound from the street ripped open his past, pulled out what was left of his heart, and dropped it on the floor.

"… been two years since that fateful July 21st. A crowd has gathered at what used to be the third city of July to pay their respects. Even after two years, the pain of losing their loved ones has yet to heal. The suspect said to have murdered 90 percent of the city, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon, still remains at large. Vash the Stampede is on the run. If I were the demon who turned the whole city into a gaping crater overnight, I'd hide my face too. There is no forgetting the sorrow of loved ones taken from us. The Alliance of Cities has raised the dead or alive bounty on Vash the Stampede to $$60 billion, the highest in the history of…"

The loud words bounced around in the haze of your head, fogging your senses, misting your eyes, and clouding your concentration. In your bones, there was just ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped you in the face, punched you in the jaw, and dumped you into sand oceans. You grasped the nightstand to keep yourself steady. The orange shades fell on the floor, leaving a big crack on display.

Vash was shaking his head over and over and over and over. He was looking at his hands like he would see some blood on them, as if waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real and he didn't actually kill those 200,000 innocent people.

Oh, my beloved.

The pain was so plain on his face; it was killing you. Your gaze was drawn to the balled fists at his sides, the furrows in his brow, and the tension in his jaw. Minutes ago, this man was free, but now he was a prisoner of his own crime. In your heart, you wished you could release him from the claws of self-reproach.

Having seen his terror too often, you knew it well.

Sometimes, even when he was asleep, his tormented mind would grip his heart, and such emptiness and sadness would fill him that you felt he was suffocating, as if his sleepless nightmares never had an end.

You didn't know him before,

but

you

thought

he

had

lost

a

bit

of

himself

on

the

day

of

July

incident.

As time passed, you assumed he had finally learned not to dwell on what had happened. You imagined he avoided it like a cripple learning not to put weight on his injured leg.

However, deep down, you knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble. You always dreaded this day. This silence. It was not just an ordinary silence caused by the lack of things that moved or made noise, but a deep and tired silence that sometimes covered him like an invisible cloak—like the one ruling between your shared walls right now.

Stacks of sorrow had grown inside him, settling on his bones and snapping him in half. A cable twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

How naive of him to think he could slip into the role of a regular being and live a normal life in love and peace.

Vash.

Vash the stampede with a dream.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification. He began to think others were right when they said things like him were better off destroyed.

Shaking his head, he coughed against the torture in his lungs, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission, leaving him sitting on the bed's edge like a sack full of nothingness. The old gunman looked as if he might collapse, barely breathing, his life-force being torn asunder.

You felt like your throat was closing up. You knew the infamous humanoid typhoon was everything broken and glued back together, and now knives bore holes into his cracked bones, filled with grief that could take his breath away.

Your face was drained of color, your ears ringing with your heart pounding. His desperate screams from your nightmare echoed in your head as if on repeat. His agony was acute. His terror palpable. Tears sprung to your eyes. It was painful to look at him, being so close and far away from him.

"Local news. You know how dumb they are," you said, trying to hide your petrified and nerve-wracking thoughts from his reach. What if he never experienced peace? What if there was no sanctuary, and the pain was always a whisper away, no matter where he went?

Pressing your nails to your palm, you continued, "None of that incident was your fault. You know that too. You hear me?"

His eyes widened a little. No one had ever cared about him for this long. No one had kept him ever this closely to read his thoughts word by word. No one had ever treated him like a human being. Then again, he thought you didn't know about all of his sins. In a century and a half, he hadn't been able to forgive himself; how could you? It made him wonder how long you could endure him before running for your life.

His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. He clenched his fists and pushed back down the misery that had stuck with him. Even though he didn't want this, you'd probably be better off without him.

"Vash?" You swallowed and dug your fingers into the sheets desperately, a tear trickling down your cheek. It kept hitting you in the face, in the skull, in the spine, this knowledge of just how much you loved him.

His lips looked like they were barely able to form words. He could only take these harsh gasps and wonder why his body hadn't given up.

On all fours, you approached him and sat on your knees on the edge of the bed with a slight distance between you and him. You knew he wouldn't object, but you didn't want to intrude on his privacy. Thus, you remained silent so that he wouldn't be left by himself, and he would know you wouldn't leave him alone.

09:15 am – July 21st

Time passed, and you checked on him occasionally to see if he wanted to talk until he raised his head slightly.

"I'm a demon," he said the sentence so quietly. So, so quietly. He ran a hand across his face, both hands through his hair, looking like he wanted to scream, to break something, like he was truly about to lose his mind. "The world sees me as a threat. An unfixable monster. An abomination. They want me dead." His voice sounded sorrowful, almost like he had already accepted these labels.

Thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. "I don't think you're a demon. Also, I don't think you're some sick, twisted monster. I don't think you're a heartless killer, and I don't think you deserve to die. You're not a humanoid typhoon. No, you're not any of the things people have said about you," you told him, words tripping and stumbling out of you.

His mouth fell closed, struggling with some kind of emotion, struggling to find composure. Suddenly he gasped. "No." One broken word. Barely even a sound. He was shaking his head, looking away from you. He turned to face the window. "No. No, no—"

"Vash—"

"No," he said. His voice was so soft and so scared you could scarcely hear it. "No, you don't know what you're saying—"

"You're not a monster!" you said. "And I love you exactly as you are. I don't even want you to fix yourself; I don't think you need to be fixed. People here love you as you are. Your name is the only thing that scares them," you told him.

You knew people had the right to fear him. You knew. Humanoid Typhoon certainly wasn't made of sugar, spice, and everything nice, but rather from hurricanes, lightning, and all things that scared. Seeing dusty storms and raging winds, people thought he was scary. They feared he would harm them. In truth, he was only his own disaster, destroying himself for others. He was Vash. Your Vash. Vash the Stampede, and you loved him with all his fears and frights, dreams and nightmares, sins and scars.

You smiled and continued, "If they learn your name and start hunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Maybe tears filled his eyes. Possibly his breath was trapped in his chest. Perhaps his heart warmed a little. No one knew, not even the author. He had his head down, his chest rising and falling.

You sat behind him. A map of pain had covered his entire back. Thick, thin, uneven, and terrible, scars like roads leading nowhere. There were bolts and ragged slices, marks of torture he was not protected from.

Kindness must be difficult when all you'd received was hatred. Being able to see goodness in the world must be so hard when your only experience had been terror. You wanted to say something to him. Something profound, complete, and memorable, but there was nothing suitable. This planet was a broken bone that didn't set right, and Vash wanted to glue it back together. Alone, all by himself.

You two differed in this respect. Fearless and unafraid were two different things. He was fearless. He dared to outshine the sun, stare down a bullet, kiss death and walk away with his back unguarded. He would hold the whole world in his palms despite its bone-crushing weight, despite its sharp edges crusted with blood, if only he could stop it from falling apart. But you? You were fearful. Sometimes you couldn't breathe around the clot of fear lodged in your throat. The only way to lessen its weight on your tongue was to scream until no words came out, while the only way to chase away its shadows was never to close your eyes at night. You were unafraid of one thing, though —he could tear down the world and bury you alive under the weight of his guilt, yet you would follow him without hesitation.

Your eyes rested upon woven strands of sunlight, alighting softly upon his scarred skin. These honeyed arcing rays gave him a light glimmer that revealed his plant patterns, pulsing slowly and dimly. Something about the scene was so divine, and you felt the dawn rise from your heart every morning and reach the sky.

You hugged him from behind by bridging the gap between your bodies and leaned your cheek against his sun-kissed back. Your hands gently caressed his stomach and chest as your lips left kisses on his love reminiscences—one by one.

You could hear him breathing in and out. Unevenly. Yet he was silent. Hands clenched, knuckles white. Of course, he wanted you with a desperate need he had never known. But his regret, sins, and crimes were so overwhelming they consumed him. He thought, how could you be so kind to a thing like him?

Unaware of the voices in his mind, you dropped a kiss on his spine. You kissed the curve of his shoulder. His shoulder blades. Five kisses down his spine, each softer than the other one. For every little moment of pain he had ever felt in his life, you wanted to make it all go away. You kissed his neck, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles, the ache spreading inside you, urging you to end his suffering.

Your words were heavy with sincerity when you said, "I don't care what everyone else thinks about you." You leaned your forehead to his shoulder, your breaths gently caressing his back. "Because you're the only good thing left in this world."

As his eyes widened, he breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "What are you saying?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "How can you tell such a thing this after all this?" His hand pointed to the window, to the news on the radio.

Standing on your knees, you kissed the hand caught between his gold locks. The same hand he always tried to cover its scar with a glove. Because the idiot thought his scars would be repulsive. The idiot. Your favorite idiot.

You didn't sit back. Keeping your head there, your nose buried in his hair, and your chest pressed to his back—this smell. You had never seen a sea, but you had heard about them. And you believed if there was ever to be a sea in this hell hole, he would smell like a sunny beach. Sweet, enveloping, and warm.

"That is—" your voice broke when you spoke. "That's what the family is for, Vash."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. He dropped his hand on his knee and sat still in place by the weight of your words. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with both sadness and happiness.

A family.

All this time, he thought you were with him all along because you didn't have a grasp on his sins, but now, he could see that you already knew everything. And despite all of this, you were still willing to forgive him and give him something he always wanted but never had without even requiring him to earn it or redeem himself.

You touched his arm and traced the tender skin with your fingertips. Scars everywhere. You kissed the back of his elbow. "I'm sorry for everything humans have done to you," you told him, and he took a shallow breath. "Forgive us." Another kiss. "Forgive me."

A delicate warmth filled Vash's heart and melted it into drops of warm honey that soothed the scars in his soul. He turned his head and stared at you with open, vulnerable eyes, a tight jaw, and tensed muscles. No one had ever apologized to him. According to his experience, he was usually the monster, the wicked one. The onus always was on him to make amends.

It stunned him how strange it felt. Up until now, he never thought he deserved forgiveness, let alone someone asking for it.

Running a tired hand across his face, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A joy filled his heart, causing him to feel heavy with something he wasn't even sure he could describe.

Gratitude, perhaps.

The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful. But for now, he didn't want to think about it. He simply just wanted to enjoy your proximity.

Your hand reached up to stroke the luminous curved shapes on his cheek, tracing them to the softness of the mole beneath his left eye. The look in those aquamarines breaking your heart. You couldn't bear to see his face covered in sorrow and guilt.

"You're a good man, my Vash," you said, your words soft, your hand gentle as you tilted his chin up toward your mouth. He was blinking fast, yet not denying. You whispered words on his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "Rem would've been proud of you," you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him once, tenderly.

He found himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melded his lips with yours. He sighed into your mouth, and you kissed him even more deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. You could taste the salt on your tongue. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made your flesh burn. You were uncertain whose they were as you continued to try and cling to him.

10:00 am – July 21st

The sheets slowly slipped and fell to the floor as Vash pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight, hardly able to breathe. When he exhaled and looked at you again, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things you had never seen before. His whole body seemed to be relaxed in relief. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a single, fraying thread. You.

And you promised yourself, at this moment, that you would hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain, the torture, and the suffering was gone, until he'd given a chance to live the kind of life where no one could ever hurt him this deeply ever again.

He touched your cheek. Soft, as if he wasn't sure if you were real. His four fingers caressed the side of your face gently before they slipped behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

You did so much with these lips, you thought. Touched, kissed, and pressed them against tender parts of his skin. You made promises, and the words they formed, the shapes and sounds they curved around, all for him.

Vash moved closer by just an inch. His free metallic hand cupped the other side of your face. He was holding you like you were made of crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands, he couldn't believe you were real.

Gone was the man with guns and bullets. These hands treasuring you had never held a weapon. They were perfect and kind, never touched by death. He took your hands and pressed your palms to his face. Tears must have welled up in your eyes when you closed them.

You whispered his name, and he breathed harder than you.

Could this be a dream?

You shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and he held you like no one had before. He wanted you. Seeing him cling to you as he might never let go did something to you, something heady, knowing that he might wish you, or need you, like this, made you want to protect him even though he didn't need your protection.

Gently, he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead. Gradually, his arms became the arms around your waist; his lips became the lips pressed against yours, his body the warmth you felt.

You weren't even breathing, but you were alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. The palms of his hands were rubbing the small of your back as he lifted you into his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, allowing him to kiss your neck, throat, and nipples.

You broke apart with his small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at him like a bonehead, your brain still too numb to figure out exactly how you two got here.

Tilting his head to a side, he pressed his lips against yours again, seeking you with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. His hands were threaded in your hair, his lips so soft, so urgent against yours, like fire and cinnamon exploding in your mouth.

Vash nibbled your bottom lip in a flash and pulled back just a little bit. Your body was flooded with heat and desire so intense you could hardly think when he parted his lips from you to sigh in your mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove you crazy.

Putting one hand under your neck, placing his mouth on your breast, and running his fingers down your back, he pressed your body closer, only to find something hard pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

While he avoided your gaze, he smiled sheepishly and tentatively touched your thighs with his hands. Because of what had happened, you knew he would probably feel embarrassed to ask for it, but that didn't mean you wouldn't give it to him. He deserved the whole world if you had the chance to provide for him. His markings were glowing softly when you squeezed him closer to yourself, holding him tighter.

Biting his lip and stifling his groan, his smart-ass hands slid up your legs and into your thighs. Soon, his lips reached your chest. Your body ached everywhere, tasting colors and sounds you didn't even know existed. His forehead was pressed against your chin, and your hands gripped his shoulders. He was hot, gentle, and somehow in a hurry.

You were beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way you were feeling right now. Nothing mattered anymore. You were left with only this moment: his mouth on your body, his hands on your skin, and his lust deep in his eyes, making you absolutely insane.

Your wetness was no longer a secret when he surrounded you everywhere. As he watched you, you reached down and adjusted his length against your slippery entrance over a few strokes. His pulse could be felt in your palm and soon inside of you.

Using both soft and hard hands, he gently grasped your hips and pulled you down toward him. As he entered, you gasped, every time surprised at his size, clinging desperately to his neck as he hitched your legs around his waist, his prosthetic arm settling beneath your thigh. You loved the feeling of him stretching you. You loved having him this close to you. You loved the way he manhandled you. You loved his hand around your neck and the little squeeze of his fingers around your nape.

His grip tightened when he sensed you were ready for him, and he started moving you up and down. You cried out and leaned your cheek to his nose, dying and somehow being brought back to life in the same moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He lifted your thighs, and you bit back the moan stuck in your throat. His mouth wouldn't let go of your skin, kissing you with an intensity that made you wonder why you hadn't died, caught on fire, or woken up from this dream yet. Then he returned his hands to your face and kissed you once, twice.

The room's silence was filled with your heavy breathing, your chest against Vash's. Your pulses hammered against each other. You felt his arms around you become unbearably tight as he yanked you up and down with even more force than before, hitting you in a place he seemed to know too well.

As his teeth caught your bottom lip momentarily, you pushed your nails to his shoulder, running your fingers through his hair to pull him into your mouth. He tasted so sweet. So hot and sweet. You kept trying to say his name, but you couldn't even breathe, much less say a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down, traveling quietly down your cheeks, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, against your tongue and saliva. As if he had found Adam's ale between million mirages of the desert, he stared at you, his eyes like fire in the water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile, uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lingering flavor of pleasure laced in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your head spun into oblivion.

Vash loved you…

His temple was leaned against yours when you took his earlobe between your teeth, stripped him to his bones, and ruined him from the inside out. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You were his. You, the one who knew if you left him alone at that moment, would fall into the depths of his own hell; if he'd slipped through your fingers, he would be gone, and no one could bring him back. You did not erase all his pain or offer to solve all his problems. You didn't fix everything that was broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. What mattered the most was that you stayed.

He loved you.

He loved you so much.

Grasping your soft hips, he buried his face against your shoulder and sped up. You were his undoing, taking him apart and putting him back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. He gritted his teeth as his orgasm came barreling at him. His hands glided on your back when you shuddered, your inner walls squeezing him so hard he couldn't prevent his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice—and then everything around you both disappeared until it was all just colors and light, the sun shines and oceans, apple trees, and blossoms.

Your eyes were still closed, and you felt his hands laced with yours, just to remind you that you had him here and that he was with you. Your partner in everything. His chest heaving, he buried his face in your neck, sweat covering his temples. Kissing him there, you inhaled the scent of his hair.

"You're my family too," you heard him whisper, his words etched into your soul as his lips moved against your skin. And you wished, more than ever, that you could capture moments like this and relive them forever.

12:50 pm – July 21st

You woke up with a smile, your skin still hot from the memory of your vile. You were cleaned with a wet towel, placed in bed with a kiss, and promptly fell asleep. Thankfully, no nightmares this time.

What time was it? You didn't know.

As you stretched your legs under the sheets, you realized your back was against Vash, his prosthetic arm resting on your pillow, the other tucked around your waist. Knowing he had held you this close warmed the pit of your stomach and made you feel so safe that you didn't ever want to move, but you had a thousand things to do today, but you never, ever wanted to move.

Truth be told, you loved these moments the most. The quiet contentment. Being enveloped by his naked body. You never felt closer to him than you did like this when there was nothing between you.

Today was a big day delayed by your nightmare and the sound of that stupid radio! There was no way you were going to let anything overshadow his birthday anymore. Even for a few hours, he deserved this celebration, this little distraction. He deserved to be happy, eat, and laugh.

You sighed, hating to wake him up since he seemed pretty tired. Slowly, you turned around in his arms. A smile tugged at your mouth as you watched him, amazed at how his presence could bring you such peace. He shifted again, burrowing deeper into the pillows, and you realized he must be exhausted.

Watching the movement of his throat, you breathed him in, running your hands along the deep, strong lines of muscle in his arm. His entire being felt raw. Powerful. Being a plant had something wild and terrifying about it; somehow, this knowledge only made you love him more. You traced the contours of his shoulder blades, then his spine. He stirred, but only briefly, and buried his face in your hair.

"Don't go," he whispered softly, pressing his nose to your scalp alongside his lips.

You tilted your head, gently kissing the column of his throat. "Vash," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "good."

You smiled. "Oh, but we should probably get out of bed. I promised Rosalina I'll help—"

A disapproving sound escaped his throat as he shook his head, deftly helping you turn around. He hugged you close again, your back pressed against his chest. Soft and husky, his voice was full of desire when he said, "C'mon, let me enjoy this. Feeling good."

"You don't want a cake?" you blurted out, but it certainly caught his attention.

You could feel he raised his head, stiffened and confused. "How come Rosalina's making me a cake?"

Did you hear correctly? Had he forgotten about his birthday? Did this day become neglected to the point where it was forgotten?

Turning around, you saw he was sitting, his body frozen and his heart probably pounding furiously. Getting him to attend his birthday would take more effort than you expected. Because he asked how you could possibly plan a party for him, why anyone would throw him a party, what if he didn't even like birthday parties, and so on. Still, you didn't fall short. Since the day he told you about Rem making them a cake for their birthday, you kept track of his birthday. The July incident wasn't going to overshadow his birthday. It was your vow to replace that memory with better ones. That forever and ever, you'd strive to drown out the darkness that had ruined his life.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow. When he swallowed, you noticed the gentle movement in his throat and moved your hand to his ear, your pinkie touching his earring, then tracing down his jawline. You didn't receive a rejection, but you didn't receive a yes, either. Why wasn't he saying anything? He had you on your worried until he clasped his hands over his face.

Your hand brushed against his undercut as you gently kissed his temple and tried to pry his hands away from his face. "Vash?" you said, your words hardly a whisper. "Is everything alright?"

The reply took him a few seconds to come out, but when he finally did, he nodded. It was only once, but it was enough. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."

The feeling of relaxation washed over you as you exhaled. "If you don't want a—"

He held and squeezed your hand as he looked at you, his eyes round when he said, a little nervously, "what have I done," he whispered, his voice trembling, "to deserve you?"

Did you die of joy? Because he took your face in his hands and kissed you so passionately, it blew your mind. Your heart began to beat violently, and you didn't recognize yourself. You didn't recognize your hands, your bones, your heart. You felt new. "Thank you," he whispered. "For loving me and everything."

"It's very, very easy to love you, Vash," your lips might have said, but the words never left your lips. You didn't know what to do, so you reeled him in, kissed him, and lost yourself in his taste and feel, in the fantasy of what you might have. What you might be.

But wait! Didn't you know fate was a jealous, vicious mistress that never ever slept?

You blinked.

You blinked again, but this time for too long. You saw a flash of blood spewing inside your open mouth. Nausea returned with a swiftness that scared you. A breath was drawn, your fingers fluttering as you desperately tried pressing them against your stomach. Pain filled your eyes as you kept them open. Clenching your fists, you attempted to control spiraling thoughts.

However, nothing helped. Nothing helped. Nothing, you thought. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.

Where was Vash? Where were you?

Throughout your open eyes, terror oozed from your heart. You heard someone calling your name. A hand brushed lightly along your spine as you shivered suddenly at the unexpected sensation.

" …," the voice said, "do you … ?"

The warmth moved in only to meet the coldness of your skin. You felt it all. Again and again, a touch of his finger did pull you out of your nightmare.

A rustle of sheets caught your attention, and Vash pulled you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs stretched across the rumpled fabric. Wrapping his arm around you, he spread his hand along your back.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Turning carefully in the cradle of his arms, you pressed your forehead to his bare chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his rough gash.

"You okay?" he asked, his metallic fingers combing through your hair in a soothing act.

"Yes," you replied, forcing air into your lungs. You were breathing hard, head spinning as you held on to him. "Yes."

"Is something wrong, Elay?" He probably had lowered his head because his breath was touching your shoulder.

"Nothing," you claimed. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You didn't know why you were lying. You should have just told him, but you didn't know why you weren't.

Wait.

Actually, you knew.

You were waiting.

You were waiting to see if this shit would pass. It had to, because today was a special day. Because you were already exhausted, and the radio's sound was repeating in your ears. Because you didn't want to add another burden to his shoulders with your silly nightmare. Even more, it wasn't real. Just a figment of your imagination, and saying it out loud would make it sound more real than it really was.

Vash asked no further questions. He was more of an "if you love someone, let them keep their secrets to themselves " guy. He pulled you close, and you melted into him, grateful for his warmth and steady hold. You took a deep, shuddering breath and let it all go, exhaling against him. A faint aroma of caramel lingered in your nostrils as you breathed in his skin's rich, heady scent. The minutes passed silently as you both listened to each other breathe.

01:45 pm – July 21st

It took a while, but your heart rate steadied.

You could feel it.

Here.

This.

Your bones against his bones. This was your home.

"What're you thinking?" His lips touched your neck, a graze that sparked, hot and cold, right down to your toes.

"Been thinking about you." You raised your head and looked at him. He was smiling, the unfaltering sun glinting in his eyes. You could see his fear, hopes, and love for you like a mirror to his soul in those mountain lake-colored spheres. Then there was something else as well—something like bliss. It was a faint glow, but it was there and made you so happy. You had blessed the blessing. He deserved happiness after everything he had been through. After all the horrors he had suffered alone.

"Me?"

As you closed the gap between you two again, you nodded against his chest. Nothing was said, but you could hear his heart racing until he exhaled. It was a heavy, uneven sound, as if he might have been holding his breath for too long.

Gently, you ran your hand along his back. "How long has it been since you celebrated your birthday?" you whispered.

"Hm?" He buried his face in your hair, and his nose glided over your scalp in what appeared to be caressing movements.

It didn't take a genius to figure out when he was ducking a question. You wiggled a little to loosen his grip and looked up. Your fingers ran through the soft, silky strands. The sight of him mesmerized you. His eyes were wide and bright. His lips soft and pale. He was perfect, bare, and beautiful, holding you in his arms. Sighing, you closed your eyes. "Let me ask it this way then," you said, "How many birthdays have you missed so far?"

Nothing came out of his mouth for what seemed like an eternity. You felt him finally move. In a gentle caress, his prosthetic fingers touched your face. "150 birthdays," he whispered, his voice uneven.

Your spine tingled involuntarily. 150 years of solitude. Loneliness. Alone with himself. On this giant planet. Where was his home? Where were his friends? His lovers?

You knew he was so much better at being alone as if being alone came more naturally. He led a life of deliberate seclusion, and when occasional loneliness crept in, he knew how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts or work his way out. After all, there were always bars and saloons and strangers around.

You knew he wanted to carry the weight of life all alone, even the burden of those he once loved. It wasn't fair, though. You had to be allowed to help him carry it all. A frown formed on your face, and you inhaled, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! Happy birthday #3!..."

His metallic forefinger stopped your lips. Slowly, you looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was sad, sweet, and filled with love. You felt something thawed inside of you as you stared at him.

"You don't have to do this," he said as he separated his finger from your lips to brush away stray strands of hair from your face. A part of you wished his finger could stay there longer.

"Shut up and let yourself celebrate! We've got at least 150 birthdays to catch up on!"

He kissed your eye, and you felt his smile on your eyelid. His lips started moving tardily when he said, "I don't—"

"Shhhh! Since you interrupted me, I'm starting over!" you snapped and continued, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! …"

The smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, as if he was filled with so much joy that he hardly recognized himself. You couldn't recall the last time he smiled this much. It was the most pure, unburdened bliss you had ever experienced.

He held you the entire time you felicitated all his forgotten birthdays. You could see it in how he looked at you. You could feel his fears disappearing and his emotions becoming something else. Now, his touch was hot and electric against your skin. Your heart was beating faster and harder, and he didn't have to say anything. You could feel the temperature change between you.

"You," he said, staring at your mouth. He touched his nose to yours, and something inside you jolted to life. You heard your breath caught, your ears turning red, unbidden. "I love you," he whispered.

The words did something to you every time you heard them. They built something new inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "You know," you mumbled shyly, "It never gets old hearing you say that."

Leaning you back a little, he moved, his nose brushed the line of your jaw, and his lips touched your throat. You were holding your breath, terrified to move, to leave this moment.

"I love you," he said again.

Heat filled your veins. You could feel him in your blood, his whispers overwhelming your senses.

"Vash," you said. You wanted to talk to him about what happened hours ago. You knew you should've moved and snapped out of this but couldn't. You couldn't think. And then his hand brushed against your breasts. You breathed quickly, fighting against a sudden rush of pleasure.

It was impossible to pretend anything when he was this close to you. You knew he could feel how badly you wanted him. You could feel him, too. His heat. His desire. He made no secret of what he wanted from you. What he wanted you to do to him.

He kissed you softly, wrapping his arms around you, one too cold, the other too hot. Your body shifted forward in his embrace as you took another painful, agonizing breath.

"I know you're worried," he said, his lips too close to yours and his hot breath in your mouth. "I know we have to talk, but—" He never finished that sentence. He kissed you as he reached down, trailing his fingers along the inner parts of your thighs, and the movement seared through you. Your vision went white. You heard nothing but the pounding of your heart, then you remembered.

"Vash? Um-I have to-ah," you panted, "she is waiting."

You could feel his smile as he whispered the word in your ear. His fingers were teasing your groins. "Please." And you were gone.

One hand kept your head steady, the other roamed around your loins, and he kissed and melted you. Your eyes met his, and the feeling threatened to drown you. He kissed you, and every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

Holy Molly!

He eft his kisses everywhere like he knew, like he knew how desperately you needed this, needed him, needed this comfort and release.

Like he needed it, too.

Taking hold of his neck, you raised yourself up to kiss his nose, cheeks, and lips. The line of your bodies was welded together. You felt yourself dissolving, becoming pure emotion as he parted his lips, teased you, and breathed into your mouth. "I love you," he said, gasping the words.

He kissed the top of your shoulder, and his artificial hand wandered over your body, down your back, cupping your back side, lingering on your upper thighs like he wanted to memorize the shape of you, always leaving you in awe of how gentle he was. Your muscles tightened with longing, and you were surprised at how much you wanted him.

Again.

So soon.

However, you had to stop this.

"I'd better get dressed," you said, pulling yourself back, grabbing sheets, and covering yourself with them. "I've got stuff to do."

A grin spread across his face as he watched you as if he could sense your frustration. You crawled from his lap, the bedsheets catching under your knees and making you lose your composure. Like a sneaky fox, he couldn't resist taking advantage of the moment. He yanked the rest of the sheet away from you and tucked you underneath him. His weight pinned you to the mattress, a knee intentionally jammed between your legs and slowly grinding you down.

"Here's what I want for my birthday," he said, kissing your parted lips. He knew what he was doing and knew you couldn't comprehend his words. "I have this idea. Just hear me out; I think that maybe you should consider being naked all the time. I mean, just always. Okay?"

"Okay. I have to—" What were you saying? He had his mouth all over you, sucking at your breasts, licking your throat, his fingers going straight to your sensitive spots.

The moment he got there, you knew you wouldn't let him go, even if he wanted to. So, you needed to gather your wits and act before it was too late.

Think. Think. Think.

"Vash!" you gasped, pushing him up with your hand as much as possible. "I know you're going nuts like a hunk in heat," you said, holding his cheeks between your hands and staring at his big downturned eyes. "I gotta shower and go to the saloon so you can meet me there at eight, okay, good boy?" You tapped on his shoulder.

With raised eyebrows, Vash got off you, but you remained trapped between his knees. Although he crossed his arms and pretended to be mad, you could see him fighting back a smile. It was amazing how that poor piece of sheet managed to cover his hips; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to focus on his face.

"You were going to take a shower without me?" he said sternly.

You couldn't figure out what to say for a moment and then carefully asked, "would you like to join me?"

Considering your offer, he gazed at you, up and down, with a sweet, secret smile. The look in his eyes was enough to persuade you to agree to anything. You would do anything for this man if he asked. Even if he didn't bother to ask.

"Vash."

Your heart was heavy as you whispered his name, filled with emotion. You went still as he hovered over you, gently mouthing your nipples. His kisses grow more intent, leaving a trail of fire across your chest, down your torso, and rushing through your veins.

Suddenly, you forgot why you were even in such a hurry.

Your hands slipped around his neck, and you reeled him in. He felt incredible against you, his body fitting perfectly. You tilted his face up, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling your blood with dangerous speed.

As one hand held him steady, the other skimmed the smooth skin of your waist, gripping your hip hard. He parted your legs with his thigh, hearing you make a desperate sound deep in your throat, and it did something to him, to feel and hear you like that, to be assaulted by your pleasure and desire. It drove him crazy.

Vash buried his face in your neck, and his hand moved up to feel your breasts' tender skin, hot, soft, and sensitive to his touch. He wanted your body under his hands, the scent of your skin, and the light whisper of your hair against his. Licking your earlobes, he tried to ignore the strain in his muscles and the hard, desperate pressure driving him towards you, toward madness.

An ache was expanding inside you and demanding more, craving him to flip you over and lose yourself in you. You clung to him, your eyes half-lidded, your face flushed. Your breathes were heavy when you said, "take me, Vash."

His eyes widened, and he stared at you like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time, hunching over from the effort of inhaling and exhaling. He said nothing and only looked at you carefully from the top, drinking you in. His pulse was wild, his mind racing. There was no way he could refuse you.

02:50 pm - July 21st

Vash stepped aside, and you pushed the sheets away when he asked you to get up. Soon you were standing in the middle of the room as he had demanded.

He couldn't look away from you and probably couldn't even hear himself think over his heart beating fast like a thud against his skull. Pinning you against the closest wall, he kissed you wild enough for you never to forget why he was called the stampede. His fingers touched every everywhere. Every bend and arc. Every pit and hole. Leaving gentle slaps and smacks on the soft skin of yours.

It was lovely to feel your soft curves against his rough edges, and somehow, the paradox between the smoothness of your bodies pressed against each other made the scene even more surreal. In order not to miss any precious time, he picked you up, and you gasped, shocked, and scrambled to hold on for dear life. He pushed the bathroom door aside with his shoulder and carried you into the shower.

He needed you. Needed this. Now. You could see it in his eyes, in the upward arch of his erection.

He drew a deep, unsteady breath before switching the tap on.

A short scream tore through your throat.

You two got soaked in cold water as he pressed your front against the shower wall, losing himself in you like never before. His kisses were more profound, more desperate, and his hands less considerate than before. The heat more explosive, and everything between you wild, raw, and vulnerable. His mouth devoured you. He had his lips all over your body, his tongue tasting new places.

With the cold tiles touching your breasts, a sensation of pleasure spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it, the bottom half of your body urging you to press against him more deeply and fully. He had to hear the pleas of every cell in your body because his next thrust was so intense that you had to hold on to the wall with your palms to steady yourself while your cheeks pressed more and more against the cold ceramic as he had his way with you.

You lost track of time.

You had no idea how long you had been here. You didn't know how long he had gone haywire in you. Your knees were starting to shake when he turned you around, and your eyes fell on his soaked hair sticking to his forehead and clumping eyelashes blinking slowly. You considered yourself lucky for not only seeing such a marvel but also tasting him and feeling him.

With such hunger, he kissed your lips like he hadn't had them in years. You felt the hard tiles press against your back as he pushed himself inside, without hesitating to move up and down. Over and over again, you were lauded, his panting echoing within four walls.

So many times that you wanted to open your mouth to protest, but every time he took one turgid nipple into his mouth. Heat surged through your blood as his teeth scraped over the end of one, and you moaned instead of complaining. You couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt to feel him inside you, his tongue twirling around your other breast.

The pressure was built. You were consumed by the need to reach the climax in every action. Your stomach muscles were tightening and quivering.

He moved his hands from your hips to your head, tangles of wet hair wrapping around his fingers as he pulled you upwards for a kiss. His tongue immediately thrust past your lips, and he increased his speed.

God! Nothing had ever tasted as good as Vash, you thought. Sensual, decadent, the flavor of him slipped through you.

His hands clenched tighter in your hair, and his teeth bit the flesh of your neck, but you barely noticed, barely caring about the hickey it would leave as he threw back his head, groaning your name. The sight of him in the throes of his peak drove you to the edge, your inner muscles clamping around his hardness, pulling him in deeper.

You cried out, clutching his shoulders so tightly that your fingernails dug into his skin, and your screams were muffled against his chest. The plunk of shower water running between your feet could be heard as your body shook, and he leaned his forehead against your head.

His hot released load was dripping and sliding down on your thighs when you collapsed into his arms, feeling weak and unsteady. He held you close to himself, tight yet so gentle, stroking your wet hair with his fingers and leaving small pecks wherever he could reach. "We should eat something," he said, kissing the curve of your shoulder and the sides of your neck.

You were intoxicated by the pure, stunning power of his emotions, endless waves of love and desire, love and kindness, love and joy, love and tenderness.

So much tenderness.

You pressed your cheek against his chest and held him as he braced himself against the wall. Your bodies were wet and heavy with feeling, your hearts pounding with something more powerful than you had ever imagined possible.

Water was dripping from the mess of his hair. So gorgeous, you thought. Then you forgot where you were and what you were going to do. Your arms and limbs trembled slightly, and he was too terrified to let you go.

Too in love to let you go.

07:15 pm - July 21st

As night fell, the blue haze of the day lifted and revealed the stars brightening the sky, shining like beams of happiness, appearing still as an old photograph. The wind blew Vash's hair into a tousled bun.

He walked out of his favorite shop and leaned against the wall with a big bag of donuts and an even bigger smile. Yeah, he perfectly knew he would eat cake, but eating donuts had nothing to do with it: a warm-up, just appetizers.

His eyes followed the long shadows of townies milling around under the flickering lamppost lights, even though he couldn't make out any faces from such afar. He liked this town. It was so small that his typhoon hadn't yet found it. Or maybe because he was a stranger here. Nobody knew him, and everybody was safe from the curse his name carried around.

Everybody but you.

You already had been spelled by those fifteen letters.

V-A-S-H-T-H-E-S-T-A-M-P-E-D-E

Taking a look around, he tried to find a clock on a building or something. The birthday boy didn't want to be late. This and, of course, the words you uttered before you left the house:

"Eight o'clock, Vash. Don't forget! Don't be late! Don't be early and wear that white shirt. See you there!"

He sighed and took a donut from the bag, careful not to stain his white shirt with his clumsiness. It smelled great. What a heavenly aroma, smelling like honey. This and you and this town. It sure felt good to see happy people around.

Without further ado, he took a bite of his sugar-coated donut.

He expected it to taste incredible and super tasty, like being alive, but he couldn't feel it. There was a sense of numbness in him. The weight of an unknown worry was heavy against his heart.

A muffled whistle-like sound echoed in the distance, followed by several. Another shot rang out, this time sounding like it was meant. Suffocating silence, creaking doors, and screams that tore the sky open.

He felt strangely dull, as if his connection with his body had been cut off. The bag fell to the ground, and the donuts scattered around. People were crying, weeping, but all he could hear was the wind's wails in his ears, slapping sharply against his face.

He took uncertain steps forward. The area outside the saloon looked like more than a graveyard. It was worse than he had expected. There were injured people everywhere; some collapsed on the ground.

From where he stood, he counted two men, one woman, and a child dead. Open eyes, mouths agape, fresh blood still dripping down limp bodies. Where were you? Something about that realization struck fear into his veins.

The horrifying possibilities flashed through his mind. His mind was blank as to what had happened. Were you okay?

Vash looked over the crowd, still staring, waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to find him. But you weren't anywhere to be found. In the chaos, he ran from one to another, people scattered around, and he didn't see you. The terror of this moment kicked him in the gut.

So many thoughts were tangled in his head that he couldn't untie the insanity. He glanced back at the doors you were supposed to come out, opening it with a smile.

He waited. He waited longer than was reasonable. Then he called you. Quietly at first, then louder. He shouted your name. His chest was being torn apart by fear, squeezing his heart. A part of him was afraid to speak the words aloud, fearful of making them true.

His legs felt like they had been formed from fresh clay, like he was moving through a fog. His voice reached everyone, pleading this time, running forward until the doors were in his line of sight.

"Is she in?" he asked, but no one answered. Everybody was frozen by the agony of the moment. All that could be heard were silent weeps and the wind howling.

Vash gulped, his throat all dry, and walked in; his lips parted, his eyes wide and horrified. The blood in his veins all ice.

Pain.

It began at his feet, bloomed up his legs, unfurled in his stomach, and worked its way up to his throat, only to explode behind his eyes. The sudden scream ripped itself from his lungs. It wrenched free from his chest without warning, without permission, and it was a scream so loud, so hard and violent, it broke his back. His hands were pressed against his knees, his head half bent.

Echoes of his misery would never be lost in the wind or carried away by the clouds but would always live between these walls. Forever.

His voice was unfamiliar to him. The horror, shock, and dread that flooded his body was something he had never felt — never known before, not like this.

The popped balloons on the walls. A half-ruined cake on the counter. Blood-stained confetti all around. A shoeless foot lying on the floor. Locks of tousled hair slipped from the makeshift shroud.

The numbness was now merciful, at least for a few moments. Then, everything crashed.

Vash fell next to the body. The knowledge rushed up in him, choking off his breath. Another scream tore its way out. Then another, and another. It felt as if his very essence had been ripped from him.

He pulled you into his arms, clutching you tightly, barely able to breathe. His fingers seized your hair and yanked it from your face. The golden strands of his hair fell onto your bloody face. You were called over and over, but it didn't seem like anything more than a sound. His pleas were like commands, begging you to open your eyes, but you ignored them as if playing a nasty prank.

Vash held both of your hands in his. There was no touch. All he felt was an empty coldness. The silence grew even louder, consuming him like a pitch-black shadow. Biting his lip, he tasted a faint metallic taste on his tongue. The desperation in his expression, the grief carved into his features, the way he looked at you as if he were about to pass the gates of hell and utter his last farewell.

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh one of those strange, high-pitched, delusional laughs that marked the end of sanity. Because this world, he thought, had a terrible sense of humor. It always seemed to mock him, making his life more miserable and ruining his dreams by destroying everything he ever loved.

You were dead. This pain was truly real.

Vash broke apart. Sobs cracked open his chest and cried until the pain spiraled and peaked; he bawled until his head throbbed and his eyes swelled. His fingers dug into your back as he called, desperate for a sign of hope. Your hollow body was clutched to his heart, and he felt the injustice roared through him. The feeling fractured him apart. His forehead pressed against your cheek, and his mouth trembled as he whispered, "C-Come ba-ck." The words fell apart. He could only mumble stuttering sounds.

He kissed your knuckles briefly. Would you have blushed if you were still breathing, whining about how cheesy he was being? He could only imagine your reactions now.

Hot tears streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids shut in an effort to make them stop. He sat there unmoving for quite some time with choppy breathing and watery eyes.

09:00 pm - July 21st

Things were in a state of disarray in his vision. People were coming in with dropped shoulders and muffled weeps in the air. Someone approached and touched his shoulder for comfort, and a fierce unknown rage emerged in him. He could kill the man there but would have to let go of you, and he couldn't.

Vash turned his face back and held you so tightly like you would be able to feel the faint beat of his heart. He wept, cradling you, and he wouldn't move nor speak a word other than your name. It was like seeing the sun through the water. His tears fell, but you wouldn't be able to kiss them away this time.

"How dare you mourn her!" Someone bent over him. "You killed her!" Weak fists landed on his back but hurt him more than torture and shots. "She died because of you! You bring misfortune and destruction everywhere you go!" yelled Rosalina with a devastated voice.

Words, he thought, were such unpredictable creatures. No gun, knife, army, or enemy could ever be more powerful than a sentence. Blades may cut and kill, but words would stab and stay, burying into the future, digging and failing to rip his skeletons from his flesh. These weren't nice things to say. Not now. Not after what he was going through. Not when his white shirt was covered in your blood, and his hands burned with the bit of warmth left in your body.

Vash continued to hold you, silent and steady, even as the tears receded, even when he began to tremble. He had you tight as his body shook, held you close when the tears started anew, held you in his arms, and stroked your hair, whispering, "Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me." His voice was a terrible thing, cracked and broken.

He felt guilty. Anyone who got close to him was doomed to die. He thought his actions and inactions always took away his loved ones. Oh, stubborn, stubborn Vash! Of course, he would blame himself for something that had nothing to do with him.

The once happy eyes of Rosalina spilled hot tears on his shirt. "For two years, you lived among us, looked into our eyes every day, and lied about who you are, Vash the Stampede!"

Several gasps were heard from the crowd, followed by whispers filling the air.

Vash the stampede was here.

Chaos.

Questions flew, and weeps were muffled. Everyone was shocked, horrified, freaking out. You had long been forgotten, he thought.

"Is he the most wanted Vash the Stampede?"

"Were there raids in the saloon because of him?"

"The bounty hunters were after the money on his head?"

"They shot us and ran away because of this man?"

"This guy really had us fooled!"

"Is this true?"

Vash's reality was too broken, too distracted to process these kinds of talks. This horrible instant was one mess of insanity in his mind. He couldn't make any sense of it. He didn't answer a word to anyone and just stroked your cold cheek with as much gentleness as he could.

Someone shouted, "What's the hell's the matter with you? Say something. At least make some excuse!"

"Shame on you for bringing danger to our town!"

"We've heard enough of your crying!"

"At least have the decency and go die like a man!"

"No normal human being could cause all these horrible things! He had to be a monster! Who else could have been responsible?"

"Did you feel some of the pain of people who died because of your reckless behaviors?"

He was dying, he thought. He must be. He thought he knew what death was like, but he must have been wrong because this was a whole different kind of dying—a whole different kind of pain.

"That girl died protecting this demon?"

"She knew about the humanoid typhoon all this time." The man gulped and pointed at your dead body. "Our loved ones are dead and hurt because of her stupid devotion to this walking disaster!"

The scene was quite unbelievable, horrifying. His mind reeled, incapable of comprehending or processing what he was hearing. Everything in him came to a halt while his thoughts caught up. It was for him that you died. The shock brought a quietness, a moment to gird his soul for what would come. Truth poured gasoline on the spark of denial in his belly, burning him alive. It fashioned itself into a knife and stabbed him in the eye. And the funny thing was, he didn't want to do anything to stop it. Anguish was all that remained of you; he embraced it with all he was. He deserved it. So he bled with a smile on his face, wishing the pain to end him this time.

"If that self-righteous whore had revealed his whereabouts, not only would she be alive now, but the others wouldn't be dead either!"

Blackness seemed to press against his eyes, ears, and throat. He couldn't breathe, hear, or see clearly, and the suffocation of the moment was so terrifying that he was almost sure he had lost his mind.

How many insults can one person take before throwing in the fucking towel? For him, that number was infinite, but for you, he wouldn't allow even one.

He stood up and grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. He pointed a gun at the infamous criminal, but Vash ripped the gun out of his hand. "What did you say about her?" he asked with a voice like a rusty saw that wanted to cut the bone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning in absolute rage. Nobody had seen him like this. Not once. People were so used to his calm and kind demeanor that this side of him scared them. If they wanted a typhoon, they'd get one. He was fortified with a new kind of anger, a desperate, animal intensity that overpowered him and forced him to stand still.

The man was trembling in his grip. "N-nothing," he finally said. Vash's pulse was racing, breathing heavily, almost like he would burst. The muscles in his hand tensed, causing him to crack his knuckles. Almost like a blazing inferno, his blood boiled in his veins, burning him from the inside out. He was mainly angry with himself, but that wouldn't stop his urge to hunt each and every single one of those bounty hunters, just to make sure they suffered and felt a lot of pain, just like he felt. No longer did he want to show sympathy to anyone. Maybe he was really a monster, wasn't he?

"If they learn your name and start haunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Recalling your words, his eyes widened, and his fist loosened. The man's face was devoid of color. Vash tried to read his eyes for something but saw nothing but terror in the end. He was afraid.

No.

Your race was merciless. How could they say such a thing about one of their own? This man probably deserved the worst, but you didn't want Vash to be cruel, only to be kind. And he couldn't do this to you. Because if he did and an afterlife existed, you'd probably be the only sad person in heaven right now.

Dropping the man on the floor, Vash crushed his gun in his hand and tossed it away. The stranger was groaning and hunching over when he returned to you.

It was the first time Rosalina had seen him like this, her brain unable to digest or process this information. Unlike the man she knew, this one had cold, sharp eyes only focused on you. The look on his face was different. Scary, even. Somehow that worried her even more. She might be sad for you, even hate her people for having talked disparagingly about you; maybe she would give them a piece of her mind and grieve your loss. Maybe. Right now, though, her child's safety was her top priority, and this blood-stained man didn't look very stable.

"Listen, we don't want to die! Leave here and never come back!"

Vash sat by your side, helpless, as if something had broken inside him and all his emotions had poured out. When you left him alone, did you take some part of him with you?

"Get her out of this town. This disaster would've never happened if you hadn't stumbled into this town. She'd still be alive," Rosalina said firmly, staring at your peaceful face like you were in a deep sleep.

Vash didn't answer or even glance at the woman who wanted to help you celebrate his birthday. Like an orphan, he pulled you impossibly close, your bodies soldering together. He pondered Rosalina's words and the night he saw you and wondered whether your life would have been different if he hadn't met you. Who was even capable of answering this? As he whispered your name and begged you for forgiveness, his tears washed the blood from your cheeks, and Rosalina felt something inside her die. As she watched him willingly take all blame upon himself alone, as if he was already familiar with this feeling, she felt something break apart inside her.

Vash resembled his wanted posters now. A tall man with blond hair covered in red, but this time, it was your blood instead of his famous coat. His hands were trembling so hard he couldn't even recognize them anymore. Even so, he picked you up, cuddling you in his arms, only to notice the hickey on your neck from hours ago. Pain cramped his joints, breaking away every single bone in his body. He wanted to shriek through the sky; he wanted to fall to his knees again and sob into the ground. He didn't know why the agony wasn't finding an escape through his tears.

"Think way back. Remember that story I told you? About the man that found a blank ticket that could take him anywhere he wanted? That man is all of us. Where you go is yours to choose. You'll always have that ticket in your pocket, no matter what darkness life throws at you. When you're ready, write down the destination. I promise you. You'll be alright."

He wished Rem was right, but there was no such concept as happiness in this world. There was only endless strife, destruction, and death. There was only loneliness, pain, and regret. Whatever he did, no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he wished with all his heart to make things right, life always had a way of taking everything from him.

It seemed like Vash the Stampede's life had peaked, and nothing that came after you would ever matter to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you, but he didn't want any after you. You were the light he never knew he needed. He was lost in the darkness, wandering life without direction. Then he found you, and you brought him warmth and light. You were the one who saved him. Twice and he couldn't do the same.

As he walked forward, he pleaded with his bones to remain steady, to carry him through the rest of the day and into the rest of his meaningless life. He passed through the crowd as if he had never been a part of them. The sand dragged under his feet, his knees weak, but he held you tight and walked away. His footprints grew smaller and smaller until there was only the empty silence of a long, lonely night.

Let's let him be for now. Everyone deserves to be left alone for a moment or two, right? Be that as it may, he always lost his most precious ones on his birthdays. Maybe it would have been better if he had never been born so that he would not have to endure so much grief alone. Or perhaps it was the way it was so we could be part of his life.

Author note: My real world had grown so dark that I didn't want to live in it. That's why I escaped and spent the day in a world darker than mine. Please accept my sincere apologies for dragging you down here with me ^_^

If you have anything to say, don't be shy to use ASK and the comment sections.

Disclaimers: This fan-written story contains quotes from "The Song of Achilles", "King Killer Chronicles", "Shatter Me" series and "Reminders of him" books, "Hamlet" play, and "I am unafraid with him" poem by pencap on Tumblr.

The arts are from "Trigun Stampede" anime.

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

if you're doing that soft prompts meme, i ask for some gerrymichael for 4 and 9 ((:

4. neck kisses & 9. shoulder kisses

"Alright Gerry, its time."

Gerry's head flew up, startled by Michael's surprisingly firm tone. "What?" he asked, ready to expect the worst before Michael deposited a plastic bag on the table before him. Inside were refreshingly familiar boxes of his usual brand of hair dye, in his usual black, but also one of a medium brown, a packet of gloves, and a stiff-looking brush. "Wha-"

"We're coloring your hair today," Michael announced, planting his hands on his hips. "We're going to do this properly, and it'll look great, I promise."

"My hair is fine," Gerry protested, grabbing the box of brown and eying it critically. As terrible as he looked as a blonde, brunette was much worse on him.

"My love, you clearly can't reach the back of your own head," Michael told him, circling around the table to stand behind him, pulling Gerry's hair back and fanning it out. "You've got banding, and patchiness, and it's uneven all over." Despite his criticism, his hands were gentle as they carded through the strands. "Bit like a big cat in the shadows, you know?"

Gerry frowned, feeling the tiniest twinge of shame. "Is it that bad?" he asked uncertainly. It wasn't like he cared overmuch about his hair, except for when the roots got too blond, but apparently he'd been missing more than he knew.

"Of course not," Michael said at once. Gerry felt him bunch up his hair in one hand, then felt his lips brushing over his neck, soft and light and sending shivers all over him. "I only notice because I notice every single thing about you." His lips moved over his skin with his words, ending in a deliberate kiss to his neck. "In fact, I think it's charming. It's very...you." One of his hands dropped to wrap around his middle, giving him a squeeze. "I'm not...demanding you do you hair better, or that it needs to be fixed. I just want to do this for you."

Gerry relaxed, leaning back to give Michael more access to his neck. "Are you sure you want to get your hands dirty?" he goaded with a laugh that broke into a moan when Michael sunk his teeth in a bit. "Have you ever dyed hair before?"

"I have a good enough idea," Michael assured him, pushing aside the loose collar of his shirt to kiss the crest of his shoulder. "At least I can help. Four hands are better than two, and I can see the back of your head."

Gerry laughed. "That's true," he agreed. Michael's kisses continued, from his shoulder and back up his neck, sweet and tender and full of affection. Gerry knew that Michael's fussy attention was borne of love, wanting only the best for him. And if Michael wanted to try his hand at making his hair look better than he ever could, he was welcome to try. "You can't do any worse than me, at least."

"Just you wait." Michael teasingly tugged on his hair before he released it, coming back for one last kiss on his shoulder. "I might do it wrong and it'll come out green."

"You know," Gerry shrugged as he grabbed the supplies. "That might not be a bad look." It might also look terrible, but it couldn't be as bad as what he'd done to himself. No matter what, he'd appreciate anything Michael would do to him.

[pluckyredhead]

Character Profile: Koryak

And so we come to the last (but never least, not in my heart) Lost Titans profile: Koryak! My terrible, damp boy.

Look at him pout! How I love him.

Koryak debuted in the 1994 Aquaman series. (Note: I'm not sure what his last name is - his mother's is never mentioned, and even though I sometimes tag him as "Koryak Curry," I don't think he would use Arthur's last name, especially since even Arthur didn't use that name very much at the time.)

As I've mentioned before, Arthur has had a lot of different origins, but in the post-Crisis era, which the only era Koryak appeared in, Arthur's mother was the queen of Atlantis, and his father was Atlan, an ancient Atlantean sorcerer who impregnated her in a dream. Arthur was abandoned at birth because of the infidelity/his blond hair, was raised by dolphins (yes), and briefly lived with a human man named Arthur Curry who taught him English and gave him a human name to borrow.

Then Arthur - still a teenager at this point - went to Alaska, where he immediately rescued a teenage girl named Kako from a polar bear. Kako and her family took Arthur in in gratitude, and he and Kako fell in love. (Kako's family is sometimes said to be Inuit, sometimes Inupiat.)

Anyway, Arthur and Kako lose their virginities to each other. IN THE SNOW, FOR SOME REASON:

This is such an infuriating racist, sexist trope (the WOC with the broken English throws herself at the white hero, logic be damned - why isn't she wearing anything under her coat??? - but of course she will never be his wife, or anything more than a footnote in his story).

Immediately after this, tragedy strikes Kako's family, Arthur is blamed (it's not his fault), and he's thrown out. He returns to the ocean, and eventually goes on to become Aquaman, king of Atlantis, etc.

Years later, he returns to Alaska for plot reasons not worth going into, and that's when he meets Koryak, THE MOST NINETIES BOY OF ALL:

The shirtlessness, the swords, the hair! Truly a man of his era. (Boy? I always assumed he was about 18 here, but a Secret Files issue claims he was 16.)

Koryak is not Arthur's biggest fan, but after Kako turns into a fire elemental because this is the DCU and these things happen, Koryak decides to go to Atlantis with Arthur. Or, well, technically the city was called Poseidonis at the time, which will be important later.

Anyway, the Poseidonians are a little wary of a stranger at first, until Koryak saves a child's life and suddenly they love him. Koryak, who didn't really fit in in Alaska, is basking under the attention, but it doesn't go over well with the current king, Thesily (Arthur had stepped down a while back for Reasons), who is wildly jealous of Arthur, and fears Arthur is looking to take his throne back and now comes complete with heir.

So Thesily leads Koryak into a side room and tries to stab him to death. Luckily, a sudden earthquake causes a pillar to topple over and trap Thesily. Koryak gloats and leaves him to die. What a brat! I adore him!

The earthquakes aren't stopping, and the people of Poseidonis want to flee. Arthur tells them not to because a prophecy said they should stay, but Koryak leads the Poseidonians out of the city and to their sister city, Tritonis, which is where the merpeople live. There, the Poseidonians immediately proceed to be huge assholes to the Tritonians, using up their resources and being racist to them. (Introducing Koryak, an indigenous man and literally the only character of color underwater at this point in time, and having him lead a bunch of racist colonizers was...maybe not Peter David's best choice.)

Anyway, Koryak decides to open up some forbidden tunnels because he feels like it, and they turn out to be forbidden because they were imprisoning Kordax, Arthur and Koryak's evil immortal blond lizard man ancestor. Naturally.

Arthur rolls up with his crew (his girlfriend, his dad, and Garth) and Koryak and Garth throw down. It doesn't go well for Koryak:

I LAUGH EVERY TIME.

Anyway, Arthur's side wins, Kordax is killed, the Tritonians are freed, and Arthur decides that to make it up to them, the Poseidonians are going to serve them as slaves indefinitely. That...seems like compounding human rights violations on top of human rights violations, but okay. Anyway Koryak volunteers to stay and serve the Tritonians as well, because he feels guilty about what he's done.

...for a little while. Then he gets bored and decides they should leave. The king of Tritonis is like "Says who?" and Garth shows up out of nowhere and is like "Says me" and the king's like "Oh shit, okay" and lets them go, leaving Koryak both grateful and resentful towards Garth. I am eating this up with a SPOON btw.

Koryak returns to Tritonis, where he immediately falls back into old habits of resenting his father. Vulko, an advisor of Arthur's who is currently mad at him, sees this and decides to use it as an opportunity to overthrow Arthur:

(The scar across his nose is from Kordax. Later artists forgot it and I wish they hadn't.)

Vulko and Koryak plot for like...a really long time without anything coming of it. Arthur knows perfectly well that it's happening but doesn't do anything about it, even though he could put a stop to it by simply, like...showing Koryak five minutes of positive attention, ever, in his life. Because it's really, really obvious that Koryak just needs positive reinforcement, and would be fully Team Arthur if Arthur would just give him a reason - at one point when Arthur briefly dies (he gets better), Koryak is willing to die to try to avenge him and save Garth and Dolphin from torture. He's not all bad! He's just drawn that way!

Anyway, Arthur comes back to life and Poseidonis decides to make him king again. Just as he's about to be crowned, GARTH tries to overthrow him and steal the throne - but that's just because Garth has been holding Arthur's magic trident and was possessed by him. Arthur overpowers him, and then tells him that he's not mad and in fact, he's proud of Garth for holding out as long as he did.

Then Koryak tries his hand:

And like...yes, Garth only tried to steal the throne because he was possessed and Koryak did it willingly, but Koryak also tried to help Arthur when Garth went rogue. Again, it is so, so clear that Koryak's loyalty was Arthur's for the asking, but Arthur never asked. Instead, he praised Garth for trying to overthrow him and then told Koryak to his face how much he sucked.

Arthur is at least merciful enough to commute the normal sentence for treason from death to banishment, and Koryak is kicked out of Atlantis. Arthur then literally never thinks about him for the next SEVEN YEARS. (Okay, Koryak shows up very briefly for three issues in 1999 and Arthur thinks about him while he's looking directly at him, and then forgets he exists again. But then, Arthur also repeatedly forgets about his own wife. Arthur is terrible.)

Anyway, seven years later, Arthur has also been banished from Atlantis, and is now living in Sub Diego, which is what happens when half of San Diego inexplicably falls into the ocean and a small percentage of the traumatized people discover they can breathe underwater. Koryak, meanwhile, has returned to Atlantis to fight with Garth some more:

Love this for them!

Koryak, btw, is arguing that the survivors of Sub Diego should be allowed to move to Atlantis, and Garth's like "Uhhh they wouldn't fit in" and Koryak's like "Wow, racist." Ahem. In general, Koryak during this period is a lot calmer and more mature than he used to be, and also a lot more willing to forgive Arthur for All the Bullshit:

Also, there's a joke that implies Koryak might be queer?

Literally that's the joke here: Koryak is talking about a guy named Malrey (half-shark, half-cop, and no I am not kidding), and Lorena, who has a crush on Koryak, is clocking that she may not have a chance. I don't know if this was just a throwaway gay joke, which happened all the time in 2005, or if it was going somewhere, but we'll never know. (For the record, even though Garth says Koryak has a crush on Lorena, that doesn't appear to be true, especially since Lorena is underage and Koryak is definitely an adult by now. I don't think we should take Garth's line there as anything but dismissive of Koryak's outreach to the Sub Diegoans. Also, back in the 90s, Koryak definitely had a crush on a minor character called Deep Blue, a.k.a. Debbie Perkins, but that never went anywhere, which is good because SHE WAS ARTHUR'S HALF-SISTER. (She and Arthur made out a bunch before they knew, because Arthur loves kissing girls his sons have crushes on. YIKES ALL AROUND.) (Also just kidding, Arthur doesn't pay enough attention to any of his kids to know who they have crushes on.))

Anyway. Back to the plot. Mera is very sick because of Evil Magic, and Garth decides to perform a massive spell to save her, and Koryak agrees to help. This spell attracts the attention of the Spectre, who was evil at the time, and he, uh...destroys Atlantis, killing Koryak, Garth, and almost everyone else. Arthur finally acknowledges that he was a shitty dad:

Immediately after this issue, the book's title changed from Aquaman to Aquaman: Sword of Atlantis. The main character is not the Arthur we know, but a new, younger Arthur, Arthur Joseph Curry, who turns out to be a cousin of our Arthur. His mentor is a guy called the Dweller in the Depths, who has a tentacle face like Davey Jones from the Pirates movies. It is eventually revealed that the Dweller is actually Regular Arthur, with traumatic amnesia. Why? Why does he have a tentacle face now? NEVER EXPLAINED.

Anyway, we also meet this guy:

Narwhal's character design is...suggestive, let's say? Also suggestive: Garth has also turned up alive, and like "Narwhal," he now has albinism and partial amnesia. And Narwhal knows the name "Orin," though he can't place it. (It's Arthur's Atlantean name.)

Anyway, Narwhal is sent to kill this "Orin":

Narwhal kills Arthur/Orin/the Dweller, but it doesn't bring him peace, because he still doesn't know who he is - and Orin did, at the last minute. He goes to Atlantis for answers, and Mera confirms it, at least for the reader:

...and that's the last issue of Sword of Atlantis. WOMP WOMP. All of the Aquaman characters disappeared until Blackest Night (when Arthur returned). Koryak never appeared again, and was retconned out with the New 52. Oh well, at least the narwhal tusk spear is pretty dope.

As of Infinite Frontier, the pre-52 universe has been pretty much restored, which should mean that Koryak is back in continuity...but DC is still keeping Arthur's New 52/Rebirth origin intact, which means he did not spend any of his teenage years in Alaska, which means Koryak was never conceived. So things could go either way - any writer who feels like bringing him back could do so easily, but they don't have to.

I call Koryak "my terrible boy" a lot, and he's undeniably pretty obnoxious: immature, bratty, petty, unforgiving, and, uh...awfully on board with murder, let's say? He is also extremely young when we first meet him, and is instantly slammed with trauma: his mother essentially dies, someone tries to murder him, he's physically and mentally violated by Kordax. I'll say again that the slightest bit of positive attention from Arthur probably could have changed his entire life, but he never got it. SO HE'S GONNA GET IT FROM ME INSTEAD.

Anyway, I love Koryak very, very much, and have already written fic about him. And I have another Koryak fic in the works for after The Lost Titans is published. And I will never stop whining at DC to bring him back. If Koryak has one fan (he does), it's me. But maybe now it's you, too?

[cherrythepuppet]

My Corpse Puppet fanfic

I wanted it to End with (Y/n) and Wally together and being childhood friends that forgot each other BTW Corpse Puppet belongs to @sketchquill

"He- hey! Wait up!" A child yelled as she ran after her friend who was running into the woods "Wals can we not go into the forest?" They askedHer long/short/medium (H/c) hair was blowing in the wind as they spoke "(Y/n) it's just the woods nothing bad will happen" her friend wally reassured them

(Y/n) never liked the forest, the way the trees looked and how it was so close to the graveyard made them uncomfortableWally grabbed their hand and then smiled at them before running into the forest with (Y/n) following closely behind

The two stopped when they got to a big old oak tree where another kid was waiting "Wally! (Y/n)!" They exclaimed This kid had short dark red hair, light pink skin and an upside down heart nose, they wore They had a red shirt with striped sleeves and overalls over their clothes and unicorn socks on "You two are late!" They groaned

"Sorry cherry" (Y/n) mumbled "(Y/n) got scared of the woods again" Wally said "It's fine but come on!" Cherry exclaimed as she grabbed wallys free hand

The three ten year olds were all running throughout the woods laughing, talking or smiling

~

"Darling you really do need to stop being so scared of everything" Wally mumbled "I know and I'm trying!" (Y/n) told him

"I know dear I know" Wally smiled "Let's go before we miss the funeral" he added as he grabbed (Y/n)'s small hand As the two were walking to the graveyard they had bumped into a young women

She had salmon skin and She has downturned, oval-shaped eyes with black pupils and two eyelashes on each eye. Her eyebrows are small and black. Her nose is round and orange

She has a nice-looking smile, with pinkish blush coloring her cheeks. Her honey-blonde hair is teased into a beehive hairstyle, which is held by a white headband. She has two face-framing pieces of hair hanging loose. She also has two orange and yellow striped horns, She was also wearing a dull red striped dress with ruffles on the wrists, collar and skirt, Wally stared at her with wide eyes

"I'm terribly sorry miss!" (Y/n) said "Come on wally" they added as they helped wally off the ground "It is alright you two just must have been in a hurry!" The women said with a chuckle"Y-yes! We're going to our friend's funeral" Wally said snapping out of his trance

"Oh? I am very sorry for your loss" the women said "Uhm- I'm Wally, Wally Darling" Wally said as he held out his hand "Julie joyful" the women said as she shook his hand, (Y/n) watched the whole interaction with concern and a bit of jealousy "Wally we need to go" they said as she grabbed his arm and walked off

~

"Wally you can't love her you just met!" (Y/n) told him "You sound like my mother" Wally mumbled "Maybe I do but that's because I'm just looking out for you" (Y/n) said in a calm voice as they put a hand on his shoulder

Wally took their hand off "If you were really my friend then you would be supportive wouldn't you?" He asked "Wally you just met! She could be a murderer for all we know!" (Y/n) yelled

Their patience was getting thinner and thinner "And?! Nobody that perfect can be a killer!" Wally yelled back "You know what?! I think your just jealous because someone loves me and not you-" he paused

He realized what he said and his eyes widened when he saw small tears in (Y/n)'s eyes "Fine...Fine! Go marry her! Because if you die I'm not coming to your funeral! And all I'll tell you is I told you so!" (Y/n) yelled before stomping off

~

"Wally Darling found dead by old oak tree!" The town crier yelled as they walked around town

(Y/n) was in her room looking out the window "I told you..." they mumbled as she stared at the moon and stars shining from the dark blue sky

~

(Y/n) sat at her desk holding a quill in hand as they sketched out a bright blue butterfly and occasionally looking at the one they had in a glass casing as their reference 

Once they had finished their drawing they let the butterfly go, it flew around her room for a moment before leaving through the opened window "(Y/n)! Hurry up!" (Y/n)'s mother yelled from outside(Y/n) sighed as they left her room and entered the outside

"Morning Mr and Mrs (L/n)! And Morning (Y/n)!" Eddie said as he walked past their house "Good morning Eddie" (Y/n) said"(Y/n)! We are late now come on!" (Y/n)'s mother yelled as she and her father sat in the stagecoach waiting for their daughter

(Y/n) climbed into the Stage coach as the driver whipped the reins and the horses began moving, The ride was silent until the parents began talking "You've certainly hooked winner this time, (Y/n)." Her father said

"Now, all you have to do is reel him in" Her Mother told her"l'm Already reeling, Mother." (Y/n) mumbled as she stared out the window "Shouldn't Howdy be marrying a Lady or something?" She asked

"Oh, nonsense! We're every bit as good as the Pillers! l always knew l deserved better than a fish merchant's life." Her mother said"But l've never even spoken to him" (Y/n) told them

"Well, at least we have that in our favor" Her father mumbled as the driver began coughing"Leo! Silence that Blasted coughing!" Her mother yelled as hit the roof of the stage coach soon it parked outside a huge mansion and the (L/n)'s got out....

[complexparadox1]

My Love, My Light, My Angel

Anotha one! Kazutora x Fem!Reader. This is set in the Black Dragon timeline, around a year after Chifuyu was killed by Kisaki. You and Kazutora are old childhood friends. He's been avoiding you since he got locked up but fate has other plans! Smut OBVIOUSLY, Fem!reader, reader is a florist who majored in art and literature cuz I felt like it idk. Enjoy!

When you had walked out of your apartment that sunny fall afternoon you hadn't expected much from the day. But walking down the street you spotted a familiar head of black and blonde hair that stopped you in your tracks almost immediately. It couldn't be. "Kazutora?" You called out, heart thudding in your chest wildly.

Kazutora froze in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat as he heard his name being called. He turned his head slowly, his honey-colored eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he couldn't find the words to respond, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. "It's... been a while." he finally whispered, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and hesitation. He took a step closer, peering at you with a hint of longing in his eyes.

His gaze lingered on you, taking in your features, the way you had grown and changed over the years. Memories flashed before his eyes, the shared moments of laughter and friendship, but also the pain and guilt that lay buried deep within him. He knew he shouldn't let himself get too close to you again, but the pull was undeniable.

Just to hear his voice once again sent your head to spinning and your heart thundering in your chest. thirteen years, thirteen years since you'd last seen him. Ten years he'd been in jail and three years after that where you simply hadn't been able to find him. "How have you been? I've missed you." The last part was said softly, and it was true. You had missed him terribly. For all that had happened, with Valhalla, with Baji, it had not changed your feelings towards him at all.

Kazutora felt a pang of sorrow at your words. He had missed you too, more than he cared to admit. The weight of guilt and regret settled heavily within him, but he couldn't help but crave your presence. "I... I've been surviving," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of pain and longing. "It hasn't been easy, but... I've been trying." He looked down for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. "And yeah... I've missed you too. More than you know." His gaze lifted to meet yours again, his honey-colored eyes searching for any sign of forgiveness in your expression. Deep down, he wondered if he even deserved it after everything he had done. Chifuyu had forgiven him, Baji had used his final breaths to absolve him of his murder. But you were different. He couldn't be sure you would forgive him. But he still couldn't deny the warmth that washed over him at the sight of you standing there.

In nearly the same moment he said he'd missed you, before you could really even process what you were doing, you found yourself hugging him. As if afraid he would vanish once more from your life if you didn't hold onto him with as much strength as you could muster. Kazutora's breath caught in his throat as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. It was a bittersweet sensation, feeling your warmth after such a long time. His body stiffened for a moment, unsure of how to respond, before he finally relaxed into the embrace, his arms hesitantly finding their way around you. "Where have you been? I...I tried to look for you after you got out..." You managed to stammer, you had tried diligently to find him after he'd gotten out of prison to no avail. When you had tried to visit each and every time he had declined your visit. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mix of guilt and regret. "After... after what happened with Baji, I... I needed to distance myself. I thought…I thought I was toxic, that being around me would only bring you pain." He tightened his grip, his voice trembling. "But I never stopped thinking about you. I wanted to reach out, but...I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore." He pulled back slightly, his honey-colored eyes locked with yours. "I'm here now, and I want to make things right, if you'll let me." You had practically melted into his touch while he spoke. His familiar smell making you practically dizzy and your heart thrummed happily within your chest despite the heavy words he spoke. "You don't need to apologize Kazutora. You aren't toxic, you were a kid, we both were...what happened with Baji was horrible, but I never stopped wanting to be a part of your life Tora." His old childhood nickname slipped off your tongue with ease despite it having been so long since you had last called him that. Your heart clenched up near painfully in your chest. "I don't wanna lose you again... you're my best friend."

The weight of guilt that Kazutora had carried for so long began to lift ever so slightly as he heard your words of understanding and acceptance. A faint smile formed on his lips, tinged with a mix of relief and affection. "You still remember the nickname," he murmured, his voice filled with a touch of nostalgia. "I promise you, this time, I won't let go. You won't lose me again." In that moment, Kazutora felt a surge of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that had consumed him for far too long. He reached out to wipe away the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes, his touch gentle and tender. "Hey, don't cry," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. Okay?" As he spoke those words, a flicker of warmth filled his heart. He knew the road ahead would be filled with challenges and dangers, especially with his current mission to dismantle the corrupt Black Dragon gang. But having you by his side, he felt a newfound strength, an unwavering determination to protect you and cherish the bond that had been rekindled between you. You nodded your head and were quick to bury your face in his chest trying to hide the tears that flowed down your face. The emotions of the moment overwhelming you entirely. "I'm holding you to that promise, Tora. Whatever happens I don't wanna ever lose you again." You sniffled softly, arms squeezing him just a bit tighter. Kazutora had been, and would always be, a large part of your world. The last thirteen years had been hard without him, painful to the point of being nearly unbearable. To have him back at your side felt perfect. "So you wanna come to my place for lunch? We can catch up?" I asked once I'd pulled my face from where I buried it on his chest, my tears having dampened his shirt slightly.

He had gone for so long without a shred of warmth or comfort in his life. Having you standing here now, your arms still embracing him, it felt as if he'd been wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket and he couldn't help but to fall into the comfort of you. Even though you were crying, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt, you still provided the same comfort you had always given him even as young children. He held you close, his arms providing a comforting shelter as your tears wet his shirt. He gently rubbed your back, offering silent support and reassurance as he listened to your words. "You won't lose me again, I swear." he whispered, his voice laced with determination.

As you suggested going to your place for lunch, a small smile graced his lips. The idea of spending more time with you, catching up on the years that had been lost, felt like a lifeline amidst the chaos surrounding his life."Yeah, that sounds good," he replied softly, his eyes meeting yours. "I'd love to catch up, to have some time together away from all the chaos. Just...being with you." With a final squeeze, Kazutora released his hold on you, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he slowly withdrew it. Stepping back, he began to walk alongside you, his heart brimming with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

As you both made your way to your place, Kazutora couldn't help but let himself believe, even if only for a moment, that perhaps love and redemption were not so far out of reach as he had thought for so long. Once you'd arrived to your apartment you were quick to order lunch from a local Chinese place. Waiting for the food you and Kazutora settled into the couch. Now that he was sitting here you couldn't help but stare at him, it almost felt like this was all just some crazy dream.

Kazutora settled comfortably on the couch as you ordered lunch, his eyes occasionally glancing over to steal glances at you. The warmth and familiarity of your home enveloped him, offering a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time.

Everything about Kazutora had changed in thirteen years time. Corded muscle stretched taut along his arms, his once rounded cheeks sunken in to make his jawline more pronounced now than it had ever been in childhood, his voice lower and had a smoother quality to it now too. Kazutora was no longer a teenaged boy; and your brain struggled to process this fact. It didn't take long to realize you were staring at him too much and your cheeks flushed a bit with embarrassment. "So, what have you been up to, where have you been?" There's so much lost time to catch up on, so many things that have probably happened in his life and your own that the other wasn't aware of. He noticed the blush that tinted your cheeks as you caught yourself staring at him, and a small, gentle smile curved his lips. The silence lingered for a moment before you finally spoke, breaking the spell. "I've been... on the move, mostly," he replied, his voice carrying a touch of weariness. "After getting out of prison, I found myself caught up in some dangerous business. I couldn't stand by and watch as my friends were consumed by the corruption of the Black Dragon gang. So, I've been doing everything I can to dismantle them from the inside."

He paused for a moment, his gaze focused on his hands, his tone tinged with a mix of determination and regret. "It's been a rough ride, dangerous, but I couldn't let them destroy what we had, what we shared in the Tokyo Manji Gang…. it's…they're not what Baji would have ever wanted them to be." His eyes flickered up to meet yours, the weight of his mission evident in their depths. "But enough about that. I want to know everything about you. What have you been up to all these years? How did life treat you?" His voice softened, a genuine curiosity shining through his words. You nodded your head quietly. The Tokyo Manji Gang had been in the news a lot. Prostitution, Gambling, Murder, they had gotten a lot darker than you had remembered them being when Kazutora had once been a part of the gang. The fact that he was trying to help his friends, more than that the people that had once been family to him, was noble. But it also made a knot of worry form in your stomach. "That's a lot to try and take on all on your own Kazutora." You murmured the words softly your gaze meeting his. It was a dangerous path to walk but one you knew that if anyone could traverse with any level of safety it would be Kazutora. He had always been smart, quick thinking. "Uh, well graduated highschool after you left." You didn't want to say locked up because it feels wrong, you had both been so young back then. "Went to college, ended up majoring in arts and literature. Got a job working as a florist now so life's been ok I guess." It's been lonely too, unbearably lonely, but you don't say that. You have a few friends, sure, but no one ever even came close to the closeness that you and Kazutora had once shared. You smile at him softly, heart feeling at ease for the first time in too many years. "It's good to have you back though...life just hasn't been the same without you" your voice sounded sad, almost wistful, you couldn't help but to wonder how things would have been if he hadn't been locked up. If he hadn't joined Valhalla, if all the horrible events that followed had been avoided.

Kazutora listened intently as you shared your journey over the past decade, a mix of pride and melancholy tugging at his heart. His eyes traced the lines on your face, still as beautiful as ever, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the years of loneliness you had endured. "I wish I could have been there for you, to support you through all those years." He murmured, his voice laced with genuine remorse. His fingers ran through his blonde-highlighted hair, a nervous habit he had developed over the years. "But I'm glad you found something you're passionate about, something that brings you joy." Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. This moment feels so right, so perfect. To have him back here even after all this time just felt right. "You don't need to apologize." You said the words with a gentle tone. "Look at you, you're so much different, better." There was no more derangement in his eyes, no more delusion, instead his gaze was gentle, kind, and filled with nothing but affection. "I'm happy you got better, that's all that I ever wanted." Too many times you had tried to pull Kazutora from the darkness that had taken over his mind and too many times you had failed. To see him doing better now felt like a weight off of your chest. A soft smile formed on his lips as he met your gaze, the weight of his turbulent past momentarily forgotten with your words.

His fingers reached out, brushing against your hand, seeking connection and reassurance. His voice grew softer, tinged with vulnerability. "I've missed you, more than words can express." When his hand brushed against your own your fingers were quick to move to interlace with his. "Your hands are still always cold huh?" You asked him with a grin, Kazutora had always had cold hands, a bit rough and calloused from all his fighting while being in the gang. There had been a time where you had known every knick and scar that lined his knuckles. The familiar teasing about his perpetually cold hands had brought a chuckle to his lips, breaking the tension in the room, and he squeezed your hand gently."Yeah, I guess some things never change," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of fondness and playfulness. "I'll never have those warm, gentle hands like someone who works with flowers all day." His honey-colored eyes sparkled, his gaze locked with yours. You could feel your heart skip a beat at his words and you gave a small smile. "Suppose we are a perfect contrast to each other then hm?" You both were in more ways than just the temperature of your hands, you had always been two sides of the same coin. "I'm glad you're here with me now. It feels like coming home." He said the words softly: The scent of the flowers in your home mingled with the comfort of your touch, creating a sanctuary where both his mind and body found solace. "There's so much we can do together, so many possibilities," he continued, his voice growing softer but filled with an unyielding determination. "We can build a future that's different from anything we've known. A future carved out of our own choices, our own happiness."

As he spoke those words, conviction radiated from him. Kazutora knew that the path ahead wouldn't be easy, that challenges and dangers awaited him in his mission to dismantle Black Dragon. But with you by his side, he felt a newfound strength, a renewed purpose to protect, to love, and to find redemption not just for himself, but for the two of you. "I can't wait to see it all come together." You murmured, feeling as if you were practically on cloud nine just thinking about it.

Leaning in closer, Kazutora planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "I'm grateful to have this chance with you. And I promise, I won't let go this time." With those words and the feeling of his lips pressed against your forehead, almost feather light, you felt your whole being practically stop. Looking up at him, those same amber eyes you had always so adored you felt years worth of feelings flood back all at once. The absolute enamorment you had once felt with him hitting like a train. Kazutora was not the boy you had once known for certain. But he was still the person you had been in love with all those years ago, and those feelings bubbled up to the surface once more. "I definitely won't let you let me go. You're stuck with me now, I'd probably die if you just disappeared again." The words came out hushed and quiet but they were spoken with a certain conviction and mixture of tenderness and vulnerability filled Kazutora's honey-colored eyes. The weight of your affection and unyielding dedication bore down on him, gently sweeping away the remnants of his self-doubt and fears. A soft smile played on his lips as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I won't disappear again," he reassured you, his voice filled with a newfound determination. "I've learned my lesson, and this time, I won't let anything or anyone pull us apart. We'll face the challenges together, find strength in each other." His gaze locked with yours, his voice dropping to a hushed tone, resonating with sincerity and love. "You mean everything to me. The thought of losing you again, it's unbearable. I'll fight for us, for our future, no matter what stands in our way."

As the emotions sparked between the two of you, the chemistry that had always been present in your past encounters blazed to life once more. The room seemed to shrink, the world outside fading away, leaving only you and Kazutora, locked in an intimate connection that transcended time. Unable to resist any longer, Kazutora leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a passionate, lingering kiss. In that moment, the weight of the past slipped away, leaving behind only the promise of a future filled with love, redemption, and the unbreakable bond that had endured through the years.

Both of your mouths moved against the others with a gentle desperation, tenderness, desire, years of pent up love you had felt for each other pouring out in an instant through the touch. You were drowning in all things Kazutora as the kiss deepened. Gently your arms moved to slip around his shoulders pulling closer to him, needing that connectedness with him like air in your lungs. Caught in the passionate embrace, Kazutora felt his heart race, matching the rhythm set by the fervent exchange of your lips. The taste and feel of you after all these years left him intoxicated, a wave of desire crashing against the shores of his being. His hands moved instinctively, caressing the small of your back, holding you closer, as if he could merge his existence with yours. The world around the both of you faded away completely, as if there were only the two of you, entwined in a dance of affection and longing. Every touch, every movement was laden with emotion, and as the kiss deepened, Kazutora couldn't help but feel a healing balm spread through his wounded soul. His mind, which had once been plagued by the darkness from his past, now found solace in the warmth of your touch, the shared passion and mutual understanding. In this moment, there was only the present, the intensity of your love threading together the broken pieces of his spirit, infusing him with renewed vitality.

The room seemed to pulsate with the raw desire and yearning of your entangled bodies as you clung to him, lost in the depths of your shared connection. Kazutora's breath mingled with yours, his touch tender yet possessive, as he savored every stolen moment, desperately wanting to etch this memory into his very being. The moment felt like a dream, warm and comfortable. Wrapped snuggly in the other's embrace felt like home, a home neither of you had ever known anywhere except for in the other's arms.

As the kiss broke, a thin sheen of sweat coated Kazutora's brow, his chest heaving with the weight of emotion and arousal. His honey-colored eyes bore into yours, filled with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. "I need you. I've always needed you." he whispered, his voice rough with desire. Looking into his eyes which smoldered with such deep emotion your heart swelled with love and desire for him. The warmth of arousal pooling in your stomach. "Need you too Tora, Love you so much." You spoke in a breathless whimper words that had been left unspoken for far too long. He was all you had ever wanted and you were putty in his hands malleable and waiting to be shaped into whatever he desired. As the words spilled from your lips, their breathless vulnerability rang in Kazutora's ears, intertwining with the rhythm of his racing heart. Your declaration of love ignited a flame within him, fierce and unyielding, setting his entire being ablaze with desire. His hands, calloused and strong, cupped your face gently as he looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and need. The weight of his past mistakes, the pain he had carried for far too long, dissolved in this moment of raw connection and vulnerability. "My love," he whispered, his voice filled with a profound tenderness that mirrored the intensity of his emotions. "I've longed to hear those words from you. To know that you're all mine, as I am all yours. To feel the depth of your love and desire." With a gentle, yet possessive hold, he brought his lips back to yours, a hunger laced within the kiss. His touch radiated with reverence, as he explored the soft contours of your mouth, mapping every inch of your being that he had missed for so long. The world outside ceased to exist, reduced to nothing but the dance of your entwined bodies.

Every caress, every whispered breath against your lips carried the weight of a promise. A promise to cherish, protect, and love you unconditionally. Kazutora's fingers glided along your skin, tracing the outlines of your body with a reverence born of both desire and worship. Lost in the frenzy of passion, the room became a sanctuary where time ceased to hold meaning. Each movement, each touch and shared breath, deepened the connection between you. The years of longing and unanswered desire melted away, replaced by the intoxicating presence of the person who had always held your heart. In this shared intimacy, Kazutora found solace and redemption. In your embrace, he discovered a love that could heal wounds and shield his fragile soul from the torment of his past. And as your bodies entwined, the flames of desire consumed them both, Your hands moved to feel every single inch of him you could reach, his neck, his shoulders, his arms. Fingertips that were feather light mapped every curve and plane of his body you could touch just as his did. As if trying to commit every single inch of him to memory. Were you blind and he mute you would know him by the feel of his very soul alone as it had always been between you two.

Nothing could, or ever would, hold a candle to him. Not when Kazutora was as bright as the sun itself. For all his past darkness he had always been your light, your comfort. It felt as if each graze of his hands set you ablaze in only the most pleasurable of ways. The fire of desire burned brightly within Kazutora as he reciprocated your fervent caresses, his body humming with anticipation and hunger. The intensity of your touch, swift and deliberate, sent shivers cascading down his spine, causing his pulse to quicken with fervor.

It didn't take long for you to crave more of him, to long for him like water, the desperate need to slake your thirst for him which had built up to a crescendo. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt moving to tug it off of him, his shirt slipped off his frame, pulled away by your eager hands, and the brief moment of separation only heightened the ache of longing between you. As your lips found his once more, the connection reignited, casting you both into a realm where time was irrelevant. "Love you s'much Tora." You murmured sweetly between your interlocked lips as small huffs and whines forced their way past your teeth and into your interconnected mouths

A symphony of sighs and whispers danced between your intertwined mouths, the subtle vibrations of your voice sending ripples of pleasure coursing through Kazutora. His skin tingled beneath your delicate fingertips, every inch of contact fostering a new depth of intimacy. With every brush against his chest, his breath hitched. The amalgamation of love, desire, and sheer need welled up within him, as if he were a vessel overflowing with the elixir of passion. In this electrifying moment, it felt as though he could not get close enough to you, his every sense consumed by the taste, scent, and sensation of your being. "Mmm, my love, my angel" he murmured against your lips, the words muffled by the shared heat of your mouths. His hands roamed your body with increasing urgency, seeking to memorize every curve and dip, just as you had done to him. The smoldering heat of his honey-colored eyes reflected the depths of his affection, staring into the windows of your soul.

The symphony of desire between you intensified, a chorus of sighs and moans woven into the fabric of your shared passion. Each fleeting moment of separation only served to fuel the hunger for more. Kazutora's chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, his body aching, yearning for the culmination of your desires. The two of you became entangled within a universe of love and raw sensuality. Lost in the shared ecstasy, you found solace and salvation in each other's arms.

Kazutora's body trembled under the trail of your hands, responding to your every touch with a mix of exhilaration and vulnerability. The need that radiated from you fueled the passion between you, rendering the room electric with desire. His skin tingled as your fingertips traced lines of fire across his form, igniting a wildfire of sensations and ardent longing. A soft growl of pleasure escaped him as your lips broke apart for a brief moment, only to reunite in a passionate collision. The taste of your breath, the sound of your murmured words seeped into his very core, eliciting a symphony of desire to reverberate through every inch of his being. He reciprocated with fervor, his lips molding against yours in a dance of overwhelming longing. Beneath your fingertips, the warmth of his bare chest welcomed you, a canvas on which the stories of your affection were etched. The connection between you grew with an intensity that defied explanation, a language that needed no translation. The room, now charged with anticipation, seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your intertwined bodies. As a chorus of soft whimpers and small huffs spilled from your lips, mingling with his own desperate sighs of pleasure, Kazutora's hands explored the expanse of your body with an unrestrained hunger. His fingers caressed the curves of your back, electrifying each inch of skin they trailed, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "My angel." he murmured against your lips, his voice threaded with a mix of adoration and longing. "I ache for you, yearn for the taste of your skin against mine." He said softly as clothes were shed, barriers falling away one by one, Kazutora succumbed to the intoxicating bliss of your touch, abandoning himself to the waves of pleasure that crashed upon the shores of his ravaged soul. Each breath, each movement, became an act of worship, a testament to the love that had endured against all odds. In the sizzling heat of your joined bodies, all doubts, insecurities, and the burdens of their past dissolved, replaced by a union born of profound affection and desire.

It didn't take long for you to find yourself with your back pressed into the cushions of the couch, with Kazutora tapping the tip of his hardened cock against your core which dripped with slick arousal that had built up from feverish touches. Your core aches, almost as painfully as your chest does because having him hovered over you like this is divine beyond imagination. All of the things you had never dared even dream coming to fruition in a single moment. “You'll take care of me, Tora?” You managed to practically whisper between soft breaths, his touch burned through you like a raging inferno. The walls of your slick wet heat flutter and tense seeking what he's yet to give as he once more runs the tip of his cock through your slick covered folds, testingly, savoring this moment. The room felt sweltering, the air heavy with anticipation and unspoken promises. Kazutora's honey-colored eyes bore into yours, filled with a mixture of intensity and tenderness as he positioned himself over you, his hardened length teasing your slick entrance. Every nerve in your body pulsed with desire, your core aching for him, craving the consummation of this union.

The weight of your question, laced with vulnerability and trust, hung in the air between you. Kazutora's gaze softened, the fire in his eyes mingling with a tenderness that could move mountains. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle yet possessive. "I'll take care of you, my angel." he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I'll protect you, cherish you, and ensure that every moment we spend together is filled with ecstasy and adoration." With those words hanging in the air, he pressed forward, the tip of his throbbing member parting your slick folds, the sweet friction causing a sharp gasp of pleasure to escape from both of you. He paused, savoring the exquisite tension, allowing you to accommodate him, to feel every inch of him as he gradually delved deeper into your wet, pulsating heat. Your bodies intertwined, Kazutora's movements slow and deliberate, as he relished in the sensation of being one with you, his body merging with yours in a symphony of pleasure. Building with each rhythmic thrust, deepening the connection between you.

The room became a sanctuary, a haven where nothing else mattered but the two of you, bound in a vortex of passion and love. The sensations overwhelmed your senses, the slick heat of your core gripping him tightly, driving both of you to the brink of ecstasy. As your bodies moved in a synchronized rhythm, the symphony of moans and gasps filled the air, a testament to the fervor that consumed you. Each thrust was a declaration of your shared desire, passionate, loving, and hungry.

The world outside stayed momentarily suspended, allowing you to revel in the intoxication of this shared desire. In the heat of the moment, the flames of bliss burned brightly.

The feeling of him pushing in, bottoming out your cunt almost torturously slow has your hands flying to cling to his shoulders. Moans, mewls, and soft whimpers of his name escaping from between your parted lips. The stretch feels overwhelming in the best possible way, because his thick member brushes along every single soft, spongey, pleasurable spot that lines the inside of your dripping wet core. You're drunk on him before he even truly begins thrusting. His leaking tip pressing practically into your womb over and over. "Tora love you, love you Tora. My Tora." The words were babbeled and soft between heated moans and whines each time his tip hit deep yet again. Kazutora's movements were measured, each thrust deliberate and exquisitely slow as he delved deeper into the depths of your throbbing cunt. The air became heavy with the sounds of your moans and mewls intermingling with the soft whimpers that spilled from his own lips.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders, fingers sinking into the muscles, as if anchoring yourself to him amidst the swirling sea of sensation. The depth and stretch enveloped you, he filled you to the brim with a pleasurable ache that bordered on euphoria. Each brush of the thick, pulsating member inside you sent sparks of ecstasy dancing along your nerves.Between heated moans and whimpers, the words of love and adoration tumbled from your lips, your voice a melody laced with devotion. They merged with the panting breaths and gasps that escaped Kazutora's mouth, their delicious intertwining creating a symphony of raw passion.

"my love," he whispered hoarsely, his voice blending with the rhythm of your shared desire. "You…you feel so right, so perfect. You were made for me." He practically growled the words as his thrusts began to grow more urgent, deeper, and faster, building a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume you both. The room spun and spun with the heady intoxication of your union, and you surrendered yourself to the wave of ecstasy on the horizon.As Kazutora's movements became a blur of pleasure. Every thrust was infused with a powerful intent, pushing you closer to the edge, to the release that awaited you both. Together, you danced on the precipice of passion, on the cusp of that would wash away all earthly worries all the years spent apart.

With each shuddering breath, your moans and cries danced through the air, an offering to the higher power that was Kazutora. His name slipped off your lips like a fervent prayer, a testament to the profound connection that existed between you. In this moment, he was everything, your love, your light, your universe.

As you came around his length the world around you blurred and faded into insignificance. Stars exploded behind your closed eyelids, shimmering fragments of ecstasy that illuminated your vision. Your body awash with waves of delight. Tremors wracked your form, your core convulsing with the aftershocks of your release. Your slick heat clung to him, embracing Kazutora's cock snuggly as he continued the steady rhythm of his thrusts, pushing you higher still. Far past your peak and bordering on overstimulation. Your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, evidence of the intensity that had consumed your bodies. His movements became effortless, gliding in and out of your trembling heat with a fluidity that spoke of deep familiarity and undeniable connection. Every tap against your tender cervix sent sparks of overstimulation and renewed pleasure shooting through your veins, amplifying your cries of his name, along with babbles of love and devotion.

As Kazutora neared his own peak, his movements became more frenzied, his thrusts deep and urgent. Whines and whimpers and a few spat curses flowing from trembling lips. With a final sharp growl of pleasure, his rhythm faltered as he came pumping you full of his hot sticky seed. Small whimpers fell from his throat as his cock twitched out its release inside of your plush walls.

In the aftermath of your climactic release, you lay entwined, panting and sated, the air around you heavy with the scent of passion and the profound connection that bound you together. With each blissful breath, you reveled in the aftermath of your shared desires, knowing that you had found a love that was unparalleled, a love that would endure through the tumultuous storms of life. Bathed in an ethereal glow that matched the euphoria coursing through both of your veins. Your bodies both trembling and weak from your post orgasmic haze but still clinging onto each other tightly. "Love you Tora." You managed to murmur in a half dazed voice, feeling entirely overstimulated and your mind a bit cloudy. Kazutora had laid his larger form against yours pressing soft kisses into the soft sensitive skin of your neck. "I love you my angel." You were his light, his love, and he would never let you go again.

[losingmymindrn]

You pull me in like the moon does the tide | coralbaird 1930s au

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Her back ached. Terribly. Her work was endless, and she always came home smelling like fish and seaweed. She was pushed into a pile of fish today, actually. Dead fish. A rancid smell, if too overwhelming. Coral just wanted to get home. Tugging at her collar, Coral stepped off the docks, the wet wood creaking under her weight. Now, women weren't technically supposed to be doing work at the docks, that was a man's job, after all. But she had earned her place. By force. She was paid less then her colleagues, but it was enough for a...

'COME NOW, WITNESS THE AMAZING COVEY!'

The bright lights on the sign nearly blinded her. The covey? What was that? Curious, Coral stepped closer, hands shoved in her pockets. "Ay, you wanna see 'em?" A voice called from behind her. She jumped and faced it. In front of her, stood a young man, a bit older than her, with light blonde hair and electric blue eyes, much brighter than her pale ones.

"Ah... perhaps. Who are they?" She asked the man. He smiled and pointed at the sign, where a woman covered in a red dress and colorful feathers stood with a guitar, singing into the mic. "The covey's are musicians, that one's name is Lucy gray. She has the smoothest voice I've ever heard. She's the lead singer." He said. Coral only nodded in response. "Seems... lovely." She said after a moment. "Now, I would love to go, but I don't got much to my name right now." She said with a disappointed sigh. If she had the money, she might've taken her little brother to go see 'the Covey.'

The man smiled at her. "I'm friends with Lucy gray, I can get you in." He offered. Coral turned to him, bewildered. "Really? Ya don't even know me!" She exclaimed. The man only laughed. "So? Everyone should be blessed with hearing her voice." Huh. Well, it would be rude to turn down such an offer... "Well. Alright." She agreed. He smiled at her. "Great, meet me at the Hob tonight, 6:50. And my name is Coriolanus, by the way." And with that, he was gone. Coral turned back to the sign. Well. Here's to a fun night tonight.

○~~~○~~~○

Like promised, Coral met Coriolanus outside the Hob. Her little brother, Mizzen, had wanted to go, but apparently he wore himself out at school today, making him damn near collapse on the floor. Coriolanus greeted her, a man right by his side. "Coral, glad you can make it. This is Sejanus, my friend." By the way Sejanus was looking at Coriolanus, it didn't seem like they were 'just friends.' Coral nodded at him politely. "Let's head in, we want good seating." The blonde ushered them in, paying for entrance, and practically dragging her into the hob.

They did find good seat, right up front. "It starts at 7, so do you want anything while we wait?" Sejanus asked from his spot next to Coriolanus. "Nah, I'm good." She declined, focusing on the stage. Coriolanus had ordered drinks for them, because even though she declined wanting anything, she couldn't help but get a good ol' Blood and Sand. Soon enough, the spot lights were on, focusing on the stage, and out came the covey. She watched as they came forward, each holding their instruments close. But she was encapsulated by the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Lucy gray.

She had red feathers stuck in her curly dark hair. Carnelian eyeshadow brought out her brown eyes, one too many layers of ruby lipstick on her full lips. And a matching red dress clung to her body, making it impossible to look away. Cheers and hoots and hollers rose up from the crowd, but she was to slacken jaw to join. "Hm, red theme tonight." Coriolanus mused.

"Why, hiya y'all!" Lucy Gray grinned at the crowd, a brighter than the sun grin. She got cheers back from the crowd. "Oh I know, I know! It's been a little since I've been up here, huh?" Cheers again. Lucy gray giggles, and Coral could swear it was the most beautiful sound, more so than the calming waves. "Well don't cha worry, I've got many songs to make up for it!" More cheers.

Lucy Gray starts her song, and gods Coriolanus was right. She has the smoothest, loveliest voice known to man. She was memorized. But that's when Lucy Gray looks her in the eyes. Time stops.

The waves crashing outside the hob, gone. The cheers and screams inside, none existent. It was just them. Those brown doe eyes make her legs feel like jelly, and she was grateful for sitting down. She was in a trance. And it seemed as if Lucy gray was in one too. She skipped a line, letting the crowd finish it. But much too soon, Lucy Gray pulled her gaze away from her, back to the crowd. And oh...

Coral thinks she just fell in love.

[poisonlove]

Misunderstanding

Prompt: Amidst the glitz and glamour of the entertainment world, Y/N finds herself entangled in a web of emotions. Navigating the captivating landscape of her newfound celebrity life, her heart becomes a battleground between two captivating co-stars, Emma and Jenna. The boundaries between fiction and reality blur, leading Y/N into a maze of confusion. With Emma's vibrant charm and Jenna's enigmatic aura, Y/N grapples with a choice that could redefine not only her on-screen performances but also the very fabric of her personal bonds. Blinding lights cast shadows on her feelings, leaving Y/N torn between two captivating forces in a world where fiction collides with reality.

Wordcount: 1.9 k

Pairing: Jenna ortega x reader

Author: sorry for this shit

It's amazing how a simple pastime can turn into an extraordinary opportunity.

My world, where I enjoyed imitating movie characters in online videos, was shaken by the surprising news from Tim Burton. The master of dark cinema personally chose me for a role in the second season of Wednesday Addams. The transition from a simple pastime to a set with a professional cast, a renowned director, and a real dressing room is something I could never have imagined.

I was nervous as I watched the cast of the first season, observing me with enthusiasm and joy, new faces to see and integrate into the plot. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights, taken aback by all this unexpected attention.

"Welcome!" Hunter, a guy with puffy brown hair and a perpetual smile, extends his hand to greet me. With a small smile on my lips, I accept the greeting and chuckle with embarrassment. "Thanks," I reply with flushed cheeks, not sure why I should thank him.

"Finally! I was tired of always working with the same faces," Joy intervenes with a smile on her lips. The girl had a drink in hand and raises it to her mouth, drinking its contents. "You're always friendly, Joy," George, a guy with curly hair and sweet coffee-colored eyes, smiles at his friend with amusement. "Welcome," he adds, smiling broadly.

"Hi!" My eyes turn to the sound of the voice, and I see a girl with short brown hair and piercing blue eyes. I smile nervously, recognizing Emma Mayers: the actress was notably more beautiful in person. "You must be my new love interest," she adds, widening her lips in a beautiful smile, blue eyes looking at me attentively. "Yes..." I chuckle weakly, nervous.

I can't deny that the fact that I'm her new love interest embarrasses me: I'm not entirely sure I can pretend to flirt or kiss someone for pretend. I shudder at the mere thought. "Well, because George was a terrible experience," she says, smiling mischievously, trying to downplay the situation.

"I love you too, Em," the guy called George intervenes, rolling his eyes at her comment. The blonde laughs, and the sound of her laughter makes me shiver slightly, increasing my nervousness and causing the blood flow to stop on my cheeks. "I know," Emma sticks her tongue out at George, and he imitates the gesture.

My attention is captured by a couple talking to each other, conspiring who knows what. The guy laughs softly and puts his arm around the shoulders of the shorter girl who looks at him with a small smile on her lips. I recognize the couple as Jenna Ortega and Percy White. I had heard rumors of a possible romance between them, but I thought it was nothing more than a rumor: I knew the media always wanted to meddle in the lives of the famous, spreading gossip and causing a stir on the web with sensational news. But the way they look at each other and touch makes me feel a lump in my throat.

Percy directs his gaze at me and smiles broadly.

"Hi!" The brunette takes his arm off Jenna's shoulders and walks towards me. "Welcome, we're glad to have a new addition to the cast," he says, smiling with genuine happiness and kindness.

Jenna's eyes are fixed on me, and my body is suddenly invaded by shivers and excitement, my heart beating wildly. The series' protagonist approaches with an enormous smile on her lips, and my knees wobble at the beauty she radiates: Brown eyes, dazzling smile, dimples on her cheeks, and freckles surrounding her face.

"Welcome," Jenna smiles genuinely and wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tenderly. I reciprocate the hug with surprise, sighing audibly at the moment I feel her perfume invade my nostrils. The scent of what seemed like vanilla made me smile timidly.

Jenna breaks the hug and smiles genuinely at me.

"Want to take a tour of the place?" Emma intervenes quickly, approaching us. Jenna looks at her co-star with curiosity and simply takes a step back, getting close to Percy, always glued to this guy. I sigh audibly and smile at the blue-eyed girl with enthusiasm, nodding. Emma smiles triumphantly and takes my wrist. "Can I join?" Hunter says eagerly, and George looks at us attentively.

"Me too," George says pouting, and Emma nods enthusiastically.

(...)

Three weeks have passed since my arrival, and despite having a great relationship with the entire cast, Jenna, Emma, and I were practically inseparable. My feelings are a whirlwind of chaos and insecurity, not knowing exactly which girl to choose. Emma, a beautiful and friendly girl who is always ready to help me when needed, or Jenna, the stunning brunette, kind, and affectionate, but suspected to be linked with Percy.

I tried talking to George and Hunter, and both advised me to make a decision before ruining the friendship between Jenna and Emma. I didn't even know if they felt the same, and the idea of choosing one of them scared me. The most selfish part of me suggested keeping both, but my heart didn't want to suffer and, above all, feel guilty.

"Hey," I divert my attention from my thoughts and unconsciously smile when I see Jenna standing near me. "Can I sit?" She asks curiously, chewing her lip nervously.

My eyes carefully watch her gesture.

"Sure," I say, taking off my sweatshirt and placing it behind my chair. Jenna adjusts herself and crosses her legs, her thigh pressing against mine. "Are you going over the scene?" She asks curiously, her eyes watching the script in my hands. Shivers run down my spine feeling the contact of her leg with mine, the warmth emanating from her body.

"Yes..." I clear my throat, and Jenna nods, smiling shyly. I immediately notice Jenna shivering from the cold, and I worry about her. "Do you want my sweatshirt?" I ask with genuine concern, and Jenna denies, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Sure? Are you cold" I raise an eyebrow in confusion, and Jenna sighs loudly, shivering once again. The brunette nods slowly, and smiling, I take off my sweatshirt and hand it to her. Jenna puts it on, looking incredibly adorable as it hangs loosely on her.

"Thanks." Jenna smiles genuinely and comes closer, resting her head on my shoulder. Emotion grows inside me, and I nervously smile. I look down, and I see Jenna's hand brushing against mine. Gathering courage, I grab it, intertwining our fingers. I feel Jenna's pulse racing under my touch, her arm relaxing.

"So..." Jenna says in a low voice, breaking the silence around us. "Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?" She asks with curiosity, looking at my script resting on my legs. Jenna's thumb absentmindedly caresses the back of my hand, making me shiver slightly. In reality, I'm confused because I don't know if I feel something for Emma, but in simple terms, I'm not in a relationship. "No... what about you? Are you with Percy, right?" I ask with my heart in my throat, nervousness running through my body. Jenna raises her chin and looks at me with confusion.

I was afraid to hear her answer. Jenna breaks the contact between our hands.

"Percy? No... we're just friends." She says, smiling broadly, and I suddenly feel stupid and relieved at the same time. "Oh... I thought so," I say with flushed cheeks from embarrassment, and Jenna smiles, shaking her head. "I know... the internet spreads rumors," Jenna murmurs, puffing irritably, "but... Percy and I have nothing," her eyes sparkle as she looks at me. I couldn't help but get lost in her gaze, two coffee-colored puddles analyzing me carefully.

"Mmmh..." Jenna clears her throat and looks away at her hands, "have you set your eyes on someone?" She innocently asks, playing with her fingers. Someone? Actually, two, but obviously, I couldn't say that. "Maybe..." I say hesitantly, and Jenna looks at me from the corner of her eye, an involuntary smile spreading across her lips.

"You?" I ask with embarrassment, and Jenna nods, making a face. The blood boils in my veins at the thought of Jenna being in love with someone else. "Oh... who?" I ask almost in a whisper.

Jenna looks up, observing something in the distance. George, Emma, and Joy walking side by side, laughing, and saying some nonsense. I follow her gaze, and disappointment fills my body seeing that she was looking at George. The curly-haired guy laughs softly while playfully pushing Joy. Emma, on the other hand, looks at me with interest, smiling broadly, her beautiful smile printed on her lips. Involuntarily, I smile too, and Emma keeps looking at me, bright and lively eyes.

"Do you and Emma go out together?" Jenna asks quickly, her gaze suddenly becoming serious "No," I say with confusion, and Jenna continues to look at me attentively. Occasionally, I could sense the brunette putting up a barrier with the outside world, but I really wished she would show herself as she was. I wanted to get to know her and make an impression. A part of me wanted to do the same with Emma but the latter was already quite extroverted, and it was easy to read her emotions. Jenna, on the other hand, was unreadable.

"Oh..." Jenna looks at me with embarrassment, and I smile at how adorable she is. "I know who you like," I intervene, and Jenna's eyes widen, her body stiffening at my words.

"You have to tell him... you know?" I say with a bitter smile. Jenna softens her gaze and continues to look at me, her thoughts and feelings unreadable.

Him? She says spontaneously.

"I'm sure George will feel the same," I say, smiling broadly, hiding my pain, and Jenna snorts with frustration. "It's not George," she says with irritation, making me blink in surprise at her reaction.

Emma walks towards us and stops in front of me. I look up, and Jenna looks away towards the floor. "Y/n, shall we walk a bit? We need to rehearse," Emma says, smiling broadly, her eyes curiously looking at Jenna. The brunette was silent, her hand gripping the chair arm tightly noting Emma's interest. "Um... sure," I say, smiling slightly, following Emma.

Let's start walking without a specific destination, simply enjoying each other's company.

"So... I noticed there's something between you and Jenna," Emma says, smiling weakly, walking alongside me. The girl with blue eyes puts her arms behind her back, walking absentmindedly.

"What? We're just friends," I say nervously, my heart pounding wildly against my chest. "But you like her, right?" She asks with a faded smile, her blue eyes looking at me attentively. "Yes," I say, not being able to lie to her. Emma lowers her gaze and looks at the tips of her shoes. "But I also like you... I'm really confused," I continue suddenly revealing a truth I wanted to keep hidden.

"I like you too... but Jenna is my friend," she says, smiling broadly, her eyes bright at the mention of her friendship with Jenna. "Jen is really introverted and hard to understand... I don't want to lose her friendship," she confesses, continuing to walk alongside me.

"Why should you lose her friendship?" I ask in confusion, and Emma rolls her eyes at my comment. "It doesn't matter," she says, laughing and elbowing me in the side. "So..." I say, and she quickly interrupts me, "I'm sure you like Jenna more, I think the on-set kisses confused you," she says with sadness, her blue eyes losing their liveliness.

"Emma..." I say sadly, feeling a void in my chest. "I told you she and Percy are not together, right?" She asks, and I nod, "but despite that, you still weren't sure," she says bitterly, looking at the floor. I feel a pang of pain in my chest and nod quickly, unconsciously knowing that Emma was right.

"Don't worry about me, I'll manage," Emma smiles genuinely and chuckles, but her eyes are dull.

"Okay," I say uncertainly, "so let's remain friends," I say almost bitterly, and Emma nods her head, "friends," she repeats weakly. "Sorry, but I have to go," Emma adds quickly, her steps increasing considerably.

I watch Emma walk away from me with sadness.

...

That same night, I found myself at a small party with the cast, Emma, and Georgie, dancing animatedly together. A part of me was sad, but at the same time, Emma had given me the green light with Jenna, and I had to move forward. I was slightly jealous of Georgie, I admit.

My eyes were on Jenna, who was leaving the party, and I unconsciously followed her.

As I open the door, the cold cuts my cheeks, and darkness surrounds us, a pleasant silence accompanying us.

"Do you need some fresh air too?" Jenna asks while lighting a cigarette; she was so damn sexy. "Yes, I love Hunter, but his trailer is too small," I laugh, and Jenna just stares at me.

"So... do you like Hunter? But I'm sorry because you know that he..." I start, but Jenna quickly interrupts me, smoke escaping from her lips. "Why do you assume it's a he?" she asks almost angrily, and a shiver runs down my spine at the intensity of her gaze. "Alright... so Joy?" I say, smiling slightly, sad but ready to support her. I had already lost Emma, and the chances of losing Jenna were skyrocketing.

"No!" Jenna throws the stub on the ground, looking at me with shining eyes. Her cold and exasperated response surprised me. Jenna sighs in frustration, crossing her arms to seek warmth. I hated not being able to read what she felt and thought; it was so damn difficult.

"Why do you care?" she asks defensively, and I sigh at her comment. "I want you to be happy," I confess, and Jenna stares at me without batting an eyelash. Her eyes soften, and she takes steps toward me. "It's you," she whispers.

I blink incredulously, and Jenna smiles genuinely. "Me?" I say with a smile on my lips, curious.

"Yes, damn it!" Jenna says, frustrated. "But I was afraid you liked Emma, and I care about her friendship," she confesses later.

"I like her... but I like you more," I admit, and she looks at me seriously, something incomprehensible swimming in her eyes.

"Am I not the second choice?" she timidly asks, the barriers she had finally broken ready to rise again to defend her emotions.

I shake my head; honestly, I liked Jenna from the moment I saw her.

Sensing the tension in the air, Jenna delicately bites her lips, then sticks out her tongue to moisten them. My eyes follow her with admiration, caught by the gesture exuding sensuality.

Red, full lips, so kissable.

Without warning, Jenna leans in, her presence intensifying the atmosphere charged with desire. With confidence, her lips meet mine in a long-awaited kiss. Jenna's strength and energy transmit through the contact, while the moment becomes charged with palpable passion. Jenna's hands firmly grip my shirt, and mine find her hips almost immediately, pulling her closer. During scenes, Emma used to kiss me tenderly, slowly, without invading my space too much, which was completely the opposite of what Jenna was doing.

Oxygen soon runs out, and we break the kiss, my nose brushing against hers, my eyes able to see the freckles around her face. "Wow," Jenna says, smiling widely, her breath slightly infused with alcohol. I smile too. Jenna wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me gently. "I'm glad you didn't do anything with Emma," Jenna says, smiling against my neck. I smile bitterly and let myself be carried away by the hug and her intoxicating scent. "Yeah," I say weakly, and Jenna tightens the embrace.

I had chosen Jenna, and there was no turning back.