#what i mean is: i want that old man to get railed into another fucking dimension. pathetic ass.

[pummelingbat]

i started relistening to The Magnus Archives yesterday (in honor of fall approaching.) i cannot be held responsible for my actions when Peter Lukas shows up and i hear his voice again.

#txt #i realize the intent of this statement is vague given Peter's divisive status. #what i mean is: i want that old man to get railed into another fucking dimension. pathetic ass. #old flame.... 2019 memories..........

[nishikiace]

Hi! I really like the sub! Strawhat post and i was wondering if you can write something similar with other characters, preferably shanks, mihawk and katakuri (and maybe kuma 👉👈) or any character you want!

Sub characters and amab reader please!

Up to you if you want to write it or not

Anyways have a great day!!

ty for this request! love these old men 😩 also added buggy, yasopp and benn to stay in this generation's theme 💛

sub! shanks, yasopp, benn, buggy, mihawk, katakuri and kuma

[minor spoilers for kuma, mihawk and katakuri]

Warnings: top!male!reader, dom!reader - amab anatomy

[masterlist]

Shanks

(public sex, spanking, overstimulation, blowjobs)

genuinely what has this man not tried - he is the leading spirit of adventure both in the grandline and the bedroom

he gets horny often and incredibly easily. you need to wear him out completely by taking risks like making him cum in public or spanking his ass red to completion when you're alone. he enjoys sex with you too much so to overwhelm him, you have to push him into feeling intense emotions and sensations. make him see god

but when you do (his back arching, eyes rolled back and body convulsing after yet another orgasm), he gets drained of his energy and collapses into you. that's when you can completely ruin him by taking it further than he is prepared to handle

definitely obnoxious and unashamed of being caught in public. tease his cock through his pants under the table and he'll excuse his red cheeks with the alcohol served at this bar. finger him stealthily with your arm wrapped around his back and he'll lean in and pretend to be a close couple. only you are able to hear the hitched breaths and suppressed whimpers

his blush matches his hair real cute

shanks will happily get on his knees for you and suck your dick with a grin... after riling you up for hours. he likes to tease and nip at the skin around your cock, and loves when you grab him by his red hair and push his face deep in between your legs. moans if he feels you come down his throat

he's all shaky laughter and breathless fun against you when you take him against the wall of a marine building, pushing into your thrusts and moaning with each slap of your hips into his plush ass

Buggy

(brat taming, degradation, rough sex)

buggy is either too arrogant in himself to have much experience, or a complete whore when he's pushed around. definitely both, if you push him hard enough

leading a petty grudge like his towards shanks, and a constant on-edge insecurity in himself, buggy expresses himself through anger and arrogance. when you initiate with him, he will definitely carry that outrage into sex with you and it will be as rough and mean as he dishes out to others

he's a brat through and through and will only respond to you if you degrade and discipline him. he wants to be pushed into a corner and dismantled by your words and hands. tell him how much of a disgusting slut he is, point at his hard, leaking cock at just a few insults and force him onto his knees for you

loud when you break past his walls. he starts with soft grunts when you circle his nipples with your mouth and tease his pulse point but he quickly devolves into whining and angry sobbing if you dig your fingers in his hole or abuse his swollen cock. he'll refuse to look you in the eyes and will turn his head to the side, too teary and humiliated by how weak he is for you

angrily moans when you slam your cock into his mouth after an argument

he'll be begging for you to go harder and crying for more when you finally fuck him. if you hit his prostate consistently he'll start sobbing

his makeup will end up smeared all over his face and bedsheets, lips swollen enough to be red on their own

he's just so pent up, please fuck his brains out and give him a release for his anger by railing him until he cums dry

Mihawk

(marking, waxplay, riding)

I can't imagine a moment where mihawk isn't dignified and regal. making him go against his nature, debauched, is something that turns him on endlessly

lick and suck under his jaw to feel that corded muscle stutter under your tongue. his untouched neck is so sensitive and his abs even more so. trail kisses down to his navel and you will feel his stomach shudder against your lips and his hips buck into yours

its a point of pride for him to allow you to mark him like this, he will moan quietly into your mouth at the thought of being defiled against his reputation

he loves riding you on his throne seat. the feeling of your hard cock inside him drives him crazy. for him, a lot of submission is about the psychological aspect - the idea of letting someone claim him on both the markless outside and his hot insides. guide his hips harder and make him feel an imprint of your dick inside his hole for days

alone in his castle, he is far more open to giving into you. fuck him slowly on his back while dripping hot candle wax onto his skin, leave red marks across his pale chest. mihawk will be shaking and choking back groans at the contrasting stimulation

Katakuri

(praise kink, sensory deprivation, shibari, breeding)

this baby is the most submissive of this list and incredibly shy about it, despite his size and power. he's flushed and lightheaded at the idea that you want him this way

his insecurities about his face, body and strength are always on his mind, so he's not very experienced. katakuri needs to trust you completely, and you have to reassure him with praise so you can wring out orgasm after orgasm like he deserves

he's so shy about letting you hear his moans and whimpers and constantly tries to cover his face with his hands. don't let him, tell him how beautiful and perfect he is with every thrust to his prostate

the best way to shut katakuri's mind off and fuck the trauma out of him is with a blindfold and restraints. tie him up gently, lick at his nipples, suck the head of his cock and he will writhe in the sheets and shake like he's being tortured

katakuri loves when you edge him for hours with your mouth and fingers, he gets so oversensitive and whiny. only allow him to cum when you finally fill his hole, because nothing makes him feel more loved than being bred (the charlotte genes..)

Kuma

(soft sex, hand kink, inexperience)

like katakuri, kuma's position in canon is so precarious that he would struggle to be vulnerable with anyone. he's gentle and kind but hardened by the world so you should give him safety in your arms, with soft touches and gentle intimacy

his hands are the most sensitive part of his body (they're paw pads!), so you will make him melt if you gently intertwine your fingers with his when you push close to him, or trace his palms with your fingertips as you caress his inner thighs

he really appreciates patience with his timidity. he loves when you set the pace and guide his inexperience and make him tremble with the new sensations all over his body

suck his fingers while stroking his cock and this man will gasp and tremble and leak precum everywhere. he gets so wet for you

Yasopp

(blowjobs, facefucking, rough sex, child abandonment kink)

the issue with yasopp is that he's similar to usopp - charismatic and full of tales and boasting. however, he can actually back it up, so rather than anxiety, this man is annoyingly cocky and arrogant

shut him up by pushing your cock in his mouth and fucking his face until he cries. he likes to play the game of pretending he's punished, but the way he ruts that wet spot of his pants against your leg says otherwise

what he needs is, to be bent over and his hole abused and stretched while he wails like a whore. the feeling of being so thoroughly dominated really humbles him

Benn

(control kink, breathplay, choking)

benn is fairly neutral on sex and has had a fair amount of experience at his age, but rarely allows others to take control

what he needs with you is to be pushed into submission like its a snarling dog fight - the thrill of losing control to you like this gets him breathless

lick into his mouth when he smokes and shotgun him. he loves the intimacy of sharing smoke and breathing into each others mouths. he wants your complete focus and for you to take control of the function that keeps him alive

the moment he feels your hand wrap tight around his neck, he moans roughly and his cock twitches in his pants. grind into his ass with your fingers pushing bruises on his neck to really make him arch his back

if you really turn him on, benn makes these deep, guttural groans that rattle his body and make his eyes roll into his skull when he's about to cum

kuma was a hard one because he's so🗿 but i hope you like it ♡

#top male reader #dom reader #male reader #bottom character #anime x reader #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #shanks #buggy the clown #benn beckman #yasopp #bartholomew kuma #kuma #charlotte katakuri #dracule mihawk #nishikiace s #nishikiace writes #nishikiace replies

[waevrs]

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ.

Pairings: ShieldAgent! Natasha x ShieldAgent!Fem! Reader

Summary: You're tired of always fighting with her, but you just can't help but feel an attachment to her. Even if it gets you hurt.

Warning: Y/N has powers like Venom, Angst, Fluff if you squint, Injury

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3

I dragged myself into the kitchen the next morning and poured myself some coffee. I hadn't got any sleep last night due to a certain redhead having the time of her life with a random guy she found on the streets.

"You look like shit." Tony remarked, also sipping on his coffee. Clint and Steve were also seated on the kitchen island with bags under their eyes. I guessed they couldn't sleep either, and that was saying something because they all slept on different floors than me and Natasha.

"Oh yeah? Blame that one on Romanoff." I quipped, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Blame what on me?"

Ah yes, the devil herself. The one responsible for the sleepless night. She walked into the kitchen as if she wasn't screaming the building down literally 5 hours ago. She had a baggy shirt on, definitely not hers, and boxers, also not hers. Her hair was a mess and she had the audacity to walk into the kitchen yawning.

"Uh, maybe the fact that none of us slept due to your screaming." Tony expressed. Natasha just simply chuckled and made herself a coffee.

"Tony, please soundproof her room." I suggested, turning to Tony, Steve and Clint.

"It already is soundproofed..." Clint muttered. Natasha laughed again. Is this woman serious?

"Okay then," I piped, turning towards Natasha. "The next time you decide to get railed, keep it down so the rest of us can sleep."

There was unadulterated venom behind my words, and I made sure she knew that.

"Since when does my sex life have anything to do with you?" She scoffed.

"Since we have a fucking mission Natasha! I hope you weren't fucked too hard because I am not slowing down for you!" I growled and slammed the mission file onto the kitchen island. Everyone in there looked at me in shock and Clint just smirked and took a sip of his coffee.

"She's got a point, you kn-" Steve began.

"Can it, old man." Natasha interrupted. Why is she mad? She literally kept the whole building awake and now she's mad? I don't understand her. I walked away, coffee in hand, and got ready for the mission.

☼

☼

☼

☼

Some time passed and we boarded the Quinjet, not before getting a lecture from Fury. Romanoff and I hadn't spoken a word to each other. Maybe that was for the best.

The mission was in another Hydra base. Although, this time it was to shut the place down. It was going to be more challenging because I had to do most of the fighting, due to Ms. Imgonnagetrailedbeforeamission limping everywhere.

After some walking, we got into the Hydra base. Using my powers, we slipped through corridors upon corridors of grey walls and floors. We were still avoiding communication, despite me literally carrying her through the halls. I don't know how we got to this position but she was on me with her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and I was holding onto her with one arm, so I could use the other to shoot my gun. I mean sure, to turn both of us into a shadow I needed her off of the ground but it started with me carrying her, bridal style, and now it evolved into this.

We came across a hallway where there were some Hydra agents patrolling and I brought us out of the shadows and went to put Natasha down. Her grip on me just tightened and she took my gun from the holster on my thigh and aimed it behind her. She shot 3 bullets without looking and they hit the agents vitally.

"Turn around I can't see." She ordered, finally speaking the first words to me since the morning. I obliged knowing she's the better shot. Still, I was confused as to why she didn't want to come down.

Natasha fired 2 more bullets at the 2 remaining Hydra agents that were left dumbfounded by her sudden attack. Their lifeless bodies hit the concrete floor with a thud.

"Am I warm, Romanoff?" I teased when she placed my gun back into my holster.

"Put me down." She deadpanned.

"What? I was just joki-"

"I said. Put. Me. Down." She reiterated. I let her down and she rolled her eyes and stormed off in a random direction. I followed her closely, not wanting to compromise the mission. Through the bland halls we walked, only stopping when we believed that we heard something. The floor was concrete so it hurt to walk on for a long period of time and I could tell that Natasha was getting uncomfortable too.

This place, this hallway in particular, seemed all to familiar to me.

And that's when it hit me.

Something was wrong about this place. This was the place where my vision occurred.

Danger ahead, stop walking.

"Natasha, stop. There's something wrong about this place." I realised. She simply scoffed and kept walking.

"Natasha. I'm serious. Stop."

Still nothing. She held her head high and continued walking as if you hadn't said anything.

"Natasha! Would you please just listen to me-"

Stop her now.

I didn't waste time in debating whether or not the voice was toying with me and lunged straight for Natasha, pulling her backwards towards where I stood previously.

Stand infront of her.

In a matter of milliseconds I switched our places so I was in front of her. That's when we heard it

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Get down!"

I pushed Natasha to the ground and held my arms out, trying to create a shield with my powers in the very short time slot that I had. I decided to cover my head with it and cover Natasha with my body. She opened her mouth to protest but-

BOOM!

Natasha's P.O.V I watched in horror as Y/N's unconscious body collapsed onto mine after the explosion. I blinked a few times and looked around, only now realising that the place was rigged. We only got this far due to sheer luck.

How could I be so stupid? I was too occupied with being petty from our argument that I didn't think to check anything.

"Y/N?" I shook her body a little but she did not reply, not even a stir. I touched her back to move her but froze when I felt a warm liquid slip through my fingertips.

I panicked a little and tried to contact someone from S.H.I.E.L.D.

"H-Hello? Romanoff to S.H.I.E.L.D." I muttered into the earpiece, trying to hide the panic.

"We hear you, your earpiece seems to be working fine-"

"Y/N is compromised. We need emergency evacuation." I interrupted . My mind was racing as I glanced down at the unconscious body laid down on my chest. I took a closer look at the wounds on her back and realised that the bomb was a pipe bomb. Pieces of shrapnel were impaled into her back and she was bleeding pretty badly. My gaze landed on her right leg, where a chunk was missing and the muscle was visible.

An abundance of footsteps echoed through the hallway, towards us. I wrapped my hands around Y/N's waist and pulled her up with me to try and walk in the opposite direction of the footsteps. I put her over my shoulder and ran towards another hallway. Her blood dripped from her wounds and onto my body.

"Moving towards the east side." I huffed into my earpiece. I turned the corner to be greeted by a group of agents, ready, aiming their guns at me and the body on my shoulder.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Y/N groaned groggily from my shoulder and reached for her gun. A quick sense of relief washed over me before I pulled out one of my guns and began shooting, keeping my other arm wrapped securely around Y/N's waist.

We both started shooting at the agents, with her covering my blind spot and me covering hers. I killed the last agent and continued moving in the direction I was going previously. Y/N shuffled a bit and moved down my body to try and stand up. She wobbled so I put my arms around her waist to support her.

"Nat, I think I was shot." She whispered. The fear in her voice was evident, she was scared she was going to die. I didn't have time to stop and check her so we kept moving towards the east side.

"Hey, I think you got hit too." She voiced with concern, tracing her fingertips over the bullet wound on my shoulder making me wince a little.

I turned another corner and laid her down against the wall. By now, the alarms in the building were blaring and Hydra agents were scouring the area for us. I ripped a bit of fabric from my suit off with my teeth and ripped it in half. I wrapped half around her bullet wound tightly to limit the amount of blood she was losing and wrapped the other half around her leg.

"You're bleeding too." She told me even groggier than last time, pointing towards my shoulder.

"Yeah, I know. You're just my priority right now." I said, my voice wavering due to my fear. I tried so hard to keep a straight face but I couldn't. For the first time in a long time, I felt genuine fear.

Y/N was going to bleed out if we didn't get help soon. And it'd be all my fault.

"Hey...don't blame yourself for this," She whispered, her entire body limp and just her hand coming up to cup my cheek.

"I-It's okay...I'm not...going to die."

"Romanoff, cover your heads." Tony warned through the comms. I pulled Y/N into me and covered her ears and her neck.

Y/N's P.O.V Nat pulled me into her and I relaxed into the crook of her neck, just inhaling her scent. She covered my ears and head with her hands and I tried my best to stay conscious. Maybe resting wasn't the best option. The moment was pure bliss until a hole was blown into the wall.

There stood Tony and Steve looking, or trying to look, like total badasses. Natasha removed her hands from my head quickly and put them on my back, putting pressure on my wounds. My head was fuzzy and my vision was blurry. I was fighting consciousness as Natasha whispered.

"I'm so sorry."

I felt myself get lifted out of Natasha's grasp and into muscular arms. Probably Steve's because, let's face it, Tony is not that muscular.

"Stay with us Y/N." Steve said, although it sounded more like a command.

He set me down in the Quinjet and Bruce started grabbing everything he needed. I felt the consciousness slipping so I decided to spill.

"Natasha's hit too, don't let her tell you otherwise." I flashed a weak, cheeky smile at her before finally closing my eyes.

#natasha romanoff #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x you #marvel cinematic universe

[flokali]

post!imposter au where everyone is soooo desperate for your forgiveness. honestly, seeing so many of the genshin impact characters get on their knees and beg and cry for you had a sick and twisted sense of pleasure coursing through your veins.

so imagine telling zhongli that you would give liyue another chance if he became your disposable little sex toy. and the geo archon is already hard beyond belief, many of his fantasies coming to life as you stepped on his hard-on without a trace of shame, harshly rubbing your shoe against it. he comes a fucking lot and you have to punish him somehow once his cum stains your bare skin. he doesn't even remember why he was there in the first place, he just wants you to ride him until his balls are empty or rail him until his hole basically takes the shape of your cock. slap his face, tell him how stupid he is for not being able to recognize you as the real creator as he sobs sorries pathetically under you, coming for the nth time that night.

and imagine how whiney venti would be once he finds out about this. you should be fucking him!! not that boring old man!! please!! and he can act like he's doing it *for the sake of mondstadt* all he likes but you and morax know better. especially when he's humping your leg like a crazed, air-headed dog. he'd honestly be so desperate for you- i mean, your forgiveness, that he'd basically do anything that you ask of him.

alternative idea: everyone recognized you as the creator the moment you arrived in teyvat and months later you started a new custom in which you put hand-picked characters in a giant room and order all the characters to put on a show with each other (imagine all the ships, hehe) until you can eventually choose the best amongst them and add them to your new list of toys.

Warnings: yandere themes, sagau, gn! and dom reader, smut, mentions of cum, sub! venti and zhongli, implications of past mistreatment, jealousy, ask to tag.

Literally speechless at how big brained this concept is, like it’s genuinely god sent. This isn’t particularly long but just know I’m going to think about this everyday until I die.

18+ UTC

Zhongli is immediately intrigued when he hears about a way for you to possibly forgive Liyue and its people, his heart still ached at the memories of your past treatment. He wondered how exactly it was he could possibly make it up to you, he’d be willing to do anything – he had told you so himself – but he never expected your request to be so lewd, nor did he realize how much he would like the sound of it either.

It’s uncharacteristic how fast he replies, even when it comes to you; a contract is a contract and he prides himself in always analyzing each and every single one he, himself, partakes in. Maybe, you tease, it’s because all the blood that normally circulated around his brain flowed straight down into his dick.

He had always been a bit shameful, some habits die hard; even the ones he’s had for thousands of years, even if it includes some from his younger and more, let’s say, aggressive youth. All this to say, Zhongli had always thought of what it’d be like to have sex with his beloved creator.

He doesn’t even remember how or when his clothes were torn off, the normally pristine suit he always wore was sullied with dust as he kneels in front of you, he can’t even remember when his hard on had grown so painful; all he knew was that your feet feel too good rubbing his cock. His face begins to twist into one of unrecognizable pleasure, his normally wise and pristine personality long since crushed under the intense bliss he was feeling in the moment.

It’s funny, you realize, how even when clothed you could feel the way he pulsated with every touch, his face was turning impossibly red as he let himself be toyed with, he couldn’t help the way his breathing began coming out as pathetic pants, you wondered if maybe this was something he’d always wanted; to become someone’s toy.

You doubted the shoes you were wearing were comfortable down there but he didn’t seem to mind as the wet patch in his pants grew in size and dampness, it was pitiful how easily worked up he was. Eventually, you let him take off his pants, which he does in a manner too sloppy to have come from a man such as Zhongli, and you son come face to face with his dick, and maybe it’s the sudden release from its confinement in Zhongli’s trousers, they always did appear to be quite tight, or maybe he had been close to shooting regardless, because soon enough you find splatters of cum in your skin. The pearly liquid is thick as you scoop it out from your arm and it’s not hard to look down at the archon with a questioning look.

You chuckle as you slowly remove your underwear and clothes; “Already coming, Mr Zhongli? I’m afraid you still have an awful lot to make up for…”

The news of your sexual randevouz with the Geo Archon travels quickly through the winds to the eager, and jealous, ears of Barbatos, the deity of Anemo. It’s as such that he immediately requests your presence in his humble region under the pretense of a much needed apology.

That is, until you arrive – soon enough he’s throwing himself at your feet, tears in his eyes as he begs for your forgiveness. Oh, how was he so blind? To hurt you was the last thing he’d ever dreamt of, he can’t even live with himself for what he and his people have done!

With faux tears, and an aching cock, he asks what could he ever do to receive your blessed forgiveness before bringing up what the wind had carried.

The minute you agree he’s back on his knees, desperately humping your clothed legs, he was so grateful for how revealing his Archon outfit was because it only took a few movements until his cock was free and he could excitedly rub himself against your skin.

“I-I just can’t-t believe you’d go to that – oh, ah! Fu~ck! – that old hag first! He’s s-suchgh… a brute with no brain…!”

Venti makes sure not to cum on you nor your clothes, completely and utterly focused on not commuting the heinous crimes his fellow archon had given way to. It’s incredibly hard to part his cock from your body but he makes sure to angle his cum in a way that will ensure your precious skin is clean.

“S-see? ‘M nothing like that- hmm?” You decide to just kiss and shut him up, “Ahh~ My lord, hah, if you wanted to kiss me s-so badly… you could’ve just said so… heh.”

He lets you unrobe him, in fact, he relishes in the way you undress his form; the intimate way you tug and pull at his clothes is so enchanting to him, he’s basically panting by the end.

“Oh no,” he moans, letting you push him on the marble table, “what will you do to me? Don’t tell me you’ll defile~ No! Don’t leave, please! I was just joking, your grace, you know I want you, I want you so bad… just, use my body~ Please?”

By the end of the night, his beautiful voice is but a mere whisper, his throat long since hoarse from screaming and moaning.

“Ha-ah!” Tears swell in his pretty, round eyes, “Ye-esh! Thankyouthankyouthankyou- hghhh…!”

Now, all you have to do is see if Ei will take your offer too.

#๋࣭ offerings #๋࣭. hidden devotee #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli #yandere venti #yandere morax #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere #yandere au #sagau #yandere sagau #zhongli smut #venti smut #yandere harem #yandere male x reader #male yandere

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor Pt. 7

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Your Hunger Games strategy goes off the rails when a friend comes to you with a plan

Part 6 | Part 8

“Look kid, this isn’t like last time, you’re not on a level playing field here.” 

Katniss crossed her arms as she leaned back into the couch of District Twelve’s Capitol penthouse. 

“These are Capitol darlings, lethal weapons, murderers one and all, gathered neatly together for an All Stars round. Of these stars, you are space dust. Recency may be on your side, but little else. They are older, stronger,” 

Peeta effectively interrupted, “Who are they?” 

“What?” Haymitch blinked. 

“Take us through them. Surely you can offer some insight, after knowing them all these years,” he shrugged. 

“I’ll ignore the fact you just called me old,” the older man walked off to grab the tablet that controlled the TV. District by district, he took his tributes through their competition. 

When he got to District Four, Katniss beat him to it, “Finnick O’Dair, right?” 

“Yes,” Haymitch confirmed, “he won his games at fourteen. Youngest ever. Extremely humble.” The image of the tall, bronzed man sauntering across their screen seemed to disagree. 

“You’re kidding,” she deadpanned. 

“Yes! I’m kidding,” Haymitch snapped. “He’s a,” he dramatically moved his hair, “peacock. A total preener. But he’s the Capitol Darling, they love him here. Charming, smart, and very skilled at combat. Especially in water.” 

“What about weaknesses?” Peeta leaned forward. 

“One,” Haymitch confirmed, “Mags. She was his mentor and basically raised him. If he’s trying to protect her in any way it exposes him.” 

“A guy like that has to know she’s not gonna make it. I bet when it really comes down to it he won’t protect her,” Katniss shrugged. 

“Well, Katniss,” Haymitch said, “I just hope when she goes she goes quickly. She’s actually a wonderful lady.” 

Katniss blinked guiltily at his statement, and Peeta leaned back into the couch. 

“But if he does ally with her it’ll make him less of a threat,” Peeta offered. 

Haymitch let out a sour little laugh, “Oh, we’ll get to his allies.” 

Peeta winced when Haymitch later marked the intimidating young woman from District Seven as one, and was surprised at the lack of others. 

By the time he got to Ten, Katniss was antsy, “Can we wrap this up?” 

“Sure if you want to ignore a huge fucking threat,” Haymitch shrugged. 

“It looks like a strong gust of wind would blow him over,” Katniss complained. 

“Not him,” her mentor snapped, clicking forward, “Darla Kennedy.” 

Their attention went back to the screen when another young woman appeared, stepping forward and giving an assured nod to the cameras. 

“Darla is young, well connected, and deadly with a whip,” Haymitch began. 

“Who’s that behind her?” Peeta interrupted, noticing the woman peace keepers were escorting off stage.  

“Well, since you mentioned it,” he rewinded the feed to when the young women were standing next to each other. “That,” he pointed to the one they weren’t familiar with, “is Darla’s mentor. One of the most popular tributes to ever come out of the games, and maybe the best mentor I’ve ever met.” 

“How do you mean?” Peeta pressed.

“She saved Darla’s life about four times during her games with just wit and a warm smile,” he shrugged, “if she wanted a sponsor there’d be twenty knocking down her door. Kid’s a magnet, and a brilliant strategist. Not to mention, a great drinking buddy,” Haymitch finished. 

“Not helpful,” Katniss griped, and the man rolled his eyes. 

“Point is, if you don’t think she’s calling on every favor she’s owed and pulling every string in her arsenal to save that girl, you’re dead wrong. Darla’s practically all she has left,” Haymitch elaborated, “but both Ten ladies are good friends with Finnick.” 

“Finnick?” Peeta asked, surprised. 

“Not that he’d need the help with sponsors,” Haymitch shrugged, “but no doubt it’ll be a scary alliance. One you might consider joining.” 

“No way,” Katniss scoffed. 

“Like I said, I’m friends with their mentor, I could hook you up,” he doubled down. 

“Not interested,” she grunted. 

“Look,” Haymitch sat on the coffee table across from them, “you’re starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years.” 

“That just puts us higher on their kill list,” Katniss snapped, crossing her arms. 

“Do it your own way,” Haymitch shrugged, “but I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is gonna be to hunt you down. Both of you.” He left the room before his words even sank in. 

————————————

Your fingers twitched while you waited for Darla to wake up. Sometimes you cursed yourself for being an early bird, but after your games you couldn’t help but get up with the sun. Some lasting self-preservation instinct had always been your theory. You had a plan for her, not that she’d like it. 

Shuffling from the hall caught your attention, and you perked up to see her walking toward the breakfast table half-awake. 

“Morning,” you said, quickly. She just grunted as she poured herself some coffee. “I want to run something by you.” 

She took a sip of coffee, placing pastries from the breakfast spread onto her plate. When she realized you weren’t still talking she looked up, and gestured for you to go on. 

“I want you and Finnick working together,” you started. 

Darla interrupted, mouth full of croissant, “Obviously, that was just a given.” 

You clenched your jaw a bit, but barreled on, “and I want the two of you working with Johanna and-“ 

“No!” She cut you off, nostrils flared. “That’s a recipe for disaster, and you know it.” 

“It’s the best plan I’ve got,” you fired back, “the Capitol knows the two of you were together. They’ll eat your dynamic right up, and keep you alive long enough for you to keep making good television.”

She looked indignant, but you doubled down, “Johanna is a strong fighter, and with Finnick distracted protecting Mags you’ll need to beef up your alliance. If Blight comes with her, the five of you can square off evenly against the careers.” 

“We’re sure Finnick won’t want to join the pack?” Darla raised a brow, and you blinked at her in surprise. 

“You really think he’d do that?” You asked, voice light. Would he? You were so certain of his character you hadn’t even considered the possibility. But the games always changed things- changed people. When she made a face at you, you shook it off, “You know he loves Mags, he wouldn’t just leave her. And the careers are too pragmatic to take on someone they see as dead weight.” 

“Good thing I’m not pragmatic, then,” Darla said wryly, taking a bite of a fruit tart. 

Pragmatic, no. Entertaining, yes. Watching Finnick care for Mags would melt hearts across the nation, and they wouldn’t be able to turn the cameras away from two bickering exes. Putting on a show was the first step to a one way ticket out of the arena. You just didn’t want to think about which one of your friends would be the one to take it.

Your strategy started as soon as the train pulled into the station. Walking onto the platform with an arm over Darla’s shoulder, and big smiles on both of your faces. If there was ever a time to appeal to the audience it was now. Normally you’d shy away from questions, but with a few cameras you were eager to assert your tribute early. 

“We’re always happy to visit the Capitol! You all make us feel so welcome here!” Darla assured a reporter. So she had taken your strategy briefing to heart.

“While we wish we could be seeing you under better circumstances,” you jumped in, “we’re certainly going to make the most of our time here. You might just get sick of seeing us!” You laughed with the reporter, touching her wrist lightly. 

From there you were off to the races, starting a campaign of phone calls in the car. Scheduling an appearance on daytime TV to talk up Darla, conversing with the connections you’d made over the years, and making appointments for drinks or coffee occupied your afternoon. 

Darla took the time to settle in to the space, flicking through magazines on the couch as you talked your throat dry. After hanging up on another Capitolite, you scratched some more notes on the meticulous schedule you’d started. 

“Time for a break?” Darla asked from the other room after a minute of silence.  

“Time for a drink,” you complained, but caught a glimpse of the time. “Shit!” 

“What?” She asked as you ran to the room you’d stayed in during your annual visits. 

“I’m meeting Mrs. Montgomery for dinner!” You shouted back. 

“Who?” 

Within ten minutes you stumbled back out in a short, but stylish cocktail dress. 

“How do I look?” You asked, shoving your feet into a small pair of heels as you smeared lipgloss on your mouth. 

“Stellar,” Darla assured you, not bothering to look up from her magazine. 

You were busy clipping your hair up, assessing your appearance in the microwave’s reflection. “Really?” You fretted, finally turning toward her. 

“Absolutely!” She said enthusiastically, still not looking up. 

Your shoulders dropped, “Fuck off!” Grabbing your purse, you headed for the door. 

“Love you too! Thanks for all you do for-“ 

The slamming door cut her off, and she snickered. 

Mrs. Montgomery was over the moon that’d you’d asked her out to dinner, and recommended her favorite spot in the city. Luckily it was only a few blocks away, and with some extra incentive your driver floored it. You walked into her embrace right on time, and successfully reminded her of how much she adored you for an hour.  

Long ago you had learned just how much Capitolites liked to talk about themselves, and you used it to your advantage more often than not. Questions like, “How are your students? I so regret I haven’t been able to visit recently!” Were unbelievably well received, and further endeared you to the very wealthy woman who sat across the table. 

Finally, she came to address the elephant in the room, “I’m sure it’s hard for you to be here under these circumstances.” 

You nodded, “It is. This is my home away from home, but I can’t help but worry for Darla.” She nodded sympathetically, you had her hooked, but it was time to reel her in, “She’s so so capable, and I know she’ll go far, but I need her to come home.” 

Mrs. Montgomery reached across the table for your hand, “We’ll be happy to sponsor Darla.” She spoke on behalf of herself and her ultra-rich husband, who you’d have the displeasure of meeting as a client. 

“It would mean so much to me to have yours and Mr. Montgomery’s support. Please tell him I asked after him, by the way,” you squeezed her hand gently. You might come to regret it later, but what was the point of being forced to have a roster if you couldn’t put them to good use. The man was richer than God, and had requested your company on multiple occasions. An appeal to his wife and to him, though indirectly, would go far. You could face any consequences later. 

You paid for dinner yourself, though Mrs. Montgomery did protest, earning even more points towards your cause. A warm goodbye hug marked your departure, and soon enough you were B-Lining to the hotel bar in the lobby of the training center. 

—————

“If it isn’t my favorite District Twelve victor,” an airy voice pulled Haymitch’s attention from the glass of bourbon he’d been swirling. Pleasantly surprised to see you, he turned the futuristic stool next to him in your direction. 

“Well, have a seat, your highness,” he invited, and you settled in at the bar. “What are you drinking?” 

“Surprise me,” you set your purse on the counter. He slid you his untouched glass of bourbon. “Lazy,” you complained, before taking a sip. 

“You’re just the gal I’ve been wanting to see,” a small smile spread across his thin lips and raised alarm bells in your mind. 

“Why’s that?” You asked cautiously. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he stood from his chair, but you shook your head. 

“Let’s not,” you weren’t aiming to be associated with Twelve right now. If Capitolites saw the two of you on the street and got to talking, it could be bad for business. Katniss and Peeta made for a good show, but with your finger on the pulse of the Capitol, you could tell when Snow was displeased. That wasn’t an obstacle you currently needed in your way. 

Haymitch put his hands up in surrender, “Then I’ll mix you something better.” He winded around to the other side of the bar. Stopping in front of you, he snatched the glass of bourbon back and polished it off. Where the bartender had run off to, you couldn’t say. 

“What do you want?” 

“Your ear,” he crushed some mint at the bottom of a new glass. “I just don’t want you to waste your efforts.” 

Your brow furrowed, he was crazier than you thought if he was asking you to back off, “I spend my energy carefully, thank you.” 

“Then spend it on this,” he plopped a mojito in front of you, “your girl makes it out and so does mine.” 

You raised a brow, inspecting both him and your drink, “You know that can’t happen.”  

“If you pretend we’re flirting while I lean in to tell you the plan it can,” you blinked for a second before meeting him halfway. 

“A transport is coming from District Thirteen to pick up Katniss and anyone aiding her from the arena. They want her for the rebellion,” Haymitch breathed into your ear. Pretending you hadn’t just heard literal whispers of treason involving a long-dead district was difficult, but you managed to swallow your shock. 

“When?” If true, this would change everything. Your moves would need to incorporate Katniss and Peeta, your endgame would be totally different. But first you had to determine the chances of this going wrong. 

“I don’t know yet,” Haymitch whispered. 

“Give me something here,” you pleaded, “I can’t work with nothing. How could I trust a pretty promise?” 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he warned, and you angled your head enough so he could see your glare. “You know very well I’m too chicken to take anything less than a sure bet.” 

“You’re awful at gambling, and you’re a reckless old drunk,” you snarked quietly back, this wasn’t a risk you could take lightly. 

“I’m telling you this because I need your help, and Darla’s, and Finnick’s, and Johanna’s,” he went on, but you cut him off. 

“You’re assembling a team of political defectors?” 

Haymitch’s nostrils flared, but went on before you could protest further, “We need to keep Katniss alive until Plutarch can get her and her allies out of that arena.” 

“Plutarch?” That caught you off guard, and you reeled back. Your volume clearly bothered him, though the bar was empty. Haymitch clapped a hand over your mouth. 

“Yes,” he confirmed quietly, scanning the room, “though this is all meant to be secret!” 

You smacked his hand away, “Then what is my part in your lovely little treason plot?” 

“You need to recruit the others,” Haymitch nodded. 

“Excuse me?!” 

“Well, as helpful as you’ll be pulling strings from behind the scenes, Katniss needs allies in the arena,” he said. 

“You really think they’d commit treason because I asked nicely?” You were skeptical. 

“Yes,” he nodded, and you gaped. 

Shaking it off, you kept pushing, “What makes you think they’ll work with her? What makes you think she’ll work with them?” 

“She doesn’t know about this,” he said sharply, “and she can’t. All they have to do is not kill her, and eliminate those tributes who might.” 

“The careers, then,” you tilted your chin up. 

“Bingo.” 

You took a sip of the now slightly watered mojito, “So what does she know?”

“What you did when you won,” he offered, “shoot to kill, play to win.” 

“Will she take any allies?” You asked, taking a deep breath, “You know that’d make things easier.” 

“I’m working on it,” he shook his head. 

“Yeah, that’s a no,” you huffed a laugh, astounded by the turn of events. Never in a million years would you have seen this coming. You knew Katniss had stirred something up, but had not foreseen a full fledged rebellion on the immediate horizon. 

“She needs time,” Haymitch insisted, “Peeta will help her see the logic behind strong allies.” 

“And how much does he know?” You set your glass down with a clink. Haymitch just shook his head. Sighing, you barreled on, “I don’t like this, you know?” 

“I know,” he nodded, eyes clear and serious. You weren’t sure you’d seen him quite like this before. “But you’ll do it. You don’t want to have to choose between Finnick and Darla.” 

Tightening your grasp around the glass, you ran your tongue across your teeth. Fuck if he didn’t have you pinned. If there was even a slight chance you could save them both, you’d take it. Just when Haymitch had realized how deep your affection for Finnick ran, you had no clue. Suddenly, you hoped you weren’t a chatty drunk. 

“Your lives will all be better for it,” Haymitch said, “we’ll all be free.” You met his gaze head on, and were surprised to find hope lying in them. 

“I’ll talk to D tonight,” you nodded once, “and I’ll get to Fin and Jo.” Haymitch’s shoulders sagged with something like relief. When you clocked Peeta walking in from the other side of the room, you knew it was time to wrap things up. You leaned in close, again. 

“But don’t think I’m doing all your dirty work, Old Man,” you said lowly, with a coy grin, “I’m sending them your way!” You planted a quick kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a lip stick print. Quickly grabbing your purse, you sprung off your stool. 

With some manufactured pep in your step, you walked towards the blond boy. “Don’t let him fix you a drink, Peeta,” you said, conversationally, “for a drunk, he’s piss poor at it!” The last part was directed at your old pal, who’d now placed the lot of you in a precarious spot. 

“I missed you too, Sugar!” He yelled back, wide grin on his face as you sauntered toward the elevator. 

Peeta looked at him, amused, but skeptical, “What’d she want?” 

“A piece of this!” Haymitch gestured dramatically toward himself, and picked up the glass you’d left behind. Polishing it off, he choked a little at the taste. You’d been right, of course, he was a little rusty at bartending. 

——————————

You tugged at the shoulder of Darla’s tribute outfit. When you’d suggested leather to the stylist, this wasn’t what you’d meant. Skin tight, black patent leather reflected sunlight into your eyes. You let your hand come to your brow as you shook your head. 

“What?”

You raised a brow at the stylist, one of Darla’s.  

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“You don’t think it leans a little… kinky?” You shrugged, frustrated. 

“Well, you said leather,” the stylist defended themself. 

“And you took that as BDSM?” 

Darla threw her hands up in the air at your comment, tired of being examined, and wandered off. 

You sent the stylist away before they could argue any further. This parade was already a mess. Your plans to put Darla on horseback, to harken back to her first parade, were ruined by Darby’s apparent inability to ride a horse. There was no way you could put her on horseback if those poor creatures were pulling a cart as well. You pet one of the horses that would be pulling the Ten tributes, and the action calmed you a bit. Only, your peace was disturbed when you saw Finnick putting the moves on Katniss. 

Of the ways to piss off the standoffish girl you’d been charged with helping protect, he had to pick this one. It took about ten seconds for you to march over and fix it. 

“I’m sorry you had to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you,” you overheard. His voice oozed with sarcasm and you rolled your eyes. 

“Is this strange man bothering you, Katniss?” You didn’t wait for a response before dragging him off by his ear. 

“Hey, now,” he complained, but kept at your side. “Peeta,” Finnick tried for a dignified nod as you passed him, but came up short. 

“Finnick,” he nodded back, gaze turning to you. 

“Bye, Peeta!” You waved with your free hand. 

“See ‘ya, Sugar,” he waved back, kindly. 

Finnick planted his feet, freeing himself in an instant, “Sugar?!” He stood to his full height and shot the Twelve tribute a sour look. You rolled your eyes and started dragging him by the wrist instead. While you were going to correct Peeta, you no longer saw a point. 

“Sugar?” Katniss questioned too, a skeptical look on her face. 

“Is that not her name?” Peeta was confused. “That’s what Haymitch called- oh,” he seemed to have answered his own question, and Katniss let out a small laugh. 

“What was that?” You asked Finnick, when you’d finally pulled him to a secluded area. 

“What? I was just being nice,” he defended himself, about to pop a sugar cube in his mouth. You plucked it from his hand and tossed it over you shoulder. Finnick blinked. 

“So I was trying to sus her out,” he shrugged, “big deal. If the Capitol finds out their romance is a lie, their support goes up in flames… like her little dresses.” 

You rolled your eyes. If you were still playing to win, you would’ve liked his angle, but as it was, you had to steer the ship back on course. “Play nice with her, would you? I’m working on something.” 

“You’re working on something that includes the girl on fire?” 

You grabbed his wrist, “Keep it quiet and come find me later. Find Haymitch too!” Sensing the parade was about to start, you turned to go. 

“Some greeting,” he complained, moodily. You stopped in your tracks, and turned again to face him. 

“Did I forget to say hi to you and your abs and your skirt?” You asked facetiously.

“You did” he nodded, “we were offended.” Rolling your eyes amusedly, you stepped up close to him. 

“Hello Finnick,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Hi Finnick’s abs,” your gaze moved down as you went, “hi Finnick’s skirt.” You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips as you looked back up at him. “Happy?” You asked. 

“Very,” he nodded, soundly. 

“Good,” you nodded back. 

 “I missed that smile.” He said lowly, leaning in a bit. You were really fighting against your grin, now.

“It missed you too,” you said, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Really?” His eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. 

“Don’t you have a populous to charm?” You tilted your head.

“I’ve got a you to charm, first,” he blinked, innocently. When he reached out to tug on a strand of your hair, you’d had enough. 

You lightly swatted his hands away and skittered back, “Go! … Do your parade prep,” you sputtered. 

Finnick tried to conceal his laughter at your reaction. He just loved to see you flustered. “If you insist,” he bowed his head and began to trot off. But he couldn’t resist throwing a melodic goodbye over his shoulder and taking one last glance to see you hurry off. 

————————————

Finnick wouldn’t see you again until later, though he did try. He eventually found you at a party that night, a young Capitol socialite you were both familiar with was throwing a celebration in honor of the games. 

When he saw Darla tearing up the dance floor, he had no doubt that you were behind the appearance, and started scanning the rooms in the penthouse. Finally, he found you hidden away in a quiet spot, typing away on a tablet. 

Hard at work securing sponsors, no doubt. If he was lucky, he’d be reaping the rewards of Darla’s 101 sponsor gifts. Maybe you’d even deign to send him a little something. He called your name to pull you from your work. 

You looked up from your tablet, curiously. His hand tensed. When did you start wearing glasses? How did they make you look even more- 

“Finnick?” You arched a brow. 

“Yup?” He said, shoving both hands in his pockets. 

You blinked at him from your spot on a couch, “Spaced out there for a second?” 

“Yup,” he nodded. You rose to meet him when you noticed he wasn’t moving to sit beside you. He watched the slinky black dress graze your thighs as you walked. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yup,” he said, a little breathy. 

“Okay,” you said, skeptically, “So in terms of-“ 

“Sorry,” he interrupted, swallowing, “when did you start wearing glasses?” 

“What?” You asked, not quite following his train of thought. 

He inched closer and adjusted the frames on your nose as you blinked up at him, “When did this become a thing?” 

“I-“ you floundered. Was he blushing? 

“Okay, lovebirds,” Johanna breezed into the room. You jolted and Finnick snatched his hands away from your face in surprise. “Wrap it up, I want to hear this brilliant plan of yours.” 

She directed the last part towards you. You had found her earlier and told her essentially the same thing you’d said to Finnick. Johanna was surly, sure, but had a soft spot for you. She’d won the year after Darla, and you eventually took her under your wing as well. Not in time to warn her to take Snow’s threats seriously, but soon enough to comfort her before she could spiral too badly. 

You tried to shake off the confusing last few moments, “Alright, well, marketing it as my plan was maybe a little disingenuous.” They both seemed confused at your words. “But if it’s the plan I think it is it’s a plan I can get behind,” you rushed out

“Are we throwing a surprise party? What the hell are you talking about?” Johanna asked. 

“Look, I,” you did a quick glance around the room, and motioned for them to follow you. They both did, but it only further soured Johanna’s mood. When you found a private enough corner, you told them what Haymitch had told you. 

“So what? We have to protect pretty little princess for a free ticket out of here?” Johanna spat.

“Basically,” you nodded. Looking over at Finnick, you tried to gauge his reaction. He hadn’t said anything, and still seemed deep in thought.

You knew neither of your friends were fond of the Capitol. They had both lost more than they’d care to admit to these people, but you couldn’t begrudge them for trying to think this through. You’d spent a few hours doing the same before you brought it to Darla last night, and she had to sleep on it. 

“Look,” you tried again, “the reality is, she probably won’t ally with you. I still think the smartest thing to do would be to bring both your district partners and Darla into an alliance of five. If you can manage to knock out some threats to her, you can bide your time until the free plane ride.” 

They both seemed to relax a bit at that, but there was still some hesitance. “You really think throwing Darla and I together is a smart move?” Johanna asked smartly. 

“I don’t take this lightly,” you said with an air of scolding, “I’m trying to keep you safe. Right now, the only way I know how is asking you to watch each others backs in the arena while I watch yours from here. Can you trust me to do that?” 

“Yes,” Finnick chimed in seriously, speaking for the first time in minutes. 

Johanna was silent for only a few seconds longer, “Yes. But don’t expect me to be nice to her.” 

You weren’t quite sure if she was talking about Katniss or Darla, but either way it didn’t surprise you. You only shrugged at her before she walked away. 

“So,” you turned casually back to Finnick, “where were we?” You gave him a quick once over, and he seemed to tense up. 

“I think I might turn in,” he nodded quickly, brow furrowed. When you titled your head and shot him a confused glance he barreled on, laughing awkwardly, “Big day tomorrow, super tired, goodnight!” He took smell steps backward with every word before practically bolting. 

He breezed past Darla, face a little flushed. She smirked a little at his quick pace, and shook her head as she approached you. “What was that about?” She laughed. 

“Beats me,” you shook your head, confused and a more than a little disappointed at his departure. After all, you hadn’t seen him in a few months. Most of your phone calls had circled back to the quell, and you would’ve liked some time together. At least the escape plan had made you more optimistic about your chances of seeing him again. 

————————————

“Answer me this,” Darla’s voice startled him the next day at training. “Why’d you leave the party in a rush?” 

“Sorry?” Finnick remembered it well, but in the light of day was better able to keep his cool. Damned glasses. 

Darla rolled her eyes, “Why don’t you tell me after I kick your ass?” She gestured toward the mats set up in an alcove and started walking that way. He followed her lead and took on a fighting stance. 

She started to throw out guesses as he dodged her jabs. “Indigestion?” He blocked a punch. “Had to vomit?” Blocked a kick. “Left the oven on?” Sidestepped a hit. Her barrage continued until he swept her legs out from under her. 

Darla landed on the mat without complaint, more concerned with him than with training. “Then what sent you running from my lovely mentor?” 

Finnick offered her a hand up, but she swept his legs out too. Lying in opposite directions on the floor, he made his first verbal defense. “What, you don’t get sick of those parties?” 

She propped herself up on her elbows and sent him a glare. It was intimidating too, but Darla had learned from the best. “Cut the crap, I know there’s a reason. No way she could fathom being rude to you, so that’s out.” Finnick rolled his eyes as sat up. “And she’s got no game so no way she made you blush.” 

“Come on,” he said, defensively, pushing to his feet, “don’t insult her.” 

Darla perked up at this, and accepted the hand he had once again offered, “Wait, it was really her that made you blush? What on Earth did she say?”

“Drop it, D,” he warned, stalking off. 

“I am so getting to the bottom of this!” She chirped, smiling at his departing figure. 

Darla gave him some space for a while, flitting around the various stations. The practical skills called out to her, no use practicing with weapons when she was already as good as she’d get.

When she saw Finnick bothering Katniss she made her way over to intervene. He’d tied a noose around his neck, the cheeky bastard. Just when he held it out for Katniss to take, Darla snatched it and pulled him away. 

She heard him wheeze and let up on her grasp. “Fuck,” Finnick choked out as loosened the rope from around his neck. “Darla!” He scolded her once he was properly free. 

“Don’t antagonize the girl,” she said, stopping once they were out of ear shot, “and don’t act like you’re not spoken for.” 

He didn’t bother replying to the first part, “I’m not spoken for.” Darla shot him a glare, saying you’re really going to pretend I’m wrong? with just her eyes. When he glared back she only shrugged.

“You could be,” she sassed, and he took a sharp breath. 

“I don’t think now is the time to-“ 

“If not now then when?!” Darla whisper-yelled, “Newsflash buddy, you still might die. So do you want to die sad and alone… or spoken for?” 

“Do I really come off as sad and alone?” Finnick blinked. 

“Only to those who know you,” she shook her head. 

“Gee thanks, Darla,” he said flatly. 

“It’s my pleasure,” she gave him a friendly yet exaggerated shoulder bump. “Come on, let’s catch the show.” Finnick followed her off to join the crowd forming around Katniss’s simulation session. 

Darla could see the faces of the other tributes drop as Katniss put down figure after figure. They were nearly all modeled after the rest of them, and featured their signature weapons at the very least. She clenched her jaw when Katniss shot the female figure holding a whip straight through the face. No mistaking who that was meant to be. She saw Finnick twitch when Katniss shot the figure with a trident through the chest. By the end, it was clear that the girl was absolutely on the level of every person there. If luck was on her side, and she wanted to, she could likely kill each one of them. 

Wiress started clapping, and it killed some of the tension in the air. But the quell was getting more interesting by the minute. 

——————-

The four of you sat in silence in a both in the empty lounge within the training center. You traced the rim of your drink, hoping Haymitch would arrive soon since he asked you all to meet him there. The casual conversation had died out a bit ago, having run out of outfits to make fun of to keep the conversation light. It was hard not to think about your immediate circumstances. 

You shivered a little, still unused to the central air the Capitol pumped through all their buildings. Finnick caught your eye and nodded his head in the other direction, inviting you to scoot closer to him. You would’ve shaken your head if you hadn’t put on a tank top earlier, but you were chilly enough to press up against his side in a bid to steal body heat. 

Finnick raised a hand to wave to Haymitch when he saw the older man scanning the place. He settled the arm over your shoulder when he was done. Behind your head, he caught Darla narrow her gaze at him and sent her a look of warning. 

“What’s the update?” He asked Haymitch as the man slotted into the space at the edge of the curved booth. 

“Well, Katniss is not keen on allies,” he said, instantly off to a bad start, “though she is interested in the District Three Tributes.” 

“Excuse me?” Johanna asked. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Wiress and Beete.” 

“You mean she wants Nuts and Volts for allies?” Darla asked, and heard Johanna try to muffle a snicker. She tried not to smirk at the sound. So much for ‘not understanding her’ or whatever Jo had said during their breakup. 

“Look, don’t shoot the messenger,” he defended himself. 

“Maybe we should if the message is dumb,” Johanna snarked, crossing her arms. 

“She said she liked them,” Haymitch repeated, and the whole table winced. Maybe as people, Darla thought, though even that might be a stretch, but as allies? In terms of physical game it’d be like tying a brick around your ankle. Hadn’t the girl seen anyone else at work? Johanna’s axe skills? The second time she and Finnick had sparred? 

“Anyone else?” You tried, hoping for a better result. Haymitch thought for a second before snapping his fingers. 

“Yeah, Mags!” Darla groaned, make that two bricks. Finnick used the arm he’d draped across your shoulders to flick Darla in the ear. 

“Mags and I are a package deal,” Finnick asserted. Not a chance in hell he’d trust someone else to protect Mags. 

“Then my bet would be no deal from the girl on fire,” Haymitch shrugged. 

“Ok, so we’re keeping Katniss alive, but Three too?” Darla asked. 

“Haven’t we established-?” 

“We’ve got it,” you reassured him, and Finnick and Johanna nodded.

“Good,” Haymitch saidd. “We’ll,” he nodded in your direction, “keep in touch through sponsor gifts. But it’ll have to be subtle, so keep your thinking caps on.” 

“Is that it?” Johanna asked, bored. 

“No actually,” he went on, “when the time comes you’ll have to cut out your trackers and one of you will have to get Katniss’s.” 

“Shit,” Darla said. 

“Squeamish?” Johanna taunted her from the other side of the table. Haymitch interrupted before a fight could break out. 

“Before then,” he said, firmly, “I’d recommend making a big show of the interviews. Last chance to drum up public outrage at this, maybe get it cancelled.” Johanna scoffed at that, but Haymitch kept on, “At the very least it’ll be good for sponsors.” 

“He’s right about that,” you nodded, already thinking up possible interview angles for Darla. 

Haymitch grinned, “I’ll see you all there.” He pushed away from the table, heading back to his own tributes, no doubt. 

Johanna walked away next, and Darla popped up to follow her. 

“Think they’ll kill each other before the games start?” Finnick asked, angling his head to look at you. 

You let out a chuckle, still tucked under his arm. “Let’s hope not. I’m counting on those repressed feelings to bring in sponsorships,” you replied, watching the two walk off. He grinned, shaking with a bit of laughter. When you looked up to catch his gaze, you realized how close you were. 

“They sure are powerful,” Finnick said, holding your gaze. 

You blinked at him, “Sorry?” 

“Repressed feelings,” he clarified, doing his best to look innocent. You elbowed him and scooted away from his grasp and out of the booth. You’d been dancing around your feelings for him for so long you didn’t know how to do anything else. 

“Goodnight, Finnick!” You called over your shoulder as you marched away. He sighed as he watched you go, a small smile working on his face. Maybe Darla was onto something.  

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

Hope you enjoyed <3333 next part coming soon! That one will cover the interviews and the start of the games at least

taglist: @emerald-09 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @daixylie @fandomhopped

@axelinchen

@whens-naptime

@avoxrising

@erindiggory

@commanderfreethatdust

@blackdxggr

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@iheartspderman

@slytherinfolk25

@cassiecasluciluce

@jazzyyyyslife

#finnick odair x reader #hunger games fanfiction #finnick x reader #finnick odair #the hunger games

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin’ from my fuckin’ soul. 

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan. 

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was. 

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that. 

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er. 

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do. 

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever. 

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im. 

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one. 

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But… 

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest. 

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia. 

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹 

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle. 

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it. 

“I like you, Dar.” 

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time. 

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.” 

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.” 

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time. 

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night. 

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did. 

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me. 

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this. 

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?” 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?” She smiles. 

“Good.” I clarify. 

“Good.” 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.” 

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once. 

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.” 

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?” 

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what?  she just laughs.  

Shit. 

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’. 

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it.  She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived. 

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated.  And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three. 

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that. 

How didn’t I see it? 

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things. 

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit. 

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse. 

‘Til the walkers hear me. 

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else. 

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia. 

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it. 

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more. 

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it. 

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all. 

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.” 

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me. 

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.” 

“Stop callin’ me tha’.” 

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.” 

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.” 

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh. 

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t. 

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.” 

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?” 

She did come back. 

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question. 

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it. 

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know. 

“Think it was more the other thing you said.” 

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper. 

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.” 

What? “Why not?” 

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.” 

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again. 

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it. 

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon imagine

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- Old Love Pt1

Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5

Tommy Shelby. My husband, well now ex husband. The man I loved who went away to war. At first we wrote to one another every chance we got. He would come home when he could and we loved our time together. A year into the war he came home and at always we spent a lot of time together, just us two. After a couple of weeks he had to go back and a week later I found out I was pregnant. Of course I was excited, but that's when the letters stopped. Arthur would still write to tell me Tommy was alive.

After years of fighting, the war changed him. Polly warned me that he would, but I held out hope that he would return home and once again sweep me off my feet. Unfortunately that didn't happen. When he returned the new barmaid would flirt with him and he had no problem flirting back, leaving me to take care of our son alone. After a while I had enough and left him, we got divorced and I moved away with our son. That was until Polly sent me a letter to tell me Tommy was going mad and that she believed that I was the only one who could bring him back. Hesitantly I agreed to come back to Small Heath and see my ex husband once again.

I walk through the streets of Small Heath holding Charlie's hand when I see him, Tommys older brother smoking cigarette outside of the pub. Arthur notices me first

"YN?!"

"Hey Arthur" I walk over to him. He stomps out his cigarette as I approach

"Hey little man" Arthur ruffles Charlies hair up

"Hi uncle Arthur"

"What are you doing back here?" he ask pulling me into a hug

"Polly sent me a letter. Tommy has been acting... odd?" I frown not quite understanding what has been going on. Arthur sighs

"Can we talk without little ears?"

"Sure. I'll drop him off at Polly's"

"Polly and Ada are inside. I own the pub now"

"Ok" I give him a nervous smile and pick Charlie up and follow Arthur into the pub

"YN you came!" Polly runs over to me and hugs both me and Charlie

"Do you mid watching him Pol?"

"Of course come on Mr let's go and get you a lemonde"

"Come with me" I follow Arthur into a little room that the boys would always relax in

"So? You going to tell me what's been going on?"

"Since you've left Tommy has been off the rails. Using opium every night, sleeping with..."

"I don't need to know who he's sleeping with. I left because he was flirting with that barmaid. We barley spoke. He was so obsessed with power, out all night, never let me in. What was I meant to do Arthur?"

"Not leave him. The war fucked him up. Fucked all of us up" Arthur rubs his hands over his face

"And I get that, but he wasn't the only one struggling Arthur. Yes you were in a physical war and I get that I can't imagine what any of you saw or did, but I was there for Tommy through the nightmares. I had to do that alone"

"What do you mean YN? You weren't ever alone"

"I was while you were all at war. I had to put my problems to the side. I'm only just well again" I take in a deep breath and sit down

"I love Charlie. I really do, but after I had him I was sad all the time. I didn't want to go out. Polly said it was just the baby blues, but it lasted longer than it should have. Every time he cried I would panic, cry, scream. Something was wrong Arthur. I heard about woman harming their children after giving birth. I didn't want to hurt him, but I needed Tommy. I went to an asylum and I was treated for insanity. Polly got me out and helped me"

"Fuck YN why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell us you were struggling?"

"How could I?" I shrug tears in my eyes "Tommy was having his own issues. Then that barmaid flirting. It was the final straw Arthur"

"Tommy needs you now more than ever and I think you need him"

"I'll think about it" I stand up and start leaving the room. That's when I see him walking in. Tommy. He looks disheveled, not at all like the man I love. He looks at me like he's seen a ghost.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders reader #tommy shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x wife #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Calico Jack. Sad Izzy. Sad you.

Chapter Seven - Blind Man's Cove

♡♡♡

Izzy sits in Spanish Jackie's bar. He had just made a deal with the British Navy to hand over Stede Bonnet. When the Navy left, Izzy was left to sit on his own at the back of the bar. He had his head in his hand, his hair messed up from where he had ran his fingers through it. In his other hand was the ring he wore around his neck. It felt heavy in his palm.

"Be safe," he whispers.

He stared at the little piece of jewellery and then closed his fingers around it, closing his eyes for a moment. God, he wishes you had come with him. He wanted to mend the damage done from 6 years apart. He wanted to be able to look at you and feel normal again.

Stupid fucking Stede Bonnet.

And yet, it was because of Bonnet they found you again. Still, he needed to get rid of the man. He needed his Blackbeard back.

He just hoped you would find it in your heart to forgive him what he had done.

♡♡♡

It was late at night. You had fallen asleep in Izzy's old bed once again. Lucius had been earlier to check on you as he done every night so far.

You had only just drifted off to sleep when you heard voices. One of them was definitely Edward. He sounded excited.

Sighing, you sat up. "What is he doing?"

You get up out of bed and make your way up onto the deck. What you see was not what you were expecting. No fucking way was Calico Jack onboard the Revenge.

"Fuck off."

At the sound of your voice both Jack and Edward turn around. Ed looks beyond excited.

"Look who found us! Jack, Calico Jack!" Ed grins.

Jack grins too, but his is more of a smirk than a smile. "Long time no see. Last I heard, you were a spirit haunting the waters."

"Yeah, that... that's just a story," you say. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Came to see ya both, didn't I?" Jack drapes an arm around your shoulders and guides you back toward Edward. "Three pals back together again! Just like old times."

♡♡♡

Stede wakes up to the sound of cannon fire. He comes up deck to find you leaning back against the railing as Edward and Jack have their fun. The rest of the crew are present too.

"What's going on? Who are we attacking?"

"Hey! Shit, did we wake you?" Ed asks. Jack and himself had been drinking for a couple hours by this point. "Shot, sorry, we were a bit too loud."

"I mean... cannons are loud," you mutter, taking a swig of your own drink.

"We were blowing stuff up. I just got laid a visit by my old ship mate, Calico Jack."

"OK... um... Old mate? Well, if he's a friend of yours, hello." Stede greets.

"Who's the big gal?" Jack asks.

"Would you fuckin' stop?" Ed playfully shoves him. They both laugh. "He's joking. He's fuckin' joking. You're not a girl."

You take another swig from your bottle as you watch the exchange.

"Jack, Stede Bonnet. Stede Bonnet, Jack."

"Good to meet you." Stede shakes Jack's hand. "So, er, what are we blowing up?"

Edward goes on to explain they had found and old chest of drawers. Stede comments that it was an old family heirloom, but he shakes it off as if he wanted to blow it up anyway.

He promptly invites Edward to breakfast, where Jack tags along. Stede doesn't look too pleased, but rolls with it.

You decide to take your bottle of rum over to the nearest steps and sit down. Lucius spots you and makes his way over, pulling a face.

"Rough night?"

"Didn't sleep much." You tell him, lowering the rum bottle from your lips. Lucius reaches out and takes it from you. You hadn't drank as much as the other two had, but Lucius wanted to stop you from drinking any more anyway.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"What's left to talk about? I miss him, okay..."

"What's the deal with Jack?" He asks.

"He's Ed's mate."

"Go on," Lucius urges.

"He's a bit of a wild card. Crazy shit will happen while he's here, for the record. He brings out some of the crazy in Blackbeard."

"Okay. Anything else?"

You sigh and look at him. "He was a drunken fling. That what you wanna hear? It happened once, never again."

Lucius grins. "Feels good to get out in the open though, right?"

"I don't know how that information makes amy difference to anything," you say, burrowing your brows in confusion.

"It doesn't, I just wanted to hear you open up. See, you're learning it ways. You're one of us."

You laugh softly.

♡♡♡

Lucius spent a good portion of the morning with you, Pete joining you both at some point. You were enjoying your time with them chatting and sharing stories. Pete shared of his made up stories about his time on Blackbeard's crew. You found amusement in them and Pete seemed proud you liked them.

When Edward and Jack returned to deck, Jack had his whip at the ready. Edward at up some bottles along the railing of the ship.

"What are they doing?" Pete asked, watching the two men.

"Whippies."

Calico Jack was a master of the whip. The crew cheered as he broke each bottle without missing a beat. You can't deny his skill, no matter what you may think of the man.

Stede looks rather horrified.

"Whippies! Whippies! Whippies!" Everyone starts cheering.

Jack whips the cards from Swede's hand.

"The guy's an absolute legend with a whip." Ed laughs.

"How long's he staying, do you think?" Stede asks Ed.

"Ah, fuck, I don't know. I mean, you know, we're keeping it open-ended. You can't put a fuckin' time limit on fun, mate! Jack! Whip my balls!" Ed urges, laughing.

Jack whips his balls.

Of course it fucking hurts.

You sigh, having seen enough. You get up and walk across deck.

"Hey! Where ya going?" You hear Jack call.

♡♡♡

You lay on Izzy's bed and look up at the ceiling. You were glad to see Blackbeard had perked up a bit, but you were also a bit sad to see Stede not looking so comfortable. You knew Jack could be a handful.

However, Jack is not so much on your mind as Izzy is. You find yourself thinking about him a lot these days. His absence is really settling in.

You would give anything to see his face again.

"Come back, Izzy... please..."

The cabin is terribly quiet. It feels lonely. God, you miss that man.

♡♡♡

"There was the time he saved my life."

Ed and Jack were sharing stories with the crew. You were up there doing some chores on the ship as the others had stopped to listen.

"I don't like to bring it up. It's a bit immodest." Jack brushes Ed's words off.

"Come on!" "Tell us!" The crew plead.

"It was actually not too far from here, uh, matter of fact, on old Blind Man's Cove."

"Well, you know what. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive today," Edward says.

"I love this dopey bastard right here." Jack laughs. "That's a real pirate! Not like one of these store-bought types."

You glance at Stede when Jack says that.

"Jack, I hate to ask, but... where's your ship and your crew?" Stede asks. "You'd think a real pirate would have those."

"Well, I'm kind of, uh, between things at the moment." Jack replies. "Look, fellas, I know it looks like I'm killin' it, but, uh... I'm really not."

There's a pause of silence.

"My crew mutinued." Jack cries. "Third time it's happened this year."

Edward comforts him. Everyone looks at Stede, disappointed.

"You made him cry." Pete says.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Well, it was a pretty bitchy question." Lucius frowns.

Ed takes Stede off to the side to talk to him. The crew move in to comfort Jack.

"It's okay, CJ. I'm sure it wasn't personal." Roach tries to comfort him.

"Yeah, well, when they tie an anchor around your leg and throw you overboard, it feels pretty personal."

"We were gonna mutiny on Stede," Pete tells Jack.

"Yeah, probably again someday." Swede adds in.

Jack smiles at them. "Thanks, fellas. Real nice of you to say."

"Calico!" Stede returns. "I was thinking would it cheer you up if we went for s little trip? Perhaps somewhere fun?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Don't make a bother for me."

"Where you wanna go?" Ed asks.

"Well, I haven't been to Blind Man's Cove in years."

"Well, Blind Man's Cove it is." Stede smiles.

♡♡♡

"Yardies! Who's up for yardies?" Jack yells.

You sit on deck, the ship just off the coast of Blind Man's Cove. It's definitely a pretty island, but the cove is quite closed in.

However, the crew have their fun.

Roach attempts a game of yardies, but doesn't clear the deck. He's alive, but man would that have hurt. You felt it yourself as he hit the side of the ship.

Later you all find yourselves on the beach. They attach a knife to a turtle and try to get it to fight a crab. The funniest part about this was watching each of the crew take sides. Turtle or crab.

Stede was standing beside you looking horrified. "This is fun?" He asks softly.

"To some."

"But not to you?"

"Oh no, not to me. Nor you by the looks of it."

Stede sighs softly.

At one point Stede goes off into the trees to pee. You'd all been drinking rum like there was no tomorrow. Jack also disappeared from the beach and you had a speaking suspicion he went after Stede.

You watch Blackbeard. He seems chipper. A lot like his old self before Stede Bonnet. Just how you remembered him. He turns and sees you, smiling.

"Isn't this fun?" He asks.

"Yeah. Fun."

Ed swings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side. "Come on, smile! Just like the old days."

"Sure."

"What is it?" He asks.

"Nothing..."

"Oh... Is this about Izzy?"

You fall quiet.

"He's gone. He made his choice."

"I know. I don't need to be reminded. You can still miss someone, ya know?"

"I know."

Stede returns from beyond the trees and marches down the beach. Ed spots him and follows him. "Where you going? We're about to have a coconut war."

Turns out Stede isn't having much fun. When you hear he was heading back to the ship, you felt like doing the same. Though you knew Lucius would probably come scold you for sulking later.

Jack throws a coconut at Ed. Stede heads back to the dingy. You catch up to him.

"Can I go back with you?"

"Not having fun either?" He asks softly.

"Not really."

Stede smiles and nods. "Come on then, let's go back to the ship."

♡♡♡

When you both get back to the ship, Stede invites you into his cabin for some tea. You decide to take him up on his offer. The ship is quiet with just two of you, but it's kind of nice.

Stede pours you both some tea and some cake he had Roach prepare earlier. You both sit down and enjoy.

"I don't like who Ed is when he's with Jack," Stede says, sipping his tea.

"I know it's very different from what you've seen of him, but he really was like that all the time before."

"Yes, so I've heard." Stede sighs. "Still, the Ed I know was so different."

"Yeah. You... softened him up a bit."

Stede looks at you softly. "Is that bad?"

"Not necessarily. Just different. I don't hate it." You take a bite of your cake. "I've been getting a bit used to being on this ship."

Stede smiles. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thank you."

While the crew pass time on the beach, you and Stede hang out. He takes you through some of his books, tells you where some of his furniture is from, and you tell him a few stories of your own sailing days.

"You talk about Izzy a lot," he points out.

"Do I?"

"Yes. You sound quite close."

"I thought we were. Turns out I was wrong."

"How so?" Stede furrows his brow at you. The pout of his lips in confusion was, dare you say, somewhat adorable?

"He left. Didn't hesitate. I must be pretty easy to leave."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"He did ask me to, but... I don't know."

Stede reaches out and gives your hand a friendly pat. "Well, I for one am glad you stayed."

♡♡♡

As night draws in, Stede retires to bed. You decide to do the same, curling up in Izzy's old cabin again. You still refer to it as his even though he's not here any more.

The crew had returned and they had clearly being drinking none stop. The sound of smashing is keeping you awake.

You decide to at least see what's going on. When you get up to deck, Buttons is yelling at them for being so loud. He was trying to moonbathe.

"Sorry, Buttons. Maybe he's right, guys. Should we pack it in?" Ed said, clearly drunk. "It's been a day."

The crew begin to agree, and you're about ready to help some of them get to bed, but Jack refuses and grabs his whip.

"King Coconut says, we go," he whips a sack nearby, "another," he whips the deck, " round!"

Lastly he whips wildly and everyone gasps in horror as Jack whips Buttons' seagull, Karl. You stare wide eyed as Buttons picks up his little bird friend.

"He's deid." Button says, his accent heavy. "You... killed him."

Buttons hands Karl over to Roach and starts talking in tongues. "I hex upon ye, I hex upon ye, I hex upon yeee...!"

You watch in mild confusion and fascination.

"Well, thay was some weird shit."

You walk over to Jack. "You should go."

"Oh, come on. It was an accident." He grins.

"Get off my ship!" Stede calls from behind you. You move away and let him come closer. "Like they said, you should go."

"Fine. I don't give a shit. Party sucked anyway. I'm out. Who's with me?" Jack asks. He looks at you, but you remain standing beside Stede. "Oh, come on. You don't wanna stick around with this fop, do ya?"

No one moves.

Jack turns to Ed. "Blackie? I saved your life man."

"Yeah."

Stede's expression falls. "Wait. You're leaving? With him?"

You frown. First Izzy, now Blackbeard?

"This is who I am, Stede." Ed speaks quietly. He glances at you, but you don't move. "You were always gonna realise what I am."

Edward walks over to the side of the ship and then looks back over his shoulder. "Take care, mate."

You take a deep breath before walking off.

♡♡♡

Lucius was on his way to go see Stede, but decided it best to stop off by your room first. As expected you were curled up on the bed. He doesn't have to say anything for you to know he was there.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" He asks.

"With pity."

Lucius steps into the room. "I wasn't. I did want to make sure you were okay though. First Izzy, now Blackbeard."

You look at him unimpressed.

"I'm gonna go check on the captain. You coming?"

You sigh softly and get up. "Yeah."

Turns out Stede was worse off than you. He was sat by the window with his telescope, watching Ed on the beach. Oluwande had spent the night in here, so he hadn't slept all that well either.

"Has this been going on all night?" Lucius asks.

"All night. No breaks."

Lucius goes over to his captain to try and talk to him. You sigh and watch from beside where Olu is seated.

"Morning, Captain. Do you mind putting the scope down for a sec?"

Stede doesn't budge.

"Okay, I will just take this..."

"No..."

"One, two..."

"No!"

"...three."

Lucius takes the scope from Stede. He hands it over to you and you tuck it away somewhere safe.

"Long night?" Lucius asks.

"I don't know," Stede replies softly.

"OK. And do we think this more of a spat or a rupture with Blackbeard?"

Stede rests his head back with a think against the window panel behind him. "I think it's done."

Lucius sighs.

"Well, lucky for you... I'm fantastic at break-ups. I helped them with Izzy, so I can help you too."

"Izzy and I didn't break up," you say.

"Yes you did."

"We weren't together to begin with."

"Eh," Lucius shrugs. He walks past you swiftly and Stede returns to sulking.

♡♡♡

"I just wanted to let you all know, we'll be holding a buriel at sea for Karl." Stede talks to his crew.

Buttons sobs in the background.

"Understandably, Buttons is..." Buttons cries again. "...rather audibly upset. And on a related note, Blackbeard will no longer be sailing with us."

You sigh and look down at the deck. Maybe this was payback for leaving them 6 years ago. They've all left you.

"It's a big one, I know. It was a mutual decision, which I initiated first."

"So this mean we're back to being captained by just... you?" Pete asks.

"Look, technically, you've always been captained by me, and only me, so there's no change there." Stede replies to him.

"Right, but what if some of us saw ourselves more as Blackbeard's employee?"

You roll your eyes.

"I can still stay right?" You ask, turning to him.

"Course. I'd be sad to see you leave too..."

You give Stede a comforting smile and pat his later lightly.

"Look, these things happen. Sometimes captains drift apart. I know its tough, but chin up. OK? Neither of us will like you less or more than we did before."

"Bad news, Stede." You say, looking out to see.

"It is. It's terrible news," Stede replies, sighing.

"Not that. That!" You point out to sea.

An English Navy fleet have arrived. Three big ships trapping the Revenge into the cove.

"That's a lot of ship."

"Yeah, and we're trapped," you tell him.

A cannon is fired and it hits the unicorn as the front of the ship, completely beheading it.

"Warning shot," you tell Stede. "The next one's into the hull."

"Right, we should probably fire back at them, um... Prepare the cannons!"

"Wait!"

You all turn around to see Ed climbing back onboard.

"Hoist the white flag!"

"Ed!" Stede smiles. You smile too. He came back.

"Better alive than dead."

You and Ed nod at each other.

♡♡♡

Izzy watches the Revenge from the English Navy ship. He's gripping the ring around his neck as he keeps his eyes on the other ship.

"I'm here," he whispers.

The white flag is raised on the Revenge and Izzy holds his head up higher. He gets into one of the boats with the English and they row toward the Revenge, toward you.

Izzy was coming back.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana -

#izzy hands x reader #spirit of the sea #ofmd #our flag means death #dragon writes

[residentrookie]

heyyy so here’s an @jegulus-microfic prompt from september 13th that i never got around to posting :D

9/13 prompt: water; wc: 950 (the one where jegulus has an elevator meet cute :))

It’s 7 in the morning and Regulus Black is royally fucking pissed off.

He has a right to be, in all fairness. Anyone has the right to be pissed off when their alarm never goes off and instead they wake up to the sound of water leaking through their ceiling, dripping out a staccato rhythm on the wooden floors. He’d had enough time to kick a metal mixing bowl under the stream of water and send a strongly worded email to his landlord before he had to rush away for work, already half an hour late.

The elevator creaks now as it descends to the ground floor, just one more thing that needs fixing in this ancient fucking building. He should have known not to rent out such an old apartment, but the wooden floors and incredible view from the massive windows in his living room had ultimately swayed him. This is what he gets for choosing aesthetic over someplace practical.

“Have you heard about the leak on the 14th floor?”

The voice behind him makes Regulus jump, sending his phone clattering loudly to the floor. Before this exact second, he’d been clueless to another person being on this elevator with him.

“Holy sh—” he smothers his curse and turns his head in time to catch the stranger bending down to retrieve the phone that had landed near his feet.

“Sorry about that,” the stranger laughs, dimples fully on display as he straightens. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you knew I was here.”

Regulus blinks and recognition quickly floods his brain.

Oh god. It’s him. Elevator Guy. The hot tenant that lives somewhere above Regulus, seeing that he always stays on after Regulus reaches his floor. Every time Regulus found himself in an elevator with this man he was immensely grateful for the plethora of reflective surfaces so he could look and look as much as he pleased without ever being caught. God, the dark eyes, the broad shoulders, the way he so often leans up against the railing with his hip, headphones dangling from his ears…

Regulus comes to his senses, realizing he’s staring like an idiot. He reaches to take the phone that’s still extended to him.

“It’s… fine.”

They’re talking. They’re actually talking and it’s the one fucking morning that Regulus doesn’t have his shit together. Right now is the only time they’ve been in this tiny metal chamber together that Regulus hasn’t planned out a script in his head just in case they happen to bump arms or go for a button at the same moment. Something witty or dry, just short enough to make the stranger want more.

“So… the pipe?” Elevator Guy asks, his face looking more concerned the longer Regulus continues to stare blankly. “Apparently they sent out a memo to let us know a water pipe burst.”

“Yeah I got that memo in the form of water pouring from my ceiling,” Regulus replies darkly, realizing too late he probably sounds entirely off putting. The stranger doesn’t seem to mind, instead shaking his head.

“Shit, that’s unlucky.”

As are so many things this morning, it seems.

Regulus sighs, facing forward to stop himself from ogling the poor man. “That’s what I get for living on the 13th floor.”

“Oh?” the stranger asks and Regulus is quick to fill in the blanks.

“Yeah, they’re uh, supposedly haunted. And the ghosts in this building seem to take their jobs very seriously.”

The stranger laughs, drawing Regulus’ eyes back to him in time to see his whole fight light up with his smile. “Oh my god, they really do. My bathroom door literally never stays shut. Like I’ll intentionally close it at night and by the next morning it’s wide open. I swear it’s like some kind of paranormal anomaly, but my parents just think there’s a draft I don’t know about. Maybe I’m the crazy one.”

“You’re definitely not,” Regulus interjects with a frown. “This building is like 150 years old. Sometimes I lay awake at night and wonder how many people have died in my bedroom.”

Fucking hell, Regulus sounds like a freak. He’s blowing this, he is totally blowing this.

“Mm. Probably dozens,” the stranger replies with an easy smile. Regulus notices suddenly how close they’re standing and tries to stay still, savoring the proximity. “But I bet there’s hundreds of them floating around this whole place, causing mayhem where they can. Or I don’t know, maybe they’re benevolent ghosts,” his eyes slide over the Regulus. “Maybe I should be thanking them.”

Regulus is incredulous and more than a little flustered. “T-thanking the ghosts? Why?”

“Because I’ve been trying to get you alone in an elevator for months and that pipe bursting is the first thing to make it happen for me.”

He’s not, he knows he’s not, but Regulus might as well be in a fucking freefall down the elevator shaft. That’s what it feels like anyway, like his stomach has bottomed out and all his organs are rising up to his throat, the swooping sensation nearly overwhelming.

Before Regulus can begin to fetch the fleeting thoughts from his absent brain, the elevator dings, a signal that it’s reached the ground floor. The stranger steps out easily, like he hasn’t ripped the rug right out from Regulus’ feet. He turns, a sly smile on his face.

“I’m James,” he says. Then he holds out his hand. Regulus, in a haze, nearly takes it, but before he can, something small and white is dropped into his palm. He looks down with a startled blink.

“My number,” James provides. “In case you didn’t believe me before, I’ve had that in my pocket for almost two months now.”

#i LOVE a meet cute #and i was feeling wholesome the day i wrote this so :) #i also love writing a flustered and pining regulus black #like on the outside he’s all 😐😒😕 #but on the inside he’s 😍🥰😫 #i love his duality #anyway hope y’all liked this one it was a short one #jegulus #jegulus microfic #my writing #reg’s writing tag

[drivinmeinsane]

Give Me the Night

※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: Like most jobs involving stakeouts, the night is going by slowly. That all takes a turn, however, when March finally pushes his fellow Nice Guy too far.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content

※ Content/Tags: Idiots in Love, Blow Jobs, Tit Jobs, Inappropriate use of a Semi-Public Space, Excessive Cum, Internalized period-typical homophobia, Emotionally Constipated Jackson Healy, Typical Idiot Holland March, Porn with Comedy AND Feelings, Collaboration

※ Word count: 7,759

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: This fic was written in collaboration with @danime25. We worked up the outline together and she kindly took the reins and wrote Holland's POV after our good pal Healy makes a break for it. It was wonderful working with her on this!

Yellow light filters through the windows of Holland’s car. The streetlights have been on for hours now, illuminating the sleepy street just enough to make out the shapes of shrubs and mailboxes. The two detectives inside the car are not concerned with the small details. They are looking out for the comings and goings of a man located in house number 1438. It’s a rather plain ranch style home with new porch railings.

The Nice Guys Detective Agency had been called the day prior by a woman who was concerned that her husband of three years was stepping out on her with another lady. It was the same old story that Holland March had handled his entire career as a PI. He gets a new one about once or twice a month. More over the holidays since the offending partner claims overtime at their place of employment to explain the sudden absences at home. The cases pay well enough, easy work to boot as long as the survailed party stayed none the wiser.

Holland shifts uncomfortably in his seat, drawing Healy’s attention. The bruiser eyes him with a passive curiosity. His back is stiff from being confined in the vehicle for so long, but he knows that his investigation partner must be feeling worse. Instead of breaking Holland’s left arm like he had planned, he had fractured the radius in Holland’s right. As fucked up as it sounds, he hadn’t wanted to risk damaging whatever issue the other man has going under the bandage of his left. The result was that the PI was down to limited functionality in both arms. The left is still full of stitches while the right is weighed down by a palm to elbow length cast. Still, the arm situation does not directly correlate to Holland’s current bout of bizarre behavior in any way that Healy can discern.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, March?” Healy asks, aiming for politeness. He misses by a mile.

“Excuse me? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Holland retorts with a disgusted tone. 

“Because you’re acting weird.” 

“I’m not acting weird. You’re the one acting weird.” Holland’s voice is shrill, and a bit defensive.

“I’m not the one squirming around like I gotta take a piss.”

“Fine! You really want to know?”

“No, March,” he throws up his hands, “I asked because I don’t want to know.” His tone is sarcastic.

“Well… it’s been a while since you broke my fucking arm .” He flings the affected limb in a sweeping gesture for dramatic effect, narrowly missing Healy. 

“I said I was sorry.”

Holland scoffs and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket along with his lighter. “Well, your apologies are worth shit to me when I can’t crank one out in the bathroom.”

The look on Healy’s face is incredulous. “Seriously? That’s it, asshole?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘that’s it’?” He places a cigarette between his lips and lights it, letting it rest loosely in his mouth.

Healy is almost upset enough to snag the cigarette right out of the other man’s mouth. He has no reason to be this bothered by their conversation. His skin feels too warm, the collar of his shirt too tight.

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it? You want me to give you a little handy between partners?”

“Well, for starters, don’t look at my crotch like you enjoy it,” Holland snarls back, using his more functional hand to block Healy’s view. “I just need something to get myself off with.”

A light turns on in the house closest to them. The porch light follows shortly after. Their shouting must have been loud enough to wake the occupant. The last thing they need is the actual police getting called and thrust into their business. 

“Shut up and stop thinking with your dick. We’re on a job,” Jackson responds, irate. 

Turning the key in the ignition, Holland starts the car and floors it. They pelt out of the neighborhood in an obnoxious screech of tires on pavement. If their yelling hadn’t woken the entire block, Holland’s maneuver certainly finished the job. He pulls into an empty lot. The only source of light is the vehicle’s headlights. 

“Real subtle,” he mutters under his breath, still ruffled. 

The other man hits the steering wheel with the palms of both hands. He lets out a gasp at jostling his injured arms unnecessarily. He turns on the man seated beside him once he shakes off the pain. “Great, we’ve lost at least three days on that lead thanks to you.”

“‘Thanks to me’,” Healy repeats, “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?”

He fumbles for the door handle and gets out of the car. He slams the door hard enough to rattle the entire machine. The bruiser needs a moment to cool down or he will do something that they will both regret. He is almost shaking. From what? He doesn’t know exactly.

Holland doesn’t leave well enough alone and exits the car in pursuit of his partner. He stops with the door ajar and his hand on the roof. “Yeah, I do hear myself. I have a pretty voice, thank you very much.”

The shorter man shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walks further away from the Benz. He forces himself to accept the PI’s words with equanimity. He’s struggling with it. Does the other man ever stop running his mouth? 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Holland slams the door, shutting his blazer in it without realizing. He tries to set off after him, but comes to an abrupt halt when he gets yanked back by the caught jacket. He struggles out of it, leaving it hanging sadly in the door and gets up in Healy’s face.  

“See that? You just cost me my favorite jacket and for what?”

“Get out of my face, March,” Jack says calmly, too calmly. His tone is a warning of an imminent punch to the face if the detective doesn’t comply. He puts a hand on the other man’s chest, cautioning him. 

“Or what?” Holland sneers, “You gonna kiss me?”

Healy doesn’t say anything, He drops his hand from Holland’s chest and takes a step back, turns partially away. Nausea rolls through his stomach. 

“Hey, hey, Jack, I was just kidding.” Holland sounds a little softer.

He waves a dismissive hand with forced casualness and starts walking back to the car. “Let’s get back to work. Don’t want to waste the time here.” 

The detective purses his lips and follows after him only to stop a few feet away from the vehicle. He has a calculating look on his face. It’s the kind of look Holland gets when he is about to make a decision that is going to make whatever partner of his want to tear their hair out. Healy opens his mouth to ask him what he is about to do right as Holland throws the keys. All he can do is watch in speechless horror as they go sailing into the darkness and clatter noisily somewhere onto the ground. He’s damn near blind during the day with his reading glasses on, much less at night without any aid whatsoever.

“What the fuck , March?” He growls once the initial shock has worn off. 

Holland gestures at him, equally upset. “Enough of this. Just say you want to fuck me or something.”

The nauseous feeling grows more prominent. It feels like his stomach acid is trying to crawl up his throat. Why the hell was his partner doing this? Healy had tried hard to be normal around the other man. He had not let his eyes wander because that was the kind of shit that got your ass beat in an alley. 

“Yeah?” He lets out an unconvincing laugh, “What makes you think I wanna fuck you?”

“I mean, look at you,” the PI scoffs despite having to adjust himself so his erection isn't so obviously tenting the material of his white slacks. 

“Me? You’re the one panting over there like a dog. You can’t control yourself, March.”

That spurns Holland into crowding against him. Healy holds his ground, he’s not going to be bullied around by his partner. The other man leans down to speak, but he misjudges the distance in the dark and his lips brush against Jackson’s mouth. They recoil from each other like gunshots had been fired in their direction.

“I knew you wanted to fuck me,” Holland says, laying the blame for his own error onto Healy. He makes a show of looking him up and down.

Impulsively, he grabs the collar of Holland’s shirt. He twists his broad hand into the expensive fabric and jerks the taller man forward until they’re nose to nose. “I never said anything about wanting to fuck you. Sounds like you’re making excuses to fuck me.”

“As if,” is the response he gets, but Jackson does not miss the considering way March eyes his mouth. The detective adjusts the angle of his head, aligning their mouths, mere millimeters between them.  

At the feeling of Holland’s mustache brushing over his upper lip, Healy makes a small sound. A whine? A moan? He panics, and his fist swings up without his permission and collides solidly with the face of the man coming onto him. His hand slips off the other man’s shirt, and Holland takes a few staggering steps backwards. 

“What the fuck?” March whimpers and looks up at Healy, “The hell was that for?”

Healy refuses to look at him and instead starts fruitlessly scanning the ground. “Shut up and help me look for the keys.”

He hears the other man rub his face with a groan. The bruiser knows his partner has a good chance of sporting a black eye tomorrow. This entire night is turning into a nightmare. He has not felt this unsteady since Joanne had admitted that she was fucking his father. The scuffle of shoes on the ground is the only warning he gets before Holland grabs ahold of him. Before he can protest, the taller man kisses him. It’s an awkward clash of mouths, too much teeth, but Holland is making up for it by sheer enthusiasm. 

Healy stiffens, but then he is grasping desperately onto the PI. He kisses him back like a man lost in the desert who has just been given a glass of water. He chases after the other man when he pulls back for air, capturing his mouth once again. His hand rests heavily on the nape of March’s neck, worked in the short hair. They shouldn’t be doing this. They’re old enough to damn well know better than to do this.

That line of questioning does not stop him from wedging a thigh between Holland’s legs, rubbing it against the taller man’s clothed erection in the process. His partner catches on quickly and chases the friction. Healy wraps a hand around March’s narrow hip, encouraging him further until the detective is all but humping his leg like a dog in heat. They’re panting into each other’s open mouths, eyes closed.

Holland moans out a soft little, “Fuck.”. He sounds almost as though he is begging for more, even as his hands grab desperately at the back of Healy’s jacket. 

“Yeah, you would like that, March,” he mutters against the side of the PI’s neck. He slides the hand cupping the back of Holland’s neck to his front and works at pulling the other man’s shirt free from his pants. Healy almost feels drunk despite turning down his partner’s offered flask more than once during the stakeout. A shiver courses through him when he feels Holland start to return his interest by putting his hand underneath his jacket, not seeking bare skin yet, but the heat of his touch through the tropical patterned shirt is enough to get Jackson to grind his own hard dick against his partner’s hip. 

He feels the wet pressure of Holland’s lips connecting with his cheek and has to swallow. This is more intimate than he had ever dared to imagine in the most repressed corners of his mind. Maybe Holland had bashed him over the head in the car with his cast and this was all some kind of fucked up wet dream. The twitch of the other man’s cock against him feels real enough though. 

“Whaddaya want, huh?” Jack dares to ask.

“I want…” Holland trails off, clearly contemplating, but instead of coming up with a response, he shoves his face against Healy’s shoulder. All traces of his bravado are gone.

“You’re never this quiet, March,” he grumbles. He drags his thick fingers down the detective’s stomach to right above his belt. “If I knew this was all it took to get you to shut up… Look, do you want me to give you a handjob or what?”

“No, I want,” Holland makes a gesture with his hands that suggests he’s cupping a pair of invisible breasts, “you know, that .”

The look Healy gives him is flabbergasted. “March, you… you know I’m not a woman, right?”

“Yeah, I fucking know that.” Holland looks down at where he and Healy are pressed together like a pair of randy teenagers, “I’m not a fucking idiot.” 

Shaking his head, he opens his mouth to say something in response to him, but just shakes his head instead. There’s no use in arguing with him. Healy knows that the other man is a fucking idiot sometimes and that knowledge is enough for him right now. He decides to humor March and strips off his jacket and tosses it onto the ground behind him. He makes short work of the buttons on his shirt and leaves it hanging open to reveal the white wifebeater he wears as an undershirt. Jack fights the instinctive urge to cover himself, knowing that his body is not in as good of shape as his companion’s.

“We’re actually doing this?” Holland asks despite already beginning to work his belt off with the hand not encased in a cast. He’s doing such a poor job of it that it prompts Healy to swat his hand away and undo it for him. 

“Whatever ‘this’ is,” he says with a shrug of his good shoulder. He pulls the detective’s belt free of the loops and tosses it in the vague direction of where he threw his jacket just moments before. They’ll have a considerable scavenger hunt on their hands at the end of this. 

Holland undoes the zipper on his dress pants and unceremoniously pulls his dick out. “Okay, I’ve never done this before.”

Healy watches as March closes his eyes in preparation. For what? He doesn’t have the faintest damn clue. “Why fuck are you closing your eyes. This isn’t jumping off the diving board,” he says incredulously. 

“ Jesus! Just shut up,” Holland snaps back, opening his eyes reproachfully. He puts a hand on Healy’s shoulder and tries to encourage him onto his knees. Jack doesn’t budge. “Just… let me use your chest.”

“For what?” He grumbles. He decides to humor Holland’s cues and lowers himself to the ground. A rock digs uncomfortably into his shin and he mutters a complaint under his breath, shifting his leg into a spot with less gravel. He tries to tune out how hard his dick is in his own pants. The kneeling position has pulled the fabric taut over his crotch, and he has to suppress a groan that’s more arousal than discomfort over this indignity. This is right up near the top of the most asinine things his partner has asked him to do since they met about a month ago. He’s gone along with the other man this far though, and he might as well continue. 

Holland moves to get onto his knees, but he pulls up short of actually doing it. “This isn’t going to work, let’s go to my car,” he says, offering a hand to Healy and helping him to his feet without bothering to tuck his dick back into his pants. 

“You have to be fucking with me,” he protests but follows the taller man back to the car all the same. He hovers awkwardly next to the rear tire on the passenger side. He’s really starting to be on the verge of regretting this. Holland has to be playing some kind of joke on him. His hands hover over the buttons of his open shirt and he’s about to start doing it up when March pats the top of the trunk.

“Come on,” he says encouragingly. The PI sheds his own over-shirt, stripped down to his undone pants and sleeveless undershirt. 

He instantly follows Holland’s lead and lets his own touristy shirt fall from his shoulders and onto the ground. This entire vacant lot is going to look like some type of crime scene by the end of night. He heaves himself onto the trunk, heels briefly making contact with the tire. He’s perched on the edge, tense as though he’s ready to fight. Jack is not given much time to work himself into abandoning this whole ordeal because Holland steps up into his space, forcing a home for himself between his legs. Desperation and arousal is written all over the taller man’s face. Either Holland is a surprisingly good actor or he’s actually not yanking Healy’s chain.

The detective puts his full weight into the kiss. Healy’s breath hitches when March’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. He feels the other man grin in response to his reaction. It’s all Jackson can do to put a calloused hand on the back of his partner’s neck and hold him close. Holland’s facial hair is surprisingly soft against Healy’s stubbled face.

“Fuck,” Holland says softly and drags his pants over the curve of his ass, down far enough to be able to kick  them off before crawling onto the car. 

The bruiser lays back across the trunk, the metal is cold against his skin, but Holland is blazingly warm against his stomach as he gets into position on top of him. He takes the hem of Healy’s shirt in his hands and encourages it up and over his head to get discarded somewhere on the ground by the driver’s side of the car. Holland shifts so he’s properly straddling him, knees bracketing his sides. The detective’s cock rests in the divot between Healy’s pecs. 

“The fuck you doing, March?” It comes out as a near whisper in the darkness. 

“What I wanted,” Holland says and spits, slicking the space where his dick rests just enough that it glides smoothly on the first few thrusts as he begins to rub himself off using Healy’s chest.

Suddenly, Holland’s comments about using his chest to get off are crystal clear. Taking a deep breath, Healy pushes his elbows against either side of his chest, forming a tighter passage for his partner to fuck against. It was like something he’d seen women do in pornos sometimes. His chest is quickly made slick by the copious amounts of precum leaking from the man on top of him. 

Above him, Holland lets out a broken whine as he chases his release. He’s thrusting against Healy like both their lives depend on it. March’s hands are firmly planted to either side of his shoulders. Jack can’t hold back an answering groan, so uncomfortably hard in his jeans with no relief in sight. His chest hair is going to be a sticky, matted mess. All of this shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. The only thing that could make it better in this moment is if he could just see his partner a little more clearly. He wants to know what Holland’s face looks like when he cums. 

“C’mon, March. You wanted this,” he says, spurring him on. He has a good, if a little blurry, visual of the other man’s upper body with their current position. If he were not occupied with holding his amble chest together for Holland to use, his hands might be tempted to wander. 

In response, Holland whines and picks up the pace, nearly rubbing them both raw as he brings himself to the finish line. Jack swears he catches a glimpse of tears in Holland’s eyes as the man finally orgasms. He releases the pressure against his pecs and catches his partner as he goes limp on top of him. Healy feels like he is getting sprayed down with a hose. The other man’s cum floods in the valley of his chest, pooling at the base of his throat and trickling down either side of his neck. A stray shot or two catches him in the face. He tastes bitter saltiness on his lips when he reflexively licks them. It’s a lot of cum, way too much really.

“Shit,” the PI sighs and gingerly scoots out of his hold, further down his body. His dick twitches and a few stray droplets of cum fall onto Healy’s stomach. His own dick is throbbing in his pants when Holland unintentionally makes contact with his crotch.

Healy continues to lay back across the trunk, slightly dazed as his partner shimmies off the vehicle and pulls his boxers and pants back on. He had just let another man rub himself off on him and he hadn’t hated it. He’d enjoyed it even. Near his feet, Holland zips his trousers up and Jack feels himself tense at the crisp sound. He braces himself for the punchline now that the other man has had his fun and gotten his rocks off. He did not particularly think March would be cruel enough to mock him, but this… he didn’t have a script for this. 

“What do you want?” Holland asks after a moment of awkward silence, cutting right to the chase. 

“Surprise me, March. You’ve been doing a real bang up job of it tonight.” Healy responds, a little hoarse. He doesn’t know what the hell he wants. 

“Okay… uhh… sit up, I guess,” he replies, getting onto his knees. His eyes are level with Healy’s crotch.

He obliges him, ignoring the pop in his back as he does. Holland’s cum slides coldly down his chest before stopping somewhere on his stomach. He’s too struck dumb by arousal to care. The other man is on his knees for him, how could he have any rational thought? This has gone far beyond Healy’s wet dream hypothesis and the handjob only gay porno he’d dared to sneak a look at once.

Encouraged by Holland’s hands on his knees, he spreads his legs further to make room for him to shuffle in between them. He manages a reassuring nod when his partner checks in on him with a raised eyebrow that he can barely make out in the dark as he feels the kneeling man slide his left hand up his thigh to get at the front of his pants. Holland has no trouble with the zipper and button on Healy’s jeans despite the fumbling of his own belt earlier. There’s no underwear to tug out of the way. Jackson can’t be bothered to do any more laundry than strictly necessary. 

“Shit, I thought I was big…” Holland mutters under his breath and puts his mouth over the head of Healy’s cock. 

It was a line straight out of a skin flick, but damn if it didn’t send a hot rush of arousal down Jack’s spine all the same. His head falls back and he lets a guttural noise in response to the way his partner is tonguing along his shaft. Shakily, he puts a hand on his shoulder, gripping firmly. His thumb rubs back and forth against the side of Holland’s neck. He can feel the other man’s throat working as he gives him a blowjob. 

A Holland-esque whine almost bursts from his lips when the detective pulls off of him with a wet sounding pop. “Good?”

“Yeah, yeah, real good,” Healy admits, breathing heavily. “Now, please shut up and y’know…”

“Keep going?” Holland finishes with a smirk that’s blinding even in the dim light, and then his mouth is back to work doing something other than engaging in his usual vices of smoking, drinking, and talking way too fucking much.

He tightens his fingers on March’s shoulder like he’s a dog gripping onto a squeaky toy. As inexperienced as the PI clearly is at this kind of thing, it’s almost more than Healy can handle. He’s torn between shoving the other man away or pulling him closer. It has been so long since he’s gotten off. He hadn’t even wanted to touch himself after his wife admitted to cheating on him with his own father of all people. There had not been a single pair of pretty legs that had gotten his attention until Holland came along. Hell, if he admits it to himself, even his wife hadn’t really done it for him. There had always been an undercurrent of wrongness to the whole situation. He’d chalked it up to the fact that she was cheating on him during their marriage, but upon reflection, he hadn’t exactly been performing in the bedroom before that whole relationship started.

“Fuck,” he groans, fighting to keep from thrusting up into his mouth. He’s close, too close. He’s about to- “Holland… Holland .”

The other man moans around Healy’s cock. He’s doing his best to swallow down what he’s given, but some of it leaks out of his mouth and onto his goatee. They make eye contact as he proceeds to milk Jack dry. He pushes against Holland once the suction becomes too much around his softening dick. The other man lets him slip free and while Healy hastily tucks himself, oversensitive, back into his jeans, he leans against his car.

“That was… good,” Holland offers into the silence between the two of them.

Healy takes a moment to respond, busying himself with zipping up his pants and sliding the button home. The turmoil of feelings that he was experiencing earlier is back in full force. They’d both gotten off but no… there was the aftermath. 

“March…” he starts but peters out. He slides off of the car. He’s all too aware that he’s still shirtless and covered in Holland’s semen. It’s slowly drying into his chest and stomach hair, getting clean in the dark with no water and no spare cloth is a lost cause. 

“Yeah?” The PI responds the moment he realizes Healy isn’t going to add onto the thought. His tone is hopeful, bordering on needy.

“Why…?” He's not sure how to find the words. Hell, what does someone say in this kind of situation?

“Why what?” Holland asks with a touch of tentativeness, as though Healy is going to lay into him. 

“Why’d you… this wasn't some kinda joke was it, March?” He questions, shoving his hands into his pockets and curling inward slightly. What he would give to be fully dressed right now. Not that it would help much, he hasn't felt in control since he and Holland started fighting in the car. He isn’t a feelings kind of guy. That would mean he's weak.

“No!” Holland’s voice peaks and cracks. It settles into a more normal range as he continues. “I don’t know… I don’t know how to explain it. This feels different than the way I felt about my wife.”

Healy mutely nods as the taller man starts feeling himself up for his pack of cigarettes before realizing that they’re still in his jacket pocket. Holland wanders around the other side of the car, out of his field of vision, to go after his suit jacket. 

The new addition to the Nice Guys Detective Agency can agree though. Whatever is going on between them feels different than it had with his own, now ex, wife.  For him, it had felt… right. He absentmindedly follows March around to the other side of the car and picks up his undershirt. He pulls it back over his head, grimacing as his wet chest makes contact with the fabric. The minute he has a chance, he’s jumping in the shower. In the middle of shrugging on his Hawaiian shirt, he hears what sounds like the door of the Benz being opened followed by the rustling of fabric. Incredulous, he turns to stare at the other man. 

“The door was open.” Holland says to him, not looking up from the ground.

He doesn't even have it in him to be mad, just lets out a helpless chuckle. “You have to be fucking joking.”

“No,” he sounds sheepish, “but we still gotta find the keys to get out of here. Unless you’d rather talk about what,” gesturing between the two of them, “ this is first.”

“Let’s find the keys first, then we can talk.” Privately, he wants the option for Holland to just leave his ass here if things go south. He doesn’t want his partner to feel trapped with him.

“Sounds good,”  Holland says, closing the door and slipping his jacket back on. He flashes Healy a wide smile and bounds over to the approximate location of where he had thrown the keys a while earlier.

Healy locates his jacket and pulls it on. It’s dusty from the dry soil of the lot. He squints into the darkness, scanning the ground for the keys. He almost feels like he would be better off getting onto his hands and knees like that chick in the orange turtleneck that was always losing her glasses on the show Holly’s been into, the one with the talking dog.

He moves to stand next to Holland, brushing shoulders with him in a friendly way. “Why did you have to throw the keys?” He finally comments when his straining eyes fail to see a glimmer of metal.

“I don’t know,” he admits flatly. “We had to resolve whatever that tension was between us somehow.”

Jackson frowns, shrugs. He takes a few steps forward away from Holland, kicking at the ground fruitlessly. He doesn’t get rewarded by the sound of pebbles hitting metal. “What kinda tension you talking about?”

“Y’know… Where I was up in your face and you were trying to get out of mine. That tension.”

“Right, yeah,” he grumbles. “Look, March. What are you wanting outta this?” 

“I dunno. Right now it just feels nice when I’m around you.” He shrugs, “You know what I had on my hand when we met? ‘You’ll never be happy’?”

“Yeah? What about it?” Healy tries to not sound choked up over Holland’s words. Where did all these emotions come from? He was an even tempered man, occasionally angry, but this… There was no word of the day for this. 

“When I wake up and see you and Holly on the couch… I’m happy.” Holland shrugs and looks at him.

Healy is silent for a long moment before he speaks, his words slow, measured. “You and the kid… it gives me a reason to get up in the morning. Don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Jesus.” Holland lets out a sigh, putting a hand over his own chest, “Haven’t been this nervous since I got down on one knee… you know, for Holly’s…” he clears his throat, not finishing the thought.

He teeters on the cusp of saying something sincere, but it’s not the time. He doesn’t want to go down an upsetting path, not tonight. They had enough to think about. “Guess I’ll be the one getting on one knee then,” he jokes. A gleam of metal catches his attention when he shifts in place. Holy shit, it’s the keys. He doesn’t dare move in case he loses sight of them with his crap depth perception. He grabs the air in Holland’s direction with one hand while pointing at the keys with the other. “March! March! Keys! ”

“Yes! Fuck yes!” The detective yelps and dives for the keys. He snatches them off the ground with a flourish and crowds into Healy’s space, heys in hand. He kisses him, an enthusiastic press of his mouth against his. He’s smiling even as he pulls back and a shy look crosses his face. “I mean, thanks.”

Healy can’t help himself and draws the man back in, allowing himself to initiate for the first time tonight. He brushes his mouth gently over Holland’s. He lingers for a moment before breaking away. Perhaps if the spell doesn’t break, he could get used to having this. 

“Let’s… go home.” March rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. They stare at each other until Healy raises his eyebrows at him. “Right! Home,” he says with a nod and hoofs it back to the car. Jack follows and settles himself into the passenger seat. He feels more content than he has in years.

The drive back to Holland’s house is free of any drama. Holland spends the time aimlessly chattering. It relaxes Healy. He’s nearly asleep by the time they pull into the driveway. 

“Huh,” he hears Holland say, and he opens his eyes to see the light of the television flickering from the living room window. 

He gets out of the car with a groan and the two men make their way to the front door. Holland fumbles his house key into the lock. Opening the door reveals Holly and Jessica standing in the living room in front of the tv, clearly surprised at being caught still awake. 

 “Jessica, what are you doing in my house?”

“Sorry Mr. March. My sister’s busy,” she apologizes.

“Yeah, I bet she is.” Holland scoffs. Jack resists the urge to kick him in the back of the leg.

Jessica looks at the men and blurts out. “Oh! Do you go to the same nighttime baking class as my sister?” Holly makes a noise like a stepped on mouse. 

Healy is ready to shrug it off as one of Jessica’s eccentricities and Holly having a hiccup, but a cold knife of cognizance suddenly impales him. He remembers that he and Holland didn’t wipe off their faces. He can feel the mostly dried jizz so clearly on his neck and lower half of his face. Oh fuck.

“What…” Holland starts to say before looking at Healy. His eyes go wide in his own realization. “Yeah. Baking. Baking class.”

“Yeah, cinnamon rolls tonight. The icing is real. Uh… real tricky. Gotta make it from scratch. Gets messy.” Healy manages. Why can’t he shut up? He’s sweating. Holly is staring a hole into his soul. Oh, god, she knows he and her old man were doing the hanky panky like a pair of teenagers while they were supposed to be working. If she looks at them any harder, they are both going to catch on fire and burn into two piles of ash right here in the entryway. 

Making things worse, Holland dips a finger into the mostly dried cum on Healy and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on the finger. “Wow. Um, really good icing.” 

“March, what the fuck are you doing?” Healy questions as nicely as he can manage given the circumstances. Holly makes a retching sound. Jessica as always is oblivious to anything going on around her. 

“Just… getting the last bit off you,” the man says with a shrug. Healy watches in fascinated horror as a bead of sweat rolls down his partner’s face. He can see his own release dried into Holland’s goatee. This is too much. 

“Well, uh. I’m going to use your shower. If you will please excuse me,” Jackson says politely, too politely, and tries to pretend he isn’t fleeing the scene of a crime. He leaves Holland to deal with the fallout and ducks into the master bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. What a mess. His undershirt is ruined, but he should have enough clothes to get back to his own apartment after this. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Well then, let’s get you home Jessica.” Holland clasps his hands together and keeps his lips pressed tight to one another to avoid the awkward smile that was creeping across his face. He feels the cold, sharp daggers that his daughter’s eyes are shooting at him and he turns around to pull his coat back off the hanger. Holland is looking for any excuse to avoid the lecture that he knows Holly has in store for him when he gets back. Unfortunately for him, Jessica has one of the first rational thoughts in her life. She digs her heels a bit into the shag carpet as Holland attempts to push her out the door and says,

“Wait, Mr. March. I live just across the street, remember? I can just walk home.”

Holland’s eyes go blank. He didn’t remember, honestly. “Right. That’s right,” he repeats to himself mostly

“Anyway, bye Holly. I’ll see you at school!” Jessica walks out of the house like she’s a member of the Brady Bunch. That’s the show Jessica liked, right? He shakes his head. It doesn't matter now. What matters is how the hell Holland is going to get out of the scolding that Holly has at the ready for him. He puts the poor coat back onto the hook before slowly turning around to face his daughter. What could he say? She already looks more disappointed in him than the first time she had to drive and pick him up from the bar. 

“Hi, honey.” He waves slowly at her, hoping to diffuse some of the tension in the air. This does not work. While he was trying to skirt on out of his own house, Holly had stood up from the couch and crossed her arms in front of her.

“Did you and Mister Healy have… sex and stuff?” She gets right to the point

“Don’t say ‘and stuff’...” Holland starts on his usual spiel. He zips his lips back up when he can see the look in Holly’s eyes getting even more venomous.

“Were you and Mister Healy having sex and stuff ?” She doubles down, making sure to punctuate every word as she repeats her question. She is not about to let her father out of this.

“Fine, we were… having sex.” Holland rubs the back of his neck as he says this. He looked like a teenager caught having a house party while his parents were out of town. Holly rolls her eyes at him and sighs, the gesture laced with disapproval for her dad’s carelessness. She sits back down on the couch before looking back at him and telling him,

“At least clean him up next time, Dad.”

“Fine. I will.” Holland huffs a little bit. His chest puffs up defensively before asking, “Why do you care?”

“Parents should treat each other with respect,” she shrugs. “Also maybe you don’t need to soil the eyes of your teenage daughter by bringing him back looking like that.”

“Okay, fine. You’re right.” He looks away. Up, down, anywhere that wasn’t the direct gaze of his daughter’s judging eyes. He begins doubling down on himself, “I just thought you’d be in bed.”

“Whatever. Just go check on him.” She settles in and watches the tv. She’s going to push her bedtime because her dad is the bigger problem right now. He had no room to judge when his own house wasn’t in order.

“Fine.” He walks to the bathroom with his tail tucked between his legs. He holds his ear up to the door for a second before knocking on the wood. “Hey, Healy?”

“Yeah?” Healy calls back over the sound of the water. He had barely set foot in the shower. It had taken him an age to peel himself out of his undershirt, his hair sticking uncomfortably to the cloth. How the hell did Holland cum so much? The other issue at hand was trying to figure out how to use the shower. After a couple of false starts, he managed to switch the water to the shower handle instead of the bath faucet.

“You mind if I come in?” Holland asks, his voice soft again. He doesn’t want to intrude on the other man if he isn’t welcome, but he wouldn’t be upset if he got a full look at Healy. With Healy’s permission, of course.

The other man hesitates for a moment but decides that it’s fine. He replies with a quick, “It’s your bathroom, March.”

“Yeah, but…” Holland lets out a quick sigh before he opens the door and walks in. He manages to undress himself quickly and glances over at the mirror. He uses his hand to run over his facial hair and mentally mark down where he needs to clean himself up. That was a problem for another day, however. He tugs gently on the shower curtain before asking, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” The bruiser moves to the side to make room for the lankier man. It’s become second nature for Healy. As of late, his entire life has somehow molded around being a part of Holly and Holland’s little family. Not that he’d complain about the recent lack of loneliness.

“Hey.” Holland grins. It’s a quirky little half smile where his lips are almost hidden but there’s just enough there for Healy to see just how happy Holland is. He almost looks like a golden retriever. That’s before he asks the other man, “Can I… kiss you again?” He closes his eyes firmly, fully expecting a ‘no’ or ‘that’s too much’ from Healy, but Healy seems to have no problem with this. He leans in, taking the dive yet again. He pulls Holland into his arms by his waist. He kisses the other man in a way his probably shaky voice could never begin to explain. After they break their contact Holland just kind of laughs, “I was just gonna do this…” he explains. His lips meet with the crown of Healy’s head. His arms work their way around his kind of boyfriend and rests his chin atop the other man’s head. They stay still in the water like this for a moment together. It was oddly intimate, even though a mere hour ago the blond was using the other man’s chest to get himself off. Healy lets a soft pleased moan slip from his lips while Holland cleans off his mess from Healy’s chest. He reaches up and gets some shampoo lathered in between his fingers. His fingers work their way through the blond’s hair. This is a moment of intimacy Healy hadn’t had with someone outside of sex before.

A couple minutes later, after the two were clean, Holland reaches behind Healy’s back and switches the water off. He carefully pulls the shower curtain to one side and reaches for a towel, offering it to Healy. He steps out of the tub and starts to rummage through his bathroom closet. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a damn towel. After he finds one he starts drying himself off and looks over at Healy, who offers him a quick, “Thanks” in return for the shower. Jackson picks up his pile of clothes and forces himself back into his jeans. At this point, he’s sure that Holland’s sick of him and is just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Before that can happen Holland interrupts his thoughts.

“You wanna… sleep in my bed?” Holland asks, again expecting that it’s at this point Healy’s gone along for the ride for too long, and he’ll finally want to stop. He offers further, “Or if you don’t, you can sleep on the couch. Just kick Holly out and back to her room. She should be asleep anyway.” His sentence continues to trail as he fills in the silence that had settled between the two of them. Healy sighs and runs the palm of his hand across his face before saying,

“I didn’t know staying was an option.” His words are soft, and a bit hesitant. “Where do you want me?”

“I…” Holland starts to stutter. He takes a breath to calm himself down before finally saying, “Honestly? I want you in my bed.” He scoffs to himself. If he hadn’t done it before, Healy was sure to get off now. It was really an outlandish thing for Holland to ask of the other man.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that. Forgot to bring my pajamas though. Wasn’t expecting a sleepover,’ He jokes, using this opportunity to zip up his jeans.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Holland rubs his eyes as he starts getting tired. He walks over to his dresser and scans through his clothes for something to wear. He settles on an undershirt that’s clean enough for Holland’s standards and a fresh pair of boxers. He lies down and sprawls across his bed before making room for the other half of Nice Guys Agency to lie besides him. 

Healy uses the blanket on the bed to cover himself up a little, but lets his hands rest on top of his still bare stomach. He’s trying his best not to break some unspoken boundary between the two but he can’t help but feel tempted when he sees the way Holland takes up the space on his bed. Holland’s no better than him, not with him sliding a cautious arm around the other man's back. He lets that hand lean against Healy’s side, fingers running through the other man’s body hair ever so slightly. Healy seems to notice this discrepancy and looks down at Holland’s arm.

“Thought your left hand was too fucked up to stroke anything, March.”

“I… yeah it is.” Holland slides his hand back, doing his best to pretend that it was still screwed up. His face was bright red, not that anyone would be able to tell. He didn’t want to admit it, Healy hadn’t really caught him, had he?

Without a thought, Healy catches Holland’s arm before it gets too far away. He moves it back to its previous spot. “If you wanted attention, you could have just said something. Woulda saved us some trouble.”

“And say what?” Holland snarks back at him, “ ‘Hey, Healy, give me a handy will ya?’ No thanks.” Jack shakes with a silent laugh.

“I did offer you one, y’know. In the car.”

“Yeah. I know.” He rolls his eyes, “I was probably thinking more with my schwantz than I want to admit.”

#the nice guys (2016) #the nice guys #the nice guys fanfiction #ryan gosling #holland march #jackson healy #holland march x jackson healy #healland #holland march fanfic #ryan gosling fanfiction #my work #my posts

[faghubby]

FAIRY GODMOTHER. MAKING ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE

"Paul come watch this" Amber said as I plopped down next to her. She hit play on her phone. I was surprised as it was porn. Amber snuggled close her hand rubbing my quickly growing erection. I was so surprised I had not even realized I had watched it before.

"His cock is enormous" Amber commented "is that what you like about it?" She asked. Her hand now inside my pants. She switched the video. This one I recognized immediately as she jerked me off. A black man was fucking a petite white girl.

"Must be the big cocks" she teased I went to comment when she switched again. This one was her getting railed by her ex boyfriend. "This one was your favorite" she told me. I had found it on an old phone of hers and downloaded I had watched it hundreds of times. I wanted to cum but she stopped.

"You jerk off to this don't you?" She asked annoyed. I was caught no point in denying it.

"Yes, it is just so hot" I told her wishing she would continue stroking me.

"This was a bit wierd when I found it, but this one" she switched again to a video of a man being called a bitch while he watched his girlfriend get seduced by another guy. I couldn't even look at her but my dick was throbbing.

"And then" she switched videos again this one a girl lowered herself onto her boyfriends face making him lick her cum filled pussy clean.

"My pussy is full of cum right now" she whispered. She stood and lifted her dress she wore no panties as she pushed me back on the couch she lowered herself to my waiting tounge. I sucked and licked her pussy.

"There is no cum in there, but you didn't even hesitate" she teased as she rode my face. Soon she was moaning and grinding against my tounge. She came hard and rolled off actually hitting the floor. I jumped up sto see if she was okay. My pants fell around my ankles my dick still throbbing.

Amber looked at me from the floor.

"You are so much smaller then George is" Amber said like she just realized it. I started to jerk off. As she laid on the floor below me.

"That's right play with your little peepee" Amber teased. She had never said anything like thst before but I came instantly from it. As my cum landed on her stomach.

"Is that it? Not very much guess those little balls don't hold much either" Amber said. I was now ashamed and wanted to get dressed.

Amber had me help her up first and scoop up a glob of my cum.

"Want this?" She asked holding it up to my lips. I shook my head pulled up my pants and almost ran out of the room. Amber left me alone the rest of the day. Although she seemed concerned. I couldn't even look at her. Even choosing to sleep on the couch. Amber woke me I. The morning by sucking my dick. As I woke she stopped.

"Paul I'm sorry about yesterday I didn't mean to upset you" she said. I pulled her up to sit next to me ignoring. That she had not finished but she never did. She would suck me for alittle bit then let me fuck her. I had never finished in her mouth.

"Babe it is not you, I was just" I started to cry. Amber held me I came to rest my head against her breast. She wore just a loose tee shirt and her nipple had popped out. I started to suck her nipple. And I calmed down as she just held me li,e a mother would as I sucked her nipple.

In soft tones she just held me and spoke

"I was trying to let you play out your fantasy is all honey, I didn't think it would upset you. She started to stroke my cock. As she held me in her arms.

"You like this game though don't you" she said I nodded never letting go of her nipple.

"We can play it some more you can go at you pace" she assured me. I came all over her hand. She pulled her nipple away and rubbed my cum on it. As I watched. I leaned back and licked it clean. She just held me there for a few more minutes before I got up.

"You aren't mad at me?" I asked barely above a whisper.

"No sweety, I love you" she said kissing me. It was several days later that we spoke about any of it again.

We where in bed my head buried between her legs as I licked and sucked kissed and nibbled on her engorged pussy lips.

"Yes, ohGod. Imagine how much you would love it if you where sucking up my lovers cum right now. She moaned. As soon as she said it she stiffened alittle in a panic. But it spurred me on till I made her cum.

"I didn't mean, I mean it was just so hot" she tried to explain.

"Amber, I " but I couldn't finish. She pulled me to her and I slid my cock into her wet pussy. I lasted only a minute before I came. We held each other then as usual got up to clean up. When Amber came back I handed her my phone.

"I want you to read my daily journal" I told her.

"Okay, why baby" she asked

"I can't express, just read it please" I asked.

"I will but not tonight" she kissed me and we held each other. In the morning I sent her a link to my online journal. To read at her leasure.

Amber had not mentioned it at all for days. I didn't even know if she had started to. I had written init everyday for years. Till she came home from shopping on Saturday.

"Paulie, could you come in here" she called from the bedroom. As I entered I she held up a pair of panties and a girls undershirt.

"I hope they fit I got the biggest size" Amber smiled. I turned bright red. I had figured she would have read the journal from the last year prehaps but she had started from the beginning. I had written how my cousin had made me wear her underwear and how I got so excited I came in them when I was 14. I had described them in detail. And now before me Amber held what seemed to be the identical ones.

Simple light pink cotton briefs. With little darker pink flowers and a bow on the thin lace border. With a matching tee shirt.

"Come on put it on" she told me. I undressed and slid them on. My 5'6" slender frame. these girls underwear fit perfectly. Amber slid on the tee short as well.

"Just like a little girl" she teased rubbing me thru the panties. As she pinched my nipple I breathed sharply.

"Don't worry if you make a mess, I bought you more" she said and I came in the panties. Again I was flush with embarrassment and wanted to cry. Amber held me.

"I know, it's okay. I read how the boys teased you. So you played with the girls wishing you could be a girl" she said softly. "You can be my little girl whenever you want" she told me. Wipping my eyes. She cleaned me up and gave me a new pair of panties this one had a matching training bra. I put it on. And we painted each other's toes.

"I'm not gay" I said at one point.

"I know baby" Amber reassured me.that night Amber held me against her chest and then pulled out her tit and stuffed in my mouth I fell asleep sucking on her nipple.i woke in the morning excited. Amber was still asleep. Amber had not freaked out about the panties she had encouraged it. I kept them on and went and made her breakfast in bed. I screwed it up and set off the smoke detector. Amber rushed out and assured me it was okay. She just smacked my ass alittle.

"I read some more things you wrote in that journal" she cooed leading me back to bed. She turned on the video of her getting fucked by her ex. This time on the TV.

"See how he is able to fuck me from behind real good because his dick is so long?" She pointed out. As she stroked my hair.

"Do you wish you had a big cock?" She teased.

"It wouldn't fit in your panties if you did?" My head was resting in her lap. She just stroked my head as I watched.

"Watch how much he comes" she said. "I used to swallow all of it for him. Have I ever swallowed yours?" When it ended she put on a girl on girl video.

"We can be more like this if you like" she teased my nipplles. I was so horny I wanted to flip her over and fuck her but I just laid there.

"I read how in high school Linda? That was her name right. How she cheated on you with her best friend boyfriend. And that you where actually just a beard so her friend wouldn't suspect. Did she ever let you fuck her?" Amber asked already knowing the answer.

"No, she let me lick her though" I said ashamed

"Would you like it if I did the same?" Her hand now running over my stomach. I didn't answer

"I could cuckold you like she did. Even let you eat my messy pussy after like in your dirty porn. Maybe even get you some sexy panties. Or do you prefer these little girl ones?" Amber continued I wanted to exploded and she had not even touched my dick.

"You are too excited" Amber said she popped her tit in my mouth. This seems to calm you down. Like a little girl. I sucked on her nipple and curled into her lap. She rubbed the precum leaking thru my panties and had me suck it off her fingers. Amber had me get her vibrator from her drawer and come back to bed. She removed her panties and had me fuck her with it as I licked her clit.

"Yes you will be my lesbian husband" she moaned as she came all over my face. Amber had me wear my panties and training bra the rest of the day. That evening she went to take a bath. I had to use the bathroom. She wash shaving her legs when I came in.

"Would you like me to shave your legs" she asked.

"What would I tell people?" I asked.

"That's not what I asked, let me worry you get to worked up. Would you like to try it?" She asked. I didn't answer just stripped and joined in the tub. I was hard not having cum this morning. As Amber showed me how to shave my legs. It took forever.amber had gotten out. The water was cold which helped with my erection. As Amber continued. She didn't stop till my legs where smooth then she shaved my pubic hair as well leaving a little heart above my penis.

"Might as well do your butt as well" she told me as I was on my hands and knees in the cold water. As she was about finished she slid her soapy fingers against my hole then pushed them in.

"Ohhhhh" I squealed.

"Shhh, ever girl has to lose their virginity some time." She worked her finger slid in and out.

"The first time I let a man have my ass, it hurt so much. But by the second or third time I was begging for it" Amber told me, I had never fucked her ass she had never made any indication she wanted me to. Yet she was fucking mine with her fingers. She then removed her fingers.

"Why don't you finish" pointing to the little hair I had on my chest and pits. As she got up and left me alone. I was caught up in it all and shaved the rest of my hair.

To be continued.

[red-bat-arse]

Get High, Get Down

Eddie Munson was a year and a half out from surviving his trip into the Upside Down, and overall things couldn't be better. He'd been taking testosterone, loving up on Steve Harrington, and getting orgasms on the regular. So what's the problem?

Was it that he had a harder time crying, that he needed to eat twice as much as he used to, or that he was horny as often as he had his eyes open? No, surprisingly, and all of those things had cooled off a little in time. Was it that even looking at Steve got him hotter than the hood of the Beemer on a summer day? No, what are you crazy?

Actually, if you must know, it was that he couldn't fucking chill out long enough to take dick and that was pretty much the only thing he wanted to do at the moment.

*I wrote an incredibly horny homage to my own hangups being a transsexual man on T navigating sex -and using grass to do it. Pass by if that's not for you! Here's the first third, the full spicy thing is on AO3*

Link

Listen, the thing about being on testosterone, right, is that for the first couple years you're basically re-doing puberty all over again.

This was something Eddie'd been prepared for ever since he first got to talking to the guys in Indianapolis who'd been on hormones one way or another since the sixties and seventies. It had been a bit of a pipe dream for him given he couldn't see a way out of Hawkins long term, but he still wanted to learn what to expect and what to say to his doctor if he ever got that far.

Eddie knew he'd already got a bit of a boon, since Wayne let him shave his head and change his name after dear old dad got locked up when he was eleven. If it'd been anyone else, Eddie likely would've spent the seven years until he hit eighteen miserable and forced into a pretty pink box, whatever he had to say about it be damned. Certainly his mum's side didn't appreciate having a tranny in the family, but they were all assholes anyway and Eddie was happy to wreck any family gathering where his cousins 'she'd' him -and getting banned when he was fifteen was just a bonus. It's not as if Wayne cared.

But yeah, he moved to Hawkins and became Eddie Munson, and he grew into the freak the town knew him as partly because, well, that's who he was, but also to keep any rumours manageable. Who was going to care about him skipping out on gym when all the jocks spread around that he sucked dick behind the bleachers anyway? Who would notice his voice sometimes going high pitched when he was tired when he'd just finished ranting on a lunch table about forced conformity and bullshit American values? Not the idiots at Hawkins High, anyway.

And everyone was too busy trying to hunt him down and kill him to look into his records before moving in with Wayne -not that any survived the jumping around Al Munson did for the three years he went off the rails once mum died.

So it was a scare, really, when one Sam Owens shuffled into his hospital room a few weeks after everything went down with enough paperwork to put a cramp in Eddie's wrist and a quiet question about the reason his records didn't match his body. The guy pretty quickly backtracked when Eddie's heart monitor spiked through the roof, and reassured him he didn't mean any harm -far from it. He rambled on about proper treatment and government doctors and medical records for a bit, before Eddie cut him off and asked him to spell it out for him before he yelled for one of those said doctors to come and escort him out.

Well, turns out in the matter of replacing the few IDs him and Wayne had that were lost with half the trailer, it came up that the doctors who were overseeing him noticed he didn't exactly have a dick as claimed. Ok, Owens didn't say it like that, but you get the idea. So he was here to figure out what was going on, whether someone was massively messing up on their examination logs, and how to fix it in the quietest, smoothest way possible.

"Well I'm a guy, so jot that down," Eddie said, frankly exhausted, and luckily Owens seemed able to read the room.

Owens talked more about what he'd researched after speaking with Wayne and jumping to some conclusions, a group he'd called out of SanFran that had information on FTM experiences and the few medical advances for them in recent years, and it was all very interesting, really. Eddie didn't even feel weird about confirming it, though he'd never actually called himself transsexual out loud to anyone, and it was a little annoying how Owens nodded along as if he hadn't said anything noteworthy. He was wondering again what the point of it all was when Owens brought out a new folder, much slimmer, and pushed it towards Eddie with a funny little smile on his face.

And just like that, all Eddie's IDs said male on them, and he was set up on a testosterone prescription from an actual real life doctor and pharmacy -apparently natural guys got prescribed shots like that on the regular, who knew? Eddie hadn't ever thought he'd be able to get a doctor to sign off on it, let alone afford it, but all of The Party were being taken care of for the next five years at least, and got handouts besides, so he had time to figure it out.

As mentioned, this all meant that from the summer of 1986 through to New Year's Eve 1987, Eddie'd basically been putting himself through a second, much more wonky and unpredictable puberty. It had it's upsides. He didn't have to pay attention to keeping his voice low, he got a bit of bristly scruff as opposed to faking it with mascara, and even his muscles seemed to shift and sit differently. It was great and if Owens hadn't been part of such a shitty operation Eddie might've sent him a Christmas card over it, he was so thankful.

Of course, there were some drawbacks. He didn't cry as often, needed to eat twice as much, had to buy better deodorant and body wash, to name a few. Oh, and also, he was out of his mind horny with alarming consistency.

Eddie definitely didn't remember Jeff, Toby or Gareth complaining about this shit, although to be fair as a friend group they hadn't ever really talked crushes or embarrassing bodily functions much. He supposed he expected it to some degree, but it was kind of a lot and he didn't exactly have a threshold for normal FTM second puberty milestones here. He wasn't exactly complaining, mind you, because by virtue of gaining his little clit-dick, he was experiencing more orgasms in the average week than he used to give himself in a couple months. It was hard to complain about anything that made him feel that good with little to no drawbacks.

Well, no drawbacks now that he was approaching the two year mark and his libido was cooling off a smidge. No longer was he in danger of an ill-advisedly tight pair of jeans leading him to lock himself in the employee bathroom while on the clock so he could get himself off at lightning speed to work without being distracted -hypothetically, right, that was definitely just a completely made up scenario, one he for sure didn't have to worry about anymore. Again, having a dick was awesome.

So yes, he was horny on the regular. It had cooled off a bit, but he still comfortably got himself off around once a day, more if something set him off thinking dirty thoughts and he had the time to spare. That was preferable to any imagined, totally not even plausible bathroom incidents he definitely didn't need to think about. It would've even been manageable, truly, if not for one small, teeny, tiny, extra little facet of Eddie's journey going through all this after the shitshow that was March '86.

That being that he and one Steve Harrington -of the Loch Nora Harringtons, lately lapsed in residence to the house where Eddie had once sold his wares of grass and grog -were, as of late October, an item. Attached. Going steady. Courting one another in a manner of chaste companionship, if you will.

Was this what Eddie was complaining about? Absolutely not and if anyone implied such a thing Eddie had words prepared for them detailing just how abysmally wrong they were about it. He could barely believe it himself, but he knew a good thing when he saw one and wasn't about to let it go easily. Ever since the anniversary of Vecna's defeat when Hopper hosted The Party out at his cabin and Eddie and Steve ended up pressed together by the fire, the last two awake, too drunk by far, but not drunk enough to stop Eddie from crying into Steve's shoulder, they'd been circling each other. It took a bit, granted, since Eddie was nothing if not self-sabotaging when it came to crushes, but Steve had been braver than him and ended an elaborate series of near kisses that drove Eddie up a wall with a perfect one planted on him in the front room of the trailer after dinner.

It was bliss, a small town gay like Eddie landing a guy as sweet and protective and bitchy as Steve. And even more than that, Steve seemed to be just as infatuated as Eddie was; he'd liked to touch and be nearby when they were friends, but adding romance dialed it up to another level. An arm around his waist, a leg over his thighs, fingers on his wrist or bumping hips, Steve loved being close and Eddie wasn't used to it, but it was fast becoming his favourite thing. Figuring out that Steve loved getting pet-named and blushed to high heaven whenever Eddie complimented him was icing on the cake. Give him the whole box, really.

So what was the problem?

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #trans stuff #trans eddie munson #spicy scenes #fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

[justcallmefox89]

Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia - Chapter Twenty

An AU of The Royal Romance with a male MC and a bisexual prince.

Masterlist

Drake and Liam learn more about Callum's past.

“What’s going on, Pops?” Callum asks again.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” Niall answers, shooting a dirty look at Donny.

The blonde man shrugs nonchalantly, taking a pack of cigarettes from his jack pocket and tapping it against the palm of his hand.

“Yeah… turns out there wasn’t a problem at the club after all.”  Callum narrows his eyes at his father.

Niall innocently widens his eyes.  “I must have misunderstood.”

“Then you just mistakenly let yourself into my apartment while I was out?”

“I do own the building, Callum,” Niall sniffs.  “Technically I can go into any apartment I want to, with or without your permission.”

Donny lets out a slightly breathy and panicked, “Oh shit.”

Drake’s eyes bounce back and forth between the men like ping-pong balls and Liam sits rigidly next to him, tension evident in every line of his body.

“That’s how we’re going to do this?  Seriously, Pops?  You didn’t try that line on me when I was sixteen but you’re doing it now?”

“You had better sense at sixteen,” Niall snaps.  “Back then you weren’t jumping at the chance to ruin your life every time a hot piece of ass smiled at you.”

“I need a smoke,” Donny suddenly announces loudly.  He points at Liam and Drake.  “You two.  Come with me.”

Confused, Liam blurts out, “We don’t smoke.”

“You can hold my lighter,” Donny replies, tugging the pair to their feet.

Ioan rises from his chair.  “I think I’ll join you -”

“You better keep your ass in that chair, old man,” Callum grinds out between clenched teeth.

Stunned at his grandson’s tone, Ioan plops back into his seat, and Donny seizes the opportunity to hustle Drake and Liam out onto the balcony.  He manages to slam the sliding glass door closed just as the shouting starts.

“What the actual FUCK were you two thinking?” Callum yells.

Donny lights a cigarette and inhales deeply, letting the pale grey smoke slowly curl out of his nostrils.  “I hope the two of you are pleased with yourselves.”

“Us?”  Liam gapes, pointing between himself and Drake.  “You think this is our fault?”

“Isn’t it?”  He takes another drag.  “Callum was fine, happy again.  You two are back in his life less than three days and him and his father are at each other’s throats with Ioan snapping at their heels.”

Liam’s cheeks flush and he scowls.  “The MacKenzie family’s dysfunction has nothing to do with us.”

“It has everything to do with you, cupcake.”

Drake braces his forearms on the railing that runs around the perimeter of the balcony.  “I didn’t mean for anything like this to happen.  I never wanted to cause Callum any problems.”

He sounds so miserable that Donny takes pity on him.  “I know you didn’t mean to, kid.  But goddamn… why couldn’t you just stay away?”

The voices from the living room get louder and the three men wince in unison.

“He’s going back with you,” Donny says, flicking his cigarette butt onto the ground and crushing it with the toe of his boot.

Liam sighs.  “He hasn’t made a decision one way or the other yet.”

“I know my son.  He’ll go.”

Drake and Liam exchange startled looks.

Donny chuckles at their shocked expressions.  “I’ve been raising that boy for nearly thirty years, and I’ve been with Niall for almost as long.  Callum’s my son.”

“We didn’t realize…” Drake trails off, embarrassed.

“Did Callum ever tell you about his mother?”

“From the way he phrased it I assumed she died when he was very young,” Liam says slowly.

Donny barks out a harsh laugh.  “Fuck.  That woman will still be alive when there’s only cockroaches roaming the earth.”

Drake’s mouth drops open and Liam frowns uncomfortably.

Taking in their shocked expressions Donny sighs and lights another cigarette.  “That was probably unfair to Cassie.  We’ve always had a… complicated relationship.”

“So his mom is alive?” Drake asks.

Donny shrugs.  “He’s never met her.  She showed up once when he graduated high school.  Niall almost had an aneurysm.  She futzed around a bit, said she wanted to finally meet her son.  But in the end she did what she always does and disappeared before anything could happen.  Thank god we didn’t tell the kid anything and get his hopes up.”

“How did… How long… um…” Liam flounders, unable to articulate the potentially offensive question.

“You wanna know how I fit in to all this?”  Donny grins around the cigarette in his mouth.

Drake and Liam nod in unison.

“I met Niall when I started working for Ioan, back when the old man was still running everything.  I was young, stupid, pissed at the world.  Dishonorably discharged from the military.  At the beginning I was just supposed to be muscle at a few of the different strip joints, but for whatever reason Ioan took me under his wing.  Brought me into his home, started teaching me about the business.”

“Is that when you started dating?” Liam asks.

Donny laughs and rolls his eyes.  “Fuck no.  Back then there was no telling me I was anything but straight.  But we got to be friends and if I had the occasional thought about how good his ass looked then I would just ignore it.  I knew Niall batted for both teams and it never bothered me… but back then I just wasn’t ready to accept certain things about myself, you know?”

“Oh, I know.”  Drake gives Liam a slightly dirty look from the corner of his eye and the king’s cheek flush a soft pink.

“Anyway, one night we’re out with some of our other friends doing a bar crawl and we wind up at this dive that has live music.”  Donny stubs out his cigarette on the balcony railing.  “Cassie’s band was playing that night.  I hate to say anything nice about the woman but she’s a fuckin’ stunner and goddamn talented to boot.  Long story short Niall starts chattin’ her up after her band has finished for the night and they start seein’ each other.  This goes one for a few months, and Niall and I started drifting apart a little.  I didn’t really understand it then, but looking back I was jealous of Cassie and seeing them together… hurt.”

“I get that,” Drake murmurs softly, looking down at his feet.  With a sad smile, Liam silently reaches out and takes his hand.

“So after they’ve been together a few months Niall gets picked up on some charges related to uh… a few substances that were being sold out of a few of the clubs.  Gets sentenced to five to ten.  Cassie disappears.”  Donny rolls his eyes. “Me and Ioan weren’t all that surprised, she was never all that serious about Niall and it’s hard enough being in a relationship with somebody on the inside when you’re committed.  We moved on thinkin’ she was gone for good.  Niall being locked up was hell on the old man, and I wasn’t taking it much better, but we were doing the best we could.  Then about eight months into Niall’s sentence, I get a phone call from Cassie.”

Drake and Liam lean forward, drawn in by the older man’s story.

“So it’s two in the morning, and I’ve got this chick I can’t stand calling me at the club I was working at that night.  I was ready to tell her to piss off, but she starts crying, telling me she’s at the hospital and I’m the only one she can call for help.  And me being a total fucking sucker I went to the hospital because I knew that’s what Niall would’ve wanted.  I show up and she’s in a hospital room, lying in bed, holding a fucking baby of all things.”

“Callum,” Liam says quietly.

“Bingo.”  Donny shoots a pair of finger guns towards him.  “At first I didn’t know what the hell to think.  Honestly I just wanted to leave her there and pretend I never saw a thing.  She breaks down crying again, saying she doesn’t know what to do, didn’t know who to call since Niall’s in prison, she’s scared of Ioan, she needs help, and on and on.”

“Wait, why was she scared of Ioan?” Drake asks.

“You’ve met the old man, yeah?  Are you scared of him now?”

Without hesitation Drake and Liam both nod.

“Now imagine him thirty years ago and pretend you’ve been hiding the fact that you were pregnant with his only son’s child.”

The pair shudder.    

Donny nods.  “Exactly.  I didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore than she did, and I told her so.  She begged me to stay with her just a little while, asks me to hold the kid so she could take a shower and get some things situated with the hospital.  I didn’t have the heart to say no.  I mean, the poor girl had been alone in the hospital with a brand new baby for three days at that point, I figured that was the least I could do for her.  So she gives me the kid, just this squishy little thing, and I settle down with him while she goes to clean up.  He was the cutest fucking thing, all fuckin’ chubby baby rolls and this thick, curly black hair.  I didn’t mean to but as some point I fell asleep holding him.  Next thing I know, Callum is screaming his lungs out and I got a pissed off nurse shaking me awake asking me where Cassie was.”

“And where was Cassie?” Liam asked.

“Fuck if I know.  As soon as I fell asleep she grabbed her shit and got the hell out of dodge.”

“She just left her baby with you?  Without telling you where she was going?  She didn’t even really know you!” Drake exclaims.

“I feel like we’ve already established she’s not a good mom, kid.”  Donny gives him an exasperated look.  “So I’ve got Callum, fresh out of the oven, Niall’s locked up, and I don’t have the first fucking clue how to find Cassie.  I’m only 28, living in a shitty apartment, spending nearly all my free time drunk, high, or both.”

Drake starts to speak, hesitates, then powers on.  “Why didn’t you just call Ioan and let him take care of it?”

“Siobhan, Callum’s grandma, was fighting a losing battle with breast cancer.  Ioan wasn’t handling it well… didn’t seem fair to add something else to the bullshit he was dealing with.  He wasn’t in the best headspace then anyway.  Siobhan was the only thing he cared about, only thing he could focus on.  Even if I wanted to let him have Callum I don’t think he would’ve been able to take care of him.  So I told the hospital I was Callum’s father, signed the birth certificate and everything.  Cassie hadn’t even named the kid yet, so I had to do that too.”

“You named Callum?”  Liam arches an eyebrow in question.

Donny’s cheeks turn pink and he squirms in place, an oddly endearing gesture for a man in his fifties.  “I knew Niall would want to honor his dad in some way, so the middle name was easy.  Then I just thought about what name I’d want to use if Niall and I would ever… you know,” he mumbles.

Liam and Drake share a conspiratorial smirk.  “That’s adorable,” Liam says.

Donny coughs, looking slightly uncomfortable.  “Anyways.  The nurses gave me a crash course in fatherhood then shoved me out the door.  I waited a few days before I told Ioan and Siobhan… I wanted some time to think on what I was going to do.  I brought Callum to their house, told them everything that happened, and said I wanted to take care of Callum until Niall got out.  Siobhan wasn’t on board at first, and I don’t blame her.  I was young and stupid, never taken care of a baby before, didn’t know a damn thing about kids.  But for whatever reason, I knew I was meant to protect that baby.  Ioan was relieved, in a way, I think.  God only knows why but he trusted me with his grandson, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay him for that.”

“What did Niall have to say about everything when he found out?” Drake asks.

“Oh he was pissed,” Donny laughs.  “He would’ve taken care of Cassie if she’d told him she was pregnant, made sure she had everything she needed.  But the fact that she just abandoned Callum without a word was the thing that really rustled his jimmies.  He would’ve forgiven anything else but that I think.”

“How did that work though?” Liam asks delicately.  “With Niall being… indisposed?”

“You can say he was in prison, Your Majesty.”  Donny smirks.  “Niall didn’t want Callum to see him in that place, so they didn’t actually properly meet until Callum was six.  Niall wrote letters every week, and I read them to him.  Things got a little more complicated when Callum started to talk and then he had a whole lot of questions.  I always made sure he knew that Niall was his dad, but I never let him forget just how much I loved him too.  The adjustment period after Niall got out was rough on all of us.  Callum didn’t want to leave me, and Niall didn’t want to be away from his son.  Understandably.  So Niall got a bigger apartment and Callum and I moved in with him.”

“So is that when you and Niall got together?”

Donny grins at Drake question.  “Not quite.  By that time I had pulled my head out of my ass enough to realize that I wasn’t quite as straight as I wanted to believe.  It was a couple more years before Niall and I got into a proper relationship.  But that is a story for another time.”

Donny sighs and runs his hands through his hair.  “Look, at the end of the day Callum is going to do whatever he wants to do… no matter what me, Niall, or Ioan have to say about it.  Just… just take care of my boy, ok?  Try not to hurt him any more than you absolutely have to.”

“I don’t… I never want to hurt Callum,” Liam protests.

“Are you still going to marry that girl you’re engaged to?”

Liam stay silent, anxiously gnawing on his lower lip.

“Then he’s going to be hurt,” Donny replies with a sad smile.  He looks through the sliding glass door into the living room, frowning.  “Shit.”

Drake and Liam whip around just in time to see Niall glare up at his son one last time before stalking out the front door, Ioan following closely behind him.  Callum tips his head back and his shoulders slump, but he quickly collects himself and moves into the kitchen.

“That went about as well as I thought it would,” Donny sighs.  “Give me a few minutes.”

Drake and Liam wait out on the balcony while Donny says goodbye to Callum.

“We’re being selfish,” Drake says eventually.

Liam glances over at him.  “Excuse me?”

“We have royally fucked up Callum’s life.”

“I see what you did there.”  The Cordonia king smirks over at his friend.

Drake shoves him away half-heartedly.  “Stop.  I’m being serious.  I wasn’t thinking about Callum when I dragged him back into this.  Not the way I should have.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When we got to New York all I was focused on was finding Callum again because I missed him.  Because I wanted to remind you that you could actually be with someone you loved instead of Madeline.  I didn’t think about what would happen to his life, how all of us being back together would affect him.”

“Considering how close the two of you have gotten I wouldn’t say our returning presence has been all bad.”

Drake blushes furiously.  “I...  That’s not…  Liam!”

“Just saying.”  Liam shrugs innocently. 

“What I meant was that I only considered how having Callum back would make our lives better, make us happier.  I didn’t even stop to think about what that would mean for his life here… with his family, and his job, and his other friends.  How can we ask him to leave all that for us again?  Especially when you’re still going through with the wedding to Madeline.”

Liam groans.  “Why do we keep having to go over this?  I have a duty, an obligation to Cordonia.  That doesn’t mean we can’t be together.  All three of us.”

“This!”  Drake smacks Liam’s chest.  “This right here is the problem!  Callum won’t be happy just being your affair on the side.”

“And you will be?” Liam challenges.

“Of course I won’t!  But if that’s the price I have to pay to be with you again I will.  Callum can’t do that though.”

Liam scowls.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“That’s not fair,” Drake sighs.

“What Callum’s asking isn’t fair either.”

“Callum actually isn’t asking you to do anything,” Drake points out.  “He only told you what he was willing and not willing to do given the circumstances.”

Liam falls silent, unable to come up with a reasonable counter argument.  The pair stare out at the bustling city streets for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

Drake is the first one to break the silence.  “Liam, what are we going to do?”

@superharriet

@angelasscribbles

@kingliam2019

#pixelberry #choices #pb choices #choices fanfic #trr drake #choices stories you play #the royal romance #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr #drake walker #liam rys #the royal romance drake #trr liam x male mc #trr mc x liam #trr liam #the royal romance liam #king liam #trr drake x male mc #trr drake walker #callum mackenzie #cinderfellas adventures in cordonia #cinderfella in cordonia #choices the royal romance #the royal romance maxwell #the royal romance olivia #trr male oc #trr male mc #trr male #choices game

[lipglossanon]

for the first time in too damn long of a time my brain had a full fledged thought last night 👏 👏 👏

let’s say reg stepdad leon, m’kay, mom is home for once reader sneaks out goes somewhere with her friends gets all dressed up in a risqué outfit because she knows her parents will know when she sneaks out and she wants leon to see her so she does just that. her parents find out she’s gone, she didn’t even try to hide it, and her mom is like leon can you go and get her because she got a call from work, so he does, and you notice the car that pulled up in front of your friends as being his and start flirting with some of the guys in your group because duh, piss him the fuck off, and be a brat, finally when leon is done stalking you around he approaches and takes you back home. now mom is packing to leave for a trip and confiscates your phone handing it to leon (a surprise tool that will help us later 😉) so you’re mad and that night your mom is gone and leon has your phone so you pull out your old phone knowing the accounts are still synced and everything will appear on the phone Stepdaddy Leon™️ has and you ask your friends to hang out and you sneak out again and leon follows you, you decide to be ballsy because you’re mad and you suck off one of the guys in your friend group in the parking lot you met in the other day while making eye contact with the windshield of leon’s car knowing it’s pissing him off so when he comes and gets you later and you see where you spit earlier it makes you aware that you’re going to be stuck in the car with him but he doesn’t do anything or mention it he just takes you home and let’s you go to your room,,,,,, so you do, and you pull out your old phone again knowing anything you take will be on the phone leon has and you take plenty of nudes and videos to just piss him off so he’s extra mean to you and boy is he mad but not mad enough to interrupt you walking in on him in the couch jacking off to the video you took merely minutes ago 🤭

sorry i rushed the end i’ve been trying to condense my thoughts into single serving slices instead of just fucking rambling <3

- 💀

(but because i’m a rambler it was gonna end like,,,, stepdaddy leon balls deep in you while also fingering you and using his thumb to rub your clit like you’re on your stomach and he’s behind you on his knees with his legs in between yours, spreading them while your ankles/calves are smooshed between his thighs and calves while he has you pushed down into the bed and is fingering you with the other hand while just railing you 😩 i was also thinking like if it was dark!stepdaddy leon, seeing you suck off some other guy because you’re mad you got your phone taken away man, i’m exposing myself here lol, what if he wore rings 👀 and got a lighter and branded the reader 🫣 is that too far? or a more tame one like shoving a dildo down your throat while he fuck you

💀 anon, you and 🐶 anon are almost too spicy for my inbox 🤭 🤭 (keyword, almost)

I love the idea of being a brat to stepdad!Leon 😩 I have a brat taking fic coming up (at some point lmao). I just have a hard time with it cause I am too much of a goody two shoes 😂 so it’s hard to get in the brat mindset haha

And give me your unhinged thoughts, friend. If you wanna write it with branding, then do it 🤭 maybe.. maybe dark!stepdad could pierce her, like as another way to show he owns her now 👀 👀 just tossing ideas around 🤭

#ask box #💀 anon #lipglossanon #lipglossanswers #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy #stepdad!leon s kennedy

[lostonehero]

Since nobody is asking me for any requests, have Kayne getting railed by Oscar.

Again if it wasn't obvious this is NSFW

Dubious content however Kayne is really into it because Kayne

A manic laughter filled the hospital. "Ooo, I wanted to see how Arthur left you, and this is just... just..." He laughs even harder.

Oscar cracked open his eyes, staring at a white-haired man in a suit splattered with blood dripping from his hands and feet. He knew a few things. The man was floating, so he wasn't human. He didn't stink of another demon nor of an angel... as if they would even put on a human facade. He cleared his throat and yawned. "Why are you here?"

"Normally, you lot scream or call for a nurse." The man wipes a tear spreading blood on his face. "Odd one, aren't you. Doesn't matter. I do love this part." The man snaps his fingers and nothing happens.

Oscar narrows his gaze and grabs at his cross. "As I appreciate this show of whatever power you think you hold over me. I would rather get back to sleep."

"Well, that's just rude, but a few of you that doesn't work, but that just means I get to use this." The man pulls out a sharp dagger.

Oscar takes a breath and pulls the cross off his neck and drops it to the floor, and his newly grown right arm catches the knife. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. Just because I grew up under the cloth and raised to be human, and fo be a priest dies not mean I am unaware of my true origins. However, new I am to the world Arthur showed me doesn't mean in defenseless." He throws the white-haired man back, and the other sleeping patients didn't even stir from sleep. "Pick a God and pray because I hold no mercy for the likes of you."

The man swallows and starts to laugh. "Oh, do you think that little display of growing back your arm would scare me?" He watches as Oscar gets out of his bed, his hospital gown discarded as massive black wings stretch from his back and a long tail that cracks like a whip. Two massive horns curl from his hair as he licks his now sharp teeth his eyes lose the amber now a pure black. The man's laugh stops. "Now, this is interesting, but again yawn you do -" he isn't fast enough to stop the hand latched to his throat squeezing.

Oscar licks his lips. "You sound better quiet." He kneels on the man's stomach. "My name is Oscar, and since pain isn't enough, I shall get a use out of you. I expect you to be screaming my name by the time I'm done with you."

"I'm Kayne, and I high- fuck fuck FUCK." Kayne whines as sharp claws dig into his stomach drawing blood reveling his prick at full attention.

"I don't need your name, and please be as loud as you like nobody here will notice nor care. I've been having a rough two days, so I think I won't hold back just for you." Oscar leans forward, biting into Kayne's lip.

Kayne moans loud and like he's paid to do it. "You're a tease, i- ah!"

"If you continue to talk instead of those noises, I'll leave you withering like this." Oscar warns his hot breath blowing close to Kayne's ear.

Kayne moans as the sharp point of Oscar's tears into his pants and painfully wraps around his dick. He grabs onto Oscar's waist and groans. He's drooling.

Oscar smirks. "Oh, the boy knows how to be good." He pushes Kayne against the ground hard the tile cracks. He forcefully rolls him over and tears off the rest of his pants and underwear. "Oh, celibacy has been fun, but to break it on the likes of you makes it better because I know this damage won't last even as you wish it could. I'm no fool. I know you're like Scratch an old one having their fun." His sharp claws leave a red trail as they splay Kayne's skin open till he reaches his ass. "I'm still so new to this, and Arthur gave me his little bestiary. I can guess what you are. Why do you think I'm ok with how forceful I'm being? None if this will last, and you'll crave to be broken again." He gives no warning as he forcefully inserted three fingers at once. He licks at the blood spilled down Kayne's back. "Shame, you taste good too."

Kayne shivers and whines at the intrusion. The pace is brutal and barely even stretched when the thick inhuman member inserts itself inside. He hasn't been this full in eons, let alone feel this level of pleasure in twice that. He honestly didn't care about the black stone, he didn't care about Arthur and he didn't care about his godhood now he was full and a slave to his pleasure and wanted nothing more than this feeling to last.

Oscar keeps a brutal pace. "Keep making those noises and maybe... Aha."

Kayne gasps and whines loud as he cums hard and fast, his bloody hands digging into the tile.

Oscar stops his movements. "Did I tell you to cum before me? No you fucking brat." He grabs Kayne's hair and pulls him back. "I'm going to keep going till I'm satisfied, and I don't give a shit what you do. I'm going to leave you here to lick your wounds while I head home." He digs his claws into Kaynes back, drawing more blood as he starts again even harder than before.

Kayne can feel himself get hard again, and he can do nothing but whine and moan as he feels something burning to fill him. He wanted more, but he could feel him pull out. He couldn't find his voice to tell him to stop to beg him for some sort of deal.

Oscar snaps, and he's clean, and another he's fully dressed going for his discarded cross. "I had my fill, and this is goodbye. You obviously have other more important things than the world of mortals. Have a blessed day." His footsteps get quieter and quieter as he exits the hospital.

Kayne slams his fist against the floor, cracking more tile. How dare he ruin him, how dare he give him the best fuck ever and just leave. How dare he only give him his first name. How dare him ruin any other kind of desire he could possibly think of. He wanted more, and he wanted to be broken by that man.

#kayne malevolent #malevolent #oscar malevolent

[raestarz]

Rookie Hour

Chapter Four - Where Do We Go Now?

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long @.@ I'm a major procrastinator Major thanks to my girl: @neteyamsmunch for reminding me about this chapter.

Word count: 2.2 k

————————————————————————

We go down the stairs and see this weird secret room with a mini replica of the Raccoon City Police Department, I walk over to it and examine it. “Huh…weird.” I notice a box of shotgun shells next to it, I grab it and toss it to Leon, “Hey rookie, think fast!” Leon turns around confused, “Huh?” then catches the box. “Good catch.” I compliment him, with a small smile. Leon laughed softly and cranes his neck stretching trying to take a small break before we continue. “Aren’t you younger than me?” He asked, raising a brow, I stifled a laugh behind my hand leaning on the desk behind me being careful to not knock over the replica. 

“Maybe, how old are you?” I ask Leon to give him a once over fully taking him in, crossing my arms. Leon tries to match my pose and he looks cute attempting it, stumbling slightly. I adjust my lip piercing and sniffle, and raise a brow. “Well…?” I was getting slightly impatient waiting for his response, his face clearly went through so many facial expressions before I’m guessing he decided to be honest. “I’m twenty-one.” I nod slowly as I realize that he’s two years older than me, I slightly shrug thinking well who cares if he’s older, he’s hot anyway but don’t tell him I said that. He looked as if he was waiting for my response, I scratched the back of my neck, “I’m uh…nineteen.” I admit. 

“Oh cool, another question. What’s the meaning of your laces?” He asks looking down at my blue laces, oh shit…How could I tell a puppy dog rookie cop that my laces mean I wanna literally get rid of his job and corrupt cops. I blink a couple of times, thinking of a lie. “I just like blue.” I shrug and lie, I look behind him spotting a short hallway. “What’s over there?” I ask starting to go over to it and see it lead to an elevator, Leon follows behind me and I click the button the shutter opens. “I guess we should go down there huh?” He suggests, and I nod. We both step into the elevator and I press the button, closing the shutter and it starts to go down. “So, Leon, are you an actual blonde…?” I ask with a smirk and Leon’s face drops, he scratches the back of his neck and blushes. “Uh no…I’m actually not.” He admits and I chuckle, “Well, I don’t mind helping you get a better dye job. After this is all over, of course.” Leon nods to the offer and we make it down underground with a soft ding to the elevator. We step out of the elevator, Leon clicks on his flashlight as we head down the stairs. I immediately take out my gun in case anything pops out, wanting to have Leon’s back, my eyes go over his back as he walks ahead of me. Jesus, why do I feel like this? Shit, I’m sure Sherry could tell me…I miss that silly kid. We finally get down the stairs and Leon finds a hand grenade, we find a S.T.A.R.S. box maybe we need that little dongle that the office needed. We try to go through the door that leads into the other area yet we can’t. Shit now what?

I decide to head up the stairs and peek into the other doorway that seems to lead to the sewers, “Leon, come on.” I shout over the railing and he quickly comes up to where I am, “Seems like we gotta go that way.” Leon points out and I nod. We go inside and hear a man moaning and groaning while running on the grates above us, “What the─!?” Leon gasps. We give each other that, if shit goes down I’ve got you look. We nod and jog after the person, I hope he is a survivor like us but chances are he isn’t. We get around the corner and I keep a look out for Leon as he lifts the cabinet and I turn to help him lift, “Come on, Leon we got this.” We both huff as we lift, and suddenly my…oh what the hell…my father hops down. “What the fuck?!” Me and Leon both yell at the same time. My father, well, William grabs Leon pushing him back and pinning him to the floor. I try to pull William off of Leon, “Get off of him!” He quickly shoves me into the wall hard, and I gasp hard feeling the air getting knocked out of me as he slams Leon into the floor several times until the floor falls out under all of us. Fuck, fuck. Me and Leon, as well as William, land on the floor. My legs fucking ache and so does my chest, but the adrenaline kicks in faster I grab Leon off the floor as he’s holding his chest aching, “Come on, get up.” I mutter as I pull him to his feet. William starts to get up as well and we both step back. “...Jesus. Well words aren’t gonna work on this thing.” Leon jokes trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, cut him some slack, that's my dad.” I huff and Leon looks between me and William. “We can talk about that later.” He said, as we both take out our weapons ready to take him down.

… 

After we finally beat William he falls over the railing falling into the deep abyss, fuck…How…am I gonna tell Sherry? Shit, how I gonna tell Annette…Wait…why was he so…mutated? Fuck, did he…start this?! I’m gonna have a mental break. I just need to focus on surviving, praying Sherry is alive and getting out of here. But I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Leon grabs my shoulder, “You okay?” I nod slowly. “I know it wasn’t easy seeing your dad like that, I’m sorry Ky.” He adds before pulling me into a hug, wrapping his arms around my waist, it feels like my heart skips a beat, what the fuck is this feeling and I hug him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I take a beat before pulling myself out of the embrace with Leon. “Let’s just keep going…” I muttered and heard a ladder fall down in the distance, I walked over to the ladder and climbed up it. Knowing Leon was trailing behind me, I know he was concerned but I wasn’t one to talk of my feelings. Especially with a guy I just met. I can’t focus on that I need to survive, for me, and hopefully for Sherry. “Someone has to be watching us…” I hear Leon mutter suspiciously. I nod silently, really deep in thought. If someone is watching us, then who is it…? And what do they want? I stretch my back as I continue to walk ahead of Leon, not really one to wanting to be distracted from our current goal. 

…

After a couple of moments of us in silence, Leon speaks up, “Kyaire…I know you probably don’t wanna talk about this with me. And I get it, but don’t keep it all pent up…” At that moment, I so badly want to just break down and sob for all the hours that have passed, but I can’t. We have to keep surviving, I can cry when we get out of this stupid city. I continue to walk only giving Leon a hum of acknowledgement yet he spins me around grabbing my forearm not roughly but tight enough to show that he cares about this subject. “Kyaire, please…Don’t shut me out. We’re a team.” He pleaded with me, genuinely giving me puppy eyes with his pretty pale blue eyes. I shut my eyes and let out a sigh, “I’m sorry, but I’m used to holding everything in and suffering silently. I’m just tired, frustrated, and sad. I can’t cry in front of you right now because we need to get out of here. But, when we do and I promise you, I will cry and scream and show you every emotion I have inside of me right now okay?” I rant all of this while pacing, fidgeting with my leather jacket. When I’m finally done, I have to take a breath because I know good and fucking well, if I talk again I’m gonna cry. I look at Leon and then the ceiling blinking hard, suddenly he hugs for the second time today. Jesus fuck, can my heart chill? It must be from the adrenaline from that fight earlier. Clearly, that’s it. I buried my face into the area where his shoulder and neck meet, and a moment where I get a whiff of his scent and his cologne mixed together, I break down full on crying. 

Leon rubs my back as I cry, caressing my back up and down. I cry a little bit more before he holds me by my shoulders and looks at me as I wipe away my tears sniffling, I pull out a tissue from my pocket and blow my nose. I knew these would come in handy, and I took a deep breath. Leon gives me a soft smile and finally speaks up, “You feel better?” his voice soft as he asked me. “Yeah, I’m okay…How’re you?” I ask giving him an encouraging smile to talk about how he feels. “I’ll be honest, I’m super stressed but not too terrible. I just wanna make sure you’re okay and we get out of here, and hopefully find your sister Sherry.” I nod and give him a smile, “I’m okay, now. Let’s just keep going, yeah?” Leon nods and we continue on until we find a ladder leading up out of the sewers. Leon climbs up and out first, while I follow he walks ahead of me to the parking lot shutter and we check it out, seeing we need a parking pass to leave. “Damn. Need a key card…” Leon cursed and I held back a laugh behind my hand, I hear growling and turned my head sighing, “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” Two zombie dogs jumped up onto us, of course we weren’t able to pull out our guns in time.

I struggle fighting back the zombie dog until I hear two gunshots taking out a nearby dog and then mine that was on top of me. We both look at each other and then we hear a feminine, “Hey.” I slowly sit up breathing heavily, “Who is that?” I ask confused. She doesn’t answer my question but then yells, “Stay sharp.” I turn my head seeing the zombie dog slowly getting back up and I take out my single fire handgun shooting the dog in the head, then take out the dog that attacked Leon. Leon is still shocked but grabs his gun pointing it at the feminine figure. She was an attractive asian woman in a beige coat while wearing sunglasses, her heels clicking against the parking lot floor. She points it back at Leon and I point my gun at her, she warns him, “Lower it.” I grunt and immediately don’t trust her, why in the hell? Who in the hell? Something in the BLACK in me is telling me not to trust this bitch. She takes out her badge that was an F.B.I. badge and I immediately put my gun back in my holster, squinting my eyes at her suspiciously. “FBI.” She explains, Leon puts his gun down as she says that, sighing softly. “Sorry…Thank you─” I cut him off accidentally by shooting the zombie dog that was growling next to me with my gun, the woman raised a brow at me and I raised a brow back at her giving her a smirk. She clicks her tongue, Leon looks from me back to the woman. “For your help.” What the hell is this feeling? Ugh why is my heart wrenching…? The woman looks at Leon giving him a condescending look, “Surprised you made it this far.” I raise a brow at the woman again, narrowing my eyes at her. Once again y’all who the fuck does she think she is??? Leon is more than capable! We both get up and walk after her, I trail behind him just in case this bitch pulls some shit. Sorry, she’s not a bitch…Nah she is…Nah she isn’t…Maybe. Leon speaks up again, “FBI, huh? What’s going on here?” He asks confusedly, and I nod my head figuring we should know what the hell is going on. Hopefully this woman can at least tell us something. The woman looks at us over her shoulder giving a small smirk, “Sorry. That information’s classified.” Then continued to walk ahead of  us, I paused and put my hands on my hips scoffing. “Where are you going?” Leon asks all of the important questions. 

I huff and take a breath, waiting for her to answer. She turns around clearly annoyed with his questions, “Do yourself a favor: stop asking questions and get you and your girlfriend the hell out of here.” I let out a short gasp, “He is not my boyfriend!” I let out a groan and rolled my eyes at her, Leon just looked flustered scratching the back of his neck. She gives a short mhm as she walks away opening a door off to the side and Leon yells after her, “Hey! I’m not done talking to you!” I groan and roll my eyes and lean against one of the parking lot pillars’ while Leon runs after her trying the door, finding it locked. “Dammit.” He huffed. 

Great…So now we gotta find a parking pass out of here…

#resident evil #re2 leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #blk reader #slow burn #black writers