#(I just picked country on a whim)

[qapsiel]

@damienstoker ;; they're creepy and they're kooky (still accepting) "I'd rather stick needles in my eyes. I'll probably do that anyway."

                          "THAT WON'T KEEP YOU FROM HEARING IT, THOUGH," Castiel cheerfully replies as he puts a quarter in the jukebox and selects a country song he likes. He knows that humans can be very peculiar about music, though the angel usually finds at least one song he enjoys in every genre. "You would need to stick needles in your ears to stop hearing this. And I don't recommend harming your eyes, anyway. Humans only have two of those, you should be careful."

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.° Swaddled in Silk ୨ৎ

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜., 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢����𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞!), 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

Little note: reader doesn’t get the abortion not because of pro-life beliefs, but because of personal wishes, this is NOT an anti-abortion sentiment!! Very much pro choice over here!!!!

Mornings tended to be peaceful with Coriolanus.

Your eyes would flutter open, the pale skin of your husband’s bare neck and chest cast in golden morning sunshine the first thing you see. You’d shift, groaning softly at the morning aches and nosing the crook of his neck, grateful he’s a light sleeper when his strong arms wrap tighter around you.

Technically, Coryo had his own room in the Presidential mansion. But he’d admitted to you in soft words late into the night, long ago, that he couldn’t sleep without you.

So you’d wake up in his arms, him holding you close as if somebody would take you from him. You found it endearing, just how possessive Coriolanus was over you. It wasn’t just in the way he held you; it was in the way he made sure you looked and felt your best at every event, so that he hold a hand on your waist and boast his wife’s beauty. It was in the way he spoiled you in just about every aspect, dipping you in diamonds and rubies, keeping your appearance manicured with days at the spa, keeping your every need satisfied, physical or emotional. Doting on you the best he could while running the damn country, loving you like a good husband should.

Except that his love was a bit inconvenient at the moment, as you tried to move from his arms and his grip only tightened. You felt a recognizable bile rising up, a sick feeling taking over your gut. Coriolanus grumbled, his brows drawing and eyes impossibly more blue in the morning as they opened a crack. “Darling..? Where…”

You peeled his arms away from you, and this time Coryo let you go. His expression was twisted in confusion as you jumped to your feet, hand clasped over your mouth as you beelined for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Oh. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and making his way to the bathroom to soothe you. He picked up the pace as he heard you retching.

Coriolanus knelt beside you, gathering up your smooth tresses and holding the hair back from your face in a ponytail. His other hand rubbed your back with a strong palm. “There you go, there you go. Get it out.”

God, you wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up an intestine. It felt like eternity before you got everything out of your system. “Sorry.” You croaked, wincing and sitting back on your calves.

“Why are you sorry? You can’t control it.” Coryo cooed, the hand holding your hair moving to the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your crown. His forehead creased after a moment though, he leaned away to grab you a towel. He watched you wipe your mouth before speaking hesitantly. “My love?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, swallowing hard and grimacing at the sour taste on your tongue.

“Do you think you ate something bad?” Coryo murmured, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. You met his eyes. You knew what he was really asking.

You pressed your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” It seemed unlikely, you weren’t one to get sick at a whim. And you’d eaten rather healthy yesterday.

You two had been.. trying. To say the least. Coriolanus was very eager for a family, as were you. Baby fever actually had a strong hold on you. But you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. Coryo and you went to the best doctor he could get his hands on, and his meticulous nature led to keeping track of your schedule, the windows where you’d be most fertile. You never grew tired of intimacy with him, but every negative test was daunting. Every vitamin and supplement was growing tiring to keep tabs on.

For months this went on. You couldn’t help feeling that you were failing Coriolanus. He wanted a baby so terribly, and your body just wouldn’t seem to work with you. Whispers were beginning to spread around high society women, questioning why a marriage of four years had yet to produce babies. You were questioning it yourself.

“My love, it’s okay.” Coryo had cooed, folding you into his arms the first night you’d cried to him about the cruel gossip about your marriage and your “failings” as a wife. He shook his head passionately, showering you with kisses. “I love you. A baby will come in time.”

You’d sniffled, burying your face and hiding your eyes into his chest. “But why won’t it come now? We’ve been doing everything right, Coryo, at this point it has to be me.”

Coryo sighed, his arms squeezing you tighter. You were perfect in his eyes, whether or not your body was sustaining a baby didn’t matter to him. He loved you regardless, and he told you so. “Just trust me. You’ll get pregnant when time is right for us. I love you, we have plenty of time.” Coriolanus took your chin in his fingers, tilting up your chin to press his lips to your forehead tenderly.

It seemed that the time was finally right for you. A broad smile spread over Coriolanus’ lips, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. You laughed a bit breathlessly.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Coryo cooed, pressing his lips between your brows. He hummed against your forehead, murmuring after a moment, “I love you. You know that?”

“I know.” You breathed, finding his bare arm and squeezing it affectionately as he pulled away. “I love you.”

The moments the words “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Snow,” slipped from the doctors lips, Coriolanus was changing gears.

He was coaxing you into coming with him to buy baby clothes the very next day. The day after that, you discovered that one of the rooms neighboring your bedroom was being renovated into a nursery. Coryo was delighted when a package he sent his secretary for came in, he’d hurried to find you wherever you’d been and showed you a box full of brand new baby toys. Plush bears, rattles, another large box holding a rocking chair; you wondered how your baby would even get around to using it all.

“You’re spoiling it before it’s even born!” You teased one day as he happily presented a soft muslin baby blanket.

“Damn right.” Coryo had smiled broadly, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, correcting you, “I’m spoiling her.”

“Girls?” You cocked a brow, slipping a hand into his gelled-locks and probably messing up his styling. He didn’t care. “I’m confident it’s a girl, my love. And I live to spoil my girls.”

His attention didn’t only apply to the baby. You were his top priority these days; he took more time away from his work to dote on your every whim. Coryo was holding your hair back every morning you fell ill. He constantly was taking you shopping, making sure that your maternity clothes weren’t frumpy or ugly, but made you feel beautiful. He had the cooking staff preparing every craving you had.

But sooner than later, pregnancy proved itself to be difficult.

No matter what Coryo did, no matter what doctors he called in or what home remedies he found, you just wouldn’t get healthy. You were wasting away before his eyes. Your ribs jutted out from your sides, your face becoming gaunt and hollow. You simply couldn’t stomach food.

Coriolanus had never been more terrified than when a simple common flu had bedridden you for days. Your immune system was so weakened by your pregnancy, and nothing seemed to help. You looked deathly pale, just the sight of you was enough to bring Coryo to tears. Though he never let you see his distress.

But dear God, he couldn’t lose you. You were scaring him, with that resigned glint in your eyes. As if you knew, and were comfortable with dying. Coriolanus was the furthest thing from comfortable.

At night, he’d run his hands along your ribs, his nose brushing yours as he watched your eyes. They’d be peacefully shut, your breathing calm from his soothing touch. Coriolanus’ hand would always end up on your belly, his thumb rubbing along the gentle curve of it under your night slip. You were featherlight nowadays, when you should’ve been full and glowing.

When your dizzy spells became too powerful to handle without laying down, Coryo called in the doctor again. He wanted a baby with you, he didn’t want this. If he knew that this would’ve been so taxing on your body, he never would’ve done this to you.

That’s how he comforted himself as the doctor left the room, leaving you to sit on the chaise at the foot of your bed and Coryo to pace about, his fingers on his lips and his eyes buggy. You’d just been warned.

This baby was life or death. If you gave birth, you might not survive. It was simply a genetic condition in your family. Nothing to be done. Except..

“We’re getting rid of it.” Coriolanus announced firmly, shaking his head. You lifted your face.

You gawked at your husband. “No!” You huffed, eyes darting around to avoid another bout of tears. Your hands were wrung in your lap, squeezing tight to the point of your knuckles paling. “Don’t even suggest it.”

“I’m not suggesting it, I’m telling you. My love, we are not keeping this baby.” Coriolanus stepped closer, standing in front of you. He outstretched his hand to tilt your chin with a finger, his eyes glimmering with something adamant.

You shook your head, grabbing Coryo’s wrist and squeezing. Your brows pinched up at him. “You aren’t serious. You can’t— you can’t force me. It’s my body.”

Your husbands expression melted like ice in a heatwave, his eyes softening. He snuck his hand around to hold yours in a tight grip. “I won’t force you. I..” Coriolanus sighed in exasperation, moving to sit beside you. His tone was earnest and as kind as he could muster. “But I can’t let you do this.”

“It’s our baby, Coryo.” You pleaded, the hand not holding his coming to rest on your belly defensively. How could he contradict himself so greatly, telling you it was your choice while making it sound like his word was final, as always?

“It will kill you.” Coriolanus hissed, suddenly to his wits end with you. His brow creased, his lips pulling over his teeth in a sneer. He shook his head adamantly. “My love, I won’t lose you for—for it.”

You couldn’t help the lump rising in your throat, making breathing suddenly quite a task. “For her.” You corrected him this time.

Coriolanus sighed, letting go of your hand and pushing himself to his feet. He had to loosen his tie, the red article suddenly suffocating. You helplessly watched him pace, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “It would be okay. I’ve already lived, I think she should get a chance.”

The absurdity of your words brought a humorless snort from Coryo’s nose. He shook his head but seemed so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t reply, so you went on. “And you’d have a piece of me, anyway! Coryo, you’d love her so much it’d outweigh whatever grief you’d have, you’d be so happy I went through with it, because you’d get a baby out of—“

Coriolanus was staring at you with wide and buggy eyes, as if you’d suggested he eat you alive. “How dare you say that?” Your husband snapped, stepping towards you with purpose. “How could you think I’d be able to tolerate, let alone love this baby if it killed you?” His nostrils flared in frustration and in his shining sapphire eyes, a wild kind of hurt.

At the sight of the tears welling in Coryo’s eyes, you couldn’t resist reaching for his hands with both of yours. He let you take them, he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of your hands— the ridges of your increasingly apparent bones under his fingers only adding to the wetness in his eyes. “Please.” Coriolanus murmured after a moment, his brows drawing together and creasing his forehead. “Please, my love. We can get a doctor who’ll abort it, no matter what trimester. Please.”

God, he made it sound so easy. Like it was just a procedure. It wasn’t, not to you. You desperately wanted this baby, you couldn’t just wake up to a morning without its life within you.

Perhaps he could see the indecision in your eyes. He squeezed your hands. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

You couldn’t look Coriolanus in the eyes as you shook your head. “I’m keeping it.”

You kept your gaze fixed on his dress shoes, the leather freshly polished and shiny. You didn’t look up to see the way he wiped his eyes with his knuckles, his nostrils flaring and throat bobbing. You only knew that his hands slipped from yours, his footsteps were departing from you, the door falling shut behind him.

Your due date was nearing. Coriolanus took more time to be with you, masterfully hiding the sadness behind his eyes as you mentioned anything baby-related. You thought he’d distance himself.

Completely the opposite. Though every conversation about the baby brought on a nasty argument, Coryo wasn’t too big a fool to know that you needed him right now. Regardless of his constant reminders that you two could simply adopt, you could go the surrogacy route, anything to keep you alive, you denied him. You were determined to give him a baby of his own from your body.

But no matter how many fights he’d resolve by folding you into his arms, cooing an apology and petting your hair, he knew he would never love the baby that’ll take you away from him.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear watching you waste away like this. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted his wife to be glowing, to be happy and full with his baby— he didn’t want to choose between his child and you. He would choose you, if you let him.

Still. You tried to maintain normalcy.

Maybe it was nature, a maternal instinct implanted deep within you, but you were willing to die for this baby. You couldn’t describe it to Coriolanus if you tried. You felt a strange calm, in the weeks leading up to the baby’s birth. Knowing that one might die, being aware of one’s expiration date, well, it was eye-opening. You took to writing down your thoughts, writing down messages to your daughter. You were still quite certain she was a she, though you were keeping the sex a surprise. Oh, you had so much to tell her!

When you told Coryo about the journal, he’d smiled gently and nodded, humming that it was a darling idea. But he left the room a minute later, coming back with eyes rubbed pink.

You were aware of how much of a toll it was taking on Coryo. But you knew it was best. You knew he deserved a baby. You deserved the pride of giving that life to him, to the world.

One day, you’d been helping your maid with folding your clothes and the towels for your bathroom. You’d insisted you help, especially because you loved to chat with her.

You were laughing with her, listening to a story she was telling. You were listening, until you felt an indescribable pain in your lower half. You’d winced, clutching the towel you’d been folding, looking down at yourself and holding your belly with your other hand.

“Mrs. Snow?” Your maid’s voice was full of concern. “Is it—“

“I don’t know.” You gasped, the pain washing over you like a wave, and leaving just as fast as it had come. “Do you think..”

“I’ll call the doctor.” She rose to her feet hesitantly, eyes wide as if you were a time bomb in her hands. You could almost laugh at her expression.

You nodded. “Don’t rush, it might not be—“ you proved yourself wrong as an immense pain knocked the words from your mouth. You fold over, groaning, and sending your maid bolting for the phone.

You’d certainly underestimated childbirth.

It was absolutely the most painful experience of your life. If you hadn’t been afraid of death up until now, you definitely were now. It was a terrifying pain, a terrifying feeling knowing that while most women were strong enough to withstand such a natural pain, you might not be.

An ambulance came to bring you from the presidential mansion to the hospital. The entire ride, screams and tears filled the tiny vehicle. You’d begged for someone to call Coriolanus, the prospect of doing this without him was daunting and downright petrifying.

When you got to the hospital room, Coryo was there, dress-shirt disheveled and hair ungelled. He’d been working at the office today. You thanked every god out there for him, as he squeezed your hand and smoothed back your hair, doing his very best to hide his fear. Your screams wrung his heart, he made sure to wipe your tears and kiss your sweaty brow.

“You’re doing great, my love.” Coriolanus cooed, letting you squeeze his hand until he was numb. You’d whimpered, the pain subsiding and crashing over you again like an ocean wave.

You’d wailed to kingdom come. “I don’t want to die, Coryo!” You’d groaned. He was grateful you weren’t paying much attention to his face, your eyes on the ceiling, otherwise you would’ve seen the way your pleading broke him.

Coryo squeezed your hand, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You won’t. You’ll be fine, darling, you’re doing everything right.” He’d promised, voice as assured as he could manage.

Another thing you underestimated was how stupid long the whole ordeal was.

Atleast another hour ticking by meant another hour you were alive. But it also meant another hour of searing pain, the feeling of your body betraying you and ripping itself open, tears wetting your cheeks and wails parting your lips.

Suddenly, it was like all that intense cramping and sharp pains were alleviated in a moment. As if some divine being had graciously lifted you off a bed of nails. Woozily, you lifted your head to see the baby in the nurse’s hands, another nurse cutting the ambilical cord. God, did it look rough, but it was yours. It was beautiful. You immediately reached for your baby, eyes bleary and voice hoarse, “I want to hold it.”

As if anybody would deny the First Lady. Oh, you could bawl as they lowered the baby onto your chest, who was actually bawling and crying. You laughed a bit breathlessly, eyes lifting to Coriolanus. His eyes were wide, bluer than you’d ever seen them, perhaps from the shine to them. But he’d never let his tears escape his eyes, blinking them away to lay a hand on his baby’s head, smiling stupidly.

“I made this.” You breathed, staring down at the little thing. The baby, that you glanced down to find was a girl. Your daughter.

Coriolanus nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re so strong, my love. So strong.”

“And I’m alive.” You laughed, so focused on your daughter than you didn’t notice Coryo’s sidelong glance to the sheer amount of blood between your legs. He caught the eye of a nurse, who’d given him a curt nod.

Coriolanus let out the breath he’d been holding for the past two months. “I’m infinitely grateful.” He spoke softly, reverently. He was afraid that if he said any more, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You sighed, looking up to meet your husband’s eye. Coryo just shook his head, smiling to the point that his eyes crinkled— speaking of which, they were welling up again.

“Beautiful.” He cooed. “What’re we calling her?” Coriolanus said that last bit in a breathy chuckle, squeezing your arm gently as a nurse moved to take the baby to be cleaned. You two had spoken about names before, but never decided on something definite.

You stared after your daughter, your tears drying on your cheeks and the pain twixt your legs fading into the background. Your heart was beating, your chest rising and falling. You were alive. Oh, you went from resigning to never feel the swell of your lungs with air to filling them as much as possible.

“Ruby, I think.” You breathed. A name that Coryo had suggested, long ago, perhaps in the first months of your pregnancy. A broad smile tiptoed across his lips as he smoothed down your hair.

Coryo nosed your cheekbone, not minding the sweat lingering on your skin from the whole ordeal, mumbling against you, “A gem.”

“A gem.” You agreed, turning your cheek to press your lips to his. Oh, how you loved him. Your husband. Your lover. The father of your baby. You know he’ll be the best father— doting, loving, protective..

If the way he clutched onto your arm as you kissed, his eyes and grip betraying his anxiety was any indication of how much he cared for you, how terrified he was to lose you? Then you’d married the right man.

If the way he dutifully fluffed your pillows and got his hands on a sleeping mask was a gesture of his love? You were set for life.

If the way his sapphire eyes shone with admiration, with affection and devotion for your little daughter, swaddled in silk in her crib was a testament to the father Coriolanus would be?

Then Ruby was a lucky little girl. You were certainly a lucky woman.

[hsdiaries]

The Secret Spot

5.1k words

Golfrry, quick escalation, shy Harry into vocal Harry, oral m recieving, p in v, quickie situation.

I didn’t edit this at all, just written in a whim lol.

“Cassie! You’ve been assigned to a party today!” Martin called out as he walked through the locker room handing everyone their assignment slips. I brushed my hair up into a ponytail high on my head so I could slip my visor on.

“Is it a big one?” I said, pulling out my white apron and tying it around my waist, slipping in my small order pad and favorite green pen with the small golf ball topper. It was always a conversation started with the club members; and conversations always led to good tips.

“It's a small three person party, I heard it's a big name, haven’t confirmed who yet - you'll have to pick up your slip at the front desk. It's a bit hush hush.” He shrugged and I nodded, making sure my shoes were tied properly as my friend Kyle came up to me.

“Hush hush, huh? I hope for your sake he’s hot,” He smirked, pushing all his weight onto his left hip. Whoever thought it was a good idea to let Kyle interact with the older men at the golf club had no idea how many sugar daddies he would end up by his second week on the job.

“Kyle, sweetie, I don’t need them to be good looking to get good tips, I just need them to have heavy pockets,” I said standing up straight and slamming my locker shut. Pushing him out of the way gently with my shoulder I made my way out of the room heading out to the front desk.

“Be a good whore!” I heard him call out, making me shake my head and laugh. The lunch time crowd was beginning to flow in quickly; lunch time was the prime time to have a shift, people hardly ever wanted to let go of these shifts for that reason. Small waves were thrown my way from the usual crowd, I made sure to make note of my usuals, sending them extra greetings especially since I wouldn’t be assisting them today. As I approached the front desk, Cedric, the club manager spotted me, perking up instantly.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little waitress,” he smiled, eyes back on the computer screen in front of him.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little boss. I heard I have a part assigned today?” Leaning on the front desk, I reached over the counter, grabbing a mint packaged in the signature green of the Ocean Wells Country Club, earning me a soft smack on the hand. I pulled the mint to my chest, quickly opening it and popping it in my mouth, Cedric rolling his eyes.

“Yes actually, and I’m sure you will thank me for it. I had to pick wisely and my soul told me you would be the only one to not act like a crazed fan girl when I told you who you would be serving today,” I watched as the small slip printer started printing out our usual assignment slips, he quickly ripped it off the machine and slid it across the front desk to me.

Raising an eyebrow, I slowly picked up the slip and looked it over, my eyes widening at the sight of the names on the slip.

Niall Horan

Harry Styles

Mitch Rowland

I looked up at him, jaw slightly dropped, “You’re fucking joking right?”

“Nope, not a joke at all. As a matter of fact, they are walking in at this very second,” he smiled, pointing his chin in the direction of the front door. My body seemed to turn quicker than my head, but once it followed, my eyes were instantly drawn to Harry. He was wearing a navy sweater over a slightly brighter blue dress shirt, matching slacks and brown golf shoes. He has recently cut his hair, a frenzy in the media, but it had grown out to perfection, short on the sides, a swoop of curls wanting to remake their appearance on the front. His face was perfectly layered with growing facial hair, it made him look so mature and well cultured. He looked like money, and well, he was. It wasn’t until they were almost in front of me that I noticed the three of them had made their way to the front desk - and that I had been staring like a gawky girl in love.

I quickly cleared my throat and turned to face Cedric who chuckled a bit as I made myself busy organizing the business cards on the desk, chewing on the mint in my mouth. I felt their presence next to me soon after, Niall standing the closest to me, Harry doing most of the speaking for the party.

“Hello, we had reservations under Styles?” He said kindly, his voice so soft spoken and kind. I didn’t expect anything less if I was being honest.

“Yes, Mr. Styles, Mr. Horan and Mr. Rowland, we are all ready for you. You have been assigned to start on the left, two golf carts have been assigned, one for you and one for your caddies. Your personal waitress, Cassie here, will also have her own cart to bring drinks, cigars, food and any other desired items here at the club,” Cedric spoke, his hand gesturing over to me, causing all three men to turn their eyes to me. Each smiled, making eye contact, but only Harry’s lingered just a moment longer than the rest.

“Nice to meet you all, I’m here for whatever you may need, even making sure that the other isn't cheating,” I smirked, making them chuckle a bit.

“She's a club favorite, you’ll enjoy her ever present company,” Cedric said in a slightly condescending tone.

“I’m sure her services will be appreciated,” Niall said, clearly noticing Cedric's tone.

“Very well then, here are your keys, golf clubs should already be loaded, enjoy your time here at Ocean Wells Country Club.”

I nodded at Cedric, turning to the front door and holding my arm out to let the gentleman know they could carry on ahead of me before I began walking slightly behind them. I noticed Harry’s pace slow a bit more than the others as we made our way over, his attention turning to me for a moment, clearing his throat.

“Would you mind starting us off with some whiskeys, over ice please. We will need lunch reservations at around two, we should be finished with our game by then,” he said, unable to make eye contact fully.

“Might I suggest 2:15 to make room for any delays and travel time back to the cafe?” I said politely, his eyes shifting to meet mind more predominantly. They were a beautiful shade of green, tricking the eyes to think they were blue, crystal clear in certain lights - glimmers of aquamarine.

“You know the place better than I, 2:15 is fine,” he smiled small my head nodding, for some reason my cheeks found themself washed over with a flush of pink.

We exited out into the warm summer sun, a sigh instantly leaving me, eyes closed as my face moved to look up into the sun, taking in its heat. Summertime was my favorite time of the year, it’s when I thrived most, when I felt most alive. Bringing my face down, I opened my eyes to find Harry already looking at me, quickly looking away when he noticed my eye contact.

We all stepped into our individual golf carts, they drove off to their first hole as I drove to the cafe to pick up their first round of drinks. I placed the order, waiting until they were brought out, throwing in some complimentary pretzels and beer cheese to start them off right. I carefully loaded everything into the cart, driving my way over to where they were. By the time I had made my way over, they were on the second hole, Niall currently lining up his shot before swinging effortlessly, the ball landing right next to the hole but not quite making it in.

I watched as he handed Harry a twenty dollar bill, Mitch and Harry laughing at how upset Niall looked. I pulled up behind their carts, Harry’s attention quickly moving over to me. He walked over as Mitch chose his golf club for his turn, reaching for the tray of drinks as I moved out of the cart.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, I got it,” I smiled, both our grips steady in the tray.

“Truly, I got it,” he smiled, his hand brushing my hand away. I felt my breath get caught in my throat as I swallowed, turning back to grab the tray with the pretzels and cheese.

I faced him, smiling shyly, “I figured you all would do well with some post game fuel? No one has ever hated our pretzel and beer cheese. It’s a club favorite,” I smiled, his eyes took in the food as Niall and Mitch made their way over to us.

“What’s all this?” Niall smiled, Harry’s eyes staying on me as he spoke.

“Cassie brought us a club favorite apparently,” he finally broke his eye contact, handing a drink to each of the boys as I nodded.

“I could drink the beer cheese if it wasn’t frowned upon,” I shrugged as Mitch reached over, ripping off a piece and dipping it in the cheese. He took a bite, eyebrows raising, nodding as he pointed to the tray with the remaining piece in his hand.

“Holy shit, let the stuck up pricks stare at us cause I’ll down it with you in a second,” he exclaimed making the rest of us laugh.

Niall and Harry took a piece each, copying Mitch in every single aspect, quickly praising me for my choice in game starting fuel. For the next few moments they stood around me, eating and drinking to their satisfaction before agreeing to move onto the next hole before anyone else began the same course, though I of course knew that wouldn’t happen. They were elite guests, no one would be assigned to this side of the club until two hours in so they would take all the time they wanted.

I loaded the empty glasses and trays into the back of my golf cart, hearing Harry yell out as my eyes caught Niall and Mitch driving off without him, middle fingers in clear sight, “Fuckers!”

Covering my mouth, I bit back my chuckle, shaking my head, “Need a ride?” I called out, his body shifting to face me, an eye roll following.

“I swear they know how to act proper,” he shook his head, shy dimples imprinting on his cheeks.

“Proper isn’t exactly my style, so, eh,” I chuckled, getting in my cart and patting the seat next to me. He walked over, getting in, hands wiping down his thighs. I took in his actions, my eyes taking in his face with a soft smile, before facing forward and starting up the cart.

“So how long have you been doing this for?” He asked softly, facing forward.

“Umm? Three years? Trying to make enough money to pay for college. The goal is to finally start this coming spring, but we shall see,” I shrugged, glancing over at him. He turned to me for a moment before we both looked forward again.

“What are you wanting to study?” He continued the conversation, his voice a bit stronger than before, almost as if he was slowly getting more comfortable.

“Social work, work with youth in the foster system. I want to be able to help people in a way I wished someone helped me when I was in foster homes,” I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly on the wheel as I drove. I could see Niall and Mitch in the close distance.

“That sounds like a beautiful full circle moment?” He said, questioning if that’s what it really was to me.

“Uh…sort of? I guess. I mean, you’re not the first person to tell me that, but I’m not exactly sure if I see it in that light. Just because, I don’t know if it’ll give me the healing most people think it will,” I said as I parked behind the other carts. We both turned to face each other and he nodded slightly.

“Mm, that’s understood. Your trauma isn’t healed just because you helped others avoid the same,” he said softly, a smile pushing into my left cheek.

“Exactly,” I breathed out, his lips rolling into his mouth. I couldn’t help but linger there, linger on the plumpness, the perfect rosey pink, the perfect Cupid’s bow. I shifted in my seat, “Um, shall I get you all some iced tea? Or water? Second round?”

He cleared his throat, moving to exit the cart, “Um, water and another round please, thank you.”

I watched as he moved towards his friends without another word and I drove back to the cafe to pick up their next round.

HARRY'S POV

I walked towards Niall and Mitch, willing myself to not turn back towards Cassie. Since laying my eyes on her upon arrival, something struck my heart in a way I hadn’t been struck in a while. She radiated electricity, not warmth, not light, electricity. She seemed to shock my entire system by just standing there. It didn’t help that I was aware it wasn’t just my eyes lingering for too long - hers on my lips just now shocking my soul.

Running my fingers through my hair, I approached Niall and Mitch, Niall’s hand slapping Mitch’s chest, “Told you!”

“Told him what?” I said, raising an eyebrow, walking over to my caddy and picking out my next club.

“You’re already smitten, been smitten since we walked in,” Niall said, my eyes narrowing in his direction.

“What the fuck are you going on about? I’m just being polite, she’s treating us well,” I said, picking my club and walking over to prep my swing.

“Full of shit, you both are eye fucking each other any moment you get!” Niall said, my eyes rolling and Mitch just laughed.

“He kinda has a point,” he said, standing next to Niall, arms crossed in front of his body.

“You both are idiots,” I said, turning back to the ball, pulling back and taking my first swing. It was such a lousy swing, the back of my hand meeting my forehead. They were wrong, it was obvious they weren’t, but I didn’t want this to be just another damn hook up situation. She seemed like a good person who didn’t deserve that, even if she didn’t mind it.

“That swing shows me that we aren’t,” Mitch teased, and I shook my head.

“Look, she’s beautiful, there is no damn denying that, but I’m not letting it get to my head, alright? Let’s just play the damn game.” I pushed past them, switching clubs so we could just continue playing.

We finished up the hole and moved onto the next when Cassie finally joined us again. She brought over our drinks and water, making conversation with Niall. I tried to avoid her this time around, watching her from a distance. At least this way I could take her in, and not deal with the teasing from my mates.

She was so animated when she talked, often twirling her long brown hair as she spoke, the white uniform, trimmed with green making her tan skin pop against it. She smelled like an apricot, something I noticed on the drive to the previous hole with her. Sweet, fresh, something I would gladly bite into. I shook the thought from my head, bringing my hands behind my head, linking my fingers together. I closed my eyes, inhaling the summer dry air, it was my favorite season to bask in, just taking in the sun, letting it warm my skin.

“Seems like they left you again,” I heard Cassie’s voice next to me, my left eye opening to peek over at her.

“I feel like it’s going to be a thing for the rest of the game,” I let my arms drop down next to me, a small giggle coming from her.

“Well, it’s okay, you have the best golf cart in the entire club to save you,” she winked playfully.

“Thank goodness for that,” I smirked, as she shrugged, walking backwards to the cart before turning around completely. I followed like a lost puppy behind her, watching her full hips swing from side to side as she walked away from me. I licked my lips, biting down on my lower lip, walking around the cart as I reached it, getting in.

“So, are you enjoying your break from work?” She asked, her eyes shifting towards me, and I let mine meet hers instantly.

“Yeah actually, nice to not have to be moving constantly unless it is my choice to do so. I like that I can just settle for a bit,” I said, her eyes shifting down to my hand then back in front of her.

“I like settling. Just knowing somewhere is home. Moving around so much when I was younger, it made me crave stability, you know?” She said, and I nodded.

“It’s like, rooting your feet somewhere long enough to actually make it feel like it’s your home,” I responded, bringing a big smile to her face.

“Exactly, exactly that,” she giggled a bit.

We drove for a bit longer, trying to find the boys at the next hole but they were nowhere to be seen. She came to a complete stop, pulling out her phone, “Maybe I went the wrong way? But I doubt it, I know these pathways like the back of my hand.”

I rolled my eyes, tossing my head back knowing exactly what they were doing, “I’m sure it’s not you. I have a feeling those assholes are long gone right now.”

“Oh..,um, I can head back if you want? You don’t have your clubs so…” she suggested, her face glancing over her shoulder then back at me.

Staying quiet for a moment, I took in the situation, analyzing the possibilities and that one that stood out the clearest was - I didn’t want to leave her just yet. I brought my hand to my lower lip, pinching it softly as I turned to face her, “You know this place like that back of your hand right?”

“Basically.”

“You have a place you like to hide out, that no one knows about?” I said, her eyes narrowing a bit, before a slightly devilish smile appeared on her face.

“I do actually,” she said, putting the cart into drive without another word.

“Going to show me?” I said, and she nodded.

“An adventure on company time? Why not.” She giggled, making me laugh with her.

We drove for a good five minutes, the golf cart cutting through different courses, avoiding people’s games and paths. We reached what seemed to be a back corner, a giant tree settling into the corner. It’s long thick trunks and branches seemed to bend, creating perfect nooks to rest in the shadow away from the sun. She park just to the side of it, turning off the cart, holding her hands out.

“Voila!! My secret spot,” she smiled, getting off and walking over to the tree. I watched her climb on top of it, effortlessly finding her perfect spot, settling into the curve that seemed shaped perfectly for her.

“How many people actually know about this?” I said, walking over, trying to pick the perfect place for me to climb up and settle.

“Just my friend Kenny, but he wouldn’t know how to actually get here. Just knows it exist….so like please don’t kill me or anything cause then I’ll never be found.” She pointed at me, making me laugh as I found my spot directly in front of her, our legs extending out next to each other.

“I won’t, I promise, I wouldn't know how to get back without you,” I said, sitting up for a moment to slip on my sweater before settling back. Unbuttoning the sleeves on my dress shirt, I rolled them up to my elbows, finally relaxing.

“Did the tattoos have stories?” Cassie said.

“Some. Others were just crazy ideas, things I thought would fit the bare spaces. A couple friends have chosen,” I smiled over at her.

“So if I said to get a turtle near your palm tree you would do it?” She asked, my head tilting slightly knowing my palm tree wasn’t currently exposed.

“And how do you know about that?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, both eyebrows raised at her. I watched her eyes widen, reds and pinks covering her sweet cheeks.

“Oh….I just…um, Niall he uh —…”

Bursting into laughter, I cut her off, shaking my head, “Cassie, I’m aware some people know more about me than I may know, I’m just twisting your arm.”

I kicked her legs softly with my foot, her eyes narrowing and returning the same gesture. For the next moments, we just sat in silence, taking in the small noises of the golf course, the bits of wind on the tree leaves. Every now and then we would ask one another questions about our personal life. I had no problem opening up to her and her with me, letting her tell me about the things that seemed to just magically pop into her mind.

As we sat, our bodies also seemed to scoot further down, feet and legs sharing soft touch against one another, knees rubbing gently against her thigh, her fingers also moving to dance around my calf. I let my own do the same, small chills forming on her bare legs. We stayed this way until she let me know we needed to head back soon, the time we were meant to be out on the course was almost over, and she would have to finish the rest of her shift.

I nodded in agreement as we both moved to begin our climb down. I made my way first, extending my arms out towards her to help her lower herself the rest of the way down, her perfect self landing perfectly in front of me. Her eyes locked on mine, tongue licking over her lips, breath heavy from our proximity.

“How much longer did you say we have?” I said softly, my hand moving to push her hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t specify,” she said, her voice shaky, my head nodding as I bravely closed the distance between us and kissed her. It’s what I wanted, and though her movements were hesitant at first, her eagerness in kissing me back let me know she wanted it too.

I wrapped my hand around the nape of her neck, gripping at it, pushing her closer to me, her mouth opening up and letting my tongue meet hers. I ran it across the roof of her mouth, pulling away as my teeth pulled her lower lip with them. She shuddered softly, a soft moan escaping her pretty pink lips.

“And to think I thought you were shy,” she whispered, hands trailing down to my hips, fingers tapping softly against them.

“Mmm, being shy doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, and what excites me,” I quipped back, earning me a small raised brow.

“And what do you want?” She pushed up on her toes, kissing nose as her hands began pulling my dress shirt out of my pants.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, fire growing in my stomach, blood beginning to rush to my prick, “Fuck sake, you really wanna know?”

She nodded, undoing my belt buckle and pants, working the zipper down as her hand slipped into the band of my brief without question.

“You. You on top of me in that golf cart. Fucking me until you can’t anymore,” I groaned as her hand wrapped around my length, freeing me from the restriction of my clothes, pumping up and down my length.

“Mmm, get in the cart, Harry,” she said, releasing her hold on me, pushing me back. I watched as she began stripping free of her clothes, and I did the same as we walked over to the cart, sliding into the back seat. She climbed into the space next to me, bending her body over to take me in her hand, pumping up and down my shift before slipping me in her mouth. Her tongue rounded around my tip, teasing along my slit making my abs contort, my legs shooting up slightly, body tensing at the feeling.

She chuckled, the vibrations adding to an additional sensation around my cock, as she pushed her mouth further down me, bobbing up and down until she took me completely, nose meeting my happy trail. I felt her swallow me further down her throat, my hand instinctively wrapping around her ponytail, holding her there as my hips bucked forward.

She pushed against my hold, pop off me with a gasp of air, her spit covering my cock, her hand replacing where her mouth was as she wiped her mouth with the other. She moved closer to me, kissing me deeply, my hand curling around her jaw, not able to get enough of her, of her taste.

Of her sweet apricot scent.

My hand moved down to her hip, gripping at it and directing her over my body, her legs straddling my hips, her hands both moving to my shoulders. I pushed her wet center onto my shaft, guiding her hips up and down it, her slick and spit creating enough lubrication to guide her movements further.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, her hips rocking back and forth on me, her thighs clenching as she did, “Mm, I need you.”

She moaned, her eyes moving to mine, pants falling from her lips as her movements grew incredibly sloppy, her face was so flushed, nails digging into my shoulders.

“Yeah? Where do you need me? Huh? Tell me where,” I pressed into her lips, her moans growing more frequent, lips pressing an open kiss into my chin as I felt her come on me, arousal coating my cock thickly.

Her body trembled, her teeth biting at my chin, my hand moving up to her face, gripping under her jawline tightly, “Hmm, you need more than that?”

She nodded, “Please.” She basically begged.

“Mm? What more do you want, huh? Tell me Cassie,” I groaned at the thought of her saying she needed me inside her, at what that would feel like.

“Fill me up, please. God, Harry, please,” she breathed, pushing body up, gripping at my cock, bringing it up to meet her wet cunt, rubbing the tip against it before slipping herself down on me. It was a slow moment of taking me inch by inch, each moment further down met by the tight squeeze of her walls. She finally took the last bit of me in, each of us groaning out in pure ecstasy, before she began to lift her hips again, bouncing up and down on me effortlessly. Her perfectly round tits were in front of me, bouncy with her, begging to be in my mouth, my hands wrapping around them and bringing them to my lips. My tongue flicked at her nipples, pulling at them between my teeth, her moans escalating just like her pace on my cock.

“Fuck you do that so good, that wet cunt is so good,” I groaned into her tits, biting at the plump fleshy skin, kneading it with my hands. I slipped on arm around her waist, pumping my hard cock up into her, matching her pace.

“Oh, yes, Harry, just like that. Fuck just like that….god,” she moaned, her hands pulling my face to hers, kissing me deeply, our tongue sloppily running against each others. I slipped my fingers between us, rubbing her clit as I continued to pump in and out of her, her movements hardly existent, her legs trembling, her head knocked back in pleasure.

I could feel her tight cunt fluttering around me, pulling me deeper into it, her arousal already soaking down my thighs and hers. I wanted to taste every bit of it, I wanted it to coat me completely, make me filthy in it.

“You wanna come for me, Cassie? Come all over my hard cock, sweet girl? Hmm? Cock so hard for you, wants to fill you up. Can I do that? Can I fill up that wet cunt? Watch you squeeze me out after? Yeah?” I whispered into her neck, kissing along it up to her ear.

“Oh yes, Harry, fu-fuck, yes, yes, fill me up, oh…Ha-Harry I’m going to…I’m..” she gasped, her walls clenching around me, her hips pushing forward, legs clenching around me tighter, “Oh fuck, yes.”

She breathed out in relief, a moan so damn sexy I could have came at the very sound of it. I kept bucking my hips up into her, letting her ride out her high on my hard cock, taking in the way her body and face reacted to the feeling, only turning me on more. Both my hands gripped at her hips, fucking into her harder and quicker until I came, my hips bucking up and holding place their, shooting warm ropes into her fluttering walls.

We both came down from out high, her face nuzzled into my neck, my hips final relaxing and lowering back down, bring her carefully with me.

“Cassie baby, do something for me?” I whispered, a tired nod coming from her. She carefully sat up, eyes locking with mine.

“Pull off me sweet girl, squeeze out my come for me, let me see it drip out of you? Yeah?” I breathed out and she nodded, lazily doing as I instructed. She pulled off of me, both of us groaning. My eyes locked into her sweet cunt, watching her squeeze my come out of her, “Fuck, yes.”

She smirked tiredly, reaching down and covering her fingers in it, bringing it to her lips, licking them clean slowly. I met the other side of them, helping her, until she pulled them away so we were sharing the mix of our arousals on our lips.

Pulling away, she sighed, pushing her forehead on mine, “Mmm, I’ve never christened my secret spot before. Must be my lucky day.”

I chuckled, pressing one more kiss onto her lips, “We can do it again tomorrow. I have time. Find other places in this club to christen.”

“Mm? Sounds like a challenge.”

“I never liked when things came easy anyways.”

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 1

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC

Hi!

I'm really excited to post the first chapter of my new fic after posting a little snippet of it almost a month ago! In it we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)

And a big shout out and thank you to @i-own-loki who made the beautiful banner!

Warnings can be found here - contains spoilers but please read if you know certain themes may be upsetting for you. This fic is dark in parts and I don't want to upset anyone.

Series Master List

Main Master list

Prologue

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sank behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’d left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed. 

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks. 

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind that hurtled down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in. 

He pressed his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom added another layer of noise to the assault on his ears. 

He dropped his hand. 

Waited.

Glanced down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he dropped his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seemed to merge into one solid wall. He knew he was looking west, could feel it in his bones, in the way his feet wanted to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home. 

He pressed his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grated his skin. He had a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and heading west again. 

But she was here. If he wanted to make this work, he needed to be here. 

Chapter One

A wall of warm air hit Frankie as he pulled open the door to the bar, chatter spilling out onto the street. His shoulders pulled up to his ears, the environment uncomfortable to him and he stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for something familiar apart from the smell of stale beer in the air. This bar was the first one he saw that looked like it would maybe serve someone like him, a Texas boy, fresh off the bus from Montana. He’s pretty sure he still has horse dung stuck to the bottom of his cowboy boots, his old army duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

The door behind him opened again, cold air hitting the nape of his neck under the ball cap. 

“You growing roots, old man?” 

The line is followed by a man snorting and a hand on Frankie’s arm, pushing him to the side. He would snap, bite back with a threatening remark, or at the very least fix the man with his most intimidating soldier scowl. But he just took two steps to the side, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears as he tugged at his cap, the movement unintentional, a nervous habit. He knew he was out of place here, a stranger. 

The young man, a yellow backpack slung over his shoulder and long hair pulled into a bun, shoved his way past Frankie, catching the eye of the woman behind the bar. 

“Hey, dickwad! Behave yourself or I’ll have you barred,” she barked, her eyebrows furrowed as she jabbed her finger at the man and he raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology as he sauntered towards the bar. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he snarked, heading towards a loud crowd further in, walking away and ignoring the frown from the woman. She turned her attention to Frankie instead and looked him up and down, an appraising look, before meeting his eyes. 

“You coming or going, cowboy?” 

“Uuh..coming,” he managed to press out, picking up his feet and walking to the bar. He felt heat creep up his neck at being so easily pegged as a cowboy, an out of towner, swallowing down the urge to turn on his heel and bolt out the door. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and the woman behind it gave him a smile, setting down a coaster with a flick of her wrist. 

“What can I get you? You look like you’ve traveled far.” 

“Just a beer, thanks,” he said and she gave him a softer smile, pity flashing across her face. 

“This is Brooklyn, cowboy, I’ve got twenty beers on tap and forty in bottles,” she said and he felt fatigue set in, can’t even order a normal fucking beer in this city. He sighed deeply, dropping his head between his shoulders. But the woman just chuckled in a low voice, tapping her hand on the bar just in front of him. 

“Don’t despair, I’m a good bartender, I know what you’ll like.” 

He picked up his head as she stepped away, grabbed a glass, and moved to a tap further down the bar. Shooting him a quick grin, she began to pull the pint, amber liquid filling the glass, topping off with a creamy white head. He watched her from under the bill of his cap, shouldn’t really appraise her, but he couldn't help it. The fitted jeans on her curves, and the faded bar uniform shirt tied at the waist instead of tucking it in, made his eyes drop down over her ass in a way a man trying to save his relationship with another woman should avoid. And she clocked him, checking her out when she turned towards him again, making him snap his eyes to his hands on the bar. Heat crept up his neck as he rubbed the small bullseye tattoo next to his thumb. 

“Amber ale from a local brewery three blocks from here,” she said and placed the pint on the mat in front of him. 

“Thanks,” he replied, watching the bubbles rise to the bottom of the head, “looks good.” 

“One of my favorites, I’ve always had a soft spot for amber ale,” she nodded, picking up a cloth and returning to the never ending duty of cleaning glasses. 

Frankie picked up the glass and took a long sip, humming as the ale slipped down his throat. 

“Damn,” he said, “that’s good, that’s really good.” 

“Told you,” the woman smiled at him and he gave her a quick smile in return before he took another sip. 

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved around the bar, clean glasses getting wiped and stacked. Clearly a newcomer to the city, she’d called him ‘cowboy’ and he hadn’t protested, the boots and the duffel bag giving him away, even before she saw his uneasy eyes roam around the bar and his nervous shuffle. She’s used to assessing anyone who stepped in through the door, the loud ones, the quiet ones, the ones who are only coming to make trouble. 

This man was one of the quiet ones, she doesn’t think he’s loud even when he’s in his own element, surrounded by friends. 

As he took another long drink from his pint, she turned and picked up glass, catching his eyes on her. She smiled warmly at him, wanting to make him feel welcome, at least in this bar. The city outside is usually brutal to newcomers, and this one seemed to carry more of a burden than most. 

“So you’re new to the city?” she asked him, moving back to his side of the bar, pushing long strands of ginger red hair back behind her ears before wiping another glass. 

“Yeah, came in on the bus a few hours ago,” he replied and she nodded. He doesn’t look like he flew into the city, he’s got the tired face of someone who's spent too many hours leaning against a window, watching the Midwest slip past. But underneath the tired eyes there’s a warmth, a softness in the way he gives her a small crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his right cheek. 

“Spent two fucking days on it,” he sighed, rubbing a large hand over his face before he lifted his cap and swept his thick curls back. She was temporarily mesmerized by how they bounced back around his ears as he squashed the cap back down. 

“Two days? Where did you come from, Texas?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of spending two whole days on a bus, but he shook his head. 

“No, I think Texas is like three days, I came from Montana,” he took another long drag of his beer. 

“I’m guessing this isn’t a weekend trip then”, she quipped, putting down the cloth, all the glasses done, and leaned back on the counter behind her. There’s more work to be done but the stranger chuckled softly at her joke and it pulled her in, making her smile in return. 

“No, I’m here to stay with someone, my..ah-a friend, of sorts,” he said, “Gonna see if I can find some work around here, try a different type of life.” 

“What do you do?” she asked, “Maybe I know someone who knows someone, that’s usually how it works here.” 

“Back in Montana I work with horses, on a ranch,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over the condensation on the beer glass, “Before that, I was a mechanic, cars, helicopters, anything really, I can usually fix it.” 

“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she replied, sounding impressed and he gave a little shrug, as if the ability to fix helicopters was something inconsequential, “I’m sure you’ll find work, especially if you can fix old cars, lots of those around here.” 

She turned and grabbed a notepad from next to the till, “What’s your name and number? I’ll keep it on hand and ask around for you.” 

“Really?” He sounded surprised as he sat up a bit straighter, “Uh yeah, I’m Frankie, Frankie Morales.” 

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” she smiled back at him and slid the notepad across the bar, “Write it down, and your number. I can’t promise anything, and I’m not recommending you to anyone, I’ll just let them know you’re looking for work.” 

“Yeah, sure, of course, but anything helps,” he replied, grabbing the pen and jotting down his information. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, as he passed the notepad back to her. 

“Aisling,” she replied, slipping it in next to the till again. 

“Do you own this place,” he asked, looking around the bar. When he looked back at her she was shaking her head. 

“No, not at all, I’m just the bartender,” she said, “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna serve these guys.”  She gave him a quick smile and headed down the bar to two men who had just sat down. 

Frankie watched her as she took their orders, smiling and laughing easily as she pulled a beer for one of them. The men, her age, are both hanging on to her every word as she makes a joke,  the blonde one clapping the other one on the shoulder with a loud howl. She winked at him and turned, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf to serve the other man. As she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to reach, her shirt rose up, a soft sliver of creamy skin exposed in the dim light of the bar. Frankie couldn’t help but stare at the glimpse black underwear peeking out above the edge of her jeans, a flash of lace, his mouth suddenly dry as his cock reacted. He dipped his head, but couldn't keep his eyes away, she swayed on her tiptoes, refusing to get the stepladder and her breasts pressed against the shirt as it rode up higher. Frankie had an image of her underneath him, all that soft flesh, warm and smooth under his rough palms, sweet smelling and whimpering.  

She managed to slide the bottle off the shelf and grab a glass. Frankie peeled his eyes away, looking down at the now empty pint in his hands, pressed his thumb into the tattoo, forcing his thoughts in another direction. At the end of the bar, Aisling rang up the customers’ order and wiped down the bar before coming back towards him. 

“Do you want another?” she asked, nodding towards the empty glass. Frankie considered it for a beat and then shook his head. He wanted a clear head when he went back to the apartment, he needed to say the right things to save the relationship with the woman who lived there. He already knew that not even in his head could he bring himself to call her ‘girlfriend’, he’s far from sure that’s what she is anymore, not with the way they left it. 

“No, I can’t,” he said, “It was good though, what do I owe you?” 

“Fourteen fifty,” Aisling replied and he tried not to cough at the price as he pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans. 

She took his bills and he left her a tip on the bar that she deposited in the tip jar with a smile. 

“Uhm…tell me,” Frankie said, absentmindedly tugging at his cap, “Do I really look that much like a cowboy?” 

Aisling’s smile softened as she heard his nervous question, “Well…yeah, the cowboy boots are kinda a give away,” she replied, “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s a fashion choice, and the whole jeans, suede jacket, belt buckle look…” She motioned over his body as Frankie’s eyes dropped down to his jeans and belt, hidden from view by the counter. 

“You’re good,” he said, a small chuckle escaping him, “You got all that just from when I came in?” 

“Tricks of the trade,” she replied, “I need to know who steps into the bar and read them quickly.” 

“So you assessed me as soon as I walked in? What else did you pick up on?” He was curious now and leaned forward on the counter as she laughed. 

“Well, I’m cheating because we’ve been talking for a bit now. But you do look ‘new in town’ and I’d say ex-army maybe?”

“I guess the duffel bag gave it away?” Frankie smiled, glancing down at the old bag at his feet. 

“No, they’re ten dollars at the army surplus stores,” Aisling replied, shaking her head, “But you sat down with your back against a corner, and I bet you can tell me exactly where the exits are and how many people are in here and which ones could give you trouble.” 

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise at her and she shrugged. 

“You’ve been scanning the room since you walked in.” 

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he replied, letting his eyes roam across the room again, it’s instinct at this point, inherited from years in the army, “I quit the army years ago but it’s a habit I can’t seem to drop.” 

“What did you do? Mechanic?” Aisling asked and Frankie shook his head. 

“Helicopter pilot, which means I had to be able to fix anything, but mainly I flew things, anything really.” 

Aisling gave him a closer second look and the pieces fell into place, his quiet demeanor, the way he held himself, not exactly folded in on himself, but as if he was  trying to stay unseen and not be noticed unless he wanted to be. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries.

“What?” he asked as he noticed her eyes scanning him. 

“Just building the picture,” she said, a small crooked smile, “You know us bartenders, always trying to figure out the story of our patrons.” 

“Not much of a story,” he said, tugging at his cap and hiding his eyes, “just new in town, looking for work.” 

“Everyone has a story, Frankie Morales.” 

He shrugged at that and fumbled for his phone as it began to ring. Aisling gave him a quick smile and stepped away to let him answer in private. 

Frankie’s jaw ticked as he saw the name on the screen, Eva. He’s been expecting her to call since he left her front door. Their front door, maybe. The truth is, he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. They’d met in Florida, after a doomed mission to South America that left so much pain inside him, and a rift between old friends. She’d been a calming presence, someone who seemed to have his back when his mind spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t been enough, being in Florida became oppressive, and it wasn’t just the humid heat. The old haunts from the days he’d spent trying to numb his brain with white powder, bars and venues filled with memories of the friends he’d lost, both those who’d died and those who still lived, it all became claustrophobic. 

When Herb, his sponsor at the NA, first invited him to the ranch in Montana he’d scoffed at the idea. He was a pilot, not a ranch hand. But after a close call, nearly falling back into the habit, he’d taken him up on the offer and gone out there for two weeks. Herb had convinced him by talking about the clear, cool air making it easy to breathe, the open sky making the mind feel less claustrophobic. And he’d been right. The first evening they’d sat on the porch, the mountains at their back, the open prairie in front, and Frankie had looked up at the endless sky and it was almost as if he was back in a cockpit, flying close to the stars. Nothing encroached on his mind, no buzz in his ears, nothing tugged at his memories, just the open sky and an endless horizon. 

The two weeks of hard ranch work, aching muscles, blistered hands, sealed the deal. If he wanted to truly start over, he needed to leave Florida and come here. 

Eva had been enthusiastic at first, pulled in by Frankie’s talk of the horses, a new foal that had just been born, the small cabin they’d live in. He’d shared the pictures he’d taken, all rustic beams, sturdy wood furniture and a hammock on the porch. It looked like a romantic western dream and that’s what they both really thought it would be. And for the first few months they were happy. 

But when Frankie found peace and calm in the solitude of the isolated ranch, felt free and unrestricted, she began to feel claustrophobic and suffocated. The nearest town, a forty-five minute drive away, didn’t offer much of anything. She found work online and began to resent the life he’d trapped her in. That was the word she’d used, trapped. When the fights became a daily occurrence, Frankie felt the familiar itch of wanting to escape come back. Starting, as always, in his feet and crawling up his body until he spent more time out on the ranch than in the cabin. And for every hour he stayed away, Eva resented their life more, resented him more. 

Until eventually, one late evening when he came back after five days on the trails with a group of guests from a neighboring ranch, she’d left. Only a note saying she’d accepted a position in New York with the company she worked for. A line about needing a different type of life, no invitation to come with her, to follow her, just signed /E and that was it. 

He’d called her, spent hours on the phone when she eventually picked up, begged her to come back. Offered to move to a ranch closer to a bigger town, find a compromise where he could still have the peace of the ranch life, but let her live her life too. But she loved New York, after the silent cabin, she craved the noise and the tempo of the city. 

Eventually he agreed to come to New York, to see her new life and maybe find a place in it. But the city was an assault on his senses after so long on the ranch. The peace that his spiraling mind had finally found evaporated as he navigated the city, the metro, her friends, the bars. His feet itched, the skin around his nails was picked raw and he felt on edge, even in the apartment, his mind never getting a chance to be quiet. 

Eva called it his need for control, to always have a plan of escape, a way out. He knew it was the years in the army that had shredded his sense of safety, left his nerves ragged and too exposed to the mundane background noise of a city. Maybe he’d be able to deal with it some day, but now, he needed the silence. 

After two months in Brooklyn, he left. A loose promise from both of them to maybe try to patch things up, to try the long distance thing. But when he sent a text, saying he’d returned safely to the ranch, and she didn’t reply for two days, he knew it was over. And he didn’t miss her. He had loved her at some point, he thinks. But their lives didn’t match, their needs too different. And he saw that he should maybe not be with anyone while he laid down the foundations of a new life in a new place. He needed to find a way to live with himself, in silence, before he considered sharing his darkest sides with someone else. 

And then Eva called. Six weeks after he’d left Brooklyn. He could hear the heavy traffic behind her as she walked down a street somewhere, leaving a clinic that had confirmed what she’d suspected. 

“I’m pregnant, Frankie, and it’s yours.” 

The words floored him, sent a sharp jolt of dread through his system, his feet tingling, then his scalp. A baby. In New York. But his baby, their child. And the dread was replaced by nerves, how would they do this? Would she want to raise the baby in New York or come back to Montana? He had space for a child here, a guest bedroom with a view of the mountains. It would be a perfect nursery, he could paint it, build a crib with Herb’s help, the nearby town was a good place to raise a family when the child was old enough to begin school. Without even stopping to think, he built a new life around the unborn child. 

Or hell, even New York, he’d make himself put up with New York if that was what she wanted. The apartment only had one bedroom but maybe they could move further out, get a bigger place. He could renovate pretty much anything, he was sure of it. Maybe they could find a quiet neighborhood with trees, where his mind could find peace even in the city. Without even stopping, he built another new life around his, their, unborn child. 

“I don’t know if I’m keeping it, but I wanted to tell you.” 

Eva’s voice had been hard, letting him know that she was doing him a favor by telling him, letting him be part of it. 

“I’ll come to New York, I’ll get a bus today,” Frankie pleaded, “Let’s talk this through, a few more days won’t make a difference.” 

She’d conceded, and he’d thrown stuff into the old duffel bag, left a message with Herb, and driven to the crossroads where the Greyhound stopped. 

Now he was here, in a Brooklyn bar, looking down at her name on his phone as he pressed the green button to answer. 

Chapter 2

A/N: And we're off! I'm so nervous, I really hope you all will love this and follow along as I explore this new version of Frankie! I hope to post a new chapter every Sunday so fingers crossed life doesn't get in the way too much!

❤

Tagging the ususal suspects: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @casa-boiardi

[ghostly-penumbra]

Reflection

Ao3

Summary: Danyal reflects on the mending and burning of bridges.

Inspired by this post.

- - -

Danny stared and stared some more at his phone’s screen, undecided on what he wanted to do.

Somehow, he had seen his brother again.

Damian had grown, just like him, not just in height but as a person.

He was now an established vigilante, a champion of justice in his own right, an ally of the Justice League, fighting evil and protecting the weak.

He was a completely different person from the little boy that had ran him through with a sword at the behest of their grandfather, with a disgusted glare as he stared down at his dying twin.

He was good now.

But in truth, he was the boy that had killed Danny, the brother that he had wrongly trusted, and thought could be on his side.

Danny sighed, dropping his phone in his lap and wondering not for the first time at how they had ended up being so different, already back in the League, how had Damian not been able to see how wrong things were, when they had been raised together, and Danny had realized it early enough? Realize that the soldiers were people, and not just props or tools to be discarded –to be killed – on a whim.

Well, Damian seemed to have realized it by now, been taught better, like all he needed was for someone to talk sense into him.

Why hadn’t Danny’s pleas been enough?

And there was also… their… extended family. Their father, the Batman, and all the people he had brought with him.

Most of them had been… tentative, he would say, in the short time they had interacted. They saw that it was a tense situation and had handled themselves with care, hadn’t pushed Danny, but still showed they would welcome him if he decided to approach. That was nice of them.

The mater of his father, though…

Danny had thought, over and over as he smuggled himself from country to country with mother’s help until they had to cut contact least they be discovered by the League, about seeking his father, the mighty warrior that even his grandfather respected, someone who could protect him from the League.

Then he had found out about Robin, and decided against leaving one child-soldiering life for another.

Then he had met the Fentons, and he didn’t regret it one bit.

(He understood now, though, that the vigilante life didn’t respect ages, and sometimes you just had to step up, because you could, and no one else.)

And now he had the chance to have it all if he wanted. But if he did, it’d have to be everything, he couldn’t be cherry-picking what he wanted and what not, it was all or nothing.

“Nothing it is.” He deleted the number from his phone and the memory of it from his mind, and the slip of paper it had been scribbled on was burnt in green fire along with the communicator Batman had handed him (hesitant, hopeful, beneath his calm façade), and ended up in his trash bin once it stopped radiating heat.

Even if he wanted to have that part of his family, he didn’t want anything with Damian, and he wouldn’t make them choose between the two of them. The Bats were Damian’s and the Fentons Danyal’s, and that was it.

And maybe, just maybe, he would be broken all over again if they all chose his killer over him.

- - -

There is a post on tumblr that uses "Get in the Water" from EPIC: The Musical (my current fixation), where Danyal gives Damian a good scare for having killed him and things spiral from there for the bats. I love it very much.

I don't actually hate Damian or anything (i don't really care for his character, but the bats are a package deal), but as an abused sibling i've always hated with a passion the whole "forgive your abusive sibling uwu, they did't know any better u.u" fuck that noise. Even if they change and grow to be a better person, you don't have to forgive your abusers or be part of their lives so that they feel better. Fuck that very much.

i'm a bit of a hypocrite tho, since my fave is Jason and i forgive him the Titan's Tower incident (but if what i've read about Tim talking shit about Jay after he became Robin is true, then I won't even excuse him. shoulda hit 'im harder. i'll have to check that). alas i also don't care for Tim so i don't really read as much on his relationship with Jason. it's complicated but I wrote what i wanted.

please feel free to leave your opinion! on the subject, on the fic, i'd love to read it!

[corazondebeskar-reads]

ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter two

ain't no rest for the wicked series

two: trouble will find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 6.9k

summary: After weeks of nothing, you finally hear from Tess and Joel again.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, face slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, shower sex

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Weeks go by, and nothing weird happens. You can’t say you aren’t disappointed, but they didn’t say it was going to be a repeat thing. They definitely implied it, sure, but you could be cool about it.

So you had the best orgasms of your life with two of the most unhinged people you’ve ever met. Who needs hinges, anyway? And why do people say unhinged?

Wait, does it mean open? Like they’re unhinged because they have no door? Because, in that case, they’re two of the most hinged people you’ve ever met.

God, you miss when you could ask Google. Or Yahoo. Or Jeeves. Man, the internet was so cool. You bet your fucking Neopets are dead.

By the time you circle back and decide that you’re pretty sure unhinged does not mean open, you’ve autopiloted home.

You turn the key until it clicks and push open the door to your flat. At first glance, there’s no explanation for the way the world seems tilted just so.

Except for the little folded scrap of paper on your shitty rusted table. When you pick it up, something garishly yellow flutters to the ground.

It’s unmistakably a sunflower petal. It’s winter. Where the fuck—

No. Nope. You do not want to follow that thought; you want to let it fuck right off.

You rub the petal between your fingers. It’s so sinfully soft, there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s real.

The paper just says “tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow what? Tomorrow when?

When you open your cabinet to grab a can of soup, the first can you pick up rattles. It also doesn’t have a lid, so. There’s that.

You groan out loud. If you don’t look and just put it back, will it disappear into the other dimension from where it came?

In the end, you peek anyway, and yep. Sunflower seeds. Baked and salted, from the smell.

The implications are unsettling. In their minds, are you cannibalizing yourself at their whim? Are you consuming yourself in a pursuit of pleasure?

Are you really fucking overthinking it?

Tomorrow. For cripes sake. There’s no way you sleep tonight.

Except once you’ve had your soup and nibbled away at most of the sunflower seeds, your full belly lures you into the quiet of the night.

You’re nearly as jittery at work as you were the first time. Granted, you’re a little less afraid of them and more anxiously excited, but the thought of them sends your leg bouncing.

Your chair squeaks the whole time.

“Hey Sam,” you say as casually as possible to your deskmate.

“What?” He says warily.

“Do you know where I could get a horseshoe?”

“A… what?”

“A horseshoe, you know, like horses wear.”

“A singular horseshoe? Do I even want to ask why?”

“Yeah, just one. And no, probably not? Let’s say I’m just really into country chic decor right now.”

Sam turns back away from you.

Typical.

You’re getting ready to leave when you realize you don’t actually remember their address. You’re pretty sure you could find the right building since you walked yourself home, but there’s an uncomfortably large margin of error.

Also, the stupid note didn’t give a time. Should you go home first? Maybe they’ve broken in again to leave a little clue?

You’re saved from figuring it out when you find Joel in exactly the same place as before. You don’t startle this time—you’d peeked around the corner on purpose.

“Hi,” you say, fingers wrapping around your backpack straps.

“Hi.” It’s brusque and he’s scowling, doesn’t even look at you.

“I-I could have walked over. I don’t wanna inconvenience—“

“You’re not. I don’t want you walkin’ by yourself.”

“Ok.” You kind of wish Tess was there. You like Joel fine, but she’s at least a little more talkative. Even if everything out of her mouth throws you off center.

Actually, this is probably fine. Maybe you’ll still have your wits about you when you get there.

He keeps a little distance ahead. Not enough to lose you in the crowd but enough that it almost looks like you aren’t following him. Like he doesn’t want to be seen with you.

You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s fine. People might think he was cheating on Tess, you get it.

Whatever the fuck they were doing with you was certainly not cheating.

Tess is already in the kitchen when you get there. Joel hovers in the living room until you head in, like he thinks maybe you’ll snoop through the apartment if he doesn’t keep watch.

You’re not that stupid. That’s a fucking death wish.

She’s cleaning a pan. Joel grumbles at her about leaving it for him, and she rolls her eyes while he pulls out your chair.

You remember this, at least, and manage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Tess dries her hands and sits down across from you. “Hey, sunflower. You miss us?”

You burn up immediately, wishing it were literal. It’s like she knows you’ve had fingers stuffed up your cunt every night, remembering how they felt. How you buried your face in the pillow and wished it was the soft folds of her.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry, we missed you too. We’ll show you how much later.”

Joel sets hot plates down in front of you both, followed by glasses of water, before he takes his own seat.

You wonder if this is a special production or if they’re letting you see their natural domesticity.

If you thought dinner last time was a delicacy, nothing could have prepared you for this.

The slab of meat is unmistakably pork and rests on a bed of baked apple slices beside yellow squash and pale zucchini rounds.

You look up from your plate with wide eyes.

“Best not to ask,” Joel says.

You nod. This time, you go slow, savoring each bite. It can’t be real, you think. It can’t really be yours.

But they let you eat everything on your plate. No one snatches it away or scolds you for touching something you don’t deserve. Tess seems downright pleased when you set your fork down for the last time.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finally blurt.

Tess quirks an eyebrow. “Thought we made ourselves clear last time. When you’re here, you’re ours.”

“And we take care of what’s ours,” Joel says. When you snap your head to look at him, his eyes are dark and narrowed. Like he’s angry at the insinuation that they wouldn’t.

“O-okay,” you say, fixing your gaze back on your plate.

He stands up and clears the dishes, piling them in the sink.

Tess takes you by the hand and leads you out of the room. You expect her to stop at the couch again, but she takes you into what must be their shared bedroom.

Joel shuts the door behind him when he comes in. The room is warm and dark, the winter sun having retreated for the day already.

They don’t give you a moment to work yourself up. Tess is already kissing you as she walks you back to the bed. Instead of pushing you into it like you expect, she tugs you to a stop when your knees run into the mattress.

Her mouth moves down your neck as she easily discards your clothes. You shrink a little, and she tugs on your hair, forcing your head back so you look her in the eye.

“No being shy, now,” she warns. “S’ours to look at anyway.”

She peels your arms away from where they had instinctually folded across your breasts. Moving to one side, she smirks at Joel.

“Look at your little pet, baby. Ain’t she pretty?”

His hand brushes the curve of your breast, barely making contact but drawing a shiver from you anyway. “Sure is. A real sight for sore eyes.” His thumb finds your nipple, and you moan, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pinches it, smirking when you gasp.

“You look like you got a plan,” he says to Tess.

“You want two cunts to fuck today, baby?” She says.

You can almost see the switch flip in his brain. “Yes, please, ma’am,” he says.

She presses a much chaster kiss to your lips before patting the mattress. “Hop up, sunflower. On your back, head right here.”

Once you’re situated, she tucks a pillow under your head and climbs on top of you, settling her cunt right where you need it. When you try to touch her, though, Joel stops you, catching your wrists.

“Keep ‘em by your sides, or I’ll tie ‘em down.”

Tess laughs, dragging a finger through your folds. “I think she wants you to, baby.”

He crouches down by your head. “S’that so?”

You look at him from where you’re trying to reach Tess with your mouth, but she’s lifted her hips just a little too high. You whine.

“Yes, sir.”

His grin is otherworldly, all sharp teeth and shadow. “Attagirl,” he says, patting your cheek.

His hands are gentle but competent as he binds each wrist to the bed, stretched out to the posts of the footboard. Tess sits on your face while he works, letting you overstimulate yourself between her wet cunt and his control.

Once you’re secure, she leans forward and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling a gasp that deepens into a drawn-out moan as she continues.

You whine when she lifts her hips back up just too far for you to lick inside her. Joel grabs your hair and holds you in place, dipping his cock into your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet for her, sunflower.”

You try your very hardest to give him the sloppiest blowjob you can while being held still.

When he pulls out, he presses his balls to your mouth, and you respond with soft licks as he notches his tip at the slick entrance of Tess’s cunt.

“Lick her,” he grunts, resisting the urge to plunge in all the way.

You’re on fire. This has to be, hands down, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done, but he props the pillow up more so you don’t have to strain your neck when you lick down his cock to where he’s splitting her open.

She moans into your pussy.

He holds you there, with your tongue flat against where he pushes in deeper. When he’s buried, you flick your tongue to his balls and back.

“Suck them,” he pants, and you obey, stretching your mouth around him.

He starts to thrust gently, not wanting to jostle himself against your teeth, but he loses patience eventually and yanks you off to shove you to her clit.

You’re squirming as she works you over, three fingers deep, stretching you to get you ready for Joel. You suck and lick at her clit as she cums, meaning to lick her through it and keep going for another.

But Joel tugs you back to lick where she leaks around him.

You’re glad he tied you down. It’s all so much, almost too much, and you don’t think you could have held still. The rope’s embrace holds the last shred of your sanity.

At some point, you started whimpering against them, pleading as best you can without pulling your mouth away.

“Aw, you wanna cum?” she mocks with an affected simper.

“No,” Joel grunts, his hips snapping hard against her. “Only way she's coming tonight is on my cock.”

You sob a little bit, and she pulls back to slap your aching clit. Your hips buck, and you nearly lose the fight.

“Oh, she fuckin’ loved that, baby,” she tells him.

“‘Course she did, she’s a fuckin’ slut for us.” He says.

You moan. You think you should probably care that they’re talking about you like this. Actually, you do care. You care a lot. It’s so fucking hot.

“You’re just our little whore, sunflower?” he says.

You nod minutely with Tess’s clit pinched between your lips, and she cums again, her slick rubbing on your face with each stroke of his dick.

“Alright,” she says, tapping his hand where it grips her hip.

He pulls out and unties your wrists. Tess lets you keep lapping at her for a minute, but when you’re free, she slides off you and sprawls, languid and satisfied.

He gives you a light slap on the cheek. “Trade places.”

You sit up and lay on your stomach to the side to let Tess move to where you had been. But first, she rolls to face you and pulls you in for a deep, slow kiss.

You go to tangle your fingers in her hair, but she catches your wrist, rubbing her thumb over the ridges left behind.

“That’s enough,” Joel growls, yanking you by the ankle.

Tess laughs. “Don’t wanna be left out, baby?”

“Wanna get my fuckin’ dick back in one of ya,” he says.

She gets situated with her head down at the end of the bed and tugs at you to climb over her. You waste no time diving back into her cunt until Joel smacks you hard on the ass.

“Did I tell you to start up?”

“No, sir,” you say, voice breaking a little with desperation and a little shame.

He slaps the other side of your ass for good measure. Unlike the way he eased into Tess, he doesn’t wait to push into you.

You’re so grateful for Tess stretching you out before. His cock feels impossible. You cry out into her bush.

Your wriggle, and she holds you still with a powerful grip on your hips, licking at your clit while he shoves forward.

“That’s right. Shit,” he slaps your ass again when you squirm. “Hold still and fucking take it, girl.”

Your cries are muffled, but you’re not protesting. It’s just so fucking much.

Tess distracts you from the sting and pinch of him by gently biting your clit, which hurts a hell of a lot more but also makes you a hell of a lot wetter, ultimately easing his passage. Enough so that he slams the rest of the way in.

Your mind whites out when he starts pounding into you. Tess shifts to lick at where you’re broken open on him, and your fists tighten in the sheets.

“Please,” you whine, breaking away from her cunt only long enough to beg.

“What d’you think, baby? She been good enough for you tonight?”

He rubs his hand over the side of your thigh and hums. You hold your breath. You’re pretty sure he’s just teasing you, but it’s a fucking struggle not to cum.

“Yeah, she’s been a real good girl,” he says. “Go on, sunflower, cum on my fucking cock.”

It hurts. It hurts where you clamp down around him. It hurts where Tess is relentless against your clit. But it’s maybe the hardest you’ve ever come—you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

When the world filters back in around you, you’re laying with your head on her, giving pathetic little kitten licks to her clit. Joel’s fucking you down into her, and when he sees that you’re semi-present, he shoves your head back into her folds.

“Again,” he snarls, and your body listens. Spasms. Falls apart again.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him begging Tess and desperately asking where he’s allowed to come. Whatever they decide, he pulls out abruptly. She slips out from under you and yanks you onto your back, swinging a leg over your hip to grind against you.

You reach for her with limp arms, and she finally, finally lets you cup her breasts as Joel tugs his aching cock and warm cum splatters across your face, tits, and arms.

You don’t even hear him walk away, but he comes back a minute later with a warm, damp towel to find you scooping some of his cum into your mouth. He groans, cock twitching.

“You gotta stop that, sunflower, or I’m gonna need that mouth again.”

You look up at him with wide eyes and part your lips.

He fists his cock and looks at Tess. She’s dozing off already but nods. He cleans her first, gently wiping away incidental splatter and residue of her own pleasure from her thighs.

You wait patiently with your mouth open and he rewards you by easing gently into your throat. He’s fully hard again now.

He fills your throat easier at this angle. Well, easier for him.

“Breathe,” he says, gripping the back of your head. “That’s it, sunflower, just breathe. You’re takin’ it so well.”

He helps himself to handfuls of your breasts, rubbing and tugging at your nipples while he chases his second orgasm.

“Cum with me. Show me what a fuckin’ cumslut you are,” he grunts between thrusts.

Tess leans over close to you. “Don’t swallow, sunflower.”

He pulls out a little right as he cums to let it pool in your mouth. It’s a fucking struggle as you let your own orgasm roll over you. When he pulls out, Tess pulls you in for a kiss and shares in his spend.

Again, the fucking filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You’re not sure how you managed it, but you’re not going to voice a single damn doubt, not going to risk whatever this is.

He finally cleans you off and putters around the room, tossing the towel in a hamper and tugging his clothes back on.

“I’m followin’ her home,” he murmurs to Tess while you’re in the bathroom.

She sits up. “What happened?”

“Tell ya more when I get back. But her place is too close to the boundary, and I caught a little tip-off when I was waiting to pick her up.”

Tess frowns but by the time you come out, dressed and refreshed, they’re lounging on the bed.

“C’mere,” Tess says before you can speak or move for the door. She tugs you down to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” you say automatically. You’re not actually sure. Everything’s a little fuzzy; the world wrapped in a cotton ball. You may or may not be shaking a little.

“You sure you’re okay to get home safe?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are heavy, though, and the way her nails are tracing swirls up and down your arm is making you woozy.

You must have dozed a little because Joel’s coming back in the room and you didn’t know he ever left.

He hands you a mug of tea and sets a plate on the bed beside you.

“Gotta eat something. Y’look like ya might faint on your way,” he says at your crinkled face.

You sip from the tea and close your eyes as the warmth and sweetness crawl through you. “Thank you,” you say.

Tess has you leaning against her still, and you stay that way while you eat the sandwich Joel made. As it dwindles, your awareness of the situation grows stiff and uncomfortable.

You sit up. “Thank you, but um. I better get going.” You’re only a little dizzy when you stand up.

Joel takes the dishes out of your hands. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yep,” you lie. “So, um. Have a good night.” It feels stilted, after what you’ve all just shared, but what else do you say to your two-time hookups? You skedaddle before it can get weirder.

You would have said yes this time, you think, if he had offered to walk you home again.

It’s only a week later when there’s a knock at your door.

There’s never a knock at your door. No one visits; there’s no one to visit.

You stare at the door for a minute, sitting on your bed eating room-temperature peas out of a can with your only spoon. The noise had startled you, and now you’re going to have to launch a search and rescue mission.

It knocks again. Well. Not it, you suppose, not the door. Whoever is on the other side.

You stand up, spoon hanging from your mouth, and open it with the chain still latched.

“Y’ain’t even gonna ask who it is?” Joel snaps.

You shut it and remove the chain, opening it all the way to reveal his scowl.

“Hi,” you say through clenched teeth where they hold onto the spoon. You’ve got one hand on the door and the other on your can of peas.

“You don’t even have a peephole. What’re you doing, just opening the door for strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.” You’ve stuck the spoon into the remaining peas so you can speak clearly.

“You didn’t know it was me.”

You step back to let him in, eyeing him as he steps through the doorway.

He narrows his eyes at you. “What? I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No,” you say, not at all suspiciously, and cringe internally when your eyes can’t help but dart up and then back to him.

He turns and looks above the door where you’ve nailed a blue plastic horseshoe. Despite his apprehension, Sam had actually found one—leftover from some children’s game.

Though now you were wondering if it was less about the horseshoe shape and more about the properties of a ferried shoe. Maybe intent? Maybe the metal? Maybe it had to have been worn by a horse? You had never really listened to your grandmama. She was just a crazy old lady.

Or at least, you thought she was. But now there are mushroom zombies, so. Who knows.

Joel looks back at you with an eyebrow raised. “Doing some decorating?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, trying not to feel embarrassed. Then you remember that Joel being here is the weird part of this situation. You refuse to feel weirder than that.

“So, um,” you start.

He steps closer and tucks his fingers under your chin, thumb brushing over your cheek. It’s impressive how little it takes now for your brain to shut up.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Y’said that already, sunflower.” He takes the can from you and sets it on the counter.

“Right,” you say, feeling a little ensnared by his gaze. “You have really pretty eyes.”

To your surprise, he blushes a little. His eyes go wide and his lips part. Instead of a response, he hides his reaction by kissing you so you’re too close to see the pink of his cheeks.

He turns you so he can press you against the door, licking into your mouth and pressing a thigh between your legs. It turns hungry very quickly, and you moan, spurring him on to slide his hands up your shirt.

“Not that I—“ you try, but he doesn’t let up. “Ah—hang on,” you turn your face.

He takes it as an invitation to nip and suck on your neck. You’re still distracted, but at least you can attempt to string together a sentence.

“Not that I mind,” a gasp draws out the words, “but why-yyy are you here?”

“Wanted your advice on interior design,” he says, jerking his head to the horseshoe, “but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh, shut up,” you try to say, but he’s latched back on to the sensitive area near your shoulder that has you abandoning your train of thought.

“Need you,” he says against your skin before he breaks away to tug your shirt over your head.

You can’t argue with that. Well, you could, but why would you want to when he’s got his hands and mouth on your breasts?

He grabs and pins your wrists above your head in one hand. The other pinches at whichever nipple isn’t currently in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp.

He smirks around his mouthful before biting down so you cry out. His fingers find the seam of your leggings, stroking over to feel you squirm.

“Please,” you whimper.

He slaps your breast. “You wanna try that again?”

“Please, sir.”

“Down.”

You sink to your knees, but he doesn’t pull his cock out right away. Instead, he cups your cheek in his hand, watching closely as your eyes flutter shut and you lean against his hand.

“You still okay with all this?” he says, immovable gruffness betrayed by a hint of genuine concern.

You nod against his hand.

He draws his hand back, and a whine from you. It’s cut off by a sharp, but clearly restrained, slap. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, sir.” It caught you off guard, but you find you like the faint sting and heat of it.

“Yeah? Even that?”

He seems serious, no hint of a smirk or glint to his eye, so you pause to consider.

“I liked it,” you decide. “Felt nice. Made me want to please you.”

Now he grins and slaps you again. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you gasp.

The heat spreads through you, and your mouth falls open, eyes following his hand as it drags away from your face to grasp his length through his pants.

“See what you’ve done?” He grips your chin tight with his other hand. “Gonna take care of that for me?”

“Please, sir.”

He pops the button open on his jeans and drags the zipper down unbearably slowly. You whine, and his fingers dig into your jaw.

“Be good,” he says. He draws his cock out and gives himself a few strokes just an inch from your mouth.

You look up at him and stick your tongue out. You want to whine, but you’re afraid if you’re not good, he’ll just fuck his hand.

He releases your chin. “Go on,” he says.

You kiss the sticky tip, licking the residue from your lips before taking his cock into your mouth. You moan in tandem, and his hand finds purchase on the back of your head.

“This place is kind of a shithole,” he says, looking around your tiny cube of a home.

“Gee, tha—“

He doesn’t let you finish, shoving you back down on his cock.

He fucks into you for a while, enjoying the way you moan around him when his dick bruises the back of your throat.

When he yanks you back suddenly, you gasp for air but try to get your mouth back around him.

“No, stop,” he says. “I don’t wanna cum yet. Want your cunt.”

You whine, and he almost caves, looking at the pure hunger with which you’re regarding his swollen, angry cock.

“I said no,” he says instead, jerking your head a little.

“Sorry, sir,” you say with a sigh.

He looks over your shoulder. “Y’ain’t even got a fuckin’ bed.”

You follow his gaze to your perfectly fine mattress. “I do so!”

“That ain’t a bed, sunflower. That’s a mattress with no box or frame.”

“Wait, hang on, haven’t you been here already?”

“Nah, that was Tess who stopped by.”

“That’s a funny way to say broke in.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You complainin’?”

You look up at the horseshoe for a moment. “Nah, I guess not.”

He looks at it, too, and back to you. “I don’t wanna know. You got a shower?”

“You hate my bed that much?”

“No, I’ve been shovelin’ ash all day. M’not gonna fuck you like this, just need to rinse off.” He should have gone home first, he knows, but going back to an empty apartment just compounds his anxiety. He took a hard labor job on purpose, hoping it would distract him from the tightness in his chest.

It’s not that he doesn’t know Tess can handle herself. He just hates it when she goes alone for a deal.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. Before you move the towel away from the bathroom door, you stomp hard a couple of times and then wait a moment before opening it.

He decides not to ask.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging you by the hand into the tiny bathroom. At least you have a combination tub, so it won’t be too tight of a squeeze.

You start the shower for him and dig around in the cabinet for a clean towel. He reaches past you and grabs another.

“Wh—I got you one,” you protest.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ in with me?”

Oh. “Oh,” you say. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“But do you want to?” he asks, suddenly very close, backing you up against the sink. His hand lingers at the side of your throat.

“Uh-huh,” you nod.

“Then get in,” he says, tugging you away from the counter and giving a smack to your ass.

You yelp and strip down as he does the same. But he stops halfway through shucking off his pants after looking at the tile where his shirt landed.

“Do you eat in here?”

“What? No.”

“There are crumbs all over the floor.”

“Oh, those’re for Estella and Georgie.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Probably not.” You pause. “On second thought, you should. They’re mice. Please don’t hurt them.”

“Estella and Georgie are mice.”

“Yeah.”

“From outside.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. His exasperation does not, you’d like to point out, stop him from stepping into the shower behind you.

His body cages you in, wrapping himself around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder for a moment while his hands dance down each rib and over your stomach. They slide back up to your breasts, crossed to hold you against his chest while he gropes you.

You arch a little, as much as you can in his iron grip, and revel in the press of his hard cock against your ass. He groans when you roll your hips against it. You whine when he releases you, and he swats at your thigh.

“Let me get clean,” he scolds. “That was the whole point of this.”

Still, he can’t resist lathering your tits with his soapy hands and drinking the moans from your lips.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” you whine.

His fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze just so, sending sparks down your spine.

“I thought you were gonna be my good little girl,” he growls in your ear.

You whimper, involuntarily grinding back against him. “I want to. Please, I want to be—”

“What? Say it, baby.”

“I wanna be good,” you say.

His hand tightens until you squeak a little. “No, no, baby. Say, ‘I want to be your good little girl, sir.’”

You’re burning up. You can’t even blame the shower, because even the hottest water you get isn’t that hot. You whisper it back.

He eases up on your throat. “Can’t hear ya. Speak up.”

“I want to be your good little girl!” you blurt. “Um. Sir.”

He chuckles, dark and low, and the breath sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Yeah? You want to be my good girl and take my cock?” His hand slides down, almost where you need it, but he stops short of parting your lips, the tip of his finger brushing gently.

“Please,” you whine.

His middle finger dips in just enough to graze your clit. “I don’t think you want it bad enough.”

You grind back against him; a frustrated sob lodged in your throat. It slips free when he rubs a slow, gentle circle. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

You cry out when he pulls his hand away, but it’s only so he can push you up against the wall, hand between your shoulder blades to bend you forward. You brace yourself on the chilly cheap plastic.

He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock against your slippery cunt. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like you really want to get fucked.”

“But I’m so wet,” you protest.

“We’re in the shower, sunflower, ‘course you’re wet.”

You’re rapidly losing your grip on your sanity and also the wall, so you reach back and grab his hips, shoving yourself onto his cock. You’re not stretched enough to take it all, not even with your momentum, but the fat head of him pushes into you.

You and Joel gasp in unison, his hands tightening where they hold you, fingernails digging in. You moan, bringing your hands back to the wall as he pushes forward, voice breaking into a keen as he splits you.

He groans and grinds in deeper. “What a greedy fucking slut,” he says, having regained his senses. “Couldn’t wait, huh? You need it that bad?”

“Uh-huh,” you pant between thrusts.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stops. He holds still, buried balls-deep.

“No,” you sob.

“What?” He cracks a hand across your ass, grinning when you moan. “You want it that bad? Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You do. You rock yourself on it, trying to chase your pleasure on him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, to which you sputter a protest. You’d been careful so far not to get it wet.

“You got something to say?” He spanks you again. “Spit it out.”

But you’ve already forgotten about your hair, because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to get the angle right. Your orgasm lies far out of reach.

You whine instead. “Please fuck me.”

“What’s the matter? You’re the one who helped yourself to my cock. Now ya don’t know what to do with it?”

You think you might actually cry. No, yep, tears are stinging in the corners of your eyes. You look back at him over your shoulder and hope you look pathetic enough for him to take mercy.

“Aw, baby, look at you,” he croons. “Shouldn’t have been so greedy, huh?”

“M’sorry,” you say. “M’sorry, sir, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You better,” he says, and then finally, finally shoves roughly into you.

The pace he sets meticulously takes you apart. His cock batters at you, his tight grip on your body unrelenting as he takes and takes and takes.

“So much better now, huh?” he says.

“Yes—oh fuck, s-so much. Thank you, sir.”

“Attagirl,” he moans. “Touch yourself, baby.”

You’re quick to obey, longing for his thick, calloused fingers.

But he knows that already. “See? Ya just can’t do it right yourself. Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You’re nodding before he’s done talking. He wrenches your hand away and reaches down to pinch your clit.

“Now,” he growls. It’s a good thing, too, because you were already starting to fall apart.

He fucks you through it, and another, and another. Between the contrast of the warm water and cold wall, the brutal slap of his hips against your ass, and the dizzying pleasure, you feel fuzzy around the edges.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans. “Kneel.”

He steps back just enough to let you turn and drop to your knees. The water ricochets off his back as he plunges into your waiting mouth, and you swallow him down.

When he eases out, you’re soaked from the spray.

“Think we need to clean up again?” you say.

“Nah, why bother? I ain’t done with you yet.”

“What?” you gasp.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Dry off and go lay on that sad little thing you call a bed for me, alright?”

It’s actually easier for him this way, he tells you with a smirk. “Ain’t gotta worry about my knees.” He’s lowered himself to the floor, with your ass perched on the end of the mattress.

Practically lounging, he’s spread your thighs to carve a space for himself, holding you as he takes his sweet time. For a goddamn eternity, all he does is kiss and bite your thighs, with the occasional soft lick to your folds. But he doesn’t dip in, doesn’t seek out your pleasure.

No, it’s very clear that this is for him. Which is not to say he doesn’t want you to feel good; he very much does. But tonight, he has the luxury of time and a comfortable angle to do whatever the fuck he wants.

You’re shaking, legs trembling, when his tongue finally nudges inside, just a quick flit of his tongue into your cunt before he drags it up to your clit.

“Please,” you sob, much like you have been. But this time, it’s different. He can tell from the way you’re squirming and clenching down.

“Give it to me,” he growls into you, and sucks at your clit until you come.

It feels like hours. There’s no way it can be, really, but he works you over again and again until you can’t take it anymore. You’re crying, real tears sliding down the sides of your face, and your hips move of their own accord in an attempt to escape.

He doesn’t let you out of it that easy. His hand comes down against your cunt before you realize he let go of your leg. And fuck, it feels good, but also, you might be dying?

“Can’t, I can’t,” you whine.

“You sure? I think you got one more in ya.”

“Fuck,” you sob.

He eases up a little, fucking you with his tongue while his fingers rub gently around your clit. When you cum, you have to bite your fist not to scream. He holds you down with a strong arm across your hips as you buck and struggle.

But he backs off as soon as you’re coming down. “Attagirl, that’s it. So good for me,” he murmurs, climbing up onto the mattress beside you.

He rolls you over into his arms and kisses your forehead, nose, and lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I wanted.”

You’re limp. You think maybe he’s one of those vampires. What did they call them? Energy vampires? Or are you thinking of some kind of demon?

Anyway, you think he drained your life force out of your cunt. You can’t keep your eyes open, and your limbs are heavy. You’re sleepin’ with the fishes, you think, and giggle a little.

“You okay?” he says.

“Mhm, m’just so sleepy,” you mumble. Even your lips feel too heavy to move.

“I gotcha, sunflower; you can sleep.” He kisses your forehead again and tugs your comforter up around you both.

There’s a knock on your door for the second time in twelve hours. That’s more than the last twelve months.

You startle awake and yank the sheet up to your neck, but relax a little when you see Joel. He’s already hefted himself up and approached the door.

The knock comes again, but this time you notice there’s a pattern to it.

“Who is it?” he says anyway.

“Just me,” Tess says.

Joel unlatches the locks and lets her in.

“Thought I might find you here,” she says, low and quiet.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah, but I need your help with some cleanup. How’s she?”

“Good,” you whisper.

Tess does a double take. “Thought you were sleeping, sunflower.”

“Was, but people keep banging my door down today.” You yawn and for some reason, reach your arms up.

She obliges your sleepy plea, coming close enough to bend down and kiss you. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. But something falls in your spine, something sad and heavy and taboo.

“I gotta go back out. Meet me downstairs,” she says to Joel, who’s getting his filthy clothes back on. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Be a good girl and go back to sleep.”

You hum your agreement and lay back down against your pillow.

Joel crouches down by the mattress. “Sorry, sunflower, we gotta get goin’,” he says, giving your cheek a brief caress.

The disappointment is there and gone so fast, he thinks maybe he imagined it. Maybe he just wanted to see it.

But it was real, much to your displeasure. You didn’t want them to think you were getting greedy, that you felt any entitlement to their time.

“Okay.”

“Need ya to lock up behind us.”

“Just turn the thingy before you close the door,” you mumble, trying to spare your poor feet the pain of the frigid floor.

The look he levels you is nothing short of furious. “You tryin’ to be funny?”

“No?”

“That flimsy little joke ain’t gonna protect you. Your hinges are too weak; anyone could kick that in. At least the deadbolt and chain would buy you a minute.”

“It’s cold,” you whine. But you know he’s right. After all, Tess got in and out without causing any damage. Hang on, though. What was that about weak hinges?

Does that make you… unhinged? You laugh out loud at your joke. Your daddy always said it was a good thing you thought you were funny, ‘cause no one else would.

He ignores it and yanks the blanket off you.

“Hey!”

“You can have it back when you get up.”

“Mean.”

“You think this is mean? I’m fixin’ to put you over my knee and change your little attitude.”

Your eyes go wide, and there’s a tell-tale heart(beat) buried beneath your panties. “You wouldn’t.”

“You damn well know I would.”

You swallow hard around the sudden ache in your throat where his cock should be.

You get up and shuffle over to him. “Alright, quit yer bitchin’. I’m here, and I will lock all the locks.”

He wraps the blanket around your shoulders. “Good girl,” he says and presses a brief kiss to your forehead. Before you even register it, he’s gone, door clacking shut behind him.

You lock all the locks and climb back in bed, but sleep doesn’t find you again.

next chapter

*title from "Trouble is a Friend" by Lenka

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Overlord | A Little Crush 

“Oh, my–who is this?”

You had been allowed to sit in on the meeting with Ainz, reading his hidden plea that you actually help him understand some of this. Of course under the guise of learning the guardians pay no mind in fact their barely able to contain their excitement to see both you and Ainz.

“That is the insolent emperor of the Vassal country of Baharuth Empire–”

Albedo continued to spew insults but you couldn’t help the heat that spread all over when you looked at his purple-pink irises. You put the picture down before your typical smile could change too much instead using your abilities to inform, Ainz as you promised.

‘Scared him into submission? I don’t remember doing anything but making peace before…’

‘Demiurge is specifically thinking about your appearance at the match…apparently, he was trying to meet with the Slane theocracy but your showing up immediately scared him into submission. Wow! Good job, Ainz!’

‘No good job! I didn’t even know that was happening!”

‘Sure. Sure.’

The meeting continued, which ensured a constant struggle as you tried not to look at the image they had crafted. When it ended you fought with yourself not to take the image instead opting to use your power to photocopy the image onto paper later…or maybe a body pillow.

“Jircniv huh? What a cutie!”

______________________________________________________________

You didn’t have Ainz’s emotional regulator…that much was clear. Yet in the beginning, your true emotions illuded the guardians of Nazarick. But after many months of observation and talking with you they picked up on the subtle signs. Like today the heat emanating from your body, the way you crossed your legs, the bite of your lip to restrict the larger smile–it was all too clear.

“FOR A CRETIN LIKE THAT NO LESS!?” Albedo smashed the table. 

Demiurge rose, fighting the urge to angrily thrash his tail about. 

“Calm yourself Albedo…this could just be mere interest. (Y/n)-sama has expressed a growing interest in politics…we shouldn’t be so quick to judge!”

“B-but they n-never looked at anyone else like that!” Mare spoke sharing worried eye contact with his sister who returned the favor.

“At this rate…they’ll like them more than us!”

A pregnant silence hung over the room; each of the floor guardians imagining horrifying images of you leaving them for a mere human. Some were of you on the emperor’s arm in wedding garments, others had you sharing a milkshake and feeding the emperor, and another had you promising to run away with the dreaded emperor. Fear and horror enveloped all in the room bringing them to their knees as they reeled in pain. Amidst this Cocyutus took a stand, prepared to bring these worries to light. 

“I say…we bring our concerns to Ainz-sama!”

“YES!” “Y-yeah!” “I agree.” 

______________________________________________________________

It doesn’t take long for Ainz to see this behavior himself. Hearing your telepathic giggles when you open the same page in the book you’ve been reading for a month is enough confirmation for him. And like always he is the one left to make the hard-hitting decision.

“AINZ-SAMA I suggest I personally help quell their sexual needs!”

“I’m more equipped to take care of them, ariska. ”

“Are you kidding, Mare and me cuddle with them all the time! Maybe you should make them do more with us!”

“Y-yeah!” 

“Perhaps they simply wish to explore its healthy for youngins to—”

“Shut up Cocuyutus!” “Grrrr!” “Quiet Cocyutus, ariska!” 

And while he agrees you’re boredom is probably a good indicator it’s also because you’re you. He’s sure if he knew you in his old world or even in his guild this would have been normal. As your technical guardian, he shouldn’t really interfere…but even he can’t help but be annoyed with the telepathic squeals you keep making. So maybe on a whim, he’ll make a judgment call. 

“A trip to the Vassal state?”

“Yes, it's important that you publicly integrate yourself with the Sorcerer Kingdom.”

‘Do you want to?’

“I’m especially grateful!! I’ll take my mission with pride!” 

‘Yes!!! Thanks, Ainz!’

Your telepathic voice warms his nonexistent heart and he sends you away with Aura and Mare. He hopes their presence will deter any acting out on the Emperor’s end and as a deterrent from you possibly…deepening relations. At the guardian's insistence, Ainz sets up a magic glass to watch you from. So with great anticipation, they all watch as you pull away in your carriage pulled by the undead as you make your way to the Baharath Empire. 

______________________________________________________________

“Oh, Aura Mare now that we’re practically here I’ve suddenly become so nervous!” 

You nervously mused playing with your headdress and veil resting on your lap. You could see through the carriage with your power easily; watching the people of the Baharuth Empire look on in astonishment. But your nervousness wasn’t about meeting people at least not entirely, you were going to meet the man who plagued your imagination with his face for the last month. 

“U-uhm (Y-Y/n)-sama why are y-you so nervous! You’re the most amazing Supreme being next to Ainz-sama s-so y-you should be c-confident.” 

Mare peeped out, blushing as he complimented you. You gave him a loving smile patting your gloved hand on the tip of his clenched fists causing him to release. 

“Thank you Mare, for reminding me! It’s just I’m more nervous about meeting one particular person.”

“Oh? Who is this particular person? Have they done something that we should punish them for?”

Aura probed leaning close to you as if on the verge of discovery. While Aura understood good and well that the Emperor was the cause of this she couldn’t place how; or why the guardians were so averse to it. She guessed it was similar to the way Albedo felt about Ainz but you didn’t do anything as she does so she was stumped…how could a weak human have anything against a Supreme Being like you?

You giggled, “Oh Aura, you’re so cute! I’ll tell you when you’re older!”

She blushed at your statement hiding her face against the corner of the carriage as she mulled against her shaken resolve. She just couldn’t help but crumble when your attention was solely focused on her like that. In a way, she related to big sis Albedo a bit. 

With your Sorcerer headdress resembling Ainz and a dark veil covering your face you stepped out of your carriage with Yuri lending you a hand out of the carriage with a bow of respect. 

“Presenting (Y/n)-sama, the flower of the Sorcer Kingdom!” 

The people guffawed as you traveled up the stairs of the Emperor’s palace, many whispering words of awe as you made your way up the steps. Thankfully the people were so focused on you that they failed to notice the twins who so easily killed a great mass of people before their vassal status. 

The guide into the palace was one of his personal guard, fighting the tremble in his voice as he recognized Aura and Mare. Passing by various staff and soldiers you drew their attention easily many dropping weapons or papers as they watched you for as long as they would be let. Past a set of golden double doors you finally laid eyes upon the deeply bowing emperor. 

“Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix, at your service.”

It was a demeaning bow for someone called the “bloody emperor” and you couldn’t help feeling pity. Already knowing what you wished Yuri cleared her throat and demanded that his personal guard and any remaining staff clear the room. She even sent a look towards the twins who pouted until you turn to them with a pleading tilt of your head. Sulking they excused themselves finally leaving you and Jircniv, with the exception of Yuri, all alone.

Worldlessly she bowed towards you once more before raising your veil, you smile when shock overtakes his face. 

“Its a pleasure to meet you Jircniv! I hope you can show me the best Baharuth Empire has to offer.”

“Of course my liege!” 

______________________________________________________________

When Jircniv had been informed of a visit from Nazarick he near crapped himself in fear that it be in reprimand to his attempt to betray...but when he heard that the “Flower of Nazarick”was in attendance he relaxed…a little. This probably was the final nail in the coffin for him, pulling at his hair and cursing his hubris he ordered the best for your arrival. Even as you arrived with those dreaded dark elves as guards he was sure you would be the one to rip out his heart. 

To that, he was right. The lifting of your veil was the fist, tightly grasping his heart as it slowly revealed your face to him. The pulling was the ethereal gleam of your smile and voice. In complete juxtaposition from Ainz Ooal Gown you glowed with a heartwrenching presence that had him practically becoming a puddle on the floor. If he were a lesser man he would have been far to floored to look away to bow even harder than before but he was an emperor for blood’s sake.

Immediately he rearranged the whole plan for the day, changing seating arrangements that would have put space between you two to eliminating them entirely. Offering his hand to you when there was so much of a change in tiles. Even when maid with the gauntlets threatened to kill him for overstepping he remained steadfeast. All his fear had dissipated the moment you revealed your face, he wondered if it was some sort of sorcery that made him so infatuated. If it was, he doubted he’d ever wanted it removed. Even when your veil dropped over your face again and he felt misery take hold of his being once more–he still didn’t want to be relieved of this joy. Watching you feast on the various delicacies as they disappeared behind your veil overtook him with a feeling of pride.

Hearing the relayed words of joy as you experienced the different activities and festivals he had prepared in your honor. Had him swooning all the more, completely nulling the deathly glares from the elves that had so easily lay waste to his army.

“Ahem (Y/n)-sama would like to thank you for the griffin egg, tch, they say they will be thinking of you when they raise it.”

“I’m honored, my highness!”

Hardly able to hold back his tears when you must retire he takes a bold step that leaves all your guardians itching to pulverize him. A kiss against your gloved hand before you dismiss yourself for the night is all it is. 

“Good night, oh luscious flower of Nazarick! I’ll be counting the seconds until I may see you again!”

In the comfort of your room with Aura and Mare sitting on the grand bed you received they watch as you float about as you scream into the various pillows.

“Keeee he actually said that to me! OhmigoshOhmigoshOhmigosh! Can you believe he said that to me!? Hehehe!”

So enveloped in your joy you fail to register the dark shadows that have cast over Aura’s and Mare’s faces. 

“Yeah…it sure is great…”

“Isn’t it? Who’d think he’d be so sweet! Especially on the first day, too! Weeee, its just like those romance fanfics–”

“U-uhm (Y/n)-sama? C-can y-you tell me how g-good I was today!? I followed Ainz-sama’s and your orders and I didn’t hurt any humans!

Mare’s outburst had Aura incredulously looking at her twin. Especially because she knew well and good how many times her twin opened the ground to swallow the humans following after your entourage. But she watched as your floated back down to the bed pulling Mare into your chest as you pet his head, she hurriedly crawled to your other side.

“M-me too! Do me too (Y/n)-sama!” 

“Okay okay you two get over here!” 

Miles away in the safety of Nazarick the other guardians watched as the glass ball they had been watching from received a crack. 

They weren’t the only ones who were regretting letting you leave.

On a completely personal level...

This man just sends me...

I wanna bite so bad I don't know why! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Hi I recently discovered your account and I’m obsessed your writing is amazing and I don’t know if you’re still doing Tudor!reader Fics but if you are I have a request. So reader is Anne Boleyn’s eldest daughter and had to watch her mothers execution (for the storyline reader was 12 or so years old) and never forgave her farther so when she’s like 15 (maybe the day after Catherine Howard’s execution) she overthrows him as revenge. I hope you understand what I’m trying to say total understand if you don’t want to right it. Have a good day/night❤️

A/N: I love how kooky the timeline would have to be warped for this to be possible but I absolutely love the idea of this! So sorry for taking so long to write this, real life does enjoy getting in my way :(

Revenge

Someone had to stop King Henry VII, your father, from his increasingly brutal reign. Lady Mary, your half-sister, seemed unable to do anything without the counsel of her precious Ambassador Chapuys. Elizabeth was of course just a child, too young to rule. Edward was a mere baby. It seemed to you that the responsibility of saving the realm fell solely on your shoulders. It was a burden you were glad to take.

You were grateful that you’d had enough time being raised by your mother Anne Boleyn, that you had learnt how to be as cunning and manipulative as she had once been. Of course, having Mary as an older sister helped solidify those ideals, as Mary was able to inspire a great deal of loyalty in others when she wanted to.

It had been a long, arduous task to slowly turn the King’s courtiers against him. An entire year had passed before the perfect opportunity had finally arisen. Only two days had passed since poor Queen Catherine Howard had been executed on your father’s orders. Though you hadn’t been the greatest fan of the silly child, she was just like you… an innocent girl. Too many young women’s lives had been destroyed on the whims of an undeserving King, and the unrest among the populace seemed at its highest. It was the perfect time to strike.

The foundations you had laid throughout the year, telling little white lies here and there, promising things that you’d never do in order to gain the loyalty of the courtiers, would serve you well. The King had noticed some changes but could never trace them back to you. Often you would have agents loyal to you do the work that needed to be done while you were at home with Elizabeth in the country, creating a wonderful alibi.

Knowing that the King seemed to be favouring Catherine, the Lady Latimer, as his potential sixth wife, you realised that she would be the perfect distraction for your coup. You knew she wanted to be with Thomas Seymour so she would be likely to help you, especially as you had always had a good relationship with her growing up. Elizabeth, of course, was easy to manipulate into playing the part that you needed her to.

You dressed in your most regal black dress, deliberately picking out jewels and a French hood that made you look like a true ruler. You took a deep breath in and out to try to calm your nerves and your trembling hands before you went into the court. You gave a subtle nod to Catherine Parr who, along with Elizabeth, went up to the King to talk to him and distract him.

As soon as the King had begun discussing something with them both, you gave the signal to your loyal people who captured his guards and those you knew were still loyal to him, discreetly dragging them away.

You gave a sly, satisfied smile as you secretly prepared your weapon behind your back. You knew that your father’s greatest fear was getting sick, so you poured a poison on your blade before walking up to him, curtsying, and then holding the blade tightly against his throat. “Y/N! What is this?!” King Henry asks incredulously, clearly not believing one of his daughters could pull this off, his face grew white as he saw all the people loyal to you with their weapons drawn.

“I am now your Queen. You will take orders from me, and no one else.” You call out to the people in the court, who begin to cheer. You smile smugly to yourself as you see your father’s world crashing down around him.

“Why, Y/N? Just… why?” You give an incredulous laugh, sneering at him. “Why, father? For my mother.” You lean forwards, your breath touching his face as you snarl your words.

You turn to your guards, and give a sweet smile. “Throw him in the tower.” You command, pushing your father towards them. You sit on the throne, looking around at your successful coup. Allowing yourself a few moments to gloat in your glory, you immediately turn to your advisors. The Queen had work to do.

[literary-motif]

Two Weeks

Alex x Reader

You continue sharing an apartment with Alex after he breaks up with you. The past weighs heavily.

“So is this going to be us intensely avoiding each other for as long as I stay here or—?” Alex let his sentence trail off. You did not turn around to face him, silently continuing to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was only for two weeks, after all. Two weeks, and you would be rid of him forever. 

Kicking him out of the apartment had felt like a cruelty you could not bring yourself to do to him. Two weeks had felt like nothing at all, considering the two years you had been together with him. You could continue living with him until his flight went to the US — at least you told yourself you could. 

“What do you want me to say?” you replied dismissively, picking up the cup and turning to face him. “Did you expect everything to stay the same?”

“No!” he said exasperatedly. 

His hair was disheveled. You knew he ran his hands through it repeatedly when he was frustrated. The thought that the situation weighed as heavily on him as it did on you offered you at least a little comfort.

You took a sip of your tea. 

“But I thought we could at least be civil — be friends, even!”

You could not help the incredulous laugh from slipping past your lips. “Friends?” you said, with a humorless chuckle. “Honestly Alex, you’re delusional. What did you think would happen? You broke up with me, telling me you were leaving the country in less than a month! What—? Do you think my life is a joke? Where do you think I— How am I supposed to afford this place alone? Did you think of that, huh? When you told the whole world that you got a prestigious job offer on the other end of the world, did you maybe consider that you were throwing me off the deep end with literally no warning?”

Alex blinked, opening his mouth to reply. He frowned. “You’re well off,” he said, sounding confused. “I never thought that this might be a problem for you. I— I can help you out with rent, I think.”

You shook your head, the fight leaving you with a deep sigh. “Don’t kid yourself,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands, “you might make enough to support yourself, but apartments in the States aren’t any cheaper than they are here.”

He sighed as well, leaning against the doorframe and biting his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly sounding small. “I— I swear I didn’t mean to. There was just so much going on that I didn’t consider something so fundamental. I mean, I was uprooting my whole life, losing the person I loved” — the past tense stung — “I didn’t consider how leaving would be a financial problem for you.”

You waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll figure it out,” you mumbled. 

Despite things seeming bleak — finding an affordable apartment in London in two weeks was next to impossible — you were confident that everything would click into place eventually. You could support yourself independently. Working at the law firm gave you enough stability to be alright without him. 

“What you did hurt me more than anything,” you said quietly, staring into your tea. “Part of me understands your reasoning, but being the last to know about the job offer you planned to accept from the beginning when your decision affected my life so much, felt like a betrayal.”

“I know,” he said, rummaging through a cupboard and pulling out a packet of his favorite biscuits. “After you accused me of cheating, I couldn’t— I couldn’t see you the same way.”

“You know I said that on a whim, right?” you said, looking at him. “It was a stupid accusation, and I didn’t believe it when I said it. You were gone so often that I didn’t know how to express my frustration. I thought you would deny it and move on, seeing it as the overreaction that it was. Instead—” you trailed off. “I didn’t know it would hurt you so much.”

He scoffed, taking a bite of his biscuit. “I can’t imagine anyone would brush off such an accusation. How would you have felt?”

“I see that now. Still, just because you were hurt and angry at me, it did not give you the right to shut me out completely like you did. I get that you thought our relationship had changed, but you did not even talk to me about it.”

“I couldn’t, you were too fixed on Natalie!” he said, raising his voice in frustration. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you made some snide comment about how ‘I was always with Natalie’ or how I was ‘going to go see Natalie,’ when I was working on my career! Do you remember what we said when we first met? Our career always comes first. Always!”

“Yes, but I didn’t love you back then!” you screamed. “How— what are we even comparing? I want to further my career. I would seize every opportunity, but never at the expense of our relationship! I— I always thought we would make it work. I imagined you flying from Paris to New York to take snapshots for magazines that would pay a fortune to have your amazing pictures, but you would be a phone call away when I lost a case. You would be here to give me a victory kiss when I won a tough one.”

“Yeah,” he said, holding out the packet of biscuits. You shook your head, and he gave you a sad smile. “I guess life doesn’t work out how we want it sometimes.”

You looked at him for a long moment, trying to find the person you so loved under the cloud of animosity that had hidden him away lately. 

“You know,” you began, taking a sip of your tea to gather the strength for the words you were about to say, “we could still try to work it out if you would be open to giving us another chance.”

Alex bit his lip, searching your gaze. He opened his mouth to reply. 

His phone rang, the caller flashing brightly where it lay on the kitchen table. Natalie. “Sorry, let me just—” he said, picking up the call. “We’ll talk later. I need to take this. Hello?” 

Your face fell. “Don’t bother,” you mumbled, watching him leave the kitchen.

Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

New series idea: analysing my favourite (underrated) lines from Six of Crows

I feel like I haven't given you any analysis in a while, and I've had this idea for some time now so I thought it was worth giving it a try. This is going to be a list of my personal favourite quotes in Chapter 2 of Six of Crows with explanation/analysis for any that I have an explanation/analysis for - but if a famous or popular quote isn't included then it's not because I don't like it, it's just because I don't feel I have anything new to add to the existing analyses around it. And yeah, if you guys like this then I'll make it a more regular thing and go through chapter by chapter (probably sometimes including multiple chapters in one post), so let me know what you think!

(Also, I chose to start with Chapter 2 on purpose because I don't have loads to say about Chapter 1, but if anyone is interested I'm open to trying it in the future)

"every favour came with enough strings attached to stage a puppet show" - ugh words cannot explain my love of this quote. Not only is this a gorgeous and vibrant metaphor that brings forth very clear imagery, it also achieves two different concepts relating to the idea of the "puppet show". Firstly, we have the idea that Kaz is the puppet master and Ketterdam is his stage; he is in complete control, he can bend the city to his whims, and it's ultimate his say that can make or break someone. This is definitely the image we're given of Kaz in the opening two chapters, and this singular line really reinforces that, however the rest of the book and many of the descriptions in Crooked Kingdom unravel this view very quickly. This description far better fits Pekka Rollins, which brings me onto the other concept relating to the "puppet show": the question of who it actually is pulling the strings. Arguably Kaz is a puppet on Rollins' stage, and Rollins a puppet on the Merchant Councils'. each has power but each is ultimately at the whims of the other. This brings worth the suggestion that something darker is at play and that there's far more to Kaz than initally meets the eyes before we've even met him, so in short it's just completely and utter genius.

"Kaz hated a puzzle he couldn't solve, and he and Inej had concocted a hundred theories to account for the murder - none of which satisfied" - again, Kaz has thus far said a single line, and not one with a lot of information in it ("Yes and no. It's always good to have a country in debt to you, makes for friendlier negotiations) and yet we know so much about him - and even some details about his relationship with Inej! It even tells us a lot about Inej; we've been presented with a figure heralded as near-omnipotent in his city, someone no-one wants to be on the wrong side of, someone who has complete control over every conversation he has with you, and she is someone with whom he will spend hours trying to solve a riddle? So then, the reader is forced to think, what kind of power does she has? What makes her worthy of his closeness, why does he trust her, and why does she know him well enough to so intimately know his likes and dislikes? Inej hasn't even spoken yet.

"But it didn't feel neutral to Inej. It felt like the hush of the woods before the snare yanks tight and the rabbit starts to scream" - ok most of my enjoyment of this quote is just of the beautiful prose, however I would like to add that all six Crows experienced this sort of 'calm before the storm' leading up to the most painful experiences of their lives - Wylan thinking he could go to music school, Inej at the beach with her parents and calling sleepily to the man she though was her father, Kaz staying at the cafe and meeting Margit and Saskia, Matthias knowing he was going to be a big brother, Jesper seeing his mother for the last time when she picked him up and hugged him even though he was up past his bedtime, Nina feeling that she had purpose and loving the way she could help her country - so this could be considered foreshadowing.

" 'Care to place a wager?' Jesper asked.

'I'm not going to bet on my own death,'

Kaz flipped his hat onto his head and ran his gloved fingers along the brim in a quick saulte. 'Why not Bolliger? We do it every day,' "

"Kaz had done his best to teach her, but she didn't quite have his way with breaking and entering, and it took her a few tries to finesse the lock" - my main source for liking this quote comes from an analysis I did a while ago when someone asked me about comapring this quote and Kaz's self-proclaimed "shoddy job" of teaching her to pick locks. It's a while since I posted that so I'll run through it here briefly, basically it's very indicative of their relationship dynamic. Whilst both place the other on a pedestal, they do it in different ways, and Kaz particularly often glorifies Inej and almost finds it difficult to accept that she, like anyone, must be flawed. So if she fails at something, like picking locks as well as he can, and she cannot possibly be flawed then the error must be in his teaching - it can never be with her. It's also a glaring example of Kaz's self-destructive nature. My other reason for liking this quotes is just that it once again tells us about the characters so early on and without having to directly explain it to us - we know Kaz is good with locks because he tried to teach Inej and she isn't as good as him, but she still manages to get it open.

' "I'm a business man,' he'd told her, 'No more, no less,'

'You're a thief, Kaz,'

'Isn't that what I just said?' " - I ADORE this, but honestly all I can say for analysis is that it sums up the entire theme of the novels beuatifully.

"Now he looked like some kind of priest come to preach to a group of circus performers" - this sets up a great parallel that I've mentioned before in one of my "little details you might have missed/forgotten" posts, but it's also interesting to have it come from Inej's perspective since she's incredibly religious and performed as a travelling acrobat with her family. It's probably drawn from personal experience, someone in dark clothes who judges the brightness of Suli traditional clothing and/or culture and tries to preach religion to a group who've already long found it because they don't align with thier idea of religion. It's even possible that she links that idea with Kaz, not because of his actions but because he's from a country that has perversely sexualised and condemned her culture and he dresses like the rich merchants who would preach this exact kind of message - and possibly even have visited her at the Menagerie, where she was forced to appropriate her own heritage and way of life for the enjoyment of those who look down it with no reason for doing so.

"Inej pitied the boy who might die alone with no one to comfort him in his last hours or who might live and spend his life as an exile. But the night's work wasn't over yet, and the Wraith didn't have time for traitors" - this is one of the few but fabulous examples we get of the idea that "Inej" and "the Wraith" are separate entities; Inej being the girl she was, the girl she should have been, and the Wraith being a creation of necessity to aid survival. Inej is a religious young woman from Ravka who has been through far more than she should have done, but the Wraith was born and raised on the blood-soaked streets of Ketterdam and has every intention of surviving them - no matter the cost. This concept is only mentioned a few times, however it runs a beautiful parallel with the distinction between Kaz Rietveld and Kaz Brekker, or Kaz and Dirtyhands depending on how you look at it.

Ok I realise this is a pretty long post but thanks for reading it if you got this far, and I really enjoyed making this so please let me know if you guys would enjoy seeing more. And, in summary, Leigh Bardugo is a genius

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Cater: This museum's real neat～ There's a ton of real picturesque paintings here!

Cater: I should study these as much as I can, 'cause I might be able to learn a thing or two about snagging awesome pics from the way these are composed ♪

Cater: ―Hey, look at that painting…

???: Woah, it's the card soldiers. Cool, I can really see their brisk little walk in the paintin'.

Cater: I totes agree, Ruggie-kun. I was just thinking the same thing.

Ruggie: Oh, Cater-san. Guess ya can't pass by this painting without checking it out, 'cause you're one of 'em Heartslabyul Card Soldiers, eh?

Cater: Sooo true～ 'Specially 'cause this painting's got the diamond-suited card soldiers, too ☆

Ruggie: Riight, you got the diamond marking. How do y'all decide who gets what suit?

Cater: Fantastic question. This little mark, y'see…

Cater: Gets decided by the Housewarden's whim ♪

Ruggie: A whim!? That's actually a pretty random way of pickin' 'em…

Cater: Oh, no, it's more like the Housewarden draws on the suit they feel will "suit" the new student from their looks.

Cater: Although, there is rule that the suits need to be doled out as evenly as possible, so…

Cater: Could be that the last few assignments might be more like… whatever works, or something like that～

Ruggie: So basically, it all comes down to the Housewarden's intuition and discretion, huh. You happy with the suit you got given, Cater-san?

Cater: Obvi. I was really hoping for the heart or diamond mark, so I really did get just what I wanted.

Cater: 'Sides, if I had gotten the spade or club, I'd've had to buy all new cosmetics, too.

Ruggie: Gah. You tellin' me that you guys in Heartslabyul gotta shell out your own cash to buy makeup depending on the suit!?

Cater: Oh, no, no, it's not like we absolutely have to do that or anything.

Cater: But I felt like the cosmetics I already had wouldn't have really gone well with one of the black suits, sooo～

Cater: And so, don'tcha think it'd be better for me to have some makeup that'll suit both me and the given suit?

Cater: That's why when I knew I got the diamond painted on, I started thinking of the cosmetics I had with me.

Cater: I got to thinkin' like how I could use a brown multi-makeup palette with it, or how it could match with my orange eye shadow…

Cater: I started trying to put together combinations of all my favorite makeups and it got me really excited～

Ruggie: Ah, I get that.

Ruggie: It's a great feelin' whenever you can use whatcha got on hand and not have to buy new stuff, huh! 'N I'm not just talkin' 'bout cosmetics.

Cater: Yeah, yeah. Also, we sometimes end up painting the suit some color other than red whenever we have events or special outfits, right?

Cater: I do borrow stuff from my other dormmates when I need it, but before I know it I find I've bought all sorts of cosmetics, y'know～

Cater: But hey, I get to play around with some cute and cool styles of makeup, so it's all worth it in the end…

Cater: Chattin' about it like this makes me realize just how happy I truly was to get the diamond suit picked for me.

Cater: And 'cause of how I have to always paint the suit on my face, I also got real good at applying eye makeup, too ♪

Cater: So when I think of it that way, I guess Heartslabyul was the best dorm to improve my cosmetic skills.

Ruggie: I'm someone who just throws things together based on whatever hand-me-downs and random stuff I get from others, so I don't really get it, but…

Ruggie: I definitely get the feel that you're enjoyin' yourself, so.

Cater: Ahaha. That prolly just means that Heartslabyul is the dorm that suits ya boi Cay-kun the best, I guess～

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Cater: Oh hey, this is… a painting of a princess and price from a certain country riding a magical carpet on a date.

Ruggie: Uhh, right, and the prince invited the princess out, right?

Cater: Yep, yep. They say that these two weren't actually officially dating yet, either.

Cater: But, man… Don'tcha think it's a little embarrassing for them to have their dating life passed down in stories like this?

Ruggie: Y-yeah, now that you put it that way, I guess it could be a little… or maybe very embarrassing.

Cater: Riiiight～!? And on top of that, their backdrop is the night sky. Looks to me like just another generic date plan.

Ruggie: Oho, if you're gonna say it like that… You mean you'd have done things differently, Cater-san?

Cater: I mean, a nighttime view of the sky's not a bad choice… But if it was me, I prolly woulda chosen a super popular touristy attraction. What about you, Ruggie-kun?

Ruggie: Hmm, probably any park that I can get in for free. Though, if they're payin', then I'll go anywhere. I'd always be down for an all-you-can-eat buffet!

Cater: YOU'RE DEFINITELY JUST THINKING ABOUT YOURSELF THERE, HUH!? Not romantic at all…

Cater: …Oh hey! Look, Ruggie-kun. Lookin' at the painting closer, you can see the magical carpet handing him a flower. What a cute scamp～

Cater: Oh, that reminds me. I once received a flower from someone in the crowd after the Pop Music Club finished a set at the school's culture festival.

Ruggie: Eh, you're kidding!?

Ruggie: If we're talkin' about a Pop Music Club performance, that includes all the chaotic stuff like Lilia-san's screamo and stage divin', right…?

Ruggie: You tellin' me after all that, you actually have fans, and one of them even gave you a flower?

Ruggie: …Heh. Cater-san, even if ya wanna try to rewrite your bad experiences, ya shouldn't lie like that.

Cater: Hey, wait, Ruggie-kun, don't look at me with pity in your eyes! It really happened!

Ruggie: Suuure, so did they ask for your deets?

Cater: Nah, they ran off as soon as they handed me the flower.

Ruggie: Seeee～ No way they just ran off without gettin' a phone number off ya, that'd be a waste of givin' you the flower.

Cater: But why would I even give them my… Ah! Ruggie-kun, I think you're misunderstanding something.

Cater: The kid who gave me the flower was about 4 or 5 years old. And it was just some cute flowers they picked in the wild, too ♪

Ruggie: Eh… 4 or 5 years old?

Ruggie: ―Pfft, ahahahaha! S-Seriously? Man, suddenly, now that's just way too cute of a story…

Cater: Oh come on, you don't need to laugh about it that much. You're the one who misinterpreted it in the first place.

Ruggie: It's your fault I got confused, Cater-san. Like, we were literally just talkin' about dates 'n stuff right before.

Ruggie: But I think I get someone at that age enjoyin' themselves regardless of the actual music goin' on.

Ruggie: Or maybe it was love at first sight? That's the kinda age where ya might see cases of puppy love. You stunner, you～

Cater: Who knows? Whatever it was that they thought or felt…

Cater: I'm just happy to know there are people out there that think I'm pretty swell ☆

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Cater: Oooh, I really like this painting of the King of Beasts～ He's so relaxed, it looks like we get to see him truly in his element.

Ruggie: Is he lounging on a rock? Amazin' that he can still look regal even when lazin' around.

Cater: Someone striking a cool pose makes a good painting, sure, but sometimes the natural look is pretty fresh, too.

Cater: It's got a pretty good style, without being too pretentious, if that makes sense…

Cater: And it super feels like if I snagged a pic of this moment and uploaded it to Magicam, it'd end up the top trending photo ever ☆

Ruggie: Oh yeah, speaking of, I saw that photo you uploaded just the other day got a ton of likes.

Ruggie: It just happened to come across my dash, so I don't really remember the context, but it was you with a cat in a pretty chic place.

Cater: Yay, you saw that!? Pretty sure that was when I snapped a pic with this one café's pet cat.

Cater: I like to visit café's, right. So on days off, I usually go and get lunch or drinks at places that catch my eye.

Ruggie: You go to a café whenever you get a day off!? That's gotta cost a ton!

Cater: Oh, no, it's not every day off! I'm just sayin' that I do it often, but there's days I just chill in my room, too.

Ruggie: Kinda feels like it'd be hard to pry you off your phone even on those kinda days, huh.

Cater: Ah, that obvious? Even if I'm just lounging in bed, you know I gotta check the 'cam ♪

Cater: I guess I also sometimes read whatever comic is currently popular, or play some games.

Ruggie: I wasn't expecting you to say you play games. Oh, is it like you have online friends you play with, or something?

Ruggie: There's a ton of co-op and pvp games out there, so.

Cater: Uhh, I don't really play those sorts of games.

Cater: Sometimes whenever I need to clear my head, I'll just play a puzzle game, or something that just has simple tasks.

Cater: One game that I've recently got into is one of those puzzles where objects fall down the screen…

Cater: And this one always has a lot of new characters, all cute and round and plush-lookin'.

Cater: I get a nice and fuzzy feeling just watching 'em go, so I don't really do good with the whole collecting items or raising my score, though.

Cater: Most of the time I'll end up falling asleep if I'm playing it while laying down and just wake up to terrible scores.

Ruggie: The fact that you're not houndin' for a high score, and just play for fun like that definitely sounds more like your speed.

Ruggie: Alllright, well, I've checked out all the art in this gallery, so I'm thinkin' of headin' to the next one. See ya, Cater-san. I'm off.

Cater: Okay, bye-bye, Ruggie-kun. Maybe I'll go check out the shop～ …Oh hey―

Cater: It's a painting showing that one story of the girl who fell adrift into the ocean, huh.

Cater: If I remember right, this girl drank some mystery drink and her whole body shrunk. Poor little thing.

Cater: She'd open her mouth before thinking and stick her neck into whatever she could… Seriously, what a meddling little girl～

Requested by @farfalla049.

[zapreportsblog]

Can you do Rusty nail x reader where the reader was with Lewis and them when they prank rusty and rusty chase them and kip napped reader and the reader falls in love with rusty.

Hope you understand ?

❝sweet thang❞

✭ pairing : rusty nail x reader

✭ fandom : slashers, joyride

✭ summary : (Y/n) told the boys it wouldn’t be a good idea to prank that nice man on the radio but as the saying goes boy will be boys. Now look at what’s happened, she’s been kidnapped, one of them is already dead and she’s slowly falling in love with the very man who kidnapped her

✭ authors note : I surprisingly enjoy writing for rusty mail though he is a character I hadn’t expected to write for I like the challenge of having to write for him ya know?

✭ slashers masterlist

The road stretched out ahead, seemingly endless, under the vast expanse of the starlit sky. (Y/N) sat in the back of the old, beat-up van with her younger sister, Venna, as they continued their cross-country journey with their two travel companions, Lewis and Ronald. The four of them had embarked on this adventure with little more than a whim and a desire to see the world. They had quickly become a tight-knit group, navigating the highways and byways together.

One particularly quiet night, as they cruised down a desolate stretch of road somewhere in the heartland of America, boredom hung heavily in the air. Lewis, the mischievous one of the group, couldn't take it any longer. He leaned forward and switched on the intercom, a relic from a bygone era that came with the van.

"Hey, (Y/N), Venna, you up for a bit of fun?" he asked, a sly grin forming on his face.

(Y/N) exchanged a puzzled glance with her sister, Venna, who was seated beside her. "What kind of fun are you thinking, Lewis?" she inquired cautiously.

Ronald chimed in from the driver's seat, his curiosity piqued. "Well we can radio in some trucks guys and have a little fun with them? How about we have a little fun and prank them and mess with them over the intercom?"

Venna was immediately against the idea. She had always been the voice of reason in the group. "That's mean, guys. We shouldn't do that."

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that doesn't sound nice. We should leave the trucker alone."

Lewis and Ronald exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Then, with mischievous grins, they turned back to the sisters.

"Come on, it'll be harmless fun," Lewis insisted. "We won't hurt him, just mess with him a bit."

Ronald added, "And besides, it's just a bit of excitement on this never-ending road."

Venna sighed, realizing that her protests weren't gaining much ground. She turned to (Y/N), her eyes pleading. "We should stand together on this, (Y/N). Let's not do this."

(Y/N) hesitated, torn between her loyalty to her sister and the allure of an adventure. Finally, she relented, albeit reluctantly. "Alright, but let's not be too mean. Just a little harmless prank."

Lewis and Ronald exchanged triumphant grins as they tuned into the CB radio. Ronald picked up the microphone, and his voice crackled through the intercom, "Breaker, breaker. This is Sweet Thang and Cherry, two lonely travelers in need of some company. Any good-hearted trucker out there want to keep us company tonight?"

The intercom remained silent for a moment, and Venna shot (Y/N) a disapproving look. Then, a deep, gravelly voice filled the van's speakers. "Well, Sweet Thang and Cherry, this here's Rusty Nail. I reckon I could use some company myself. Where y'all headed?"

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged nervous glances as they continued the charade. "We're just drifters, Rusty," (Y/N) replied with a feigned Southern drawl. "Headin' wherever the wind takes us."

Venna reluctantly chimed in, "You can call me Cherry, by the way."

As the night rolled on, they continued their playful banter with Rusty Nail, weaving tales of their supposed travels and misadventures. Little did they know that this innocent prank would lead to unexpected twists and turns on their journey down the open road.

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine served as a lullaby, coaxing (Y/N) and Venna into a drowsy state. They were nestled in the backseat, cocooned in blankets and half-asleep, their journey to the unknown stretching out ahead of them.

Up front, Ronald and Lewis exchanged mischievous glances. Lewis, the eternal optimist, was convinced that this long road trip would be their chance for an unforgettable adventure. Ronald, more practical and a little skeptical, had agreed to go along for the ride, quite literally.

As the miles blurred by, Ronald fiddled with the intercom system. An unexpected voice crackled through the speakers, gravelly and worn, like it had seen more miles than the truck it belonged to.

"Breaker, breaker, this is Rusty Nail, anyone out there in the great unknown?"

Ronald and Lewis exchanged glances again, but this time it was different. The name "Rusty Nail" had caught their attention, it was the truck driver from last night.

"Hey, girls," Ronald said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "You think we should respond? Rusty Nail sounds like he's in need of some more company from Cherry and Sweet Thang.”

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged puzzled looks, still half-asleep, but curiosity piqued.

Venna, bored out her mind gives (y/n) a mischievous smile, nudged (Y/N). "What do you think? Should we play along? It could be fun."

In the beginning she was against it but having been on the road for a few hours she was starting to grow bored again plus what was the harm in it. They spoke with him once already and he seemed harmless.

(Y/N) yawned and stretched, then leaned toward the intercom. "Sure, why not? What's the harm?"

Ronald and Lewis exchanged victorious grins.

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged glances one more time, now fully awake and realizing they were about to play a part in this peculiar radio encounter. They'd have to think on their feet.

Venna picked up the intercom's microphone and adopted a sultry tone. "Hey there, Rusty Nail, this is Cherry, and I've got my friend Sweets here with me.” What's on your mind?"

In the front seat, Ronald and Lewis exchanged impressed glances. Their sleepy road trip had just taken a wild turn, and it was anyone's guess where Rusty Nail's stories might lead them.

(Y/N) continued to converse with Rusty Nail, maintaining her playful persona as Cherry. But as the minutes turned into hours, a strange feeling began to settle within her. It was a mix of guilt and unease, like she was playing a game that she didn't fully understand.

Feeling the discomfort gnawing at her, she finally decided it was time to bow out. She leaned into the microphone and spoke with a hint of sadness, "Sweet Thang over and out, Rusty Nail. It's been real nice talking to you. We'll catch you on the flip side."

Venna, catching on to her sister's change in demeanor, followed suit, her voice a little quieter, "Yeah, Cherry over and out too. We'll talk later, Rusty."

In the front seats, Ronald noticed the shift in mood and glanced at (Y/N) with concern. "Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.

(Y/N) sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. "I just... I feel bad for doing this. We don't even know this guy, and we're pretending to be someone we're not. It's like we're messing with his emotions."

Ronald smiled gently and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, it's all in good fun. Rusty Nail's probably loving the company. And if we ever cross paths, we'll make it right."

Their conversation was interrupted as they pulled into a dimly lit gas station, the flickering neon lights casting an eerie glow. (Y/N) decided to stay in the car while the others went to refuel.

As the others left the car, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel the weight of her actions. She decided to radio Rusty Nail once more, her voice laced with sincerity, "Hey, Rusty, it's Sweet Thang again. I just wanted to apologize for cutting the conversation off so soon. It's not that I'm not enjoying talking to you; I'm just not all that social, you know?"

Rusty Nail's voice crackled back, understanding in his tone, "It's all good, Sweets. I can be that way too sometimes. No hard feelings. We'll chat whenever you're up for it. Keep the rubber side down out there."

(Y/N) managed a small smile, feeling a bit better about the situation. Maybe Rusty Nail wasn't as affected as she had feared. She settled back into the car, the road stretching out before her, ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.

(Y/N) had fallen into a deep sleep in her room at the motel, the exhaustion from the day's events finally catching up to her. Meanwhile, Venna, Lewis, and Ronald remained awake, the mischievous idea they had hatched continuing to brew.

With (Y/N) out of the picture, the three of them took turns calling into Rusty Nail's channel. Each time, they spun a new tale, making their fictitious adventures more outrageous with every exchange. Rusty Nail seemed to revel in the companionship, his gruff voice lightening up as he shared his own tall tales.

As the night wore on, Ronald whispered to Venna, "Why don't we invite Rusty Nail to our motel room for some fun? It's just a prank, and it'll give him a story to tell."

Venna hesitated, glancing at Lewis for guidance. After a moment, Lewis nodded in agreement. Venna picked up the intercom, her voice laced with faux excitement, "Hey, Rusty, we've got a wild idea. Why don't you swing by the Cherry Motel? Room 205. We'll have a blast!"

Rusty Nail, always up for an adventure, agreed with enthusiasm. "You got it, Cherry. I'll be there in a jiffy."

They parked in the motel parking lot, and Lewis, always the caring one, helped (Y/N) to the room, ensuring she was comfortable before retiring to his own.

Each of them had their own room, and they settled in for the night, their prank on Rusty Nail ready to unfold.

Later that night, as the motel's parking lot lay shrouded in darkness, the roar of a truck engine shattered the silence. It was Rusty Nail, rolling into the lot with anticipation.

The three friends watched from the shadows as Rusty Nail climbed out of his truck and approached Room 205, a smile on his face. He knocked on the door, not suspecting a thing.

When the door swung open, he was met with laughter and camera flashes. The room was filled with the blinding light of smartphones, capturing his surprised expression.

Ronald, caught up in the moment, couldn't resist taking it a step further. As Rusty Nail retreated to his truck in embarrassment, Ronald hastily scribbled a note on a piece of paper and taped it to Rusty's truck door. It read "Loser."

The boys quickly retreated back to their rooms, and Venna and Lewis joined (Y/N) in her room.

(Y/N) was half-awake when they entered. She mumbled, "What did you guys do?"

Ronald, with a nervous laugh, explained, "We pulled a prank on Rusty, that's all. It was just a bit of fun."

But (Y/N) couldn't shake a growing unease. "You shouldn't have done that. What if he takes it the wrong way?"

Venna and Lewis reassured her that it was harmless fun, but (Y/N)'s bad feeling lingered. The night was filled with an unsettling tension as they waited to see if their prank had unintended consequences.

The unsettling tension from the previous night's prank hung heavy in the air as (Y/N), Venna, Lewis, and Ronald hastily checked out of the Cherry Motel and booked it to another one several miles down the road. (Y/N) felt responsible for the prank that had gone awry, even though she had been half-asleep when it happened.

As they settled into their new accommodations, (Y/N) decided to take matters into her own hands. She picked up the intercom, her voice filled with sincerity, and radioed Rusty Nail, "Hey, Rusty, this isSweet Thang. I wanted to apologize for Cherry's actions and the boys. I had no idea they would do something like that."

A crackling pause filled the intercom, and then Rusty's voice returned, surprisingly calm, "It's okay, sweet thang. You didn't have any say in their prank, so I'll spare you."

"(Y/N)" hesitated, slightly confused by his choice of words. "Spare me? What do you mean?"

Rusty Nail chuckled, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I'm not a vengeful person, but I do enjoy a good game. So, how about this? We'll play a little game, you and me. The boys won't even know. I'll make sure they get what's coming to them."

(Y/N) felt a shiver of unease. She had no idea what Rusty had in mind, but she sensed it wouldn't be a simple matter. "What kind of game are we talking about, Rusty?"

Rusty Nail's voice held an eerie tone of amusement. "A game of wits, my dear. I'll give you a clue to start, and it'll lead you on a little scavenger hunt. The destination? Well, let's just say it's where the boys left their mark."

(Y/N) hesitated, her mind racing with uncertainty. She didn't want to involve herself further in this strange game, but she also didn't want to risk the boys facing any consequences for their ill-conceived prank.

After a moment of contemplation, she reluctantly agreed, "Alright, Rusty. I'll play your game. Just promise me it won't get out of hand."

Rusty Nail's laughter echoed through the intercom. "Don't you worry,sweetheart. It's all in good fun. You'll see. Now, let the game begin."

The atmosphere inside the motel room seemed to have turned icy as (Y/N) relayed the details of Rusty game. Her voice trembled with a bit of uneasement as she explained, "Rusty wants to play a game with us, and he's leaving clues too. The first clue was back at the Cherry Motel."

Venna, Lewis, and Ronald exchanged alarmed glances. They couldn't believe what they were hearing.

Dread hung in the air as they reluctantly decided to return to the Cherry Motel to follow the clue. The night had turned pitch-black, and the once-familiar surroundings now seemed menacing. As they approached the room where they had pulled the prank, a chill ran down their spines.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a gruesome sight. A lifeless body lay sprawled on the floor, bathed in eerie moonlight. Shock and horror gripped them, and (Y/N) couldn't hold back a gasp.

Lewis, his voice barely above a whisper, radioed Rusty in disbelief, "What the hell have you done, Rusty? This isn't a game!"

Ronald's anger boiled over as he grabbed the intercom, his words sharp and accusing, "You sick fuck! What kind of game are you playing at?"

Rusty Nail's voice crackled back, his tone chillingly calm, "You like games, don't you, boy? Well, let's play."

With those ominous words, it became apparent that Rusty was no longer content with a simple prank. He had escalated things to a dangerous level, and now, they were all unwitting participants in a nightmarish game.

Fear clenched their hearts as they realized that Rusty was not going to let them off the hook easily. He had become the hunter, and they were his prey, trapped in a deadly game with no way out.

Lewis, Ronald, Venna, and (Y/N) had been on the road for hours, driving through a seemingly endless stretch of highway desperate to get away from earlier motel. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow across the landscape. The gas gauge in the car was dangerously close to empty, forcing them to make yet another stop for fuel.

As the car pulled into the gas station, (Y/N) let out a small sigh. She had grown tired of the constant fear gripping at her heart and longed for a moment of peace. "Hey, guys," she said, turning to the others. "I think I'll just stay in the car this time. I'll be fine."

Venna, always the protective one, looked concerned. "Are you sure? I know I said I had to use the bathroom but I can hold it if you want so you aren’t alone?”

“No it’s fine venna, plus I’m pretty sure you can get a UTI from that. I’ll be here, the boys wont be too far away from me and the bathrooms just over there so if I need you I can go there.”

“Are you sure?”

(Y/N) reassured her with a smile. "I'll be right here. Don't worry about me."

The boys, jumped out of the car and headed towards the gas station, promising to be quick. Ronald was the one to turne back and called out, "We won't be long. Stay safe, (Y/N)!"

With a nod, (Y/N) watched them disappear inside the store. She leaned back in her seat, gazing out the window at the passing cars. Moments turned into minutes, and soon she found herself growing restless.

Just as she was about to reach for her phone, a truck pulled into the station. The driver, a man wore a cap with his hair hidden underneath and a had an almost sinister grin imprinted on his lips and it seems he’s caught (Y/N)'s attention. He parked his truck next to her car, his eyes never leaving hers not that she could see it though she did feel a shiver run down her spine as she immediately regretted her decision to stay behind.

"Hey, sweets," the man said, stepping out of his truck and walking towards her. His voice was laced with a chilling menace. "You're all alone out here?"

(Y/N) tried to compose herself, but fear gripped her tightly. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing growing shallow. She managed to stammer, "Wh-who are you?"

The man licked his lips, his gaze predatory. "It’s mee Sweet Thang, Rusty. And don't worry, sweetheart, I promised I wouldn't hurt you."

As Rusty approached, (Y/N) felt her body freeze with fear. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her voice seemed to have vanished. The world around her turned blurry, and the last thing she saw before everything went black was Rusty's twisted grin.

The days had blurred into months since that fateful night when (Y/N) was taken by Rusty. She had no idea what had become of Lewis, Ronald, or Venna, her friends and sister who had been there that night. All she could remember were the anguished screams echoing from the shed, leaving behind a chilling silence that hung over her like a dark cloud.

Rusty had made a sinister promise to her: he wouldn't harm her physically. However, he had found another way to keep her under his control. He had chained her at the ankles, ensuring that she couldn't venture far from his clutches. The rusty iron links weighed her down both physically and mentally, a constant reminder of her captivity.

In the beginning, she had fought relentlessly, clawing at her chains, shouting for help, and trying to escape every chance she got. But Rusty was cunning, always one step ahead, and her attempts were met with harsh consequences. He wasn't afraid to use violence, even if it meant only a bruise here or there. Each time she resisted, it seemed to amuse him even more.

As the weeks turned into months, something peculiar began to happen. (Y/N) found herself slipping into a bizarre routine. Rusty had taken on the role of a malevolent housewife, and she, unwittingly, became a part of it. She cooked his meals, cleaned his house, and even found herself tidying up his collection of gruesome trophies from previous victims.

The lines between captor and captive blurred as she obeyed his twisted demands. Her fear began to morph into compliance, and her survival instincts were dulled by the monotonous cycle of their strange coexistence. In her twisted reality, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of safety in following his commands.

The darkness of her predicament weighed heavily on her, obscuring the memories of her life before Rusty's twisted game. It was as if she had become trapped in a macabre dance, where the only partner was her tormentor. She didn't realize that she was no longer fighting him or trying to escape, but instead, she was slowly being molded into a reflection of his madness.

As the days turned into endless nights, (Y/N) began to lose not only her sense of self but also the hope that anyone would ever find her in this desolate place. Her only company was Rusty and the haunting echoes of those screams that had faded into the abyss.

[quillkiller]

microfic: lesbian regulily, 1k words

no warnings!! just tall lily & nonbinary dyke reg <3

Regulus has no real reason to ask Lily to come with him whenever he goes grocery shopping, but that doesn’t stop him from asking her every thursday. She always picks him up in her car, reaching over from the driver’s seat and opens up the door for him.

So what if it makes him blush like a teenager being picked up for prom? That’s his business.

Regulus is new to this. He’s new to feeling desire, and is yet to shake off the guilt for feeling it. He’s new to taking any sort of initiative and it had taken him an entire month to ask Lily to ’hang out’ outside of studying together. It had taken him 48 hours to formulate the text, and then another five hours hovering his thumb over the send-button. He was still stumbling over his words whenever he was in Lily’s presence, looking up at her from underneath his eyelashes and counting the freckles on her face like stars in the sky.

“I thought you didn’t like this brand of cereal?” Lily smirked, grabbing the box from the top shelf.

“Uh,” Regulus eloquently said.

Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what he had asked her to grab. Had just gestured vaguely at something high up on the shelves on a whim.

“You,” Lily said, still smirking, pointing at him with a long delicate finger, “refused to eat these when I offered you some only last week when we pulled that all nighter at my place.”

Regulus swallowed. “Well—”

Lily turned back around and put the brand of cereal back on the shelf, and Regulus' words died on his tongue before he could even try to get them out. He was utterly pathetic. Utterly pathetic about Lily Evans. Her shirt rode up when she reached up, just slightly, revealing the tiniest bit of skin; and Regulus wanted to bite at it.

Lily made him stupid, but he couldn’t even pretend to mind even if he tried. He’d never been stupid about anyone before, hadn’t allowed himself to be. It made him flush, made him embarrass himself repeatedly, made him absolutely pitiful— and he sort of maybe even liked it. The torture of a crush, entirely his own and no one else’s.

“Besides, “ Lily said as she crouched down on the floor, long legs underneath her that Regulus’ wanted climb onto, “I think you’d prefer these.”

Lily pulled out a box of chocolate covered cereal, Regulus’ favorite; and of course Lily would’ve seen them at his place. He couldn’t stop the heat gathering in his cheeks, though, at the thought that Lily knew what his favorite cereal was. Their fingers brushed when Lily handed them to him and Lily smiled shyly up at him, still so much bigger than him and he wanted more than anything to envelope himself entirely in her arms until he was surrounded with norhing but Lily Evans.

“Thank you,” Regulus managed, watching Lily stand back up.

And yeah, maybe that’s part of why Regulus asks her to come with him every thursday. Maybe he’s indulging himself just a little bit. Maybe, just maybe, he likes watching Lily reach the top shelves without having to get on her tippy toes, likes to watch her long form stretched out and mapping it out like it’s its own country. Maybe he likes looking up at her in awe, with wonder. Likes it when she holds something just out of reach, to tease him, so he has to get up on his own tippy toes to grab it from her. Lily’s laugh like a waterfall and Regulus wanting to dive in head first.

Lily drives him home and he invites her in. It’s still morning and he just bought cereal so they might as well have a second breakfast. Or cereal for lunch, whatever. Lily eyes the box suspiciously like she doesn’t fully trust it. Regulus is sitting on the counter with his own bowl, warm and content, butterflies swirling in his belly from watching Lily in his kitchen like she somehow belongs.

“Just have some of mine,” Regulus offers eventually around the spoon in his mouth, a lot less charming than he’d like to be.

Lily makes her way over to Regulus until she’s nearly stood between his legs. Regulus does his absolute best to act normal. He fails miserably when she puts a hand down right next to him, halfway to caging him in. She’s still taller than him like this, even when he’s sitting on the counter. Regulus takes a deep breath and Lily’s lips twitch in response.

“You said I could have some?” Lily says, a smile in her voice.

“What?”

Lily huffs out a laugh, her cheeks flushed pink. “Some cereal, princess,”

Right, Regulus thinks, knuckles going white against the bowl he’s apparently still holding. He can’t stop the gasp from escaping his lips.

He gently, as gently as he can with his trembling hands, lifts the spoon to Lily’s cherry red lips. She opens her mouth without looking away from Regulus and closes it around the spoon, and Regulus squirms in his seat. There’s the slight slurping noise as she sucks on the spoon— and so what if Regulus’ traitorous mind imagines that it’s his own fingers feeling her tongue instead?

Lily hums after she swallows, the sound too loud in Regulus’ small kitchen. “Too sweet.”

Regulus stares at her dumbly, still trembling and holding the spoon to her lips— until Lily leans forward, ever so slowly, searching his eyes for permission that Regulus would be an idiot not to give; so he dives forward to give it as enthusiastically as he can.

The kiss is a little clumsy at first, Regulus being too eager and Lily a bit too surprised at his eagerness. Until it slows down, and Regulus wraps his legs around Lily to pull her closer. Lily licks at Regulus’ lower lip, teasing his mouth open. Regulus thinks he whimpers when their tongues touch and he’s not even embarrassed. Lily laughs against his mouth and wraps her hand around his neck.

Lily pulls away first, lips swollen and pupils dark.

”Just like I thought,” she smirks, “tastes better on your tongue.”

[captain-hawks]

Hello Dee!! I am sending you a care package full of soup and soft tissues and home made cookies in the hopes you get well soon!! 💙💙

And in the meantime, may I request Iwaizumi + red?

(thank you nonnie you're so sweet<3!!)

hajime iwaizumi x reader

c: fluff, angst, pining, childhood friends

“I think you should stay.”

Nearly lulled to sleep in the late hour by the dark, quiet highway you’ve been travelling on, you jump slightly from where you’re leaning against the cool surface of the window at the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice. The car rolls to a stop at the foot of the exit ramp, the traffic light overhead casting the interior of the car in a dull shade of red interspersed with the shadows of the raindrops sliding down the windshield. 

When you turn, his eyes are trained on the empty road ahead, his brown hair mussed like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly while you were dozing in the passenger seat. For a moment, you wonder if you were just hearing things, but as if he can feel you looking at him, he briefly turns to meet your gaze.

“Sorry,” he gruffly adds, inhaling once before turning away, the car rolling forward as the light turns green. “It’s none of my business.”

You booked a flight back home on a whim three days ago, a redeye with nothing but a backpack and weary eyes that had done far too much crying—that, and a phone full of missed texts and calls from your fiancé. 

When you texted Iwaizumi that surprise, you were coming home for a surprise visit with absolutely no notice at all and landing at three o’clock in the morning, your childhood friend smelled your bullshit from a mile away. 

And subsequently was waiting at the airport for you upon your arrival, despite the fact that he’d been working all day. Despite the fact that he had an early morning ahead. Despite the fact that you insisted you could find a rideshare service to your parents’ house.

“You’re not taking an Uber by yourself in the middle of the night, I’m picking you up. Don’t argue.”

He knew something was terribly wrong the moment you approached his car. But he didn’t pry—not yet. Rather, he immediately wrapped you in a warm, reassuring embrace that felt like home and trust and safety and other things that were far too complicated to think too hard about out there on the cold airport sidewalk in your hometown.

The edge of the diamond nestled on your finger pricks uncomfortably at your skin as you idly spin the ring with your thumb, the gem weakly reflecting off of the street lights—dim in comparison to the small, bright green digits on the dash that read 1:32.

He has no idea that you fell a little bit in love with him the day that he picked up your soccer ball when it rolled across the street into his yard when you were eight years old, a shy grin on his face as he traversed the expanse of blacktop that separated his house from yours to bring it back to you. 

He has no idea how many times you nearly confessed to him in high school, hasn’t the slightest clue how wrong he was all the times he rolled his eyes as he assumed you were always at his house because you had a crush on Oikawa.

He doesn’t know how badly a stupid, immature, traitorous part of you wanted to hear those words when you told him you were moving across the country with your college boyfriend Daisuke. 

Stay.

He doesn’t know that your heart fumbled when Daisuke got down on one knee, the way the first goddamn thing you thought of was him. 

Hajime Iwaizumi has no idea how much of your heart belongs to him.

Even now.

After all this time.

“I don’t want to marry Daisuke,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Your body rocks forward as the car comes jolting to a sudden stop in the middle of a deserted street, your momentum halted by Iwaizumi’s arm that quickly shoots out to brace the impact. He stares over at you with wide eyes, and raindrops drum a soft, lazy rhythm atop the roof as his chest rises and falls. 

“What?”

Glancing down at the ring on your finger and subsequently back up at the man sitting beside you again, you nod, as if you’re not currently parked in the middle of the street on your way back to the airport for a flight back to your fiancé that’s leaving very soon.

“I don’t want to marry him,” you repeat, staring down at your hands as you fold them in your lap. You tug down the sleeves of the sweatshirt you’re wearing—Iwaizumi’s old Seijoh volleyball hoodie—covering your palms up to the base of your thumb.

Iwaizumi’s quiet for a beat, and you hear the sound of his head falling back against the headrest. 

“I don’t want you to marry him either,” he breathes out, quietly, his voice a little rough, a bit uncertain—like he doesn’t think he’s allowed to be saying it.

There’s so much you want to say right now, so many things you want to know.

A million words you can feel hovering on the tip of Iwaizumi’s tongue, words pressed into his grip on the steering wheel, caught somewhere between the gearshift and the glove compartment and your lone little backpack sagging sideways in the backseat. 

Reaching out, you take Iwaizumi hand in yours, carefully lacing your fingers together. 

He turns his head, face tilted sideways against the headrest. And though it’s dark inside his old sedan, your heart tumbles against your ribcage at the way he’s looking at you.

“This is still none of my business,” he murmurs, thumb tentatively running over the back of your hand.

“Then tell me you want it to be your business,” you whisper.

“I do.”

A car passes by in the opposite lane, the headlights washing over both of you, and you’ve never wanted to kiss him so badly in your life.

Your cheeks feel wet as you ask him, “Will you pick me up from the airport when I get back? I might have a lot of stuff with me.”

Iwaizumi lifts your tangled hands, gently kissing the place where your thumbs overlap as he nods before bringing them both to the gearshift to put the car back in drive.

"Of course."

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 7

Chapter 7 is here and so let's pick up where we left off; with Aisling dialing Frankie, hoping and praying he'll pick up.

Summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Series Master List

Warnings for the whole series can be found here

He hadn’t heard the first couple of rings, his phone up on the porch while he stacked the last of the fire wood up against the wall. When it finally registered, he hurried back, slightly out of breath as he picked up the phone. The unknown number had stumped him for a second, hardly anyone called him, only Herb if it was an emergency, sometimes one of his old army buddies. He almost didn’t answer, but then, on a whim, he did. And suddenly Aisling’s voice filled his ear as clear as if she was standing next to him on the porch. 

She hadn’t faded from his mind, and he didn’t expect her to. He knew his mind too well by now, he knew she’d always be someone he returned to in his thoughts. His ‘what if…’. But it didn’t hurt as much as it had in the first month of being back. Away from New York, away from the noise of the city, and away from the guilt of what he’d done to Eva, his mind calmed down enough for him to sort his thoughts properly. 

He knew he would’ve fallen in love with Aisling, probably already had on some level. But he also knew he did the right thing when he left, he couldn’t have stayed. And to try to fix his head by being with her would’ve ended just as badly as it did with Eva. He wasn’t going to place that responsibility on her, to keep his mind quiet. He needed to fix that himself, and then, maybe, he’d be ready for something new. 

He missed her though, even though he’d counted that they’d only met six times. And three of those times could hardly be called ideal circumstances. But she was lodged in his mind and he often found himself thinking how he wanted to show her something on the ranch, or out on the trail, a new foal or the spot where he always saw eagles hunting. But she wasn’t here, and he had no way of contacting her. So he kept her in his mind and tried to be content with the little time he’d spent with her.

Until she called. 

He recognized her voice the second she answered. 

“Hi Frankie, it’s Aisling,” she replied to his ‘Hello?’ “From the bar…in Greenpoint.” 

His brain stalled for a second, catching up. He dropped his hand to the railing of the porch for support, and it took him a few seconds to respond. He heard her clear her throat, a nervous intake of breath as she shifted the phone in her hand, the microphone probably brushing against her hair. 

Her hair. 

Curling around her shoulder in the bed as she slept. Shining like bright copper in the sun at Smorgasbord just before her eyes turned hard as she looked at him and Eva. The thought of it snapped him back to the present. 

“Hi… Aisling,” he almost stuttered, “I didn’t know it was your number.” 

“Yeah, I’m- I’m sorry to call you out of the blue…I just…” 

He heard her exhale and shift on her feet again and the uncertainty in her voice made him want to reach out through phone lines and touch her, to reassure her. He’d been hoping she’d call for months and now she sounded like she didn’t think he’d want to talk to her. 

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said, “I’ve thought about you.” A lot, too much maybe, all the time, every night you’re on my mind. 

“I’m…I’m at the bus stop, outside Big Sky,” she said and something grabbed his heart and forced it up into his throat. 

“You’re-you’re…here?” He stuttered out the question, turning and yanking open the door to the cabin, the keys to his truck were just inside the door. 

“Yeah, and…and listen, I know, it’s weird, I should’ve called you before, and I know, maybe, if you don’t want to…but….I just…” she trailed off as he thumped down the stairs and took a few long strides to the truck. 

“Don’t say anything, I’m on my way,” Frankie rushed out, not wanting her to think for a second that he didn’t want her here. “It’ll take me forty-five minutes to get there, there’s a gas station across the road, you can wait there, just tell George I’m coming to pick you up.”

“I’m already in the gas station,” Aisling said, turning and looking over at the twenty something man who was looking at his phone, “Thank you, Frankie, I…” she stopped, inhaled and listened to his truck rumble to life on the other end, “I know this is totally weird, but I just-” 

“Don’t say anything,” Frankie interrupted her again, “I’m glad you came, fucking ecstatic actually, I can’t wait to see you and we can talk on the drive back. Ok?” 

She smiled and he heard it in her voice when she replied, “Ok.” 

Frankie was grateful for the lack of cops on the road into town, he was over the limit by a lot as he raced towards Big Sky. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, nervous energy running through his system as he tried to sort through his mind the way he’d become accustomed too. He was nervous, he could easily admit that, nervous about seeing Aisling again, about her seeing him here, his tiny cabin, the old truck. What if she took one look at his life here and regretted everything? He’d probably oversold his life in Montana when he’d shown her the photos. He loved it here, but that was him and his fucked up head. What is she, someone who’s so used to the city, going to think about his small life here? 

He wiped his hand against his jeans, fuck, I should’ve changed those, his palms sweaty as he started seeing the lights from Big Sky. Nervous, but also so elated, there was a lightness in his heart he hadn’t felt in a long time, even a little hopeful. And happy. Definitely happy, that was the biggest feeling, it sat in his chest like a warm glowing fire as he thought about seeing her again. 

Soon. 

Soon. 

He pulled into the gas station ten minutes early and killed the engine, reaching for the door handle. But then he saw her through the big window, sitting at the counter, sipping from a take away mug. And he had to stop and take a moment, because she was there, only a few feet away, and he realized he hadn’t really believed it until he saw her. Running a hand through her hair in a gesture he remembered almost too well, curls of copper red pushed back behind her ear, taking another sip from the coffee, and then she looked up and met his eyes.

He pushed open the door of his truck as she slipped off the stool and picked up her bag. If he could’ve picked any spot to meet her again, he wouldn’t have picked halfway across the gas station asphalt at BIg Sky, but that’s where it happened and as far as Frankie was concerned, it was perfect. 

He couldn’t fight the smile that took over his face as he walked towards her. Nervous, happy, hopeful, he felt like he floated over the dirty, oil stained ground as she smiled back at him. 

“Hi,” he said, and she reached up and touched the peak of his cap, the same Standard Oil Heating cap he’d worn in New York. 

“Hi, cowboy,” she replied, the smile widening on her face as she saw the dimple appear on his cheek and the way his soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Frankie said, taking her in, her pale, tired face, the crumpled t-shirt with some stains on the side and hole by the neck, the hair escaping from a haphazard bun. She’d never looked more beautiful to him. 

“I’m really sorry for just turning up like this, I should’ve called you sooner but it was kinda a spur of the moment decision and-,” Aisling said, but Frankie shook his head, interrupting her 

“Don’t be, I’m happy you’re here, surprised, but really fucking happy.” 

She felt her shoulders sink as he held out his hand for her bag and she gave it to him with a small smile. He made her feel a bit better about just turning up, he looked happy, his warm smile made her heart melt and relieved some of the nerves. 

“Get in the truck, it’s a bit of a drive back,” he said, opening the door and placing her duffel bag in the back seat before stepping back and gesturing for her to step forward, “And I’m sorry about the mess…” he suddenly ducked down and grabbed a couple of water bottles and an old blanket from the seat, shoving it in the back too. “Not that many people ride in my truck these days,” he shrugged, giving her an apologetic look. 

“I don’t mind, Frankie, I’m just relieved you picked up the phone,” Aisling replied and took his offered hand as she stepped up into the truck, “My plan B was to find a motel but seeing the size of this place, I’m not sure there is one?” 

“Not one you can walk too,” Frankie chuckled and closed the door, hurrying around to the driver’s side, “You’re lucky I wasn’t out on the trail though, with some guests. I could’ve been well out of reception.” 

“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that,” Aisling said as Frankie got in on the other side, “but there were a lot of things I didn’t think about,” she looked over at Frankie, he was twisting the key in the ignition, the old truck, very much what she’d imagined him driving, rumbled to life. The interior smelled like motor oil and hay and the radio turned on to some old rock classics station, the whole thing felt so ridiculously domestic, so ordinary and so…safe.  

Suddenly she felt tears well up in her eyes, she was here, and so was he, he’d come to pick her up as if it was no bother and there hadn’t just been three months of total silence between them. She was almost a complete stranger to him, and he to her, and she’d yelled at him, told him how much he’d hurt her, and she hadn’t even said goodbye. Still, after all that, he’d answered when she called, and he’d come, smiling at her across the gas station. The long hours on the bus, the emotions of the past few days, it all overcame her, and she couldn’t stop the tears that started dripping down. 

Frankie looked over at Aisling as she sniffed, and she hastily wiped a hand over her eyes and shook her head. 

“I’m sorry, Frankie, just…can we just go?” She looked away from him and out through the window at the dark prairie beyond the gas station and the main road, she could feel his hand on her arm, a gentle squeeze before he pulled back again. 

“It’s ok, hermosa, it’s a long fucking journey on that bus, I should know. Let’s get you home, you can have a long, hot shower while I sort dinner,” Frankie put the truck into drive and glanced over at her again, “Just relax, you’re here now.” 

He sensed that there were a lot of things that they’d need to talk about, he didn’t know what had made her suddenly get on the bus. But he didn’t care, having her sit next to him in his truck was enough, it felt right. Right in a way that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. 

They rode back together almost in silence, Frankie pointed out the few things that could still be seen in the gathering darkness. 

“If the moon was full, you’d see it, it’s so bright out here, no street lights,” he said, gesturing to the nearby mountain range. In the almost total darkness, with only a sliver of the new moon, Aisling could only vaguely make out the darker ridge against the western sky. 

“I’ve never been somewhere where there are no street lights,” she replied, the first thing she’d said since they’d left Big Sky behind and Frankie glanced over at her. 

“City slicker,” he smirked and she looked over at him. He was keeping his eyes on the road but his eyes were smiling. 

“Sure thing, cowboy,” she teased him, and he chuckled. 

“Let me show you something, it’ll either freak you out, or you’ll love it,” he promised, and pulled the truck off the side of the road, killing the engine and the truck was thrown into darkness as Aisling gave him a nervous look. 

“No scary animals or creepy crawlies, Frankie,” she said and he chuckled. 

“I’ve seen those New York cockroaches, no bug out here comes even close.” 

He opened his door and came round to Aisling’s side, helping her step out onto the dusty verge. 

“Close your eyes,” he said, “and listen.” 

She did as he said, his warm hand still on the small of her back as she listened to the sounds around her. The engine behind her was clicking gently as it cooled down, the metal creaked a little and she could hear Frankie breathe next to her. 

She could hear Frankie breathe. 

Suddenly the silence was deafening in her ears and she turned and looked at the man standing next to her, smiling as he saw the wonder on her face. 

“It’s so quiet I can hear you breathe,” she whispered, and he nodded. 

“How does it make you feel?” he asked and she closed her eyes again, listening to the silence. Her heartbeat was a steady rhythm in her head, her own breath moved through her nose with a soft sound, Frankie shifted beside her and his jacket brushed against her hand with a low rustle. 

“Quiet,” she whispered, “It makes me feel quiet.” 

Frankie smiled and took her hand, “Keep your eyes closed, let me show you something else.” 

He led her to the back of the truck and helped her up on the flatbed. Together they laid back, Frankie guided her head down to the metal and then settled next to her. 

“Now you can open your eyes,” he whispered, and she blinked them open and gasped at the sight above her. The night sky was glittering, rivaling the Manhattan skyline, bright stars, as many as the grains of sand on a beach, scattered across the black expanse, brighter than she’d ever seen them before. She could sense Frankie’s eyes on her as she tried to take it all in, endless constellations, the faint light of suns millions of lightyears away, planets glimmering in different colors, the white hue of the milky way streaking across the southern sky. 

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, “I’ve never seen so many stars in the sky before.” 

“They’re always there,” Frankie replied in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the silence, “you just don’t see them in the city, it’s not dark enough.” 

“Can you show me the constellations?” she asked and he nodded, taking her hand in his and pointing it upwards. 

“That’s Ursa Major, the Big Dipper,” Frankie said and moved her hand, tracing the outline of the great bear in the sky. “And Cassiopeia sits just over the Milky Way, and then Andromeda just below the W.” He moved their joined hands again, showing her all the stars he knew, the ones he’d used to navigate, a back up to all the modern tech they’d carried on missions. 

“And if you’re lost, just look for that one, the North Star,” he pointed to a bright star, larger than the others, high up in the northern part of the sky, “It’s always to the north, no matter where you are.” 

Aisling listened to his voice, not really taking in what he was saying, just looking at the stars and planets as he pointed them out. Her mind was on the moment, resting on the flatbed of Frankie’s truck, his long body stretched out next to hers, so close that their legs touched. It felt a little bit like a dream, he’d been on her mind so much, and now he was here, his warm hand wrapped around her cold fingers, as he moved their arms, the low pitch of his voice wrapping around her mind. 

“Am I boring you?” he asked as he noticed her silence, letting their hands rest between them. When she didn’t reply he looked over at her, her closed eyes and parted lips made him smile, she was fast asleep. With a little chuckle he pushed himself up on his side and gently touched her cheek. 

“Aisling, wake up,” he whispered, moving the back of his hand over her soft skin and she stirred, blinking awake again. 

“I should probably get us back to the cabin,” Frankie smiled at her confused face, “It’ll be cold sleeping in the truck without sleeping bags.” 

“I’m sorry,” Aisling mumbled, letting Frankie help her sit back up, “I was listening but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.” 

“You’re probably beat after the bus. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t sleep for shit while I was on it. C’mere.” 

He held onto her waist as she slid off the flatbed and she looked up at him, her sleepy eyes smiling as he caught her. 

“Can we come out here again sometime when I’m not so tired?” she asked, “The sky is amazing and I want to hear more about the constellations.” 

“Yeah, of course, we can pack dinner, some sleeping bags and spend the whole night out here if you want to,” Frankie replied, helping her back into his truck, holding onto her hand. 

“That sounds amazing, thanks Frankie,” Aisling said and his soft, dark eyes were so gentle in the yellow light of the truck’s cabin, she felt the urge to kiss him. To wrap herself around him again and feel him hold her close to his solid frame. But she held herself back, not sure where they were yet, and Frankie just squeezed her hand before he let it go.

Aisling leaned her head on the window the rest of the way to the cabin, Frankie saw her eyes drifting shut as he glanced over and he had to wake her again when he finally pulled up in front of the house. He grabbed her bag and led her up the stairs, his hand in hers, pushing the door open, the lights were still on inside. 

She followed Frankie’s lead and toed off her shoes as she came into the house and let her eyes drift around the space. He moved into the big open room and put her bag on the dark brown leather couch in front of the fireplace that took up a chunk of the back wall. When he turned back to her he wiped his hands down his thighs in a nervous gesture as he looked at the way she was examining the space. 

“It’s not much, I know, but it’s just for me, and that’s enough,” he said, “but there’s a guest room, I’ll get the bed made for you, I’ve just kinda been using it as storage, but the bed’s comfy,” he rambled and missed the way she smiled. 

“It’s beautiful, Frankie, I love it,” Aisling said, moving over to the big fireplace and running her hand over the rough stone and the dark wood beams behind it. The whole place had a feeling of being lived in, a whole life in the way the old walls were colored by decades of wood smoke, the glass in the windows slightly warped, the floor creaking as she walked over it. And then Frankie’s things spread about, but all in their specific place. A thick, dark red quilt hanging over the arm of the couch, heavy gore-tex boots by the door, an assortment of what she assumed were ‘horse things’ next to them, even a Stetson tossed onto the coffee table. 

“Yeah?” Frankie said, “You sure? It’s kinda a mess, I usually don’t have company over,” he fussed over the couch, picking up a t-shirt and some dirty socks from the armrest. 

“It looks just like I pictured it from your photo,” she said, turning and smiling at him, “Can we light the fire? I’ve never been in a place with a real fireplace, only those fake decorative ones.”

“Sure, I’ll light it,” Frankie replied, coming over to where she stood next to the fireplace, “Do you want to take a shower while I light it and start dinner? I was just going to heat up some chili Herb’s girlfriend made for me, we can eat in front of the fire if you want.” 

“That sounds like the best plan ever, especially the shower part,” Aisling smiled and Frankie smiled in return. 

“I’ll show you the guest room and the shower, I’m afraid there’s no ensuite, just the one shared bathroom.” 

“Wow, really roughing it, aren’t you, Frankie,” she teased him, following his broad back down the hallway towards the bedrooms, “I should’ve stayed with my ensuite master bathroom on the third floor of my mansion back in Greenpoint.” 

“Don’t knock it, that was a great shower,” Frankie chuckled, and then immediately regretted his words. The image of the two of them together in her small shower wasn’t what he needed in his head right now, heat crept up his neck as he tried to steer his mind away from it. 

Aisling didn’t reply, her mind had also drifted back to the same place as Frankie, and she swallowed thickly as he opened the door to the guest bedroom. 

“Ok, this is you,” Frankie coughed, scratching his head as he looked at what was really his storage space with a critical view, “I…uh…might need to shift some things first, and I should really clean it out…” He winced, the room was full of junk, bits and pieces he thought might come in handy around the ranch or the cabin. He should really store it all in one of the barns down on the ranch, but somehow he’d never gotten round to it. And every surface was covered by dust, the air in the room stale and lacking in oxygen. 

“Listen,” he said, turning to Aisling who was standing just behind him, “I’ll sleep in here, or on the couch, you take my bed until I’ve sorted this out. I can’t let you sleep in here.” 

Aisling wanted to tell him it was fine, that she couldn’t kick him out of his bed, but the room really was a mess, the bed barely visible under all the knick knacks piled on top. 

“I can sleep on the couch, Frankie, and I’ll help you sort this. It’s my fault really, for turning up out of nowhere.” 

“Hermosa, you’re not sleeping on my couch,” Frankie replied, sounding almost offended and the endearment slipped out of him before he could stop it, biting his tongue too late. To hide it, he shook his head and pointed to the door opposite, “That’s the bathroom, I’ll get you a towel and then I’ll change the sheets on the bed, no arguments.” 

“Frankie…” 

“No arguments,” he repeated, hurrying down the hall to his own bedroom before she could object again. 

Aisling almost giggled out loud as his flustered face, he was different here, in a good way. Less wary of his surroundings, more comfortable and open, which made sense now that he was back in Montana which seemed to be so important to him. She liked this version of Frankie though, even more than the one she’d seen in Brooklyn. Whatever had haunted him there, it seemed to have stayed in Greenpoint, along with his ex-girlfriend. But they needed to talk about what had happened in New York. She hadn’t wanted to listen to him or his excuses three months ago, but three months of not being able to forget him had changed her mind. Now she wanted to know, to understand, so that they could move forward, if that was what he wanted too.

Aisling sighed, she was really hoping Frankie saw something similar, but she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, dreading what it would bring up for both of them. For now though, she just wanted a shower and some food before crashing in Frankie’s bed. She wasn’t going to fight him for the couch, the bed sounded too tempting after sleeping sitting up for two days straight. 

The bathroom was small but cozy, like the rest of the cabin. Frankie knocked on the door and handed her a towel before he showed her how to turn on the old shower. She took longer than she probably should’ve, indulging in some of Frankie’s body wash and letting the hot water pour over her tired, stiff muscles. The shower smelled like him, the way she remembered him smelling when he first leaned over the bar counter and showed her the pictures of the cabin she was now in. On the vanity counter were some of his toiletries, neatly lined up. He’d said the cabin was a mess but she couldn’t see any of it, the towels in the bathroom hung straight on the rail, his toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brush and deodorant were in a row on the counter. He even had a pair of slippers parked underneath a terry cloth robe hanging by the door. Not a thing out of place. It made her smile while she dried her hair and changed into clean clothes, she could see his army background in the details. The messy spare bedroom was like his mind, the mess hidden behind the quiet, in control, exterior. 

The smell of wood fire and food was starting to drift in from the rest of the cabin and her stomach grumbled as she left the bathroom. 

“I hope I left you some hot water,” she told Frankie’s back as she made her way over to the kitchen part of the large open room and he turned around. 

“No problem, the tank is pretty big, and you needed it.” 

“Are you saying I smelled?” Aisling feigned offense as she stood next to him, looking into the pot he was stirring. 

“Absolutely, like an old bus, two thousand miles and the New York subway. Ouch!” 

He laughed and grabbed his arm in mock pain when she gave him a light slap for his teasing. 

“I think it’s two and half thousand miles,” Aisling replied, “and I feel like every one of them is rolling around in my head.” 

“I remember the feeling,” Frankie said and handed her a beer, still cold from the fridge, “Here, grab this, and go sit down. I’ll be right there with dinner.” 

Aisling gratefully grabbed the bottle and found a cozy spot on the couch, stretching out and leaning back with a sigh. The fire was crackling, spreading its warmth and she felt drowsy again as she sipped on the beer. 

Frankie came over with a tray, two bowls and bread on the side, and sat down next to her. 

“The bowl is hot, so be careful,” he said, putting it all down on the coffee table. 

“Nice beer,” Aisling said, sitting up straight again as she looked at the label, “is it local?” 

“Yeah, small microbrewery in Missoula, Herb and I have been exploring as many local ones as we can get our hands on. And no one charges fourteen fifty for them.” 

He glanced over at her, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a cheeky grin as her tired brain caught on to what he meant. 

“Fuck off, Frankie,” she mock scowled at him, “that beer was worth fourteen fifty, this one isn’t.” 

“I’m offended, as a proud Montana transplant, I’m offended!” Frankie put his hand on his chest and clutched an imaginary string of pearls around his neck in a gesture that made her snort as she scooted closer to the table. He’d loaded the stew with toppings and she gratefully dug into it, relishing proper home made food after so long of bus snacks. 

“My compliments to Herb’s girlfriend, that was fucking delicous,” Aisling sighed, putting her bowl down after eating in silence. 

“Want some more?” Frankie asked but Aisling shook her head. 

“I could eat another three servings I think, but then my body might go into shock,” she replied and leaned back in the corner of the couch with the beer bottle. 

Frankie glanced over at her and smiled, she was looking tired and drowsy, leaning her head against the back of the couch and her legs stretched out towards him. While he watched she returned his smile, her features softening before her face cracked in a big yawn. 

“Go to bed, Aisling,” he chuckled, patting her leg, “I’ll clean up, and tomorrow I’ll show you the ranch.” 

“Ash,” she said, smiling at him as she put her hand over his, “My friends call me ‘Ash’.” She gave his fingers a squeeze and let go, pushing herself off the couch, “And yes, I’ll take that offer of not having to clean up and going to bed instead. Sorry about stealing yours, but you did offer.” 

“Catfish,” Frankie said, and he couldn’t help grinning when she looked down at him in confusion, “My friends call me ‘Catfish’, or just ‘Fish’.” 

“There must be a story there,” Aisling smiled back at him, “Tell me in the morning, ‘Fish’.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for today.” 

Chapter 8

[vapolis]

I kinda read through half this blog on a whim and you mentioned an Revenge IF? Is there a demo I could play or a synopsis because I'm curious! You mentioned it very little but I really like RYWD and also gave Lamb to the slaughter a try :D

hello <3 it's not a wip I've published and won't for quite a while since I'm busy with rywd and realised I'm kind of bad at juggling two wips lmao

but a short synopsis is that a couple years ago, a tragedy rocked your family that ended with one brother dead, the other off at college to appease your stepmother (she's not evil though, mc just has some valid issues with the way she came into their family) and your mother jumping off the deep end. after said tragedy, your father moved you and what remained of your family across the country, hit it off with his now wife, set you up for life with a brand new trust fund and drags you back for the summer before university to the town you left behind. a lot of things changed. a lot hasn't and mc has some things to take care of before leaving for good.

it's probably best summarised as rich people doing awful things to each other and mc is kind of an awful person too but they have their reasons-- or believe they do at least!

the themes within that game are kind of. bad. but I always wanted to write a complicated mc surrounded by awfully rich people ruining each other. it's just a fun wip I kind of pick at from time to time right now. and the vibes are a little inspired by some of my favourite books and shows/movies like big little lies, we were liars, saltburn, gossip girl etc.