#And I sure as hell don’t respect your “art”

[gravehags]

it's close to midnight

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: halloween fic a few days late, emeritus family trauma, terzo being a little shit, everybody being dumbasses, be kind this is the first thing i've written in a long time

Words: 1,481

Summary: Erzebet. Celeste. Alessia. Their names are burned into your mind.

a/n: i just think the emeritus brothers can be sad as a treat. eat up.

~~~

“Please don’t tell me that’s what I know it is.”

You’re gesturing towards Terzo’s pumpkin carving, looking tired beyond your years. With a haughty sniff he hides it from your view.

“I don’t expect you to understand high art,” he says snottily, causing all three of his brothers to look at him disbelievingly.

“Idiota, that’s literally her job,” Secondo snarls, flinging pumpkin guts across the table.

The song coming from the portable speakers fades out and the bombastic opening notes of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” invade the space. 

“Speaking of jobs,” Terzo continues in his catty tone, “who the fuck put this playlist together? “Thriller”? For Halloween? Groundbreaking.”

“Me, bitch,” you snap and before Copia or Primo can reach to stop you, you’ve taken a wad of pumpkin innards and slapped it on the top of Terzo’s head, making sure to mush it in real good. You swear you see tears well in his eyes as he lets out a horrified wail and dashes out of the room to Primo’s bathroom to wash it out.

“Well done, amore,” Copia murmurs, nudging you with his elbow. His two older brothers nod appreciatively from their side of the table.

“You know I’m surprised I managed to convince all of you to ditch the Halloween gala this year,” you say as you carve, “Kinda feels like something the Papas and the number one Cardinal should be at, no?”

Secondo waves dismissively.

“It’s the same old shit, every year. The same fawning siblings and clergy, the same shitty punch spiked by Terzo. The best part of last year’s event was seeing you and this one–” he jerks his head towards Copia, “--attempt to flirt. Oh, and seeing you in that costume you wore.”

You blush and scoff but Copia frowns deeply and gives his brother a look, who simply shrugs back at him.

“We’d much rather spend such a sacred day with you, fiore mio. And if it means we don’t have to put on a papal performance, so much the better.”

“What are you all talking about?”

Terzo returns to the room, his hair soaking wet and when he leans over you and shakes like a dog, you let out an undignified squawk.

“Fuck off, dollar store Bela Lugosi,” you growl, smacking him repeatedly in the arm as he resumes his seat at the table.

“I’d take offense but that actually might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, sorellina.”

Copia looks at his watch and his eyes dart to each of his brothers.

“Almost midnight,” he says softly, and the tone immediately has you looking at him with curiosity.

Primo grunts, setting his carving tool down and stretching.

“What happens at midnight?” you whisper to Copia. He doesn’t respond, but instead looks to each of his brothers as if seeking their approval for something.

“How would you like to meet our mothers, sorella?” Secondo asks, and Copia’s shoulders drop with relief. You’re taken aback.

“I…I thought–”

“Come along,” Primo says, walking over and gently urging you up out of your chair, “and wear your coat.”

You follow him out the door of his quarters, as Secondo and Copia trail behind you. Terzo lingers at the back, and you can see him gathering something in his arms. As your group shuffles down the corridors, there’s a reverent hush that lingers amongst you. Copia grabs your hand and briefly raises it to his lips, giving you a small smile. You’re dying to ask him for details but your desire to remain respectful about…whatever the hell is happening…leaves you quiet. When you exit a large door into the biting damp cold of the dark outdoors, you link arms with your beloved and pull him close.

“Just a little bit further,” he murmurs into your hair before placing a kiss on the top of your head. Lanterns have been placed all along the pathway you walk and when a group of darkened stone monuments come into view, it all becomes clear. 

“Hello, mama,” Primo says with the voice of a much, much younger man. Grouped together in a semi-circle stand three ornately carved marble tombs, presided over by a statue of who you can only assume is Lillith with outstretched arms. Terzo sidles past you to place large candles where the names of the women are carved. Secondo takes his vintage zippo lighter out of his coat pocket and tosses it at his younger brother.

“I…I didn’t even know these graves were out here,” you admit, sniffling slightly in the cold. Gently, you lower yourself to plop down on the wet grass. “Will you tell me about them?”

The brothers beam at you, then at Copia, before Primo speaks.

“My mother’s name was Erzebet,” he begins, “she was the last of a dwindling line of nobles from the Carpathian Mountains. Her marriage to…that man was arranged. She hated him but bore her responsibilities - and his child - all the same. I was fortunate to spend my childhood with her in her family home while Nihil absconded off on whatever dalliance he was amusing himself with that week. I don’t think she wanted me to join the Ministry - I think she was always worried it would turn me into my father. She…she did not handle me leaving well. She was put into an institution - no one in the clergy would ever tell me where no matter how insistent I was. After she died I was able to learn where they kept her - and I had her body moved out of that grave with simply a number on it…to here. Where her only child could bring her the most beautiful of flowers. Dahlias are her favorite.”

You don’t even know what to say to this revelation, but the way Primo’s tone cracked on his final word has your heart plummeting into your stomach. You have so many questions but you bottle them up for a later time, instead choosing to reach across the space to take Primo’s long, aged hand in yours.

“She sounds wonderful. She must have been to have a son like you.”

He smiles at you, painfully soft, and you dutifully look away as he wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. 

“We won’t tell all their sad stories tonight,” Secondo murmurs, “I’m sure you can deduce the common denominator and it is far too cold and tonight is for celebration.”

“Tell me their names, at least. Tell me something about them.” you sniffle, leaning into Copia’s side.

“Celeste. She was an artist.”

“Alessia. An actress.”

“To Erzebet, Celeste, and Alessia, then,” you say, “May they know peace in their afterlives and may they be proud at raising such fine sons, all. And…” your voice lowers, tone darkens, “know that I mean it when I say this but…say the word. Say the word and I’ll end him.”

A hush descends upon the brothers.

“You’re not joking, are you sorellina?” Terzo murmurs, looking at you curiously.

“For what he did to them? To all of you? Say less.”

Copia squeezes your hand and gives you an intense look before standing with a grunt and reaching down to you to help you up.

“If he continues to make shitty comments about my mustache at staff meetings, I might eh, take you up on that, amore. Seriously, how long have I had this thing? Does he forget about it after every time he sees me?”

The four of you stretch and groan after getting off the ground.

“Come on, let's all thaw out inside and listen to more of our sorellina’s horrible Halloween playlist.”

You and Terzo begin loudly bickering as you leave the cemetery, giving Copia a chance to linger behind with Primo and Secondo.

“I understand you want to take this relationship slow,” Secondo begins, voice low, “but boy, if you don’t marry that woman I will.”

Copia laughs softly through his nose and nods.

“All in good time. But eh, she likes men with hair so I think Primo and Terzo have a leg up on you in that regard.”

Secondo sputters with outrage before calling out to you.

“Piccolina! My brother and his shitty mustache just told me you don’t like bald men! Che cazzo?”

You’re puzzled, standing in the doorway looking at each brother.

“Copia, why are you lying to him? We've been over this before - if you die, Secondo inherits me, then Primo, then Terzo. Stop trying to stir shit!”

“‘Inherits’ her? Like an antique armoire?”

The Cardinal sighs deeply, trying his best to ignore the viciously smug look on Secondo’s face.

“Can we just go back to carving pumpkins? And Terzo, we are not putting yours out for display.”

“Oh, you don’t like the self portrait of my—”

You shove him into the wall and he yelps.

“This is why you’re last on the inheritance list.”

“Merda.” 

[ciderjacks]

Can we kill the whole “no attention on artwork is sad and means it was a waste of time” thing? Like Seriously can we kill it. I put a fuckton of effort into my art and it usually gets like, 10 likes, and that doesn’t really matter to me bc I love making it. I’m grateful for nice comments, but I’m gonna keep making the stuff I make regardless.

Like ok I’m not trying to sound all holier than thou here, but the amount of artists online who say stuff like “this artwork was a flop, so I’m feeling really discouraged” is making me go crazy. Is that all it is for you guys? Content? When you’re making artwork are you just making content for an audience? No offence but I feel like that’s a huge fucking waste of time, way more than making art you like and getting minimal attention on it.

[strvngeweather]

How to Get Rid of Your Virginity; a one shot.

💘PAIRING: badboy!jungkook x theaternerd!reader 💘GENERE: College AU, smut, a little fluff 💘WORD COUNT: 4.6K 💘WARNINGS: Smut, smut, and more smut. 💘SUMMARY: You've always been the good girl who followed the rules but you're ready to shed that image and lose your virginity to the college's resident bad boy: Jungkook. 💘AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apparently, I really got into my feelings with this fic. A bit of sweetness at the end but mostly smut. I hope you enjoy!

Opposites attract – at least, that’s what your best friend, Elena, had told you. She had provided you with solid proof too.

“Just take a look around,” she had said, a cup full of vodka and cherry-flavored juice in her hand, motioning toward the various partygoers. She pointed out an art student cuddled up with a girl who looked like she belonged on the arm of a footballer. “That’s Taehyung. His girlfriend is the ‘All-American Girl’ type and he’s a huge nerd. But they’re in love.”

You nodded. “Okay, they’re the exception.”

She shook her head, taking a long sip, wincing at the burn of the alcohol. “Okay, what about them?” She pointed at Jimin. Jimin was your textbook Type-A worker bee. He was known to avoid large social gatherings like this but here he was, leaning against a wall, his girlfriend in his arms. He kissed her lightly on the neck before grabbing a hearty handful of her ass. “That is our resident party girl cuddled up with our best scholar.”

“He’s a fine scholar,” You admitted, and Elena agreed. “Okay, so what’s your point?”

“My point,” Elena began, taking another long sip. “Are that people from different sides of the track get together all the time. Cheerleader and nerd, party girl, and punctual pupil. Nerdy theater geek and super delicious bad boy.”

You were the nerdy theater geek she had been referencing and the delicious bad boy? That title belonged to Jungkook.

You glanced over at him. He was standing between Taehyung and Jimin, effortlessly chatting the night away. Jungkook had been on your radar ever since you started attending this university two years ago. He was an upperclassman, so you didn’t run into him often but when you did, you savored every second you got to gaze upon him. The man was beautiful. But make no mistake, this was not a crush. You thought he was sexy as hell, but you weren’t into him. You were a future Broadway star and Jungkook? Well, you don’t know what his future entailed but it was starkly different from yours. You were sure of it. There was no way you two would work out romantically.

You wanted him for different reasons. More carnal reasons. You wanted him to take your virginity.

But, while you wanted him, you weren’t sure if he wanted you. You didn’t look like his type – you assumed. But Elena was attempting to convince you otherwise.

“I just don’t think he’d be down for it,” you said with a shrug. “I mean, he’s not into girls like me.”

“He’s a man!” Elena said, her voice raised. You knew that was a sign that the liquor was kicking in for her. “He’s into any girl who wants to bone him! Go over there!”

Elena pushed you toward him, but you stopped, glaring at her. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, Jungkook, wanna fuck?’”

Elena nodded and gave you a blank stare. “That sounded perfect. What’s stopping you?”

You groaned. Of course, Elena would think that’s an acceptable way to approach a man but before you could protest, she was signaling Jungkook to come over. Your eyes widened, a mortifying feeling washing over you.

I could kill her, you thought, I could kill her and bury the body beneath the school’s theater.

Jungkook looked at Elena, a confused look etched across his handsome features. Then, he did the unthinkable. He began to walk over.

He stopped just short of the both of you, the wallflowers for the night, and smiled. “Good evening, ladies, how can I help you?”

Elena nudged you and you opened your mouth to speak but found only your pride, self-respect, and the last shred of confidence falling out of your mouth and onto the floor to be stomped on by a slew of drunken college students. Elena, noticing your mouth open and a dazed look on your face, rolled her eyes and blurted out, “She wants to fuck you.”

This is it, you thought, this is how I die.

But it wasn’t.

Because Jungkook’s eyes raked over you, a hint of lust clouding behind them, and smiled. “Oh, really?”

You nodded, fear and excitement striking into your heart.

Elena continued, “She’s been waiting to make a move all night, but she’s been too afraid to.”

Jungkook looked at you. “Consent is sexy, so I have to hear it from your mouth.”

You swallowed thickly, slowly nodding. “She’s not, I mean, I’m not –” You stopped, taking a deep breath. “Yes. Coitus is something I’d like to experience with you – I mean, if you’re up for it.”

He held out his hand. “Well, let’s go experience it.”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

You looked between him and Elena searching for a reason as to why now wasn’t a good time to get your back blown out, but you couldn’t find one. Not a good one, anyway. So, you put on a brave face, took his hand, and let him lead you upstairs and into the nearest empty bedroom.

You didn't know who this bedroom belonged to as it had no signs of life. A basic dark wood dresser hugged the right wall, a few sports posters lined the walls and a simple full-sized bed with white and blue bedding sat in the middle of the floor. Jungkook took a seat on the bed, and you sat next to him, unable to meet his eye.

“Come here,” he said, cupping your face and drawing you forward.

He wanted a kiss, so you followed his lead, but your nose bumped into his. “I’m so sorry!” You said in a panicked voice. “I – I didn’t mean for –”

“It’s okay,” he said through a small laugh. Another attempt at a kiss was made but instead of bumping noses, you bumped foreheads. He rubbed his forehead, scrunching up his face. “Maybe we skip kissing,” he said, standing up. “How about this instead?” He began to climb on top of you. You readjusted yourself, hoping to make things flow more smoothly but you ended up kneeing him in the stomach.

“Fuck, I am so sorry!” You said as you watched him grit his teeth.

“It’s okay,” he said once again and rounded the other side of the bed. He took a seat and laid back. “Why don’t you come lay beside me?”

You nodded. You got up and laid down next to him.

“Why don’t you lead?” Jungkook suggested and you silently agreed that that might be for the best.

You began to get up but found your elbow stabbing him in the chest.

This was going horribly.

“Are you sure you want to have sex?” Jungkook asked.

“I do,” you said quietly, biting your lip. “I’m just really nervous.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you. “Why are you nervous?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, avoiding his gaze. How do you tell one of the hottest guys on campus that you’re a virgin? A lonely loser virgin?

“If it’s me, then there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Jungkook said. “I’m not as experienced as everyone says I am. I mean, I have had sex with quite a few people – all safe and consensual of course – but I’m nothing like the lothario people say I am. I mean, I’m just –”

You cut him off. “I’m nervous because I’m a virgin.”

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Embarrassingly quiet. If there was a God, he would have taken mercy on you and allowed the world to swallow you at this exact moment. But no, mercy did not shine a light on you this day.

“And you wanted me to take your virginity?”

He seemed more surprised that you had chosen him as your virginity taker than the fact that you were still a virgin. Regardless, you nodded. “Yeah, I figured if I was going to lose it, I might as well lose it to someone hot.”

His cheeks flashed a crimson color. “Don’t you want your first time to be special?”

You scoffed. “First off, virginity is just a construct and secondly, it would have been special no matter what because it’s my first time and I was in control. Besides, I’ve got a bucket list to finish this year.”

Jungkook looked at you. “Oh yeah? What else is on your list?”

“Smoking weed. I’ve never been high before.”

And just like that, Jungkook produced a blunt out of his back pocket. “You’re in luck. Listen, I don’t think the sex thing is going to happen tonight, but I can smoke you out.”

You felt relief wash over you. There was still hope. He said it wouldn’t happen tonight not that it wouldn’t happen ever – hey, it may have been delulu but you were going to take it and ride off with it into the sun. You watched closely as Jungkook lit the blunt, taking a few deep inhales, holding it in, and then exhaling, coughing along the way. Your first few attempts at smoking the joint were failures but after the third try, you got the hang of it. You also coughed a lung out but the serene feeling that flowed through you a few moments later was worth it.

The blunt had been reduced to a roach and you and Jungkook were lying on the bed, laughing and talking about everything under the sun. You learned he was a film major and planned on moving to Los Angeles after graduation to pursue a career out there. When you told him you wanted to be the next Audra McDonald, he didn’t laugh or tease you like so many others had before. He thought your love of theater was cool and asked you a million questions about it. He found it impressive that you could hold such high notes while doing intricate choreography. Finally, a silence settled over the two of you as the green forced you both into an extreme high.

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook’s voice was like molasses, thick and slow. Or maybe you were just so damn high that’s how you heard it.

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“What’s the farthest you’ve gone?”

“Like traveling?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean … with sex.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Um, I’ve jerked a guy off before.”

“Have you …” he began but trailed off. He turned his head to look at you, attempting to gauge your reaction. “Ever received oral?”

You shook your head. “Nah.”

“You want to?”

You froze, and a sobering feeling hit you like a pillow full of soap. The idea of getting your coochie licked sounded damn good right now, especially with the weed in your system. “Yeah, I mean, I guess I’d like to try it one day.”

“How about today?”

You could still feel Jungkook’s eyes on you. Well, shit. You had already crossed one item off your bucket list. Might as well cross another. So, you said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Within seconds, Jungkook was between your legs, lifting your pleated skirt to your hips and sliding your baby pink panties down. Your body froze as you felt a finger slide in between your slits. “A virgin who shaves,” you heard him muse, mostly to himself. A thumb began rubbing your clit and a gasp escaped your throat. Before you could say something else, his tongue was on your lips. Your … other lips. It darted out, parting your lips and flicking against your clit in a feverish way.

Your back arched in response and you felt as if all the air in your lungs had left your body. You found your hands gripping the white sheets as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue sliding in and out of your hole before traveling up and down your slit and finally focusing back on your clit. The sensation became a little too much and you squirmed away, hoping to ease some of the intensity but that only made things worse. Jungkook wrapped his hands around your thick thighs, pulling you closer, spread your legs apart further, and kept his hands gripped on your thighs, ensuring you wouldn’t be going too far. “Don’t run from it,” you heard him whisper.

You’re not sure how long he was at it but by the time your world turned white, you were making noises only a dog could hear.

. . . . .

It wasn’t in your nature to willingly be a third wheel, but the town’s annual spring fair was here and there was no way you were going to miss it. Even if Elena insisted on bringing her boyfriend, Felix. The night wasn’t all bad though. You had spotted Jungkook hanging with a few of his friends and the two of you waved at each other. It had been three weeks since the party and the two of you had kept in contact, texting each other funny memes here and there, sometimes talking on the phone late into the night but nothing more, nothing less.

As the three of you waited in line for the Ferris wheel, you noticed that the ride only allowed pairs. That took care of Elena and Felix but what about you?

“Can you believe that? Since when has the Ferris wheel been limited to two people at a time?” You turned around to face your best friend, but she wasn’t listening. She was too busy using her tongue to excavate Felix’s mouth. You groaned. “Of course, you two would choose now to suck face.”

The line moved forward, and it was your turn to get on. The ride operator gave you a pitiful look. “You got a partner?” He asked but he knew the answer to that. Just as you were about to step out of line to die of embarrassment in a dark and quiet place, your knight in shining armor appeared.

“I’m her partner.”

Jungkook. Sweet, sweet, Jungkook. Sweet, delicious, Jungkook who smelled like heaven and was wearing a red button-up shirt that showed off all his muscles. What? Sue you for noticing!

Jungkook held out his hand and you took it, the two of you loading on the ride and strapping in. Elena smirked at you as the ride began. The ride slowly lifted you and Jungkook up a few feet and then paused, allowing Elena and Felix to board.

“Thanks for saving the day,” you said with a smile. “The Ferris wheel is my favorite ride.”

“No shit, mine too,” Jungkook replied.

Your eyes brightened. “Really? You don’t seem like the type.”

“What type do I seem like?”

“A coaster man.”

“I like coasters too,” he admitted. “But something about the Ferris wheel just calms me, you know?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I get that.”

“So, how’s your bucket list going? Cross off anything else?” Jungkook asked as the Ferris wheel began moving again and then paused, allowing another couple on.

“I have,” you told him excitedly. “Elena and I went skinny dipping two days ago.”

“Damn, I’m sad I missed that one,” Jungkook said with a cheeky smile. “Still a virgin?”

“Still a virgin.”

Jungkook looked at you, his eyes falling to your exposed legs. You were wearing a plaid overall dress and a long-sleeved white shirt underneath. You wondered for a moment if he was judging your fashion choices until he licked his lips and you saw the lust clouding his eyes. “Ever been fingered?”

You shrugged; a sheepish smile found its way to your face. “Only when you ate me out that one time.”

“But never in public?”

“Of course not.”

He looked at you, his eyes begging for permission and as the Ferris wheel began moving again, forcing you and Jungkook to the top, his hands found their way between your thighs. He rubbed your core through your panties. You felt him lean over, his lips brushing against your neck before peppering kisses across your chin. You couldn’t help but giggle as he pushed your panties to the side, and you felt two fingers slide up and down your already-wet slit.

You felt your heart beating faster in his chest when he slid a finger inside and used his thumb to rub circles on your clit. The sensation was quickly becoming too much for you. Especially in public of all places. But as the Ferris wheel worked its way down, you were as well. Your orgasm slowly washed away as the ride finally came to a stop, allowing you and Jungkook to get off.

“Thanks for the ride,” you told him and in response, he kissed your cheek and made his way back to his friends.

…

It was official: You and Jungkook were friends. Like actual friends. You talked to him just as much as you talked to Elena, if not more. You had met his friends and his friend’s girlfriends. You spent time at his apartment. He smoked you out at least once a week and the last time the two of you decided to go on an impromptu diner trip, the waitress mistook you for a couple.

That’s why it wasn’t a surprise when he accompanied you to the library today. You both had papers due and decided to study together. However, you found that the two of you didn’t get much studying done and instead spent most of your time together making jokes and trying to steer clear of the librarian’s wrath.

In an attempt to get some serious studying done, Jungkook suggested getting a table at the back of the library. As you followed him to the back of the library, you noticed a couple, deep within the library aisles, where students rarely went, getting it on. You stopped Jungkook, tugging on his sleeve. “Look!” You whispered. “Oh my god, isn’t that Jimin?”

An approving smile pulled at the corner of Jungkook’s lips. “Yeah. Ever since he met his girlfriend, he’s become such a horn dog.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the couple. Jimin had his girlfriend leaning on a bookshelf for support, her pants pulled down to her knees and his face buried between her ass cheeks. You hated to say it but it kind of turned you on. Jungkook took your hand and pulled you along.  

“He’s not afraid of getting caught?” You asked.

Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t think so. They fuck in the library all the time. That’s actually how they became a couple. He was her tutor.”

You felt a pool of heat settling in your core, forcing a weather change down under. “God, that’s hot.”

Jungkook stopped walking and looked at you. “You want to try?”

“You mean, fucking in the library?” The idea excited you, but you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to get fully plowed in public yet. “I don’t know about penetration but … maybe some head would be cool.”

Jungkook licked his lips. “I can’t lie, I’ve been wanting to taste you again.”

You shook your head as he led you further into the book aisles. “No, I mean I want to give you head.”

He stopped. “You sure?”

“Yeah, teach me how to suck dick,” you said and then cringed once you heard the words. “That didn’t sound as sexy as I hoped it would have.

He smiled, licking his lips. “Say less,” he pulled you into a corner and unzipped his pants. He pulled his jeans and boxers down but only slightly and produced his semi-hard dick.

“You’re already excited?” You asked and then realized this was your first time seeing his dick. No wonder he was known as the lover, you thought, grabbing it and feeling the weight of it in your hand. “Well, shit.”

“You ready?” He asked and you nodded, slowly dropping to your knees.  He guided you lovingly on how to properly give head but also explained that everyone was different so the way he liked it wouldn’t necessarily be the way another guy liked it. But the way he liked it was known as the ‘vacuum suck.’ He wasn’t into the bells and whistles of sloppy head but preferred something nice and clean and something that felt like his soul was being sucked out of him.

And that, you did. Or at least you gave it the old college try.

You stroked his large dick, your hand running up and down his thick shaft as your tongue flicked over his head. Precum painted your lips as you attempted to slide his entire member into your mouth. It wouldn't fit and Jungkook didn't force it. Above you, he squirmed in delight, his hands threading through your dark locks, gripping ever so slightly.

“Touch my balls, baby girl,” Jungkook said through a low grunt. Your pussy does backflips at the sound of being called ‘baby girl’ but you can’t linger on that too long. Jungkook has your head in his hands and he’s slowly but surely fucking your face. “Agh … I’m going to cum …” He began to pull his dick out, but you didn't let him, instead you did something that you’ve seen countless times on Twitter memes. You suck harder and you kept sucking well after he came. You’d never heard a man squeal before but you’re sure that’s what Jungkook did before you finally popped his dick out of your mouth.

…

Summer was steadily approaching, the weather going from tolerable to the heat of the devil’s ass crack. It’s why Jungkook had suggested that the two of you head to the coast for the weekend. “It would be way cooler out there,” he had said, and you couldn’t argue. So, on a Friday evening, you climbed on the back of his motorcycle and the two of you headed off to the beach for the weekend.

As two broke college students, you didn’t have enough money to afford a fancy hotel, so you settled for a run-down motel room, but it was clean, and the bed was comfortable enough. Jungkook had purchased every snack in the vending machine that night and the two of you shared stories over eight-dollar bottles of wine, BBQ chips, and sour gummies. After finishing off your second bottle of wine, Jungkook lit up a blunt and the two of you shared it, laying back on the motel room bed with the shabby television playing a novella in the background.

“Y/N, I think you may be my best friend.”

“I think you may be right,” you agreed, laughing.

“I can’t believe school will be ending soon,” Jungkook said.

“I know. What am I going to do without you?” you said, a genuine sadness reaching your voice.

“We’re going to stay friends. You’ll come visit me in Los Angeles and I’ll come visit you in New York. You’ll be there when I receive my first Oscar and I’ll be there when you get your first Tony,” Jungkook said with a smile. And you could hear the sincerity in his voice. Even if none of that happened, in this moment right here and right now, Jungkook believed it did and that’s what you loved most about him.

You always thought love was like an arrow. Shooting you in the heart, causing you to instantaneously know that you had fallen but looking at Jungkook in the darkness of this shabby motel room, you realized love wasn’t like that at all. Love was slow and easy. It was sweet. It was kind. It was a soft spring day. It was impromptu trips to your favorite diners. It was sharing secrets in your most special places. It was laughing to your belly ached in the back of a car. It was trips to eat your weight in sushi and then getting ice cream even though you swore you couldn’t eat another bite. It was wiping your tears away at four in the morning because you didn’t get the role in the school play. It was sitting up all night with each other watching the sun rise because he was too anxious to sleep. It was the perfect and it was the imperfect. It was nothing and it was everything. It was you and it was Jungkook.

And right here, right now, you realized that you were in love with Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” you said, looking at him and he turned his head, smiling that beautiful smile. “I love you.”

He stared at you for a moment, studying your features. A hand reached out and cupped your cheek. “I love you too, Y/N.”

You scooted closer to Jungkook and kissed him. It was a soft and sound kiss. Slow and sensual. And he kissed you back with just as much patience. Your arms and legs tangled together, and soon you found your clothes melting away. You felt his lips wrapped around your nipples, his tongue going across your stomach. His hands stroking your pussy with an excruciating softness. You felt his muscles flexing beneath your fingertips, the weight of his manhood in your hands and then in your mouth.

His body reacted with such pleasure as you gave him head. You sucked slowly, making sure every inch of his manhood was wet with your spit. Jungkook stopped you early, citing how much he still wanted to taste you so you laid you on your back and spread your legs, exposing your most sensitive parts but Jungkook shook his head. He guided you on top of him, and you lowered your precious gem to his face. He licked hungrily. Savoring every drop of you. His hands found their way to your round ass and groped the fleshy curves as his tongue dug deeper into you. An electric wave of pleasure washed over you, your body writhing in sweet agony.

As you lay down beside him, he got on top of you. “Are you sure?” He asked. “If you don’t want to go this far, we can stop right now.”

But you didn’t want to stop. You wanted this. You wanted him. You silently nodded for him to continue and Jungkook rolled a condom onto his hardened dick. He positioned himself at your entrance and quietly said, “Here we go.”

He started slowly. You felt an indescribable pressure in your lower abdomen as he continued to slide in but it wasn’t bad. It was just different. He used his right hand to play with your breasts.

His pace quickened. You closed your eyes, biting your lip as the pressure waned, and in came pleasure. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders. This new angle forced a new sensation to bubble within you. It felt amazing but there was a heaviness to it that you couldn’t quite describe. His hand found your clit, rubbing circles on it as he began to fuck you faster. You didn’t think you could cum twice in one night, but Jungkook proved you wrong. A few short moments later, Jungkook’s face tightened, and he let out a deep grunt before falling on top of you. After a moment, he rolled off.

“So how was it experiencing coitus with me?” Jungkook asked, breathing heavily.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It was amazing.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t beat my ass this time.”

You cringed, thinking of the night the two of you met. You rolled to your side, putting your arm around him and your head on his chest. In response, he put his arms around you as well, pulling you close.

“What does this mean for us?” you asked.

“It means that I hope you accept when I ask you out on a date,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“I’ll have to think about it,” you said. “I’ve got one more thing to cross off my bucket list.”

“What’s that?”

You motioned toward the window in the room, outside of it, the beach. “Sex on the beach times two. I want to drink the drink while doing the act.”

With a smile, Jungkook got up and put on his pants. He looked at you, “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go have sex on the beach while we drink sex on the beach.”

[purble-gaymer]

i don’t really do big announcements about things, but this is important to me. twitter user Toonyteeth just learned she, along with several other kirby artists she knows, have recently had their work stolen and used to train an AI system to generate images in their art style.

so, i just want to come out here and say if you use or support generative AI, you are not welcome on this blog. i’m not sure if i’ve been vocal enough about it despite venting my frustrations here, but this kind of thing has to stop. it is not okay. artists dedicate years to their craft and it is the biggest disrespect to throw it into a machine for some cheap imitation. i cannot imagine how devastating it feels to learn people have been using your hard work for this purpose.

AI users stay the hell away from me, keep your dirty hands off my art, and get out of this community. in a fandom of painters, writers, and artists of all kinds, why on earth would you prefer something like this? if you can’t show respect to the artists you follow, don’t engage with their work at all.

[kazumist]

THE NAME OF LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — the three times hoshina soshiro dismissed his feelings for you as something that friends do and the one time he realized otherwise.

✩ — request: IVE BEEN WANTING TO REQ U SOMETHING FOR SO LONG NOW I HOPE U DONT MIND !! can i ask for hopeless romantic reader and hoshina soushirou.... the way he... is...... (LOVE PESSIMIST 🫵) I'm a sucker for hoshina falling first or confessing first but it is truly up to you!! i genuinely have no idea where im going with this so pls feel free to change anything to your liking

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. fluff. cw: uhm funky pacing bc this is just pure word vom LAWLZ. wc: 3583 (i did not expect for it to be this long i swear). reader works for operations and is considered as second best to okonogi (is also okonogi's assitant). ikaruga and okonogi cameo yipee! hoshina is bad at feelings ™. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

to love is something you cannot name.

that’s a saying that stitched itself onto your brain because it just makes sense. loving someone has way too much depth, depending on the person who is the one lending out their heart and who they are giving it out to in the first place. it could be named as anything, depicted as anything, or interpreted as anything.

especially for you, who had witnessed, watched, read, and consumed all sorts of media that named love as numerous things. sometimes love is tragic, making two people feel so much just for them to get pulled away from each other when they were so close to running into each other’s arms. sometimes love is mirthful, having two people become the best versions of themselves around the person they love because they feel safe becoming vulnerable with the other. yet sometimes love is bittersweet, accepting the art of letting go as it was for the best—accepting that things weren’t just meant to be but not forgetting the emotions the person made you feel.

well, how were you supposed to know what love really is? a hopeless romantic is hopeless for a reason.

having a day off is quite rare, even for the employees of the operations department. the work was quite demanding, as any job involving the JAKDF was. but you still made time to relax and enjoy your rest from time to time, whether that was rewatching a good old romcom film from the 2000s or reading a new romance novel you decided to pick up.

it was normal for a hopeless romantic to dream. to fantasize. that maybe they could experience an extraordinary love like it is portrayed in films or described in songs. so naturally, as a hopeless romantic yourself, you weren’t any different. you just wanted to experience love—to be loved.

then again, liking someone does count as experiencing romance in a sense. admiring someone with traits the public doesn’t really notice is… rare. but that’s how it always went with you. though you wouldn’t really say that you actually acted upon your feelings, they're usually be gone once that person has stepped out of the current environment you’re in.

that’s how it was before.

vice captain hoshina was a respectable man. he is talented, and he sure as hell knows it. as the ton put it, you and the vice captain had a strange relationship—nobody really knows what to call you two. as the secondary leader of operations and okonogi’s assistant, it was only natural to be in the presence of the vice captain most of the time. but there’s just something different when it comes to how you two treated each other.

from flirtatious remarks and confusing gestures that you aren’t sure if you’re supposed to interpret as romantic, just what were you to the vice captain? you’ve observed long enough that he only does this to you. though you don’t really hate it. in fact, you like it that he’s only like that to you—but you weren’t supposed to like him, you swear! but honestly speaking, how could you not? you had plenty of reasons to like the vice captain in that way. you just pray that no one has really noticed it.

however, okonogi wasn’t stupid. she gets praised for her analytical skills for a reason and you wish she didn’t have to use those skills when it came to your romantic interest in the vice captain of all things. she promised to keep it a secret, though, and keeping secrets is a thing okonogi was really good at (to your surprise).

— — — — — — — — 

the first time hoshina denied his feelings for you was when he overheard some rookies talking about you.

“(l/n) is such a blessing to the third division, don’t you think?” one said as the other hummed in agreement. “i know, right? they’re so nice! did you know that they helped me once? they gave me tips on what i should do to enhance my combat power for my fighting style; it was really helpful too!” the rookie beamed. hoshina had an unsettling feeling churning inside of him as he eavesdropped on the conversation. but he quickly shook it off, thinking that he probably ate something funny earlier.

but why hasn’t he received such treatment from you? you were closer to him than some rookies, right? 

right?

wait, what the hell is wrong with me? hoshina thinks, snapping out of his earlier thoughts. he was not jealous of some rookies. those were just rookies, for christ’s sake! hoshina walks away, only to be greeted by the sight of you and ikaruga talking this time.

“thanks again for the film recommendation the other day, (l/n). i didn’t expect to enjoy it so much—you were completely right! it did suit my preferences,” he excitedly says. hoshina watches silently, observing everything in detail. and one thing he notices is that ikaruga is standing close to you—way too close than he preferred.

“really? i’m glad you liked them, ikaruga. feel free to ask for more film recs when you’re free.” you laughed at his enthusiasm. ikaruga had always been a fun person to converse with, in your opinion. and you two bonded over films! but it was really nothing more than that. “will definitely do!” he replies, giving you a two finger wave as he excuses himself.

he was definitely not jealous. why would he be jealous in the first place? you two were just friends.

and friends don’t get jealous like this.

— — — — — — — — 

the second time was when he was undergoing recovery after the whole fiasco of the tachikawa base raid. everyone was exhausted. it was fortunate that the third division didn’t get any casualties during the incident; the majority of the troops were only injured for the most part. soshiro was counted among the severely injured troops but he doesn’t regret it one bit.

or so he thought.

soshiro wakes up slowly, blinking and squirting his eyes at the sudden brightness of the light above him. he felt a weight on the side of his bed when he tried to get up, as if something (or someone) was pressing down on the blanket. looking down, he wouldn’t mistake your hair for anyone else. he knew it was you with just a glance.

and there you were, sleeping softly on the side of hoshina soshiro’s bed. soshiro takes note of your appearance that he could see right now—which was really just your messy hair. he gets up, making sure that you don’t wake up. it is likely that the operation has not had much sleep up to this point, which is why you ended up sleeping in his hospital room of all places.

he feels bad. a hand slowly reaches out to your head, stroking it ever so gently. if he were to be honest, he was worried for he operations team during the attack. he recalls regularly checking in to see if things were okay on your end, and you kept reassuring him that everyone was unscathed. his other hand reaches out to his phone on his bedside, checking to see if he missed anything. he was unconscious until now, he thinks. and the text from okonogi just confirmed all of his suspicions.

you’re probably still unconscious by the time i sent this, but they’ve been there every day since you got admitted. 

that’s all the message contained. soshiro glances at you again, a soft smile tugging on his lips. he doesn’t get why okonogi felt the need to send him that text, but the thought of you waiting for him to be conscious again made him feel… warm inside. but it all went away as he pulled back his hand from your head as you stirred awake. you raised your head, adjusting yourself to be in a more comfortable position as you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles. 

shock was an understatement when you realized that he was finally awake.

“vice captain! i—sorry, i didn’t mean to sleep on your bed. wait, are you okay? does anything hurt?” he just stared at your eyes, trying to process something. shock was still present in your eyes, and relief was mixed in them too. you noticed him not answering anything you said. worried that he might be suffering from some aftereffects, you asked him again. “uhm… vice captain hoshina?”

he snaps out of it as soon as he hears his name. “sorry, i was just thinking. what were you saying?”

“er… is there something on my face? you’ve been staring at my face the whole time since i woke up…”

hoshina blinks once. twice. then thrice. before he focuses his gaze on something else, looking away from you. you held back a laugh at the sight of red tinting his ears as he apologized for his actions. 

“i’m glad you’re alright, vice captain.”

hoshina freezes. he didn’t expect those words to have a bigger impact on him than they do now. but this is all natural, isn’t it? friends worry about each other. friends wish and hope that the other is okay.

yet why does he feel bitter when he labels this as something that friends—no, snap out of it. he thinks.

“i’m glad you’re alright too.”

— — — — — — — — 

the third time was when you were sent to work to the first division of all places. he was completely against it, of course, but he doesn’t have any concrete reason to actually protest against it. 

it was quite boring to not have you there. he didn’t really have anyone to disturb anymore. and the sudden change in the vice captain’s demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by the platoon leaders. sure, he still had the same toothy grin on his lips, with his fang peeking out ever so often but deep down, you can’t really point out if it was genuine.

after all, hoshina soshiro was good at concealing his emotions and thoughts.

but then again, okonogi wasn’t stupid. it pains her to be the one who’s stuck between the vice captain and her subordinate. soshiro was the same as the night he didn’t get to neutralize kaiju no. 8 back then. shoulder slumped, arms crossed, a slight pout on his lips, and an expression that clearly stated he was pondering about something—or perhaps someone?

“you miss them, don’t you?” okonogi suddenly asks as she organizes the paperwork in front of her. working with hoshina when it came to paperwork wasn’t really new, except for this time because you would also be present in times like these. “miss who?” he decided to play dumb (or is the right term indenial?)

“please don’t make me spell it out for you, vice captain.” she replied, pushing up her glasses.

hoshina doesn’t reply, zoning out as he thinks about okonogi’s words. well, it wasn’t really false that your sudden absence had changed things in the vice captain’s usual routine. he doesn’t see you making a cup of coffee after he finishes training in the middle of the night. nor does he see you drowning yourself in research at the library when you’re not in the operations room, where soshiro would personally lend you a hand and provide his own insights on whatever you’re researching.

oh. 

oh.

he does miss you.

but that’s just normal, right? friends miss each other. and friends tend to leave sometimes but they will always come back when the time is right. however, the head of operations for the third division didn’t have to be some kind of genius to put two and two together. 

the vice captain has some sort of interest in you as well; he just hasn’t realized it himself.

— — — — — — — — 

the day you returned from the first division was the day everything went back to normal for soshiro.

it was currently a quarter after one in the morning, and he had just finished his training. he ended up going more overtime than usual, but if he hadn't, he probably would’ve missed the open door to the library at this hour. and of course, being the ever so curious man he is, he takes a peek in.

and again, there you were. but this time, you were drowning yourself again in research. your hair was a bit messy, and the eyebags doesn’t go unnoticed by him. yet in spite of that, soshiro still found your appearance to be lovely. maybe it was just the fatigue from his training, or perhaps it’s the thought of you being so determined in your work that sparked such a thought in him.

regardless of what the reason actually was, soshiro found your appearance lovely despite it all.

“you should head to bed soon.” he says, approaching the table you were currently working on. you looked up, surprised to see him awake at this hour. but you put your focus back on your work, not even giving him a second glance—which surprised the vice captain. he reads on whatever you were working on, noticing that they were mostly reports of kaiju no. 9. 

“researching on kaiju no. 9, i see. need a hand?”

“there’s just something off about him and i can’t put my finger on it. also thanks, but no thanks. i can handle this myself, vice captain.”

“it’s almost two in the morning, are you sure about that?”

he didn’t quite catch on to what your reply was, but he was positive that you just declined his offer either way. hoshina decides to pull up the chair beside you and grab the small stack of reports in front of you. he rotates the lamp a bit in his direction, but just enough to leave some light for you to read as well if you needed to.

you sigh at him. “vice captain, you really don’t have to—”

“but i want to. it’s the least i could do.”

truth be told, you really can’t bring yourself to be in the presence of the vice captain now. everything was just confusing. you were aware that the vice captain doesn’t really like paperwork in general (who even likes paperwork in the first place?) but you don’t get why he’s so insistent on helping you every time he finds you here.  

you don’t get why he likes your company so much. you considered yourself to be plain, a bit mundane for someone to actually spend some time with. especially when your interests don’t really spark any others for the most part. 

and while you may be a hopeless romantic, you weren’t foolish. even if you like the vice captain who’s currently making an effort to help you with your work, he’s just way out of your league. he’s too high to reach, and you were sure as hell that he would never actually look at you in that way. not now, not ever.

but why? why does a part of you keep saying that maybe he does? he wouldn’t do all of that if he didn’t actually look at you in that way, right? hope is a dangerous thing for someone who doesn’t know how to stop. for someone like you who refuses to give up on most occasions. it was stupid. foolish. naive.

not now, not ever would hoshina soshiro actually look at you that way.

“vice captain, please get some rest.”

“i could say the same to you.”

god, why is this man so stubborn? is he not tired from all the late night training he does? you thought, slowly getting frustrated. hoshina tells you his observations based on the reports in his hands and shares his hypothesis on the matter. he had some valid points and he’s lending a great hand at the moment. but frustration was just getting the best of you at the moment from your numerous trains of thought.

“the fact that he can adapt so easily is scary in itself. and the recent report of him breaking in the operations room in the first division states that—”

“why are you doing this?” you cut him off.

hoshina stares at you, dumbfounded at your question. he opens his mouth to answer, but no words actually come out of him. he chuckles bitterly in his mind. soshiro would like an answer to that question as well. but then it dawned on him. every flashed across his mind in seconds, and he finally realized it.

yet the result of that still scared him.

he was in love. hoshina soshiro is in love—with you nonetheless. the person he swore was just a friend. it took him quite a while to realize it, always being in denial that it was just normal for friends to act the way you two were. but he was in love. and that scared him. because what is he supposed to do when he finally realizes that you have consumed him? he never wanted this to happen, not in a million years.

but perhaps he was in love with you long before he started tripping along the lines of being friends and something more.

why are you doing this? your question echoed in his head. because i love you, he swallows back down his throat. he can’t say it. there’s no way things would work out. he could die any day and he’d rather not see you miserable because of his death. it would be better if you found someone else—but how ironic. he couldn’t really handle the thought of you being with someone else in the first place.

why are you doing this? your question echoes again. “because i love you.” he finally says, hesitant even. hesitant to know what you’re reaction was going to be. your eyes went wide at the sudden confession, and hoshina was certain that you wouldn’t believe him (well, he couldn’t really believe it either). “you’re kidding me,” you replied.

“i’m not.”

and surely enough, the look on the vice captain’s eyes said it all. he was dead serious. "i... why?” it's ten past two in the fucking morning, and you were too scared to accept that all of this was occurring right now, so you were afraid to ask. you were too scared to just randomly wake up and realize that maybe it was all a dream. too scared to believe that your feelings are being reciprocated.

“because you’re different—different to me, if that makes sense. it’s like you have this effect when it comes to me. food tastes better whenever i share a meal with you; my day just feels more peaceful whenever i get to see you’re doing fine, and i realized that maybe i haven’t actually looked at you like a friend or coworker for as long as i can remember; i was just too stupid to realize it earlier.” he avoids his gaze for a moment before looking at you again.

“i love you. i want you to look at me and love me too. we’ve come too far to turn back. i’m already too deep into you.”

you were speechless. 

he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. it repeated like some sort of chant inside of your head as you processed everything. hoshina soshiro loves you back—who would’ve thought? you hadn’t realized that he was sitting so close to you. the tension was so thick, but you easily cut it down as you started with your response.

“you’re an amazing man, vice captain, and i truly cannot grasp how you could feel such feelings towards me, but i love you too.” you could see hoshina jump in his seat in shock at your confession, but you continued. “i love you in ways you have never been loved, for reasons that you may not have been told, for longer than you think you deserve and with more than you will ever know existed inside of me. yet i can’t help but still wonder… how? why? wait no, why was already answered—”

he chuckles at you. stopping you with your words. “what’s so funny?” you pouted at him. “it’s nothing. i just can’t believe that we’re seriously having this moment at two in the morning.”

“sorry, i think that may have been on my part. i kind of snapped there because i was just so… confused.”

“confused?”

“yeah, confused if we’ve crossed the line between friends or lovers without actually realizing it. crazy, right?”

hoshina moves a bit closer to you, making the distance between the two of you smaller than before. he puts his forehead against yours. “not really, but i look at you, and i just love you, and it terrifies me. it terrifies me what i would do for you. i’m in love but i’m also terrified—that’s what i think is crazy.”

“then let’s be terrified together,” you whispered to him.

a soft laugh leaves his lips this time. “i like the sound of that.” he whispers back.

he loves you.

and you love him back.

that’s all what matters.

love, in general, can make you feel all sorts of things. joy, confusion, anger, fear, and many more. it can also make you do all sorts of things. it can make you do things you never really imagined doing for or with someone in the first place. it tends to be irrational—ridiculous, even. but the thought of doing all of it for the person you care most about? you finally realized that’s simply what love is all about for you.

to love is something you truly cannot name.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (You Are Here)

Complete Thing on A03

Sure enough, Jason Carver had brought a priest. 

The idiot himself stood next to the guy, smugly grinning like a hunter posing with his prized buck, a small crowd already gathering. 

Opposing them was Michael Wheeler, hands planted on Hellfire’s table and back up like a pissed off cat’s, mouth moving faster than Eddie thought possible.

He couldn’t hear what Wheeler was saying. 

Frankly did not want to know what Wheeler was saying, and could only do his damndest to intervene before Mike tanked the situation entirely. 

Gareth and Jeff flanked him, both tense as hell. Neither had backed down though, standing tall and holding ground even as Jason pulled more and more people into his little spectacle. 

Lucas and Grant on the other hand, were standing off to the side.

They weren’t cowering exactly, but both were definitely wincing as Gareth opened his mouth to add his own two cents. 

Given the scowl on the priest, it was probably something nasty, 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie thought, teeth clenched, as Jason drew out his arms, making an even bigger production for his little audience. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ 

The worst thing of all? 

Dustin managed to reach the group before anyone else did. 

Wheeler and Emerson might have low charisma, but Dustin had a particular combination of snark and a know-it-all attitude that really pissed off authority figures. 

(And Eddie would know, given he was the reigning champion of pissing off authority figures.) 

He did, however, slide in right in time to hear the priest respond. 

“I don’t care for your tone, young man. Jason here has some concerns over your club and I have to agree, what I see is quite,” The guy paused, jowls jiggling as he looked over their table, clearly eyeing Hellfire’s logo. “alarming.” 

 At least wasn’t an actual sermon.

Not yet, anyway. 

Eddie came up right inbetween Mike and Dustin, intending to make himself out to be the new target for all to aim at.  

There was an art to making yourself the sole owner of everything evil in this world, and Eddie had learned it all, trial by fire style.  

“Carver is full of--” Mike snarled, and thankfully was cut off—not by Eddie, or the hand he’d just clamped onto Mike’s shoulder—but by Harrington. 

Who sauntered right up as if he was joining everyone for dinner, and not walking into a circus act.

“Hello Father.” Harrington said, voice warm and welcoming.  “Would you like some of our cookies? We have a sample platter.” 

“Oh--Steve!” The priest blinked, actually blinked, that he was startled to see Hawkins’ golden boy appear next to him. “I’m sorry but no. I’m ah, here for other reasons.”

He paused so long it was nearly comedic before tentatively asking; “ Are you with this table?”

Like the guy couldn’t see the same Hellfire logo plastered across Steve’s ridiculous jock chest. 

Eddie opened his mouth to give a resounding no, Hellfire shirt or not--when Mike of all people put an elbow into his side. 

As if Eddie was the one who needed to be silenced.  

“I am.” Steve put an arm down on Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that looked like fond encouragement (but what Eddie was pretty sure was actually a warning in the same way the hand on Mike’s shoulder was.) “I came to help out my friends and fundraise.”

Then he beamed, face lighting up with the full Harrington charm, giga watt smile and all. 

Now the priest just looked awkward. 

“You’ve apparently been fundraising for what I have been told is a…Satanist Club?” 

It was hilariously delicate, how the priest said it. Like now that a respectable member of Hawkins was here, he had to be more careful about what words he used. 

Eddie would have interrupted then.  Retake the reins and do what he did best in terms of making everyone forget about everything but him--except Carver was rounding on Harrington, and well.

He was always a fan of the rich eating each other. 

“You cannot seriously be with these--these,” Jason’s eyes darted to between him and the priest, before physically reigning himself in. “hooligans, Harrington!” 

“I’m sorry.” Harrington said, and whatever Jason had been expecting to get hit with, it wasn’t “good ol’ boy” southern charm. 

He blinked, taking on the air of a kicked puppy who couldn’t understand why someone would be so mean as he glanced around the crowd.  “I think I'm a little lost here.” 

Jason clearly wasn’t prepared for that either. 

“What?” 

“This table is for a storytelling and math game.” Steve spoke slowly, in the same way one explained things to a toddler. “You have to roll dice and add the numbers up to do anything."

“It’s not a game, Steve.” Jason spat back. “It’s an evil trick made to tempt the susceptible minds of children to the dark arts!” 

Personally, Eddie was amazed Carver even knew the word susceptible let alone be able to properly use it in a sentence. 

(He tried to open his mouth to say so, and once again got elbowed, this time by Gareth. 

The look he gave his younger friend could have melted steel beams.)

“That’s what this is about?” Harrington slid his arm off Dustin's shoulders, leaning back to look at the priest and the people around them in a show of blatant disbelief. “You think the nerd club is related to satanism?” 

It was Eddie's own tactic--arguing that D&D was “using academic skills” and “making math fun!" not that Hellfire had ever been successful using it.

Of course, they weren’t Hawkins golden boy either. 

Jason sputtered. 

“It has monsters and--demons in it! It makes children do spells and sign over their souls!” He flung a hand out, for the first time acknowledging Eddie by pointing at his shirt. “Just look at that! It’s awful!”  

"Hey." Eddie said, hand going over his very well drawn dragon.

“I once had to stop an argument about how much weight a wooden bridge could hold.” Steve countered, hands moving to his hips. “I only got them to stop by agreeing to take the kids to a library so they could look it up.” 

He squinted, in Carver's direction, deadpanning; "I take it you think the library is evil now too?"

“The name of the club is called Hellfire!” Jason shrieked, sounding more like an angry teakettle than anything dangerous. 

“Look I get that it sounds scary,” Steve said, the tiniest hint of pity entering his voice, “but they’re trying to make math problems and English essays sound cool. It’s the same reason Father John here calls our annual haunted house Hell House, isn’t it? So people go in it to begin with?” 

Harrington turned to look expectantly at the priest, and Eddie had to admit it was an excellent way to both pander to the guy and sound like Jason was making a big deal out of nothing. 

Perhaps, he’d stay quiet after all. 

(Even if it went against Eddie’s entire being to do so.)

“Well, yes, but--” Father John had clearly picked up on the fact he was losing this particular argument, but plowed forward regardless. “Those activities are supervised by the church…” 

“This is evil Harrington, and you should know better to promote it.” Carver tacked on, like this was a two bit comedy sketch. 

“When I played it we just saved some poor town from a bad guy who set it on fire.” Steve rolled his eyes. 

Then he leaned in, converting his voice into a stage whisper that somehow projected it, giving the impression that everyone around them was listening in on a secret. 

“The doctor said it was a really good way for Dustin and Erica to process the mall fire. He’s a specialist--my mother managed to convince him to fly down to help all the kids who got hurt.” 

Eddie was 100% sure that was total bullshit, but the mere mention of Harrington's mother had seemed to have an effect on the people around them.

 Like Steve had invoked the name of an old but beloved God, not always benevolent but definitely memorable. 

“She’s always been a champion of helping when you can.” Steve spoke to the priest, like they were having a conversation between just the two of them. “Encouraging people to volunteer and helping fundraise.”

“She has been." Father John said, in the kind of instant way one does when they don’t want to offend a very large donor.  "Tell your mom I look forward to her coming back from her--ah, trip.”

 With an awkward glance to the table, he added; “...I suppose I don’t see how math comes into play?” 

“Oh it’s right from the start. Hey Jeff, come here, show Father John how you have to do a bunch of calculations and stuff to make a character.” 

“Ah--right.” Jeff sprung to life, moving around the table to Steve.

“We uh, we start with this character sheet…” 

“Eddie Munson runs the club.” Jason interrupted, before Steve could get Jeff to going.

“He’s right there! Does he look like this whole thing is just an innocent board game?” 

This was a last ditch effort, and it was clear by the chattering that had started circling amongst their audience that everyone knew it. 

Unfortunately, it was a good one.

This was the downside to making yourself a target. Once a bad guy, always a bad guy--particularly in the eyes of the PTA. 

“Munson?” Harrington dismissed with a scoff. “He’s harmless.” 

Which was news to most of their audience given the amount of attention Eddie suddenly had on him, but it was fine. 

He was used to the disapproving stares and glares, and gave his best award winning smile in response. 

Jason looked at Harrington like he’d lost his mind. 

“He has skulls on his fingers for fucks sake!” 

“Jason.” Steve admonished, in a perfect mimic of an upset southern mother. “Language.” 

Carver's jaw dropped, face purpling in rage.

Steve ignored him, turning back to the Priest. “I don’t know what's gotten into him but I’m sorry Jason’s wasted your time, Father.” 

“Munson is a drug dealer!” And ah, here came the Hail Mary move, Carver's one and only trump card.

“We all know he’s a drug dealer, and he’s using this--this game, to give drugs to kids!”

“Really?” Steve turned. “Lucas, what happens if I ever catch you smoking weed?” 

Lucas answered instantly. “You’re going to make us run laps at five in the morning.” 

“For a month.” Dustin added, with an exaggerated shudder. 

It would have been too much--except his disgusted face sold it. 

“Eddie’s just loud and wants to be a rockstar.” Harrington said, like this he was harmless.

No one on Steve's side of things had ever thought of Eddie as harmless.

 “I’ve babysat these kids for years and Eddie was a huge help in making sure no one in high school messed with them.” He continued, like they were some sort of team or friends even.

(Like Eddie hadn't been at Harrington's throat all day, pissy and defensive.)

“We have a real bullying problem right now. Funny enough,” Steve’s nailed Jason with a look, “I keep hearing that it’s coming from the basketball team.” 

“What are you implying?” Jason asked darkly. 

“Just that it’s funny how nobody got caught fighting when I was team captain.” Steve returned. 

God the man was such a bitch. Eddie kind of wanted to kiss him a little. 

Okay, more than a little.

“I get you have some kind of beef with Munson, but let’s not drag a bunch of people into it. Especially not Father John.” Harrington was playing up to the mothers around him now, dismissing Carver entirely as he did so. “He’s a busy guy.”

“Very.” Said Father nodded solemnly. “I do not appreciate being pulled into a high school squabble.” 

Jason’s mouth swam through shapes, words stuttering out of it. “This isn’t, thats not--”

“We can talk about this after church on Sunday.” Father John interrupted, the finishing blow to Carver's little show.

“You came all this way, at least have a cookie on us.” Steve said with an appeasing tone, reaching an arm back behind him.

Quick on the uptake, a cookie appeared in his hands. 

He offered it out to the priest, who took it happily.

"Okay, who wants cake!?” He called, in a clear and obvious dismissal of Jason. 

Who stood there, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. 

His eyes slid to Eddie's, fists clenched tightly at his side, hatred pouring off him so strongly one could almost taste it.

Eddie winked at him.

(Unknown to him at the time, Jason had also looked at Steve--and Steve would wink too.)

xXx

Steve Harrington, who Eddie had been an absolute ass all day too, had looked Jason Carver, a Priest and half of Hawkins in the eye and announced that he, Eddie Munson, was a good person at heart.

It made Eddie want to vomit a little when he thought about it too hard.

“I know this is horrible timing,” Robin said, sidling up as the crowd finally dispersed, “but I really, really need to talk to you.” 

Eddie turned, head full of far too many thoughts and ready to tell her such, when he caught sight of Buckley's face. 

Was reminded, by the sheer nervous, ‘horse about to bolt’ vibe, that he owed it to Robin as a fellow queer not to be a dick about her accidental outing.

Even if all he wanted was to preen in the wake of Carver’s defeat. 

‘See Mothers of Hawkins? Your own golden boy just gave me his stamp of approval!’ 

A mental image that immediately changed to Steve Harrington’s name stamped on his ass and dammit he had to get ahold of his thoughts before he fell down rabbit holes like this--!

“Back there, at the stairs,” Robin started, voice dropping low, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her eyes kept seeking out Steve, like he was some kind of safety net--which he probably was. “What um--what did you hear?” 

It took a lot of guts to come talk to him, knowing what he'd overheard--particularly given they'd just fended off the church.

He'd never exactly underestimated Robin Buckley, but then, he'd never expected this level of badassery from her either.

“Eddie?” Robin prodded again, chewing hard on her bottom lip.

“Sorry, distracted.” Eddie waved a hand behind himself. “Not everyday the King decides to defend your honor to a priest.” 

With a little bow, he offered his elbow out to her, a clear signal to take it and let him escort them away from unwanted ears.

In a show of bravery, Robin took his elbow and let him lead, even as she frowned up at him, looking like she was about to say something.

Likely it was in defense of Harrington, but Eddie had been interrupted enough for one day. 

“You and His Highness over there really should be more aware of your surroundings." He started, voice low. "Lucky for you, you’re among friends. You and Dorothy both.” 

He reached a foot out, tapping Robin’s own. 

Right on top of a doodled pair of tits. 

Robin let go of his elbow and glanced down, before flinging her head right back up, panicked.

"I--"

“If you’d like I can pretend I never heard a thing.” Eddie interrupted, dropping his voice into the gentler tone he reserved for delicate conversations.

People were always surprised by the lengths he went to make sure someone was comfortable--but then, people also forgot how often Eddie heard things he shouldn’t. 

People didn't take drugs just for fun, after all.

“Or I can offer a friend of a friend discount on my wares,” He put a finger to his lips, miming smoking with one hand while he opened his vest with the other to flash the little pink triangle pin that sat inside, announcing his own sexualities status.

“and we can, say, discuss the differences between radical and social feminism while admiring the fine forms of Susan Sarandon and Peter Hinwood?”

The smile he gets is two parts relief, one part genuine delight and Eddie grinned right back at her, flicking his vest closed.

“I did not take you for a Peter Hinwood type.” Robin said it hesitantly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Thought you’d find Tim Curry’s…acting skills, more to your taste.”

“In the case of Rocky Horror? I am Tim Curry.” He announced, loud and proud (well for this kind of conversation at least.) 

He was rewarded by the tension finally melting out of Robin’s shoulders. 

(This, Eddie reflected, is what he should have been doing this entire time, instead of getting tied up in knots over Harrington and turning into some kind of non-conformist tyrant.) 

“Do you actually know the differences between social and radical feminism?” Robin challenged, braver now, and Eddie knew then and there he’d been successful in assuring her her secret was safe.

That she was safe, with him.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Eddie said, giving a playful nudge to her shoulder. 

Baths in the laugh he gets for it, and for the first time today feels like he’s finally on firmer ground.

They chatted for a moment longer, making a loop on the very outskirts of the gym, voices hushed when it came to things that small town ears shouldn’t overhear--but of course, Robin couldn’t just leave things at that.

“Hey Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you do me one more favor?”

“Anything for you, my favorite feminist.” 

For the first time since this conversation started, Robin managed to sound firm. 

“Stop referring to Steve as a King.” 

She rushed ahead, anticipating being cut off, and thus Eddie is hit with a wave of words, none of which he’d ever thought he’d hear in relation to thee Steven Harrington. 

“He’s working really hard to get away from it, the whole King thing and how he used to be. I don’t know what all he did to like--you guys,” She flapped her hand in the general direction of Hellfire, “and I know he wasn’t an innocent bystander, but I kinda realized over the summer that I blamed him for a lot of things that were in my own head, and that he wasn’t--he was never as bad as I thought he was and he's still trying to make it up to me anyway.”

Robin trailed off, seeming to try and piece out what she wanted to say next without giving away the whole farm. “It’s not some act, Eddie. Steve’s really trying to change.” 

Which yeah.

Eddie could see that, now. 

Maybe not before but…

“Okay.” He said, after a long, long moment. “No more King Steve. Got it.”

The smile he got for that also felt like a victory, even if it was wrenched out of him.

xXx

Two hours and a dispersed crowd later, Eddie found himself once again stuck in his own head. 

The facts were thus:

Steve Harrington was a good dude. 

He used his good dude-ness to save Hellfire from a literal priest, right smack in front of God and Principal Hairy Ass both

All of Hellfire actually liked him 

According to Robin Buckley, Steve was entirely fine with “all us triangles” quote/unquote 

And;

Eddie was jealous.

He was self aware enough to admit it, alongside the fact that Jason Carver aside, maybe Eddie had been the villain today instead of Steve. 

Which meant he not only owed Harrington an apology, but he owed it to both of them to work out his own stupid shit before it blew up in his face and cost him all his friends.

(He’d have called this move “pulling a Harrington” before today but now that feels mean, which Eddie supposes signals he’s grown as a person or some shit.) 

So now he sits on Steve’s beemer, knowing the move will likely antagonize the ex-jock but equally knowing he’s planning on jumping off the car the second the guy comes near, and that the move itself will get Harrington to listen to him the second he’s done supervising whatever Hellfire’s youngest is doing.

(Eating leftover cookies like the older members are as they finish packing up, Eddie assumes.) 

Ducking out like he did had allowed him some much needed time to think things though. Figure out what he was going to say--without an audience present.

He’d apologize publicly if he had to. But being vulnerable is hard, and given the way his friends had been acting, Steve isn’t the only person he owes an apology to. 

For now, he’ll begin here, without an audience. 

Eddie doesn’t get to plan for long--only gets to rehearse a few lines of his little spiel when a pointed cough jerks him back to reality. 

There stands Steve Harrington, a fat wad of cash in one hand and a box in the other.

Like a man sent to the gallows, Eddie leapt off the beemer, squaring his shoulders. 

He could do this.

 Apologize-- and mean it. 

Not that Steve gave him the chance to. 

“The guys told me to give this to you.” He said, holding out the cash. Then he took a breath, like he was preparing to go to war, and added; 

“I know you weren’t happy with me being here, and you probably don’t want this, but Dustin said you really liked cinnamon brownies so I made you some.” 

The box was now held out alongside the cash, proof that Steve had tried to start this whole thing off on the right foot. 

Eddie stared at it, then at Steve. 

Felt the guilt chew on his gut just that much harder.

“I have been shitty to you all day. Why are you giving me this?” 

Steve shrugged. 

“To be fair I didn’t exactly make it easy on you either. You said jump and I said ‘watch this’.” Steve laughed, a small, almost self depicting sound. “Dustin’s been on my ass all day about it.” 

Of course he had. 

“Mine too.” Eddie admitted. “It's his tone, I swear."

“Yes!” 

Carefully, Eddie reached out, accepted the box and the cash. 

“Thanks by the way. For the stuff you said about me earlier.” 

Steve grimaced, cheeks tinting a (lickable) red. “Yeah sorry, I--”

“No not--not that stuff.’ Eddie said, mentally hauling his thoughts back in line, fiddling with the cash. “The stuff about being a good person. No one’s uh. Said that. About me.”

Not except for Wayne, but Harrington wouldn’t know nor care about Eddie’s uncle. 

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

He’d argue that, except something was off. 

It took Eddie a moment to place it--that the wad Steve handed over was way too big for the little bake sale they’d just attended. 

He tucked the box under his arm, quickly counting the stack with a smoothness only drug dealers and bank tellers could manage.

“It’s all there, I promise.” Steve told him simply, but without judgment. He sounded like he expected this and that didn’t sit right with Eddie either. 

Not that he could do anything about it because he’d just counted up didn’t make any sense. 

Not trusting himself, Eddie stacked it back together, before counting it all again. He was faster this time, trying to figure out among all the ones, fives and tens how the hell they had managed to sell that many cookies. 

Particularly considering the most expensive thing was one of the cakes and he’d watched Steve sell it for fifteen dollars. 

So why were there three twenties sitting in the stack? 

“Either you up charged the absolute shit out of someone’s mom, in which case I congratulate you, you sneaky devil,” Eddie said slowly, “Or you put extra cash in here.” 

Steve blushed properly this time. 

Eddie zeroed in on his face, watching as Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to pull his charming mask into place.

He didn't quite manage it.

Hadn’t even been wearing it before now, Eddie realized suddenly.

This entire conversation Steve had a realness to him that Eddie had never really seen. 

Had maybe not wanted to see, from someone like Harrington. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve protested, like a kid who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “That’s what we charged.” 

“You are a terrible liar.” Eddie accused, hand trembling. “We can’t take this, man. This is a almost two hundred dollars.” 

Way more than what they’d need for Gen Con. It was enough to get them two fuckin’ hotel rooms! 

“If It helps any, I didn’t do it for you.” Steve’s blush slid into something more genuine, as he nodded his head to where Hellfire was spilling out of the gym doors, laughing and shoving one another. 

“They deserve to have a good trip.” He added, eyes fond as he watched Dustin and Mike squabble over how to fold Hellfire's banner.

It made his whole face soften, the harsh features of his jaw turning into something that was so adorable Eddie wanted to bite through it. 

“Do you want to come?” Someone said, and it took both Steve’s startled look and a second long pause for Eddie to realize that someone was him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid-! 

“To the convention?” Steve asked, looking doubtful. 

Pity that Eddie was already nodding, like his brain and his body were at a total disconnect.

Maybe aliens had finally taken him over. Or a demon. 

(Demonic possession could frankly explain a lot about today, Carver’s weird little power play aside.)

“Dude you don’t even like me.” Steve said. “Why would you want me to come along?” 

“I dunno Harrington. All of Hellfire seemed to like you, and not just my freshman.” Eddie countered easily, gliding right over the fact that he himself did like Steve.

Way more than he should, and that right there was half of Eddie’s problem. 

“They have pretty good taste in things.” He waived a hand, as if this wasn’t a complete 180 from how he’d acted all day. “I could understand if you didn’t want to slum it with us nerds though.”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve been slumming it all day with you nerds, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Yeah? What’s your verdict on us?” 

“Not as bad as you could be.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and laughed. “High praise from the King!”

He felt bad immediately after, and made himself promise to be more mindful about Robin’s ask--but  thankfully Harrington didn’t take it hard. 

(Habits, Eddie knew, were hard to change.

Took a lot of careful attention to change. 

He had a long road ahead of him, and he hoped this little olive branch put him a few miles down it.) 

Steve awarded him a small smile. “I haven’t been the King for a long while, man. But if you guys have an opening, I think I wouldn’t mind being a knight or whatever.” 

“Ste-eeeve Harrington, defender of the realm.” Eddie nodded once, decisively. “I can see it.”

He tucked away the cash, and thus missed how Steve looked weirdly contemplative at that. 

Raised his head and stuck out a hand. 

Tentatively, Steve took it. 

“Welcome to the club, Harrington. We meet on Fridays. Bring snacks.” 

“Cookies okay?”

“Going by Gareth’s judgment, they’re more than okay.”

Eddie smiled and Steve smiled back, and God how he hated how fucking cute Harrington’s face was. 

Particularly since he now got to think of the guy as “Steve” without feeling weird about it. 

As in his possible, potential, friend Steve.

What a fucking trip that was. 

“Oh, and Steve?” He called, the thought hitting him as Steve turned to welcome the group making their way to the beemer.

Steve had let his hand fall, turning to open the front door of the Beemer with a cocked eyebrow.

Eddie flicked a finger out, lightly tapping the Hellfire logo. “Tell Lucas I’ll get him another shirt. That one’s all yours, big boy.” 

If there was a pink hue to Harrington’s cheeks, he was blaming sunburn. 

(Two months, six days, and one meddlesome asshole named Henderson later, and Eddie would find out that Steve had in fact, been blushing.

He’d be furious at Dustin’s involvement, if it hadn’t directly led to Eddie finding out Steve’s blush did in fact go down his chest.

And his happy trail.

And his--

Well.

Men do not kiss and tell. 

Not to fucking freshmen, anyway.) 

THERE IS A GEN CON, "THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED BECAUSE DUSTIN IS A MEDDLESOME SHIT" BONUS BUT it's on A03 cause it was long enough to be its own post and I wasn't gonna add it to this one. You can read it here LINK

[dinogoofymutated]

Okay so like,,,,I usually never make requests (I’m a lurker fr fr) but your writing Is god tier, so I gotta ask:

Could you do a fic for Hank/Beast? He’s my personal fave but I never see any content for him ever, like the fic scene for this man is a ghost town. he’s underrated as hell. My man is ripped, highly intelligent and respectful of the arts! Yet he doesn’t get any attention.

I would love to see some general headcanons (SFW & NSFW) if you’re up to it. no problem if you don’t write for him or something, I just thought i would ask.

Thanks!

SFW!Beast/GN!Reader

To be honest, I actually wasn't really sure about writing for Hank at first because I've never really had a connection to the character, but he grew on me!! Plus, I'm here to serve lolol we've been starved of fics as a Fandom for basically forever and it would be a disservice not to fill the Hank void out there! Hope it's okay that I only wrote Sfw headcannons, I have a separate req for NSFW for him so I decided to split it into two to save my sanity lol. Finals are gonna be hell for me.

-ps- Should I be writing right now? no. Am I doing it anyway? Yurp. Also, I'm basing his history off of the fandom wiki, so I'm sorry if anything is off.

Tws: none that I can think of atm. As always, reader written while picturing fem but no pronouns mentioned.

Hank, despite what some would think, was most definitely a heartthrob, particularly in his college days!! I mean, a man who's confident, smart, respectful, and also an athlete? Who wouldn't swoon? He was 110% the guy that everyone wanted to take home to their parents.

And He's such a sweet, attentive lover too!! Acts of service almost definitely is a love language for him. He cooks for you, fixes the broken things that you didn't even realize were broken, even organizes your notes before a difficult exam.

He loves to surprise you with flowers, even if it isn't any special occasion, and if you ask, he'll help you preserve them as well!

He loves to kiss your forehead, temples, and hands. On top of that, he's very touchy. The two of you were most definitely seen as the parents of any friend group.

Things changed a little after he took the serum that mutated him further. His confidence had taken a blow, and he just didn't quite know how to approach you anymore.

It took a hot minute to reassure him that you didn't really care if he was blue, or furry, or beastly, he was still Hank Mccoy, wasn't he? He was the man you were in love with, and you certainly weren't going to stop now. Besides, you still thought he was handsome. With the kinds of books he's seen you read, you're a bit surprised that he didn't think you would find him attractive.

Things gradually got back to normal, but for a while, he didn't kiss you as often as he used to. Well, he didn't kiss you period. Even though he knew the incredible extent to which you loved him, the shape of his mouth had changed. Hell, he had fangs that he would rather die than mark you with.

You practically had to tie him down into a contract to get him to kiss you again. He was always one to experiment, why not treat this the same? If you kiss, and it goes well, you do it again. If it goes well a second time and a third, you have a pretty reliable test. Validity shouldn't matter when he knew that you loved him to bits already.

He felt like he was falling in love with you all over again, and yet he still hesitated. It wasn't until you had grabbed him by the collar to drag him into a kiss that he actually relaxed, and what do you know, it was a pretty reliable test after all. A predictive one too, with how often you continued to kiss him afterwards.

Domestic was the best way to describe your relationship with Hank.

    You yawned as you made your way down to the lab, still in your pajamas and slippers. Just a few hours previously, after a shower and self-care routine, you had settled into bed with an eyebrow-raising book as you waited for your husband to come to bed. This was a normal routine for the two of you, you immersing yourself into a book to stay awake until Hank entered, kissed your temple sweetly, and began his own nightly routine. It was a set of events you were used to. 

    Today, however, you felt like you had done a lot more reading than usual. When you finally pulled yourself out of your book and checked the time, the clock by your bed read 11 pm. A rather late time for Hank to be out, but you already knew where he would be. The lower levels of the mansion were extra cold at night, and you find yourself rubbing some warmth into your arms as you approach the lab. 

    The doors open with a swish, the light of the lab having all been darkened exempt for the lamp on Hank’s desk. He’s so immersed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize when you come in. You walk up behind his chair, running your hands through his hair softly when you reach him.

    Hank isn’t surprised, sighing at the pleasant sensation as he tips his head back to encourage you. You giggle a little, leaning down to press a kiss to his head as you begin to massage his scalp.

    “It’s late.” You say gently. Hank hums in response, eyes closed as he appreciates your touch. 

    “I’m sorry, my love. Seems I was a little entranced.” He says. You huff at him playfully.

    “You say entranced, I say you’re overworking yourself. You’ve been working on this project all week. Don’t let it cut into your rest time.” Your scolding always sounded too nice, but he knows you mean it. Hank sighs again, this time sounding a little more tired, but he doesn't argue. He rolls around to face you, pulling you into a tired hug from his chair. 

     “Perhaps it is time I go to bed. What time is it, my dear?” 

    “Eleven.” Hank lets out a quiet chuckle at your quick reply, finally standing up. He doesn’t let go of you however, choosing to rest his head on your shoulder as he sways the two of you back and forth.

    “You’re most certainly right, it is late. Much too late for a man to leave his lovely spouse waiting. Oh, whatever shall I do to make it up to you?.” His words come out as a purr, and you let out a curt laugh at him. You pull away a little, taking his large hands in your own as you lead him to the door. He smiles widely when you stop for a moment, remembering his glasses and placing them on his face before starting to drag him to bed. 

    “I’ll let you decide that, Love. As long as you make it to bed, that’s apology enough for me.”

[lwyikas]

Art and Passion ft Kuroo Tetsurou

" There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people"

“Can you not look while i write?You’re distracting me”

“Rejected” he grinned while watching you take notes in your notebook. You don’t even remember if you offered him to come museum with you, but here. At least some of his perspective on works of art helps.He bends down to look at what you wrote and grimaces.

“I have endless respect for you being an art enthusiast but if people who keep history wrote like you, a third of history would not reach future generations.”He didn’t even try to suppress his giggle while commenting on your article with a serious and wise, rather convulsive manner.He adores nerve in your eyes and frowning, oh you probably want to put the notebook on his head.

“It has been proven that smart people write awful”okay maybe he’s right,But you won’t entertain him more by accepting this.

��By whom?”

“Your mo-“your little aggressive sentence was not complete with he pulling you under his arms and imprisoning you in his chest.

“I’d rather you express your love for me in a more docile way, and for God’s sake, why didn’t you complete this earlier?will we stay here until midnight?

“I didn’t bring you here by force, you can go if you’re bored”You whined while saving yourself from his arms and fixing your hair.

“No it’s late,maybe thieves will come to steal Mona Lisa after I leave? I have to be here to save my sweetie”

“You are quite a gentleman, but original Mona Lisa is in Paris”but the important one is thought, admirable.You’re gazing at him,He shakes his foot Non-stop, sighs every five minutes. You’re bored too, we need to add some color.

“We will have diputation with you about Van Gough, i need your attractive ideas follow me” your raise tone get his attention.He offers you an arm. “Care to join me ma'am?”

Your eyes are gleaming as you giving him cheering smile. “It would be my pleasure.”As you two were walking, crowd around museum was dwindling, it was impossible not to notice young girls glances at him around. You tightened grip on his arm and you couldn’t help but stealing glances from him.He’s so tall and handsome ass hell. Even if his black hair has a weird style ,it didn’t make this man less attractive, even a little bit. We won’t even talk about his hazel eyes. Be sure that it won’t be difficult to find adore in those eyes that always on you and soften with you every moment.He notices your gaze and a slight pinkness appears on his cheeks. But of course he will never give you this opportunity.

“I think this is the painting you’re talking about” He's so bad, but he does it so well. When you’re looking for something in your bag, he takes out his phone and checks the clock. 9:45. After training, he was still tired and really he wants just his bed and rest. And he was bored like shit. But he enjoys spend time with you, he wouldn’t wait 2 hours to examine ancient vases or old paintings for anyone else except you in world when he is that tired. He gets rid of his thoughts with small “yay”sound coming from you.You probably found what you were looking for.

“Couldn’t you look at these paintings on google?”

“Nooo,look there are more detailed articles about its history below, and if I did it at home, i would probably be bored, it’s fun to romance things” He smiled sincerity and scratch his arms over his head.”As you wish goody goody”

“Alright,this is ‘cafe terrace at night’, Vincent van Gogh’s painting with oil on canvas in 1888. Van Gogh used theme of the starry sky for the first time in this. Although the work, in which the night view of cafe is reflected, is generally dominated by dark colors, no shade of black color was used in the drawing.Instead, with preferred warm colors and depth of perspective, this painting is unusual for Van Gogh’s works.”You explained with excitement.

“Yes, when i look, i can definitely feel emotions.” It’s nice painting, but mixed colors, metaphors and so on, he can’t say he gets messages right.

“Really?”

“No”

“What do you see when you look at it?”

He turns back to painting and examines it.“Tables, peoples, buildings, and stars.I guess i liked starts more.The colors catch my eye, but I can’t say much in terms of emotion, it’s a peaceful picture.”he stated.

“Such wise words,you must be a work interpreter”

“I’m trying my best!”

“But you got a point, intense and contrasting shades of bright yellows and dark blue not only convey a sense of harmony, but also reflect the emotional state of the artist. The azure sky, illuminated by stars, acts as a contrast to the warm yellows of the cafe. The side-by-side collar of colors creates a dynamic tension between light and dark, reflecting the emotional complexity that often characterizes.”

“You’re very attractive when you speak wisely”

“Tetsu”

“Fine fine, there are no colors that are completely in harmony with each other, even if it took my eye at first, after what you said, it seems more compatible to me in this way. If contrasting colors were used elsewhere, it would probably be “help”, but this painting is in harmony, it is not boring and overwhelming.”He crossed his arms and nodded jokingly while explaining.

“So you’re saying when things are concordant and monotonous with each other overwhelm you?”

“Maybe,calmness and peace are good, but above all, the passion of contrasts gets me in one move.”You stopped for a second and keep going take notes of what he said.

“I would rather die of passion than boredom”

This is no longer about the painting. You can get from his gazes and tone . You both stand in silence but he can hear a lot in silence.You two look at art but there are completely different thoughts in both minds. His rough hand rubs slowly to yours.But you both won’t make a move for more.He tries not to show it, but his ears are pink.

“We can go now”

“Ha?”

“I did complete writing”You put your notebook to bag and he helped you wear your jacket.You always say that you could wear yourself , but he always tell shut up.It’s a small thing he enjoys in his own way, so you don’t find it necessary to oppose too much.

When you two out cold air hits your face. It’s already dark. God, how many hours have you been there? But the hours didn’t seem too long to you. You don’t think you’ll get a low grade from your work, but it doesn’t matter if you take it, you don’t change these memories with him for anything.

“Its awful that you finished too early, we hadn’t yet come to the part where I read love poems to you”You wouldn’t exchange his antics for anything.

“You have to rest then you can pour your love for me into serenades”

“Definitely i will”he grins and pulls you closer.Kisses your temple.You’re glad he didn’t see blushing on your cheeks or you thought he didn’t.You two walking towards bus stop.

Hand in hand.

[kotias]

Ineffable Rockstars

Time to properly become creatively feral about the Ineffable Rockstars project with @vavoom-sorted-art, @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist , @daneecastle, @moonyinpisces and Stitcherydoo!

Summary of the story: human!AU, Crowley and Aziraphale are rockstars in their respective groups, Celestial Harmonies and Hell's Rebuke. Word is out that those two groups have bad history together, and therefore the two of them, while shamelessly talking to each other any festival they get to meet at, do have to be careful about being seen together by their own bands.

Summary of this excerpt: Aziraphale explains the story of the two bands to Crowley, who has arrived after everything went down and was kept in the dark by his mates.

Lyrics: written for the purpose of this fic.

Word count of the excerpt: 872 words

Excerpt:

Crowley sat down next to Aziraphale, whose eyes laid probably a second too long on those long fingers, on this chest showing so proudly from behind his open shirt- He coughed and drank a large gulp from the flute, clutching at the glass like a lifeline.

“It’s- it’s alright. Are you feeling comfortable? How was the concert?”

“Hah, acting like I didn’t see you in the audience, are ya?” Crowley asked with a smirk, and Aziraphale looked away, feeling the heat building up on his face.

“Well, we do need to keep it silent, don’t we?” he answered nonetheless with a coy smile, sipping on his drink.

“Why, though? It’s completely beyond me; Bee recruited me right after the split between Celestial Harmonies and Hell’s Rebuke, but there’s always been… you know, a feeling that it didn’t happen for no reason.”

“They haven’t explained it to you?” Crowley shook his head, and Aziraphale sighed. “No wonder you’re lost. Well, to put it simply… Hell’s Rebuke’s members were part of Celestial Harmonies, a few years ago.”

“Yes, I know that-”

“Let me talk, please; I would like to make sure we work with the same information.”

As he began explaining the official history of the two bands, he was cut by a thunder of clapping as the concert was coming to an end, and he and his counterpart felt compelled to stand up and join the applause.

When you reached Summer,

You lost sight of the star lights,

Questions died in your throat,

Cursing a future that is naught

And the night falling upon you

Left you laying awake with open eyes.

After two encore songs and enough clapping to make their hands and wrists sore, Crowley and Aziraphale walked towards another scene and stayed in relative distance, ensuring that they would hear each other. “So, you were saying, Hell’s Rebuke and Celestial Harmonies.”

“Ah! Yes; so, this is fairly public knowledge.” Crowley nodded impatiently. “At least, it is not something that we are actively hiding, neither of the two groups; somebody who knows how to Google us would be able to find this information.” Aziraphale frowned, crossing his arms. “Honestly, that is why it concerns me a little that you have not been informed of this; it is a fairly common question that people are trying out on us, asking about the other group to see how we react. Anyways-”

The vendors just a few metres from them had started cooking a few crepes, and Crowley did not miss the eyes darting towards them. “Want some? C’me on, it’s my treat,” he insisted as Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised -and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to refuse such an offer.

“Well, if you insist,” he answered, the corners of his lips curling up and his eyelashes fluttering; Crowley’s heart missed a beat, his fingers pressed against his flute, and he barely managed to keep a groan from reaching out of his mouth.

“You do have to tell me more, though; ‘specially if you think my ignorance could bite me in the ass.”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale’s voice dropped as they reached the line, keeping it to the level of a private conversation. “Bee and Gabriel were… an item.”

“Oh, excellent start. If that’s only the beginning, I might have to stock up on popcorn with that crepe of yours.”

“Heh, well, it might be one of the more interesting aspects of this entire story, so do not keep your expectations too high.”

“No, no, don't kill my hopes, now. Go on, tell me everything, I’m sure it will be full of riveting details, Bee’s never been good at keeping things tidy anyways.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Oh, you should see Gabriel when he gets involved… Ah- one crepe with sugar, thank you,” he said with a bright smile to the vendor. “Alright, so- long story short, the band was originally founded by the two of them; excellent musicians those two are, and the band did have quite the promising future before it. We started having a fairly good reputation.”

“Black coffee and a serving of fries. The name’s been around for a while now, that’s right- I remember seeing it ten years ago on some festival announcements in my city. Cash, thanks.”

“We have, yes. We were very local for a long while, but…”

“What changed?”

“Gabriel and the others were wishing to go professional; Bee and who are now Hell’s Rebuke were not willing to do that.”

“Ah, I see. Well, they didn't change much in that aspect,” Crowley mumbled sourly, extending his arms to grab the crepe and coffee. He gave the dessert over, then took his serving of fries, and they left the vendor’s stand. “Wait, where did you stand? You stayed with Celestial Harmonies, after all.”

“Hm, well…”

That did not sound like somebody who was fully happy to have stayed, Crowley thought, and he crept closer to Aziraphale, nudging him with his elbow. “Come on, spill the beans! Honestly, I’m looking to go in that direction, if there’s anything I should be aware of…”

“Being professional was, and still is, something that I hold dear,” Aziraphale explained, his slow speech feeling heavy, like he was choosing every word carefully.

[futurecorps3]

Sirius black with a busty reader

𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Masterlist<3

MINORS STAY AWAY I'LL BLOCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU, THIS IS +18!!! See also… All marauders versions in my marauders masterlist<3

I want you all to picture me giggling and kicking my feet while writing this 'cause this is my main hoe 🤭💗

-BUYS. YOU. NECKLACES.

-I'll die on this hill dear god

-Pretty silver chains, golden necklaces with expensive charms, you name it! HE SPOILS YOU SM BECAUSE THOSE ARE EXPENSIVE ASF TOO?????

-Yk that good house of Black money n shit hehe

-Loves seeing how it sometimes gets in the middle of your tits and pulls it out himself, definitely touching you more than necessary

-"Wait, I'm almost there doll" "Do you need to bury your face in my boobs to get that crow charm out?” you deadpan with a smile, looking down at the pretty boy, feeling his nose dig in like he’s on a treasure hunt

-“Helps my visibility” yeah visibility my ass he loves your pretty tits

-He’s the “Wear what you want, I can fight” type of guy <3 (all of them are!!!)

-Will and has gotten into fights if someone’s staring and making you uncomfortable. No one disrespects his girl like that:)

-L E A T H E R T O P S

-You both wear leather tops that show your belly and chests, matching ones ofc!!!

-Remus loves sweaters, James loves crop tops

-Sirius lives for seeing you in lacy bras AND his leather jacket:(

-Boy gets heart eyes, jaw to the floor, drooling, screaming (ofc the boys mock him for it<3)

-“You’ll catch flies with that mouth, Pads” Remus smirks, watching Sirius watch you having a conversation with some Ravenclaw girl as you pour more fire whiskey on your glass “Shut it Moons” he replies, dreamy voice too entranced to even comprehend the chaos the party around him was causing

-Speaking of parties, he loves doing vodka shots from your boobs.

-Ogles them sm and compliments them all the fucking time!!!!!

-He’s shameless about it as well

-"Your tits look amazing" with a lovesick expression on his face like he genuinely loves them so so so much

-He knows his friends stare and he doesn’t mind as long as you don’t either. Boosts his ego quite a lot tbh!!

-If you feel uncomfortable, he’ll definitely do something about it! The boys would never make you uneasy, of course. They look away to be respectful, but those small glances have Sirius all cocky

-Having said THAT…

-Marks u up <3

-I’m talking love bites, scratches, hickeys

-Makes sure to make them on a regular basis so they don’t fade out with time

-Yes the boys have walked in on him marking you many times

-“Fucking hell Padfoot just lock the bloody door” James groans while covering his eyes since he knew damn well his best friend wasn’t stopping. “Hey Prongs” you giggle “Hi darling” he says, still not looking at you guys

-“Could you tell your pig boyfriend to lock the door next time?” “ITS AN ART YOU WOULDNT GET IT!!!” he yells, but the sound comes out muffled and barely understandable. “We’ll try” you muse, giggling slightly as the other boy left the room

-Won’t do any of these if he knows it bothers you!! Respectful legend <3

-So, summing it up

-He absolutely adores your boobs, is very much shameless about it and will not tolerate bullshit from anyone <3

[rafeandonlyrafe]

taken

words: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, crime boss!rafe, (former) stripper!reader, drug dealing, prostitution/sex club, multiple murders, guns, shooting, kidnapping, unprotected p in v sex, tit slapping, male receiving handjob, kind of rough sex? its not that intense idk

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

rafe stands on the upper balcony, his hands on the railing as he leans to look at the crowd moving below his feet, a mix of grinding and bumping bodies in various states of undress. his eyes search for you. he always searched for you in the crowd, making sure there is a smile on your face, and that there are no grabby hands touching parts of you that are well and solely his.

it wasn’t a crazy leap from what rafe did in his teenage years. moving from selling drugs to running a club. not just any club, of course. rafe called it a loose clothing policy club, but really it was constant sex parties behind the doors, doors that people pay a lot of money to get on the other side of. 

he, of course, kept up the lucrative drug business, but passed off the actual sale and deal to some underlings. it may not make him a completely legitimate businessman like his father, but it got him a hell of a lot closer to it, and the money got him a lot more respect as well. among the drug dealers and bartenders in his employ, he also has dancers. dancers who just happen to feel the urge to get on top of the bar and take their clothes off while the crowd cheers.

dancers don’t have to engage in any acts of sexual nature with the guests if they don't want to, but most choose to for the generous tips they give, on top of the wage rafe gives them. except for you. he hired you fresh out of college, with a bachelor's degree in arts that you had nothing you could do with, not while staying in north carolina at least. you were confident and beautiful, but you never went too far with any of the men or women who came into the bar, not until rafe approached you one night.

you’ve been his since. his girl, who he allows out on nights that he’s there to watch over you, not truly trusting even his security to keep you safe, just himself. he knows you like to drink and dance, and he’d never stop you from doing whatever you like to do, even if it means he’s internally seething with jealousy, glaring at every man who looks at you.

“sir.” the voice brings rafe out of his own head, looking over.

“what is it?” he questions, voice gruffer than he means for it to come out.

“one of the dealers wants to talk with you.” he replies. rafe would get upset, he hates being interrupted, but this is one of his best men. “he’s already in your office.”

“fine.” rafe sighs, eyes glancing back over the floor. “watch y/n.” he simply says before walking away, knowing he doesn’t need to get into the specifics of never looking away or letting anyone touch you.

“what do you want, martin?” rafe asks, slamming the door shut behind him, moving his hands to his hips, pushing his suit jacket out of the way, letting the gun that he keeps holstered on his hip be in plain sight, a warning and a reminder.

“i want to talk to you about the cut you’re taking.” martin responds, his eyes wild and crazy, and rafe has no doubt that he’s dipping into the drugs hes supposed to be selling. rafe knows the feeling well, but he got out of all of that once his mind started to lose focus too often, and the drugs got too irresistible.

“the cut i’m taking?” rafe questions. “of the drugs that i supply you?” “there wouldn’t be any money if it weren’t for me selling.” martin responds, his hands twitching on his knees, fingers grimy.

“you think i couldn’t have another seller lined up immediately? i can’t believe you’d bug me with this shit.” rafe groans. he wants to get his eyes back on you, immediately.

“wait!” martin says as rafe turns to the door. rafe has to take a deep breath to not deck him immediately, his hands clenching in a fist. “since you don’t want to give me a cut, i want $100k. for reimbursement.” rafe lets out a barking laugh, shaking his head. “and why would i do that?” “because if you don’t, i’m not gonna let your girl go.” martin says, a sick grin coming to his face. “my associate should be taking her out of the building right now, so it’s 100k or she-”

rafe doesn’t let martin finish his sentence. he doesn’t want to hear what is about to fall out of his gross mouth, he simply raises his gun and shoots him square between the eyes. martin falls to the ground, dead before he even realized that the gun was unholstered.

a group of rafes men rush into the office upon hearing the gunshot, but rafe doesn’t care about the body on the floor. “find y/n! immediately!” he shouts, pushing past all of them to rush down the stairs to the main level.

the club explodes into action, every crevice being searched for you. rafe rushes outside along with his men, eyes searching for anything suspicious, when he sees a black van speeding away. rafe doesn’t question his movements or the implications, raising his gun and shooting at the tire, causing the van to spin to a stop.

rafe runs over as quickly as his legs will carry him, throwing open the back doors of the van, his heart breaking when he sees you looking so small, hands tied together and gag shoved into your mouth, your eyes wide and clothing askew.

“shh, i’m here baby.” rafe says, grabbing you out of the van, undoing your hands carefully and taking the gag out of your mouth.

“rafe!” you sob, hiding your face in his shoulder as he picks you up, holding you against him, rubbing over your back even as his hands shake at the fact that he almost just lost you.

“it’s okay, i’m here.” rafe says, but you just continue to cry into his shirt.

“sir.” one of rafes men says. the one that he tasked to watch you, the one that let you out of his sight, let you get taken. “what do you want us to do with the driver?”

theres another dealer rafe recognizes, kneeling on the street, eyes flicking between rafe and the gun pointed at him. rafe doesn’t care if he could give more information, he hurt his girl, and that means only one fate is meant for him. rafe raises his gun and shoots the dealer himself, before turning it to his own man.

“no! sir, plea-” rafe doesn’t let him finish his sentence. you shudder and keep your face pressed against rafes shirt, knowing that you don’t want to see whatever just happened. 

“let this be a lesson on what happens if you ever cross me.” rafe says, addressing his men. “now clean this shit and my office up. i’m taking y/n home. i will get back in touch in the morning.”

rafe doesn’t bother going back inside. he walks straight to his car, setting you down in the passenger seat, sighing sadly when you curl up, rubbing at your wrists.

“i’m so sorry, baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your hair before rounding the car, quickly turning it on and heading towards home.

he takes a deep breath once he’s passed the well secured gate, knowing that you’re more than safe in the walls of his mansion.

“do you want to talk about it?” rafe asks once he gets you inside, and onto the couch, a cup of water in our hand.

“it was just so scary.” you pout, eyes turning downward. “they grabbed me out of the crowd, and shoved that nasty rag in my mouth so i couldn’t scream.”

“i will kill everyone involved.” rafe says, and you know he’s serious. you press your hands to his cheeks, bringing him into a kiss. 

“it’s okay.” you whisper. your words won’t stop him, but you want to take some of the guilt away. “i knew you would save me.” “i should have protected you in the first pla-” 

“shh.” you interrupt rafe, pressing your lips together again. “can we get in the bath? together? please.” rafe nods, he’d do anything for you, he already had the bathroom ripped out and redone to fit a larger bathtub after he learned how much you love soaking in the warm water.

“let me carry you.” rafe stops you when you try to stand, scooping you into his arms. you look so little again, swallowed up against his big chest. it makes him think of you in that trunk, and he moves faster up the stairs, needing to be curled up against you in the tub, making you feel better.

“choose a bathbomb, honey.” rafe sets you down on the cool tile. “i restocked.” 

you hum a nod and look through the cabinet until you find a sparkly white bathbomb. you know rafe would usually complain about you usually using a glittery bathbomb when he was joining you, but today is the one day you can get away with it.

“this one.” you hand it to rafe, who drops it into the tub that he started filling with hot water.

“can i undress you?” rafe questions. you nod, knowing how much he likes to be the one to take your clothes off. he moves so slowly disrobing you, carefully putting your dress in the hamper, that when you’re nude, the bath is filled enough for you to get in.

you sigh happily as the warm water covers your body, watching rafe undress while the drama of the day washes away. it’s become a part of your reality, threats against you or rafe, but this is the most dangerous situation you’ve directly been in yet, and you know rafe needs to relax as much as you do.

rafe slides into the tub behind you, letting you rest against his chest. “you know i can only stand to be with you naked for so long before i’m going to need to take you out of this bath and fuck you.” “i know.” you say, swirling your hands through the sparkly water. “just at least 15 minutes just relaxing before.” “i can do that for you.” rafe says, and you both fall quiet, mind reeling from the day and just needing some rest. your eyes flutter closed, hands softly stroking over rafes thighs on either side of your hips. rafe leans his head against the back of the tub, allowing himself to take a breath.

the water starts to grow cold, and rafe is sure he must have reached the 15 minute mark by now, but you are leaning against him so peacefully he doesn’t want to move you, eyes checking over your wrists, noticing that they’re slightly red, even though you were only tied up for a few short minutes.

you begin to squirm, clearly noticing the cool water. 

“baby-” rafe gasps when your bum rubs against his crotch, and you feel him hardening.

you turn around in the tub to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “fuck me, rafe.” rafe stands quickly, grabbing the towel and drying himself off before helping you out of the tub, taking careful consideration to dry you as well, rubbing the soft towel over every inch of your body.

“we are all glittery.” you smile, admiring your shiny skin.

“you’re lucky i love you.” rafe says, making you blush. you know he didn’t take you in just to have sex with you, even if that was the main reason you became his girl at first, but because he had genuinely been interested in you.

“and i’m also lucky you’re going to fuck me.” you giggle, heading into the bedroom and letting yourself flop onto the bed, not caring that the dripping ends of your hair will wet the sheets, not with what you’re about to do on them.

 rafe walks slowly out of the bathroom, a feral look in his eyes, a shift happening inside of him, one from taking care of you, making you feel better, to one of needing you, needing to possess you and take you.

you watch as he approaches, climbing onto the bed and slotting his knees on either side of your hips, trapping you underneath him. rafes cock is now fully hardened, standing at attention as his heavy balls weigh down against your skin, clearly needing to be released, and you prefer that release to happen pumped inside of you.

his hands shoot forward to grip your tits, making you moan, his warm palms massaging your sensitive skin, letting your nipples rub against his hands. rafe is often quiet when fucking you, depending on how he is feeling. you can tell by the look in his eye that he’s got anger bubbling up inside of him, that needs a release, and you are here for using.

rafe leans forward, pushing his cock against the smooth skin of your stomach. rafe begins to rub his cock against your skin, letting it glide back and forth, the head of his cock smearing precum as his fingers pinch your nipple before rubbing over them.

he bends down to capture your mouth in a dominant kiss, and you let him take control, his tongue licking into yours, as you moan, arching your back as he grabs your tits hard, making you flinch amongst the pleasure.

rafe pulls away from the kiss, briefly bending to suck on your nipples into his mouth, just to add to the taste of you on his tongue. rafe picks up your hand, laying it over his cock, telling you without words what he wants you to do.

you press your hand down, letting him grind down between your palm and your stomach as his hand draws back and lays a slap across your tit, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you gasp. 

you move your free hand to the head of his cock, massaging it with your fingertips as rafe delivers another slap across your skin, before bringing his palm down to your other breast to even out the pain and pleasure.

rafe moans lowly when you swipe the pad of your finger over the slit at the tip of his cock, his hips starting to push faster, which just floods you with wetness, imagining him thrusting inside of you instead of against your stomach.

“please fuck me.” you whine. “make me yours rafe.”

rafe pulls away instantly, moving to kneel between your legs, grabbing your knees and pushing them up, bending you in half. “you’re mine.” rafe says, pushing his cock against your entrance, not even giving you a second to breathe before hes thrusting inside, filling you to the brim. “you’re mine.” he gasps again, beginning to thrust, your sloppy cunt producing wet noises. “no one is going to take you away from me.” you pout, knowing rafe is taking his aggression out right now, but he’s also working through his worry and anxiety about you being kidnapped again.

“i’m right here.” you tell rafe, placing your hands over his, helping him hold your legs up as his cock pushes in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace. “i’m right here.”

rafe lets out a half sob, half moan, wrapping his arms around your legs, needing to feel more of you against his body, even if it just is the back of your thighs and calves as he hugs your legs to him, continuing to push his dick into you, now touching at a new angle that has you crying out.

“rub your clit for me.” rafe grunts, throwing his head back, eyes making contact with the ceiling as he pants, trying to hold back from cumming until you’re ready as well. “need you to cum for me.” “yes, gonna cum for you rafey.” you push your hand between your tightly held together thighs, rubbing at your clit while his cock brutalizes your pussy.

your breath catches in your throat when your legs move slightly to the side, allowing to to see rafes face, chin still tilted slightly upward, his mouth ajar and his eyes glazed over with lust, looking like an angel despite all the devilish acts that he’s done, but everything he’s done today has been for you, and you certainly won’t forget the blood on his hands only there to protect you.

“i love you.” you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks, your fingers moving faster on your clit, needing to cum for rafe and rafe alone, not caring about the pleasure you’re going to receive yourself, just getting yourself off so rafe can feel your cunt squeeze around him, so he can release inside of you.

“i love you more baby.” rafes voice is hoarse as his hips snap into you, a loud slap every time his hips touch your skin.

you let out a scream when your orgasm hits you suddenly, entire body tightening as rafe releases inside of you, your cunt pulsating as you slow your rub on your clit, milking everything out of rafe that he has to offer.

“fuck.” rafe sighs out, a coy look on his face as he lowers your legs down, rubbing over your thighs to make up for the position he put you in as he slowly slides his cock out of you.

rafe moves carefully to lay down next to you, not just wanting to flop down, considerate of his movements when you’re around anyways, but especially since you just went through something traumatic.

“come here.” rafe reaches out for you, and you slide into his embrace, your head coming to rest on his chest.

“you know you’re going to have to stay here in the house for a few days while i get this mess sorted out?” rafe asks, but it’s more of a statement.

“i know.” you say. it’s not like you’re happy about being locked up, but it’s for your safety. “i’m sorry.” rafe sighs. “when all of this is over, i’ll take you on a nice long vacation-”

“i’m not mad.” you say, picking your head up to look at rafe. “i knew exactly what i was getting into with you, with your business. i understand. you don’t have to apologize for keeping me safe.”

rafe smiles at you, his thumb rubbing over your cheek, wondering how he managed to get such a perfect girl before bringing you in for a kiss.

[ceruleanchillin]

141 x Reader: Biker!AU

Note(s) -

1.) Nobody asked for this, but here I am combining two obsessions. Congrats, you’re a biker’s old lady now 🎉.

Any media with hot guys in a group should have outlaw MC AUs

2.) I love roughneck Simon. Please give me more of him. I wanna talk about the guys in this AU so badly, don’t (DO) feed my inbox. BlueCollar!Simon, Mafia!Simon, Mechanic!Simon, Idc I love it all. 

3.) If you saw this before, no you didn’t (plus I added more to it). I decided to keep them all together, and it’ll just be long as hell. A long fic stored under a cut never hurt nobody.🤷🏾‍♀️

Simon

Nobody can get him as soft as you. There’s a 3-ringed barrier around his heart. Outsiders < The Club < You.

He loves doing mundane things with you, the kind of things he never saw for himself when he swore to stay single in this life. Like, after a good run fattens his wallet, letting you run wild in the shops.

“C’mon on then lovie, give us a spin.”

You squealed, spinning so the soft fabric fanned around your upper thighs. “I love it! But Si, it’s too much.”

“You let me worry about that sweetheart. Just let me see how it looks comin’ offa ya.” He gripped the very thighs you teased him with, eager for his favorite part besides your smile.

He’d pick up as many extra runs as it took to keep you in small luxuries, as long as he was the one that got to keep that look on your face.

They all have tattoos, but Simon is the king. His body art is top notch, because he’s very discerning with his artists. He’s had the best from Europe to the States. Now, he only trusts Price’s old lady, Johnny, and you. 

In fact, that’s how you met. You started your apprenticeship under an asshole who bailed before it was over, and took a chance on the dangerous shop everyone warned you away from. Mrs. Price was everything you were afraid of AT FIRST. You later understood it was because the shop is 141 affiliated, and she had to be harshly discerning to protect herself and her family.

Once you got over that phase, she was unendingly sweet, and dedicated to helping you hone your craft. 

Simon saw you when he came to fix the sink in the shop’s little kitchen. You were the only one there, intensely focused on a practice skin arm.

You were beautiful, hair wild from you tugging at in concentration, and your tongue poking out slightly. How long had you been working here?

“I knew you needed a hand around here, but that’s a bit far isn’t it?”

You jumped, startled out of your practice, the buzz of the tattoo gun stopping. “Oh my god! I don’t know what scared me more, you, or that joke.”

The two of you kept each other company in your respective tasks, until he was done. In admitting you were aching to do a real tattoo again, he found himself volunteering on instinct. 

At first you resisted, worried about the ethics in your mentor’s shop, and he came up with the genius idea of going back to your place. Smooth Simon.

By the end of the night he was sure he’d never need another artist again.

He’s often as busy as Price, sometimes more so. It takes a lot to run a charter as is, but to establish a table so far from home calls on him more than any other era in his time with the club. On top of that, he often pulls double duty, acting as an enforcer with Konig.

That’s where he really appreciates you understanding, and accepting, his lifestyle. You’ve made a home for him, and he only hopes he conveys how much he appreciates that.

—

He comes home with a headache taking up residence in every corner of his head more and more these days. It was all he could do to kick his boots off, and not collapse on the nearest thing that could hold his weight. His room felt miles away. Downside of living in the dorms.

He drug himself to the clubhouse kitchen, prepared to dig around for some painkillers, when he saw a post-it note on the island next to a napkin with two pills.

Ignore if not Si!

Dinner in the fridge + cake in the dish on the counter. Eat and get your ass in bed with me.

:)

He chuckled, headache long forgotten when he realized you were in his bed. However, his heart and stomach wouldn’t let him ignore the home cooked meal in the fridge, and once he’d savored every bite, he was a blur on his way to his room.

You were curled up in one of his shirts, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed he favored. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, only stopping to deposit his kutte on the dresser, before scooping you into his arms.

“Si..” you murmured sleepily, burying your face in his chest, seeking something to lay on after being picked up.

“‘s alright sweet pea.”

“Glad you’re home, don’t let go.” You were slightly more awake now, but not by much.

“Was never an option.” He got into bed, relaxing in the warm spot you left behind, and situated you next to him in his arms. 

Assuming big spoon position, his hands roamed your form, finding momentary purchase wherever they could. He felt a little guilty for further waking you up, but it occurred to him that you must have seen the day he’d had, and had taken the time to attempt to make it a little better. You could be home in your own bed, but you chose to be there for him. He was starving for you.

His lips created the same desperate patterns across your cheek and neck that his hands created on your body. He gripped your thigh, giving the plush skin a squeeze, before hooking your leg back over his.

There was a sharp inhale of air from you, and you pushed back against him, undoubtedly feeling him firming.

He laid his other arm under your head, letting you lay your cheek against his arm as he grasped your face. He tilted it up to grant more access to your skin for his lips.

“Taking care of me pretty bird?”

“It’s what you deserve, baby.” You slurred, squirming in sensory overload at all of his attention.

“Swear m’ going flat hunting tomorrow.” His fingers skimmed over your covered heat, grinning when your lower half bucked.

“‘s what you deserve sweetheart. Somewhere to put all your nesting to good use.”

You moaned rolling your hips back into your solid wall of a man. “Don’t tease me, I can’t help it.”

“Oh, m’not teasing pretty bird, m’ appreciating.”

He’s been called on to do many dark things for the club. Price doesn’t leave room at the table for anyone not to pull their weight, and he’s even tougher on his titled men. However, the darker jobs fall on Simon more often than anyone else, because he’s thorough, and can put the deed away somewhere, somehow, every time. 

When he pulls on his mask, and just surrenders to being no one but Ghost, he’s ready to work. He never cared what anyone thought about his actions, he never had to, until you. 

You’d been around rough crowds in your lifetime, but Simon was a career criminal, and so was his found family. He was sure some recollection of his deeds would reach you, and that’d be your line. In fact, he was waiting on it.

He was shocked, truly floored, to find that wasn’t what triggered you. It was how you felt he was being utilized. You didn’t like, what you felt, was the unequal distribution of the extreme jobs, and you told him as much.

When he got over his shock, his reaction was fiercely defensive of the club. It was your turn for shock, but he couldn’t help it. He felt judged about the family that owned his loyalty, by the woman that owned his heart. 

You were taken aback by his ferocity, but it didn’t change your view. It created a hotbed of tension that threatened what the two of you had built, until he understood why you felt so strongly. Simon was the one taken aback when he realized your intensity came from your love for him, not a judgement of the 141. He still couldn’t wrap his head around someone loving him to that degree. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he was worthy of that. That’s how he was supposed to, and did, love you.

He admitted as much when the tired topic reached a fever pitch.

Simon’s close cropped blonde hair was riddled with evidence he’d been running long, frustrated fingers through it. Those same fingers pulled a cigarette from his pack,, and lit it with a calmness that didn’t reflect the current mood.

“So now you tell me what I can and can’t do? That it then?”

You snapped at the accusation, breaking the promise you’d made to yourself not to raise your voice. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, stop reframing what I fucking say!”

“Grow the fuck up, you’re not a bloody baby. You knew what I did when we got together. I protect the group, I’m meant to be the first line of defense. I pull my weight, my life be damned!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the underlying implication of his words. His own expression wasn’t familiar enough to you for you to place.

“The table doesn’t make me do the ugly bits, most times I volunteer.” He flicked ash onto the pavement, his finger tapping with more force than necessary. “Whether I die, or get pinched, I can be replaced. ‘s my job to stand in front of the ones that can’t.”

His chest heaved with trapped frustration, voice guttural, raw with emotion. “That’s my use.”

You couldn’t place a time where your heart had ever hurt for anyone the way it hurt for him in that moment. It was a physical pain, pin pricking across your chest in a wave, and momentarily halting your ability to speak. You loved this man, fuck the moon, he hung galaxies in your eyes, and that’s what he thought of himself?

Simon, studying your expression and not liking the shame it made him feel, turned away. He didn’t know what to do with shame, especially in front of you. He’d said too much, and his mind was racing to find a way to undo it. Stiffening at the feeling of your arms barely meeting around his large form, he fought the urge to pull away.

Your voice was shaky, laden with the tears you didn’t bother fighting the fruitless fight to stop. “I wish I could get you to understand how untrue that is. I wish I knew where to start.”

He turned back around, but refused to meet your eyes. That startled you. Simon had never been afraid to lock eyes with you. He backed down from no one.

“Wasn’t an answer you liked then lovie? Sorry to disappoint.” He said quietly, taking a last drag before he ended the cigarette under his boot, and walked off back towards the clubhouse.

Tears streamed down your face at a faster rate now, and you tried in vain to swipe them away quickly. You weren’t sure what to say. Not then, too much was in the air as it was, and things needed to cool, but this clearly wasn’t settled

You only knew what you wanted to do. Hold him. Hold him until he saw how fucked his outlook was, and how much worth he really had.

Long out of town rides to create a bubble with just you and him. No specific destination, you just ride until you can both believe you’re the only two people you know.

He throws you a surprise party when you get certified as a tattoo artist, and Mrs. Price releases you from your apprenticeship to a chair of your own.

No one can believe Ghost is throwing someone any kind of party, but they don’t dare deny him as he enlists them in different tasks. He took the whole thing very seriously, and left no room for mistakes. No one, not even Soap, was careless enough to spoil the surprise. Simon wanted perfection.

It was obvious to anyone who watched his love struck gaze follow you when you were around, but if anyone doubted it before, they didn’t now. This man loves you.

Simon sometimes comes to you with a design he’s made for his next tattoo. It’s never elaborate, and it’s usually more utilitarian than aesthetic. He trusts you to make it pretty, he knows you will. He just wants to better convey his idea, or so you think.

In reality, he just likes when you praise him, and he can be part of your passion. He’s constantly amazed by your artistry, and humbled that you let him be a part of it. Essentially, you two collaborate on his tattoos in an undeniably intimate way.

He unceremoniously comes to you with a scrap of paper, something he’s sketched over the past few days.

“Somethin’ f’ya to look over when you get the chance.” He mutters before giving you a long kiss and leaving the shop.

You study the lines, shaky but serviceable, and the design clear. Your mind immediately began to think of ways to tie it into his existing tattoo’s style and his tastes. All the while, you kicked your feet, ecstatic that once again, the most complex person you knew was trusting you with this responsibility.

Si had some serious, high quality pieces on his body, and he thought enough of your hand to add to that.

Simon is usually more affectionate when you’re alone. In public, it’s mostly gliding fingers across your back, or a quick brush of his lips across your forehead. BUT, sometimes his intrusive thoughts win, and he has to slap your ass. This can happen anywhere, anytime.

You’re bent over the tattoo chair, disinfecting and scrubbing, and you swear you hear his hand cutting through air before you feel the smack.

“Si!”

“You put it there sweetheart.”

Shooting range dates. You’ve been judged by some of your more…conventional friends, but you’re a gun girlie (which turns Simon on like nothing he’s ever experienced), and you don’t care. They tried to make you feel like he was being inconsiderate taking you there. Meanwhile, it was damn near your demand.

Simon loves having friendly competitions, random kisses, and exchanging shitty jokes. Seeing you get excited, and engaging in a little tech/spec talk about a gun you love, gets Simon bricked up in 10 seconds flat.

You truly believe he’s taken you in hidden parts of the range more than either of your beds at this point.

Makes you keep track of football season when he’s away. Almost put you in a box and mailed you far away from him when you assumed he meant American football season.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again lovie, I won’t be held responsible.”

Punishes you with edging and cockwarming if you miss any important details. It’s especially excruciating when he’s just returned, and all you want is him to stretch you out. Simon is a mean dom, and he won’t be moved by sympathy.

“Please Si, I only missed one game.” you whined, trying to get him to come back to where he’d just spent time building you up to fall on his tongue, only to pull away at the last second.

He smirked, rising to his feet which clued you into the fact that he really wasn’t going to finish you off then. “That’s a bad girl. Have the missing orgasm to match.”

——-

Gaz:

Lives for where you live. Your little house is his home away from home. Sometimes the gang can be on business that keeps them on the road for weeks, and the last thing he wants when he comes back, is to continue to be locked in close quarters with other guys.

That’s when you know he’s skipping clubhouse life to crash with you for a while. You love it as much as him.

Scented candles and incense, sweet laundry detergent, soft materials, home cooked meals. It’s such a soft juxtaposition to his previous journey. 

Your hands are all over him, soothing bruises and kissing him over in mapped out patterns only known to you.

Kyle may not know the difference between a single thing on your beauty table, or much about the things in your bathroom cabinets, but he knows he loves how it all smells/looks on you when he’s running his nose across your skin.

“Baby, I gotta get ready for work.” 

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement, but kept you pinned to the overstuffed couch, kissing your thighs in his own personal ritual. The two of you had been sequestered away for two days since he’d been back, but he still couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be good for me love, I won’t make you late.”

“Liar.” You giggled when he pinched you in retaliation. “If you do what it feels like you’re about to do, I won’t make it to the shop until noon.”

“Not a liar babe, you know that better than anyone else.” He pushed your knees up until they pressed against your chest. “I promise, you’ll be the first one there. Can’t say in what state though.”

Being the club secretary, it may seem like Kyle has the plushier job at the table. Wrong. He sees as much action as the other guys, and he likes to stay in shape. That’s fine by you, because you reap the benefits when you get to watch him working out at your place.

Kyle Garrick doing burpees and up-downs in your tiny backyard, clad in nothing but gray sweat shorts, and a thin gold chain against his chest, isn’t a sight that should be free. Yet, after Kyle has finished his mission of witnessing you walk funny at least once, it’s a sight you’re treated to when he sinks back into his home routine.

You somehow think you’re safe to creep-watch from the back doorway while you enjoy your green tea, even though Kyle catches you every time. He just always knew when your eyes were on him.

Without even turning to give you a look he called your name, laughing softly. “I should start charging admission.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You stuck your tongue out at his back, slamming the door when he revealed he somehow saw that too.

Kyle comes to the salon and hangs with you between appointments. Sometimes he watches you work, and fake flirts with customers to get you more money. He’s great for business.

“Cost a little extra, yeah? But myself, I love a bird that sweats the details.” Kyle’s brown eyes and bright smile were a lethal combination against free will, you knew this for a fact.

The soccer mom in your chair ducks her head under his attention, cheeks filling in with red, as she tells you she changed her mind about the rhinestones.

You appreciate the efforts towards fattening your wallet, but sometimes he’s so effective, you get annoyed and drag him to the break room to remind him you own him.

When you ride with him, he loves looking down and seeing the pretty designs of your nails grasping his chest. Something about the contrast of hot pink, or pearlescent purple against the black leather of his kutte does it for him.

Kyle is definitely on the calmer side most times, especially for his lifestyle, but the fastest way to break that is someone meaning you harm.

You were out at a crowded club with the 141, their ladies, and some friends of the club. It was a celebration of good finances and a successful legal dodge. 

The guys clung to a dark VIP section, there for the drinks and victory lap more than the dancing. On the other hand, you and the other girls were not there to sit idle. 

After a tense few months, the cause of your respective relationship ups and downs with the guys, you guys deserved to cut loose. The table agreed, with your men shouting words of encouragement and flirtatious innuendo to hype you up.

The whole bar was enthralled by you and the other girl’s dancing, singing, and general untethered energy. It was contagious. You especially, you had a few drinks in you, and all that could currently keep your attention was the music.

There was, unfortunately, one outsider who got a little too enthralled with the performance.

When you peeled away from the group, following the uptempo rhythm, he thought that was his time to make his move.

You felt him press up against you while your eyes were closed, assuming it was Kyle, you almost ground back against him. Then you smelt the liquor. Kyle liked a drink like everyone else, and you’d even seen him drunk, but this was someone who’d been at it for a while. Disgustingly sour, too close, and ultimately not your man.

You sent a sharp hit back with your elbow, turning to confirm what you knew. It wasn’t Kyle. He grunted, but pushed forward again making you hold your hand up in a warning.

“I don’t think so.” you waved him off, laughing at the prospect of entertaining him.

Angered by your laughter, he got bolder, shouting to be heard. “Well I think so, but I’m real interested in knowing why you don’t.”

“Because I said what I said, and I have a man.” You were tipsy, but there was an underlying fire to your words lending them solidity. “Fuck off!”

He bristled at another dismissal. “Bitc-“

Kyle had appeared, most likely having started making his way to you once the man got too close, and clapped him on the shoulder. His expression said that he had heard at least some of what was said.

“Hi baby!” You shouted, a little loud even for the club, but that made it endearing. “That’s my man.” You told the asshole.

“Use your ears before I send you home carrying them.” He was gripping the man’s shoulder so tightly you should see the sharp knuckle bones flexing, his rings catching the light.

The man looked at the kutte, and the expression on Kyle’s face, and the exact moment he realized the man would act on the threat literally became apparent.

If that wasn’t enough, you had the ladies at your back, and the table alert and waiting for the call. It was over for the bastard before it even started.

He raised his hands and scurried into the crowd, aiming for the door.

“I love you baby.” You crooned, throwing your arms around him and covering his face with kisses.

He laughed. “I love you too, even when I know I’m going to be holding your pretty hair back all day.”

When the gang has to have a tense table vote in a briefing, their equivalent to some other mc’s “church”, you always wait for Kyle. As secretary, it’s his job to gather information on other gangs, as well as any important changes in the area, and his council is called on first.

You’re waiting for him right after, inviting him back to your house for the night, knowing he won’t want to stay in his dorm. He won’t show it then, but he’s disappointed, and when you get him home, you let him vent to his mind’s content.

All the while, you’re drawing him a bath, doing a light skin routine on his face, greasing his scalp, and curling up on the couch with his back against your chest.

You know his brothers have his best interest at heart, and respect his role in the club, but sometimes he can get in his head about it, and that’s when you step in.

——-

Soap:

Johnny kept his lifestyle a secret from you at first. You’d only been hooking up for a couple of weeks before you both confessed to wanting more.

The crew had mocked him relentlessly about his inability to keep a relationship casual. 

“Give it up mate, you ain’t even foolin’ yourself!” Gaz had clapped him on the back, laughing right in his face. “You start up with a girl right, and it’s over. You’re looking for a house by sunup.”

“Och, piss off with ya! I can keep it casual!” Indignant, and maybe a little drunk, he elbowed the man on the other side of him. “Tell em’ Ghost.”

Simon glanced at him sideways, bourbon halfway to his lips, careful it didn’t spill due to the prodding. “Johnny, some pretty bird starts chirpin’ in your ear and it’s curtains. Now fuck off.”

He couldn’t believe his friends, no — brothers, had such little faith in him.

Cut to a few days later, with him balls deep in you, confessing he wanted more. 

“I’ll be good to ya bon, I swear it. I’m all for ya, just be for me?”

The only thing that lessened the embarrassment of proving his friends right, was that you seemed relieved, and admitted it was what you wanted too.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been patched in, besides the camaraderie, he was enamored with the relationship between Price and his old lady. There were plenty of solid old lady/old man pairings around him, but something about the way the club queen cared for her man, kept the other girls in order, and still maintained a life for herself was astounding to watch.

He couldn’t help chasing that in every girl he’d gotten with since he’d joined up. So many girls wanted the mystique of a sexy biker, but that’s all he was for them. Either a living dildo, or an attraction they could make their friends jealous with. Things never got very far outside of the bedroom. Except once, but that didn’t go over so well in the end.

He wanted that ride or die bond so badly, he couldn’t wait to have the perfect old lady to wife up and fill a house with brats. 

With you, he prayed he was it for you, because you had quickly become it for him. 

You were a good girl. Specifically, his good girl now. He felt it was highly unlikely you would go for his lifestyle, and so he kept it under wraps at first. He knew he had to tell you at some point, but he wanted to soak up as much time as he could in case you checked out.

“Nah sweetheart, it’s nah like that. We get a little rough, but mainly, we just appreciate bikes.”

“Do ya think I have what it takes to be in a criminal organization? And with ya not knowin’ no less!?”

“Let’s talk about something else bon, did ya ken your thighs look cute warming my ears?”

Guilt eating through him like acid, especially when the club picks up on the fact that he hasn’t brought you around. Anytime Soap has a girl in his bed more than once, he’s parading around the club with her in no time. They know there’s something special about you, and that baffles them even more. Soap claims it’s because you live one town over, which you do, but Gaz calls him on his shit.

He’s hyper defensive, and fights until he’s blue in the face before he admits it’s true. He’s afraid you’ll turn out like the others, or reject him all together. He’s so far gone at this point, he’d rather you use him than leave him.

Price doesn’t like it, and councils him against lying to you any further for numerous reasons. Soap promises he’ll tell you soon, but he’s trying to convince himself as well as his president.

Eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore, but it wasn’t exactly his choice when the curtain got pulled back. 

The two of you had been to a late movie, Johnny finally having had time to squeeze in a date with you after a series of back-to-back runs. You’d suggested coming to him for once to take the burden off. Before he could object, you’d admitted that you were already in town, and he’d rushed to meet you. 

Though he was nervous about you hearing something, or seeing someone off-color that he knew, he couldn’t deny he loved the day he spent with you.

He never needed a reason to want to kiss you, but something about your soft smile under the parking lot lights compelled him right then. Maybe because your expression said just how content you were to be with him, and he buried that in his heart.

“Wait a minute.” He stopped you, lips on yours before you could ask why.

Parking lots didn’t exactly get safer as they got darker, and emptier, but he couldn’t stop once his lips touched yours. Then you started tugging on the curly hair of his Mohawk like you did when you’d really gotten into things.

He was just about to suggest he stay over at your place, when you were interrupted by a cop. You assumed he was going to warn you about loitering and apologized, but he and Johnny knew that wasn’t what it was about. He called Johnny “Soap”, and you were confused as to how they knew each other.

“Oh, Scotboy here goes back with the law a long ways back home.” The cop tried to clap Johnny on the shoulder only for him to violently dodge it. “Easy. I’m not booking you on anything…tonight.”

You were at a loss for what the cop thought he could book Johnny on, and called it out as harassment. Johnny knew, by the sick expression on his face, that the cop was eager to spill it all once he realized how little you knew about the man you were clutching. He tried to prevent that from happening.

“Yeah well, you’re just wastin’ time then, and we have a drive.” Johnny’s arm tightened around your shoulder as he started to lead you away.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he’s told you, but if you were my daughter I’d want you to know. That’s a dangerous man you’re on the arm of.”

“Shut up.” Johnny growled, and he knew you had to be thinking about how you’d never seen him like this, but he’d also never been this angry around you.

“Johnny…” you pushed at him to try and get him to move, but he was rooted in rage.

He knew where the cop was taking it.

“This was when you were a prospect back in England right? The number you did on the guys from that other charter…interpol still talks about it. Oh wait…they never proved it was you did they?”

Johnny thumbed his nose and sniffed, jutting out his chin in utter opposition of the man in front of him. “Nah, wasnae even in the country at the time.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only read the reports our precinct got when you boys moved to town.” The obnoxious officer bounced his palm off his forehead in a mock gesture.

Johnny felt you squeeze his arm, grounding him for the moment, and he thought you might be saying something. His ears sounded like the Grand Rapids ran through them. A hot rage was settling into his chest, and spilling into other parts of his being.

The smug expression of the cop, one of the ones on the force who’d made things personal with the club was

“Johnny!” You shook him, finally getting through to him. “I want to leave.”

He exhaled, softening at your expression. Little tremors of adrenaline wracked through him, but he still led you towards his bike by a firm grip.

“You know, they included pictures in those files they sent over. What you did to those guys..” The cop whistled from behind you.

Johnny helped you into your helmet, watching as your eyes raced with questions, but you were so good for him. You would wait to ask him. 

He brushed his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “Ignore him bon. Whatever he says, please.”

“But, the real shame is what happened to Anna.” The cop continued.

In a straight shot, Johnny launched himself at him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

“They cut her up pretty bad. Was her nose always on the side of her-”

—

He knew it was bait, and he admitted as much later, but he’d taken the active grenade in his hand all the same. The wounds that piece of shit poked were too raw not to, on top of probably killing everything between you and him. 

Everything was designed to hit a critical point in him. His past deeds, Anna, and most importantly, you.

All he could think about was if he was going to lose you after tonight, there was no way he wasn’t going to make it count all over the bastard’s face.

The local police had been looking for something, anything, to get the club on, but they’d been too careful. That’s what Price had told you on the way to the precinct. Johnny had dialed for you while the cop was getting back to his feet.

“Was any of what he said true?” You were clutching your purse the way you had since you’d gotten into the car with Price and the club’s lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean love?” Price looked at you cooly, not giving anything away, though you were sure he knew what you meant.

“Never mind.” You shook your head. “I know it’s true. Did Johnny really hurt those guys? Who’s Anna?”

Price kept his eyes on the road, while the lawyer kept his attention on his phone. The air couldn’t have been more tense,

“You should talk to your boy sweetheart. Don’t let some future desk-riding prick make you doubt the man who’d rip out his own heart just to show you it’s yours.”

You swallowed, hard, and didn’t say anything else until you got to the station.

“Um…I think I’m just going to Uber home. Tell Johnny I’ll call him.”

Price nodded, but his look was disapproving. “‘m sorry to hear that,” he adjusted his dark beanie. “But if that’s what you think is best.”

You did not call him. Not later when you were sure he had been released, and not the next day. You wouldn’t even open the never-ending text thread between you two.

He texted you early enough to be apologetic about it, and you had to push your phone to the far side of your bed to stop yourself from responding.

You went about your daily routine, getting ready for your shift at the diner. Your one room apartment didn’t allow you the luxury of pretending your phone wasn’t blowing up with text messages, but you were too afraid you’d cave if you saw the screen while attempting to silence it.

He showed up at the diner, and you pretended to be too busy in the back until he left.

He waited outside of your place, but you wouldn’t come down, going so far as to turn off the lights when you realized he was there.

No call was answered, no text replied to.

Johnny was a wreck. So much so, that as furious as Price and Ghost had been, as much as they’d come down on him, they weren’t sure he’d even heard it. They saw his regret, he did have his brothers and their families in mind, along with the fact that he was a higher ranked member who set a piss poor example for prospects and basic members. 

The fact that his stunt could’ve cost them their freedom. He saw all of that.

But he was HURTING. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was all Johnny could do to roll out of bed and do the basics before he crawled back again. 

All the club girls dropped by his dorm. Some to be flirtatious, which he lashed out at, some to show sympathy. 

Mrs. Price and Ghost’s girl were especially gentle. It’s the darkest period in Johnny’s life, even when factoring in the Anna situation. It’s clear to all around him, you’re it for him. His soul is yours, and he’s dying without you.

It was Simon who came to you and changed your mind. He couldn't take seeing Johnny that way. The whole table was worried, but Johnny was a little brother to the taciturn specter. He’d only see him like this once before, and this was ten times worse.

In the early afternoon, the diner’s customers were nothing but truckers and elderly folks. So when the 6’4 blond with trunk-thick arms, and a permanent scowl walked in, there was no ignoring him. You noticed the kutte, and thought about making a break for the back, but his look said ‘try it’, and you thought better of it.

Instead, you wound up in a back booth with him, taking your 15 minute break. 

“‘m not the preachin’ sort, so I’ll get on with it.” He stared right through you, lighting a cigarette. “‘s no business of mine what you and Johnny decide to do, but you need to talk to him.”

You started to tell him no smoking, but didn’t feel like exerting the effort. Let your boss deal with it if it mattered.

Your hands trembled, so you put them beneath the table in your lap. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you here?”

”Because, it’s destroying him. You’re destroying him.” He turned for a moment to exhale away from your face, and then his gaze was cutting right back to you. “Lad’s a mess and a half without you. We’ve tried to sort him out, but it’s gonna take you.”

”He lied to me!“ the exclamation left your mouth without a thought to volume control, and you pointedly ignored the stares you knew were at your back.

”You knew.” he said simply. “You may not have known the specifics, and we told him not to do it that way, but you knew.”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to express the million thoughts in your head.

”You may be a town over, but our name gets around. I know you’ve heard somethin’.” He tipped the ash in the glass of water you’d gotten him. “You’re a smart bird by Johnny’s account.”

“If you told him not to lie, then why are you telling me not to be upset?”

“‘m not, ‘m tellin’ you to hear him out. Put him out of his misery, whatever you decide.”

The man left the booth, standing back to his full height and casting a shadow over the booth.

“He’s a right fuckin’ mess. Loves you more than life.”

“More than Anna?” The name that had been swirling around in your mind came out in a semi-bitter question.

There was something that could have possibly been a flinch, but you weren’t sure. It made you regret mentioning it either way.

He stubbed out the cigarette. “He’ll be round yours by the time you get off.”

He was. Looking completely unconfident and nervous about being there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beloved mohawk showed signs of too many anxious tugs. 

This wasn’t what you were used to with the confident man, and you didn’t like it. You understood, you looked the same way, but you didn’t like it.

He was apologizing constantly, between spilling streams of exposition that only served to confuse you, instead of clearing things up. You finally had to tell him it would just be easier if you could ask questions instead, and he sat back and became an open book.

It went all evening, and then well into the morning. Every question led into lengthy conversation.

—

“Who’s Anna?”

“...A good lass who didn’t deserve what she got.”

—

“So it’s definitely more than just appreciating bikes. Why?”

“They’re my family, and they’ve always had my back while lettin’ me be myself. If I have to do somethin’ a lil dodgy now and then, that’s a small price to pay.”

—

“I don’t doubt you love me Johnny, you make it impossible to, but how can I trust you after this?”

“By takin’ the chance to believe me when I say I’d rather die than go through this again. If honesty brings you back to me, I’ll never leave it out again.”

The sun is rising by the time the two of you are talked out. You make him stay, seeing that his sleep deprivation was starting to collect its due. It was you who didn’t sleep while you pet his hair from where he laid on your lap, and thought over your feelings.

He wakes when you inform him he has a phone call. He tells you to answer it, and you realize it’s a gesture towards the honest leaf turn. 

He took the time to honesty dump with you, so you admit to him that while you’re still hurt, your mind's made up about taking him back.

It should have frightened you how quickly you sank back into things with Johnny, but what actually frightened you was the reason why. You realized you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. How had you lasted the past couple of weeks?

It’s a mutual obsession, only strengthened by a period of absence. Something he vowed would never happen again.

You let him give you your first tattoo, and you even let him pick the design. He couldn’t believe you trusted him with the honor, and he wound up asking if you were sure five times.

“Baby, yes!” you laughed, squeezing his cheeks as a form of cute aggression over his heart eyes. 

This was such an intimate act for him, that he made sure you were completely alone in his dorm room when the day came. The room is spotless for once, sanitized to government standards. You can’t help but notice that he’s lit candles in your favorite scent, and his playlist is all soft music for once.

He spent weeks sketching the perfect concept, and even created variations for your choosing. He went through soooo many pages, unwilling to settle when it came to his girl.

In the end, it was decided, and he got to work on the inner wrist tattoo. All the while, he was checking in with you to make sure you were good.

“It’s just a small piece baby, I’m ok.” You always pressed a kiss to his nose to reassure him and get him back to work.

He looked so handsome, locked in concentration, that it almost completely distracted from the pain. You’d seen him work before, and you loved it, but this wasn’t just work right now. He was giving you something important, and you sensed that. 

When he finally finished, he sheepishly, almost fearfully, asked you what you thought.

“It’s everything Johnny. When everyone asks who’s the talent behind it, I can’t wait to say he’s my man.”

Soap has no regard for anyone or any place when he wants you, which is all the time. You’re all over the clubhouse together. The couches, the hallways, the armory. Officially, clubhouse outer-walls are your spots during cookouts.

Gaz walked into the storage room, focused on finding a part for a customer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you through the empty space on a tall shelf.

“Hi, eh, Kyle!” All that was visible was your face, and he wondered for a second why you were out of breath.

“Hey (Y/N), what’re you doing back here?” He gave you a side glance and smile, his attention mainly on the organized shelves.

“I’m..” you bit your lip, unable to form another word as your eyes rolled back.

Kyle froze, realizing what was happening. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me mate?!”

“You walked in on us!” Johnny’s indignant cry came from below his line of vision.

Sooo many lunch break dates. Technically, Johnny is on shift at the garage, and should be preparing for the next day’s run, but his best girl needs him :( . You work so hard at that cafe, and they never appreciate you. Not like he does.

So when he takes the work pickup truck to get you, knowing Price has told him a million times it’s not for that, he can’t be bothered to care.

“Johnny, tell me you did not go across town to buy me this sandwich.” You already knew the answer, and you wanted to scold him for neglecting himself again. “You’re gonna be late getting back to the shop!”

“You love it though. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of ya.” 

“That’s not the point, you-“

“You’re so pretty baby.”

And you melt and forget to be upset.

You can’t stay mad at Johnny with heart eyes and loving, grabby hands. Especially when those grabby hands start to get a little more focused…

What happens in the work truck, stays in the work truck. Until he gets drunk and brags at a club party….

The fun times were well and good, but Soap knew that the day would come when you got a glimpse at the uglier parts of the life. He barely got you back, and you throwing up your hands and declaring it was all too much was all he could think about.

They’d been having issues with the Shadows MC, and it was starting to boil over. They didn’t like the 141 moving in on their territory, but his table had made it clear that wasn’t up to them. This resulted in many skirmishes he could keep under wraps, but then it came to a head.

They’d hit the Shadows hard at one of their core locations, and in preparation for retaliation, Price and Ghost had called a lockdown. This meant all old ladies, kids, and friends of the club were to hunker down at the club compound until they gave the ok.

The day was here, and he’d been dreading it. He couldn’t very well leave you out there, he hadn’t exactly been subtle that you were his girl, but surely you wouldn’t go for it.

Nothing had been asked of you so far, and he was trying his best to keep from burdening you like the typical old lady. He felt you’d be less likely to leave if he kept the weightier things from you.

He must have paced up and down your street in the dark for over an hour. His phone was blowing up with demands he ‘get his ass back to the compound’ with you, ‘NOW’, but he had to do it right. It wasn’t easy to say “We mowed down some of our enemies, and destroyed their operation, and some guys could make you pay for that.”

He could lose you tonight. He could relive his past.

When he finally did get up the nerve to tell you, he was shocked at how well you took it. He knew you were scared, and you couldn’t have been too happy either, but he loved you for your strength in that moment. 

All you did was quietly pack, while his mouth ran a mile-a- minute. Swinging wildly between telling jokes, assuring you you’d fit in just fine with the other old ladies, and apologizing. You kept telling him you were fine, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

It took a week to beat the Shadows back. In that time Johnny had been in and out of safe houses, with barely a spare minute to check in with you. If he was being honest, he was terrified.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that when he got back to the compound, you wouldn’t be there. You’d be long gone, and when he went to your place, the things he’d left (so sneakily) would be in a box waiting on the doorstep.

He was so sure of this, that he wanted to go by your place first, but his bone-weary brothers were barely sitting upright on their bikes. Battered and bruised to hell, he couldn’t ask them to indulge his paranoia. The table didn’t like to be too far from each other until they were fully assured they were whole back home.

He was the last to walk through the door, to the shock of his brothers, but he didn’t want to tell them he was probably about to scream his throat raw when he saw you weren’t there. 

He clenched and unclenched his aching fists in anxiety. ‘Just look around the room you daft fucker!’ He mentally scolded himself.

He didn’t get a chance to. You barreled into him, arms locking around his neck. He stumbled back, weariness and shock combining to make his footing unstable, but his back hit the solid metal door behind him.

“I was so fucking worried.” You whispered into his neck, and he felt his neck dampen with what he presumed were tears.

“I was too…” he admitted, finding it in him to grip you to his person with a desperate strength.

Relief flooded his body when you started pressing kisses all over his face, and all he could do was stand there. Receiving your love.

“Oh!” You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Johnny put me down, the girls told me about how tired you guys are when something like this happens. You should be resting.”

“I’ll get to that bonnie, just keep kissing me like that.” He whispered, hands slipping into the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close.

You took over as soon as you got him back to his dorm room. You helped him undress, made sure he didn’t collapse in the shower, and even straightened his precious Mohawk while he struggled to pull on the sweats you’d grabbed him. All the while, awkward apologies from him. From you, excited recollections of all the things you’d learned from the strong women around you over the week.

Johnny supposed he had them to thank. In the back of his mind he’d been wondering what flipped the switch, and gifted him the kind of welcome home he used to envy the taken members of the club for getting. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, but an old lady was something else, yet here you were, excelling at that too.

And later, in his room after the hot shower, he collapsed face first on the bed. It took one, deep inhale of the fresh linen to know someone had done laundry. He exhaled with a hum, openly appreciating the clean scent.

“Yeah, you can thank me later.” You laughed, entering the room from his bathroom.

Johnny heard the sound of a lid pop, but was too far gone to look back and see what it was. Then you straddled his back, your soft hands kneading out a week’s worth of tension, self-inflicted and otherwise. He groaned, feeling the soothing lotion follow your hands over the peaks and valleys of his muscular frame.

“Addin’ this to my tab then?” He slurred, half in the dream realm, half with the love of his life.

“Yep, but I know you’re good for it.” You leaned down, nipping his ear, and making him mewl in frustration as he hardened against the mattress, knowing there’d be nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He used the last of what he had to flip you over, mentally cataloging the adorable squeak you let out. Cupping your cheeks, he shared a soft look with you for just a moment, before he sealed his lips over yours. All he could do was hope you could feel everything he wanted to say behind the movement of his lips.

Judging by your soft sighs, he guessed you could.

He pulled away, settling half on you, half off. “I’m settlin’ my debts soon as I’m up hen. Bet on it.”

He makes Ghost promise to take care of you if something ever happens to him. 

“Johnny, shut fuck up,” Ghost glared at him, faint facial scars following his frown. “You’ll outlive us all.”

Johnny stared at him from across the meeting table, more serious than a personification of the sun had any right to be. They were the only two in the briefing room, for some reason the place felt sacred enough to Soap for such a request.

“‘m serious VP, that’s ma heart, I love her.” His accent thickened with emotion, and he sipped his bar as if to wash it back. 

                                                                                                                               His fingers flexed around the sweating glass. “‘m gonna marry her.”

“Lads and I knew that the first time you talked about her.”

Soap smiled at that, but his expression quickly returned to its serious state. “Sweet girl and me have been talkin’ about kids, preferably after.”

A fond quiet bloomed between them at that admission. The two of you had told no one else, and Johnny felt guilty violating your pillow talk confessionals, but he hoped it would get Ghost to agree.

“Want that more than anythin’ VP, but I can’t pull the trigger until I know they’ll be looked after.”

“The club-“

“Not just the club!” He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration. 

Why couldn’t the stubborn fucking giant just agree?

“I know the club will look after them in general. I know I can trust our table, hope I can trust the other charters.” He sighed, refocusing. “You’re my best friend Simon. I just have to know my girl, and my bairn, would always have you at their back. If I died.”

“Wouldn’t happen. I’d lay my life down so you could make it back-“

Johnny shook his head, choosing not to repeat himself. Instead, he gave his friend a pleading look.

He could see a storm of thoughts and emotions competing for dominance in his friend’s mind. His expression didn’t change much, but it was in his eyes if you knew him.

He saw why Simon was resisting, he didn’t feel worthy of being looked to in that way.

Finally, Ghost responded after grinding his cigarette out in the dish on the table. “Promise the same f’me then. I’ve fucked her life up enough, shouldn’t still be doin’ it when I’m gone.” 

“On my honor.” Soap didn’t even have to think, it was an instinct.

“Then tell your missus you’re ready. I’ll cover my end.”

———

Price:

Head honcho. Chief. The Boss. Captain of the ship. It’s all the same no matter who calls him what, President Price is in charge.

He founded the club after leaving his original due to lack of loyalty, and thoughtless endeavors. He works overtime to make sure his club doesn’t fall in the same way. His code of ethics may not make a lick of sense to anyone outside of the outlaw life, but they’ve garnered the respect and admiration of some of the toughest men around the globe.

They’d follow him through hell because they know he’d be the first one in.

When they’re on a run, selling guns or attending a meeting in neutral territory, John’s mind is all business until business is done. Then it’s all you. He loves hearing his guys talk about how they’re going to spend their new check, or swapping stories about their old ladies. Sometimes, he even joins in.

But what he really wants to do is celebrate with you. Most times you’re already up at the compound. Seeing to the legitimate businesses, taking care of the girls, helping the member’s families, etc.

He respects what you do, what you’re capable of, beyond borders. However, he can’t help but be jealous. You always come to him first, tight hug and a long soft kiss, but then you’re quickly looking over his guys. The men revel in it, almost becoming kittens under your motherly ministrations. Especially Soap and Gaz, who you’re in the same age group as, but you scold all the same.

When the last man has been sent on his way, he’s dragging you away to the little bedroom off his office. He knows you find it amusing, to see his selfishness win out over any tiredness he’s feeling.

Before the door can even close, he’s pulling you close and kissing you his favorite way. A kiss he didn’t know he was capable of until you became his wife. Anytime he was gone too long, you did something that knocked him off his feet, or your affection wasn’t directed solely at him, he kissed you that way.

He cradled your head, holding you steady when he pressed his lips to yours. He left no room for there to be room between the two of you. Rough thumbs slid under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before he slid his tongue between your lips. He knew he had to release you soon, let you remember how to breathe, but it was hard to fight the hunger.

“Nothing flatters me like my big biker husband being unable to share me for two seconds.” you teased, but your teasing came out in short puffs, as your lungs weren’t cooperating with you at the moment.

He could feel you swaying, going dizzy, and he brushed his beard over your ear to make you squirm before he said. “Jump love.”

You did, feeling his heavy hands grasp your thighs seconds later. He slid your legs over his hips, encouraging you to lock down around his waist.

“I’m just making sure you take care of what’s yours.” he thrust upward, hardness touching. “I promised it to you that first time.”

He laid you across the bed, staring down at you with a darkened smirk. “Take some responsibility for the state of your possessions.”

He’s the head of an organization that now exists in several countries. All that responsibility is tiring, even for a man so skilled at navigating it, and there’s been many a day when all he can do is lay his head down for the pain of the headaches.

You can’t count how many times you’ve come up to the club when he didn’t come home, only to find him furiously puffing a cigar and downing shots to dull the pain. 

The guys had families to feed, there were good men behind bars for them that needed to be taken care of, he had tables back home that needed guidance, there were property expenses, legal retainer fees, and more. Much more.

That meant more risky non-legit work, which meant stretching the legitimate business to cover what that brought in. He had to know when it was time to expand, when it was time to halt, and when it was time to move to something else.

But he’s just a man, one man, and you’re there to remind him of that. 

“John?” You had been expecting to find him in his office, but the moment you stepped into the club house, you saw him at the bar.

He wasn’t alone. 

Phillip Graves, president of the Shadows MC finished off his drink and clapped John on the back. 

“We’ll talk again.” He nodded his head towards you with a wink and a smile. “Ma’am.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him out of the door, remaining there until his motorcycle’s engine was a distant roar. At that point, you turned back to your husband.

He was gripping his forehead, lit cigar balanced on the heavy crystal ashtray next to him. The last remnants of whisky mingled with the melting ice in his glass, which he threw back before attempting a fake smile.

”Hello darling, you just close up shop?”

”Yeah, and I got home to find my husband wasn’t there. What the fuck John? You said you were going to work on this.” 

You tossed your purse on the counter. “And Graves?! I can’t even-“

”(Y/N), don’t start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have that in me right now.”

Sighing, you placed one hand on his back, using the other to put out his cigar. He protested with a disapproving grunt, but was too tired to do more than that. Your face softened at that realization.

He pushed back from the bar a little, allowing you to slide onto his lap, legs splitting over his thighs. “I’m just worried. You can lead a table, you can lead the whole organization, but you can’t carry the whole thing on your back.”

You cupped his head like he often did to yours, and massaged the base of his skull. His eyes slid shut, body going lax, and he practically purred.

Leaning down, you scattered gentle kisses on his face, careful to leave no spot untouched, before going in for a whiskery kiss. It was here John took over, thanking you for the attention.

“You know that it’s not you I don’t trust right?” you asked between kisses. “It’s him.”

“I know, and you know I value your judgment.” He got underneath your shirt, hands rubbing your sides slowly. 

There was a moment of domestic peace and quiet. You massaging his temple, and he massaging your sides. Though you trusted the capable man going soft under your hands, you hoped he wouldn’t regret whatever Graves was bringing to your door.

John doesn’t come to your shop often, but it’s not because he doesn’t support your career. It’s because he can’t watch you work for very long without wanting you biblically on every surface.

You love his open attraction to you, so it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ignore. No matter how much you try to stay focused on the job, the man is the love of your life, and he looks handcrafted by god.

Hunched over a client’s thigh, your brows were drawn in concentration on the elaborate Victorian cameo piece.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John lounging in the plush desk chair he’d dragged over. A good distance to respect your client, but close enough, he could keep eyes on his favorite person.

Your client was amused, laughing through a wince, she nodded in John’s direction. “You’ve got a not-so-secret admirer.”

“I’ve been caught lovely, what to do now?”

”Ignore you.” You quipped before glancing up at your client. “He’s my husband.”

”Oh,” she hummed. “That explains the heart eyes.”

At that, you did have to look up, instantly wishing you hadn’t. It was a visual trap. 

John, sitting there like the king he was, manspreading with no shame. Black beanie, tight jeans, dark sweater with his royal kutte draped over the sweater, and leather boots. You told him more than once he could model, to which he feigned offense. 

“Focus on your work.” John admonished, but the smirk he said it though was pure sin.

Your eyes had strayed below the belt, and John was fully aware of this. Reveling in it really.

”Don’t you have a bike to fix? A prospect to bottle feed?”

”Nope,” his arms crossed behind his head, an action you saw out of the corner of your eye. “I belong to my missus this evening.”

Your client cooed, undoubtedly enjoying the banter between you and John. You did too, too much, and his bit about belonging to you made you have to pause and readjust yourself.

”Every evening really.”

”That’s nice John.” You hissed, lifting the gun from her skin to wave him off.

Your client laughed, trying hard to hold herself steady for you.

“Don’t encourage him.” you turned yourself at an angle slightly, trying and failing to ignore him. 

“Well, it’s really far more than just evenings isn’t i-“

You lifted your foot from the pedal, and placed the tattoo gun on the tray next to you. 

“Kitchen, now.” You gave your client a sheepish smile. “We were due for a break anyway hun. Can I get you anything?”

She was visibly entertained by you and John, after all, the two of you had become a legendary couple in these parts for a reason.

“I’m good, take your time.”

John winked at your client, strolling behind you into the back. You waited until he was in the kitchenette before sliding the door closed.

”You’re such an ass.” But your hands were already under his sweater, running up and down his chest.

You appreciated that he took up so much space in the little room, forcing the two of you together. You could blame the room’s dimensions for being all over him, and not your unwavering attraction to the man.

“I haven’t seen you in 15 hours, yes, I counted. I’m always counting when it comes to you. You can’t ask me to behave.” 

Large hands slid into your hair, fingers interlocking to cradle your head. He didn’t even have to pull you in to kiss you, and he grinned, clearly also appreciating the size of the space.

“You think she’s a big enough fan to give us thirty?”

You actually have three rings. Your engagement ring, your wedding ring, and one of John’s rings that he gave you the first night you fucked.

In the quiet of the briefing room, somewhere you were surprised to be, you sat on his lap. The two of you soaked up the afterglow, the party raging outside fading to a dull noise outside of your own world. Coming down from your high, you let out a soft noise of surprise when John gripped your hair to kiss you with one hand. The other hand grasped your own, the one that had come to rest on his chest when you’d ridden him into his throne.

He slid the silver, braided band onto your ring finger, promising. “The first to come”

He loves to get in the ring and show off for you. Sometimes, there’s a loud mouth from a visiting club, or another table visiting, and John takes them to the ring they have in the back of the club’s compound. 

Usually, it’s Konig’s or Simon’s domain, but it’s not because John doesn’t love dishing it out as much as them. That becomes apparent when he delivers careful, strategically brutal, blows to his opponent. Enough to win, and then a few more to humble.

You had long ago stopped lying to yourself about how much it turned you on. So when John emerged from the ring, panting, abs catching the compound’s lights on a sheen of sweat, you always dragged him off. Under the guise of cleaning him up of course ;).

John’s breeding kink goes wild when he sees you with a baby, or any kid really. He’s been around the club life long enough to see many couples welcome kids. One of the first outings the two of you made as an official thing was to the hospital to see the birth of a member’s baby.

His old lady bonded with you, and you were quickly given child holding privileges. It came so naturally to you, and John felt what he figured the two of you would get to eventually quickly build itself a home in his chest. New Kink unlocked: breed you on any surface he could find.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, it was hypnotizing. His family around him saw it for what it was. Their president had this future scene, starring you and him, written all over him.

He thought the intensity of it was something he had to keep under wraps until he noticed you had the same feelings. 

Baby showers, shopping for 141 babies, school drives and charities the club did for the local youth, seeing cute kids on social media. It didn’t matter, John caught on to the fact that you fucked him like a feral rabbit whenever you got that maternal glint in your eye. He didn’t call you on it until after you were married. The day when your shop receptionist went on maternity leave. 

You’d been going on all through dinner, and then while doing the dishes, about how cute the kid would be, and you loved helping her with her nursery, and how she was already glowing. The more you ranted, the harder he got, until finally, he trapped you against the counter.

“I reckon it’d be easier to just say you want to be a mum.” he lifted one leg to his waist, and bucked against your clothed heat. “Say it.”

You stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “J-John..”

“Say it.” his voice somehow found a lower octave to sink to, choked with desire.

“What are you talking about?” you whined, embarrassed at being found out.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m hard as steel love, you feel that?” he grabbed your wrist, kissing the knuckles before quickly brushing them over his length. 

“That’s how bad I want to make you a mum, can’t you just admit it too?”

Tilting your chin up, he placed tiny kisses under your chin, purposely dragging his beard across the soft skin after each kiss. 

“C’mon then, tell your husband the truth so I can give us what we both want”

You whimpered, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. “John..”

“Go on, invite me in.” he slipped his index finger in the top of your panties just enough to play with the elastic. Stretching it until it threatened to fly back against your skin before he eased it back in place.

You moved forward in an attempt to make his finger slip lower, and he laughed darkly, holding you in place. Shaking his head, he repeated his precious statement.

“Give me a baby John.” you huffed, frustration rising until all that you could do was spill the truth. 

Gasping, you felt the cold tile of the counter beneath your thighs. You tried to process how he’d gotten you up there so fast, but your mind didn’t want to focus on anything other than your husband kneeling before you with the most determined look you’d ever seen.

As he slipped your panties and pajama shorts down your legs, he whispered how it’d be best if you prepared an excuse for work while you could still think straight.

[waterhousse]

That Funny Feeling

Pairing: bestfriend!ellie williams x reader

Summary: you slowly start to realize you’ve fallen in love with your best friend.

• • • •

“are you done?” you groaned, tired. the girl in front of you gazed up at you, eyes wide and eyewbrows up.

“does it look like i’m done?” ellie gestured at herself. you almost laugh at how sassy she looked.

“i’ve been posing for an eternity.”

“it’s been like ten minutes!”

“well, i can’t feel my ass anymore.”

“i’m sure it’s still there,” she said without even looking at you.

after a few moments of silence, you spoke up again, “you’re gonna have to pay me for this.”

ellie looked up from her sketchbook, completely offended. “is my art not enough payment?”

“i can’t buy shit with your art,” you deadpanned.

you had been so quick with your reply that an inevitable chuckle escaped your friend’s lips. “fuck you,” she laughed and you found yourself wanting to come up with an infinite amount of jokes just to hear that sound again. “hold still or i’m gonna have to start over.”

your eyes stayed on her as she went back to her job, unable to look anywhere else. you had always enjoyed watching her draw, founding it soothing. it also allowed you to study her and notice quirks only you could know about; the way she slightly frowned during the whole process due to the concentration and the countless huffs she let out, especially when she had to restart after a mistake. your favorite one, though, was when she sung. ellie’s voice was sweet, you had told her that many times, so you loved being able to hear it. she didn’t even notice she did it, the melodies just came out without warning.

“aaand, done.”

you jumped out of the big rock you had been sitting on for the past fifteen minutes and ran to her side, trying to catch a glimpse of her drawing, but she closed the sketchbook on your nose.

“hey, let me see.”

“it’s not ready yet,” she started gathering her supplies. you rolled your eyes at her. “stop that,” she muttered.

“what— i haven’t even said anything!”

“i know you rolled your eyes at me,” ellie said as she looked for something inside her backpack. you scoffed, but it actually warmed your heart how well she knew you. “c’mon, let’s go to my place. it’s getting late.”

you were currently behind the town’s barn, ellie had chosen that spot because, apparently, the moonlight hit your face just right. it was cold as hell that night, but being the supportive friend that you were, you decided to respect ellie’s struck of inspiration.

“i’ll show you the drawing when it’s finished, by the way,” she spoke up once you caught up with her.

“kay, well, finish it quick or else i won’t pose for you anymore.”

“fine, i’ll ask stella.”

you dramatically gasped at the mention of her. stella was relatively new in Jackson and the only person in the world you truly despised.

“don’t even joke about that.”

the fact that you hated someone that much was hilarious to her. it didn’t match your personality at all. you were the calmest, sweetest person she had ever met. besides, no one really knew why you hated her so much. even you, which was ridiculous. for some reason, everything that girl did or said annoyed you. you couldn’t stand her, feeling there was something off about her, but couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” she placed an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to her. you tried to ignore how fast your heartbeat had gotten. that seemed to be happening a lot lately around her. “but hey, you gotta admit she’s not that bad.”

your heart dropped, “you’ve talked to her?”

“what? no. i just think she’s hot.”

you crossed your arms as you hummed in response, suddenly feeling very sick. there was a sharp pang in the pit of your stomach, so you spent the entire walk quiet, only answering to ellie’s babbling with monosyllables. your friend had noticed, so once you arrived at her place she grabbed you by the arm, making you turn around.

“hey, you, uh, you okay? i was kidding about stella. she’s not— i’m not interested in her, y’know?” ellie was nervous, but you were too busy staring at the hand that was stopping you from walking away and how your skin tingled beneath it.

“it’s fine,” you gave her a small smile, eyes back on her. “but i think i’m about to come up with a fever or something, i feel a little weird.”

ellie stepped closer, letting go of your arm and placing her hand on your forehead. “yeah, i think you’re hot.”

you let out a chuckle, “thanks, i’m glad you’re finally admitting it.”

your friend rolled her eyes before opening the door for you. she stood by the doorframe, waiting for you to go inside, but you hesitated.

“i think it’s best for me to go home—”

“what? no, shut up. i’m gonna head over to joel’s to see if he has some painkillers or something, you stay here,” she said as she softly pushed you inside her house. you opened your mouth as you turned around, ready to protest, but the sound of the door closing stopped you. letting out a sigh, you looked around to finally set your eyes on the couch, where you decided to wait for ellie as you tried to ignore whatever you were feeling.

you swept your gaze over the place, warmth spreading over your heart as you spotted little details that screamed ellie; a bunch of savage starlight comics, her guitar perfectly set next to the window, art supplies, books about astronomy and many, many drawings that were either on the walls or just laying on top of the furniture.

you spotted one of her many sketchbooks laying on the floor by her bed, so you went to pick it up and put it on her nightstand, next to the lamp.

after a while, you heard the sound of jiggling keys followed by ellie’s characteristic cursing. you got up from the couch and went to open the door for her since she was clearly struggling. ellie’s frown disappeared once she laid her eyes on you.

“you okay?” you asked, amused.

“this fucking door, i swear to god—” she mumbled as she stepped inside. “look! joel made you soup. i swear he likes you more than he likes me.”

you chuckled at the last part, “i mean, can you blame him?” you joked. there was no way he liked anyone more than ellie, but that didn’t change the fact that you felt incredibly loved and protected by him, too.

ellie gazed at you, a small smile hiding on her lips, “yeah, i supposed i can’t,” she almost whispered. “c’mon, get into bed,” she ordered.

“jeez, ellie. buy me a drink first, at least,” you said, missing ellie’s flustered state. it only lasted a second, though, because her usual smug smirk was already forming on her lips.

“oh, you wish,” she teased back.

maybe it was what she said, maybe it was the way she said it, but your stomach flipped at her words. it was such an unexpected reaction that it made you froze in your spot, completely startled.

“you’re gonna get in bed or…?” ellie’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, she was holding up the covers for you.

“i can go to my house, you know. i don’t wanna be any trouble—” you said as you sat down on the bed. your friend pointed at your shoes and gestured for you to take them off.

“shut up and just let me take care of you, would you?” ellie carefully placed the soup on the nightstand. she went around the bed and sat on the other side just as you wiggled under the covers. she looked down at you, slightly leaning down, “you’re so stubborn,” she murmured as she passed you the soup.

you frowned, offended, “look who’s talking,” you bickered as you glanced up, but you weren’t prepared to see her so close. your eyes met hers, forcing you to avert your gaze elsewhere. you felt her stare still on you, making you malfunction. maybe that was the reason you took a sip of the soup without even considering how hot it would be. ellie laughed shamelessly at you when you burned your tongue. “shit!” you shrieked.

“i’m not saying you deserved it, but…” ellie teased. you would’ve pushed her off the bed if you hadn’t had a flaming hot bowl of soup in your hands, instead, you silently watched her take off her converse. she looked back at you, “move over, i’m cold.”

your breath hitched on your throat at the request, but did as she said. you kept your attention on the bowl of soup that warmed your cold hands, not feeling brave enough to make eye contact with the girl next to you.

“how’s the soup?”

“oh, it’s great. joel’s the best. remind me to thank him tomorrow.” you smiled. “want some?”

“nah, thanks. i don’t like soup.”

“what do you mean you don’t like soup?”

“i just don’t.”

“what’s not to like? it’s yummy.”

“i’m gonna ignore the fact that you just said yummy. and i don’t know! i just don’t like it.”

“weirdo. you’re missing out.”

“okay, soup’s best defender, whatever you say,” she muttered as she closed her eyes. you bit the inside of your cheek as you allowed yourself to scan her face, stopping on the freckles you had complimented so many times.

you looked away, leaving the bowl of soup on the nightstand of your side. the sound made ellie open her eyes.

“you’re gonna sleep?” she asked, her eyes were even more hypnotizing up close.

you nodded, suddenly losing the hability to speak.

“me too,” ellie said before yawning.

“hold on. you’re gonna sleep in jeans, you freak?”

ellie let out an exaggerated groan, “i don’t have the energy to get up and change. it’s too much work.”

“don’t be lazy, c’mon. i’m gonna change, too.” you began to softly push her off the bed, which eventually worked. she walked to her closet and threw you a big white t-shirt, it was the same one you always wore when you slept over.

you averted your gaze from ellie once she started to take her pants off, but it strangely took a lot of strength for you to do so. you shook your head and climbed up to bed, shortly followed by your friend.

“there, happy?”

“very.”

“great. oh, and try not to kick me so fucking much this time or i’m gonna have to fight back,” she muttered with amusement.

you let out a chuckle, “i’ll do my best,” you whispered before everything fell quiet.

you didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since ellie turned off the light, but you were sure it was a while. still as a statue, you layed next to her while staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of how you were feeling. eyes wide, stomach in a knot and heart fluttering as if it were a butterfly.

you realized you had fallen asleep once you opened your eyes and daylight touched almost every corner of the room. you blinked a few times before you fully adjusted to the light, that’s when you noticed ellie’s closeness. she was almost on top of you, breathing into the crook of your neck. it wasn’t the first time you had woken up like that with her, but it was the first time you felt different.

“ellie,” you whispered. she whined in response, mumbling something inaudible. you felt your heartbeat race when she nuzzled further into your neck, feeling her lips touch your skin. you squeezed your eyes shut, noticing the unknown feelings from the day before were still present. “hey, ellie. c’mon. it’s almost eight,” you pronounced softly, but ellie ignored you. “i’ve got somewhere to be, y’know.”

“where?” she asked almost immediately.

“i told dina i’d have breakfast with her. i would’ve invited you, but i know you’re not a morning person, so…”

she complained once again, but eventually came out of her hiding. you almost laughed at her expression.

“were you born with that frown?” you placed your fingers in between her eyebrows, making her smoothen the lines.

“shut up,” she laughed softly. “and i could be a morning person, you know.”

“so you’re coming with me?”

“no, i wanna sleep.”

you laughed and got up, ellie’s eyes following you on your way to the bathroom until you closed the door. you stared at yourself in the mirror, suddenly feeling embarrassed because of the way your hair looked. ellie had seen you like that a million times before, but that time you actually cared about looking at least presentable for her.

with a sigh, you grabbed the toothbrush you had left once and started brushing your teeth. everything felt strange, but you tried to act as normal as possible.

after washing your face and brushing your hair, you changed into your clothes. you took a deep breath before getting out of the bathroom, trying to calm down the sudden nerves that attacked you, but the sight that welcomed you once you opened the door didn’t help at all; ellie’s bare legs were crossed on top of the bed, she had tied her hair into her usual half-bun and a few strands fell over her face as she drew on her sketchbook.

“i thought you wanted to sleep,” you commented, picking up your jacket from the floor.

“just wanted to add some finishing touches to yesterday’s drawing,” her voice sounded even raspier when she was sleepy. “oh, and i forgot to give you that jacket you asked me for the other day,” she said as she got out of bed and quickly walked to her closet, leaving the sketchbook on top of her nightstand.

“trade?” you held up your jacket, making her grin. she grabbed it from you and gave you hers, which you immediately put on.

“you look great,” ellie complimented you, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

“thank you,” you smiled, your voice sounding incredibly weak. “and thank you for taking care of me. i—” love you, you almost said, but for some reason, those last two words died in your throat. it was weird. even though you always said it to her, that time that phrase seemed to carry a heavier, still unknown, meaning. “i gotta go.”

you turned around to leave, but ellie called your name. you looked back at her and watched her grab her sketchbook from the nightstand. “here,” she handed it to you. just as you were about to open it, she stopped you. “wait! look at it later. i don’t wanna see your disappointment if you don’t like it.”

“don’t be silly, you could never disappoint me,” you sincerely replied. “but okay, i’ll see it when i’m home.”

“have fun with dina. not too much fun, though. you’re not allowed to enjoy life to the fullest if i’m not there.”

“i promise i won’t. see you later,” your eyes met hers one last time before closing the door.

when you arrived at your house, you saw dina already waiting for you. once she spotted you, she started frenetically waving at you. a laugh escaped your lips as you copied her action. yeah, two people with that much energy at 8 am would be a lot for ellie to handle.

“finally! i’ve knocking on your door for the past 10 minutes. i thought you were dead,” was the first thing she said to you as she gave you hug.

“sorry, i slept over at ellie’s.”

dina let out a chuckle, “of course you did.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“you two are always together, i should’ve known. that’s all,” dina shrugged her shoulders. she decided not to comment on the fact that you were wearing ellie’s favorite jacket.

you opened the door and stepped aside, inviting her in. you followed her to the kitchen, where you put water to boil.

“oh, i saw your friend on my way here,” dina commented as she took out two mugs from your hand-painted cupboard. ellie had participated in the process too, drawing different kind of flowers.

“my friend? who?”

“stella,” she amusedly pronounced. you inevitably rolled your eyes, making her laugh. “you still hate her?”

“yes! ellie brought her up yesterday and i almost threw up, i’m not kidding. i don’t even know why i hate her so much, i’ve never even talked to her,” you sat down at the kitchen island while dina stood on the other side of it.

“uh, yes you have,” your friend frowned, confused. “you seriously don’t remember? jesse’s party a few weeks ago, it was the night after she arrived to town.”

you tried your best to remember, but nothing came to your mind. you remembered the party, but not stella. your lost expression must’ve been enough for dina to know that you actually had no idea what she was talking about.

“woah, so you were more fucked up than i thought you were,” she muttered more to herself than to you. “okay, so, jesse invited her because she was new and all that. you had a lot to drink, apparently, so you were already drunk when you approached her. you introduced ourselves and asked her if she had met anyone else besides jesse and us and she said she hadn’t, but that she had seen a girl she was interested in and she was planning on finding her. when she started describing her, we realized she was talking about—”

“ellie. she was talking about ellie,” you replied, eyes wide. the memories came flooding back, making you freeze for a second. “oh my god.”

“you totally snapped at her and told her not to go anywhere near her or you’d scratch her eyes off,” she laughed, but you were completely horrified. “yeah, you get pretty violent when you drink. in my opinion, it’s hilarious.”

“i remember the way she ran away after i said that,” you cover your mouth in disbelief.

the more you processed the forgotten information, the more you worried. that uncontrollable hatred you felt towards stella was because of jealousy over your best friend?

“i mean, i support you. you gotta defend what’s yours,” dina cheered, but her smile disappeared once she noticed your expression. “hey, you okay?”

“i shouldn’t have done that. i had no right—”

“hey, it’s okay. i’m sure ellie wouldn’t have been interested in her anyway.”

“she told me she thinks stella’s hot yesterday,” you muttered, eyes set on your own fidgeting hands.

dina stayed quiet for a bit, but you could still feel her staring at you.

“what’s that?” she pointed to the sketchbook next to you.

“oh, it’s ellie’s. she drew me yesterday and gave it to me so i could see it,” you couldn’t help but smile. you watched dina take it and look at the pages with a blank expression.

“have you seen this?”

“not yet, why? is it good?”

“well, yeah, they’re good. there’s a lot of them.”

confused, you reached over to grab the book from her hands. your eyes widened at the content. you felt your heartbeat increase by the second and a deep blush color your cheeks as you rummaged through the pages. you were on each and every one of them; smiling, laughing, dancing, sleeping and more. you recognized some of them, since you remembered posing that way, but the majority of them were ellie’s invention. you were left speechless at how well she had managed to capture you, down to the smallest detail.

“she may think stella’s hot, but i can assure you she thinks you’re the most beautiful girl to ever walk the earth. i mean, look at those. you’re her muse,” dina smiled sweetly at you.

“i have to talk to her,” you whispered before standing up. “i don’t wanna leave you alone, but—”

“it’s okay, dummy. i’ll be here, drinking my tea and waiting for you to come back and to tell me everything. take your time, though.”

with dina wishing you good luck, you left with the sketchbook in hand and ran to her place without even thinking twice about it. you ignored how dizzy you felt and the way your heart was beating at an abnormal speed. nothing else mattered, because everything suddenly seemed crystal clear.

your heart skipped a beat once you arrived at ellie’s place and saw her sitting on joel’s stairs, staring down at something in her hands. she looked up when she heard you approach.

“ellie—”

“i gave you the wrong sketchbook,” she whispered, staring at the object in your hands. you frowned, stepping closer to her. “you weren’t supposed to see that. i’m— shit, i’m sorry.”

“what? ellie, no. i loved it.”

“listen, you don’t have to lie. i know it’s really fucking weird and pathetic—”

“you wanna hear something really weird and pathetic? i scared the shit out of a girl just because she told me she was interested in you. you wanna hear the funniest part? that girl was stella. i drunkenly told her to stay away from you or else i would scratch her eyes out.”

ellie’s eyes widened, mouth slightly agape. worry had started spreading through your body. “what?”

“i forgot about that whole interaction but the anger i felt in that moment stuck with me to the point i hated a girl without even knowing why,” you let out an awkward chuckle. “i… i hated her because she thought about you the way only i can think about you.”

everything became a little too real since the moment those words left your lips, and even though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders once you made that confession, it was soon replaced with the weight of the question ‘what will happen next?’

ellie’s gaze softened, going from confusion to something indecipherable. was it pity or was it what you hoped for?

suddenly, she stood up. you watched her as she walked painfully slow at you, torturing you. once she was only inches away from you, she smiled. with a hand placed on your waist and the other on the side of your face, she finally leaned in and captured your lips in an agonizing, yet perfect, slow kiss. you melted into her touch, feeling as if you were about to explode of happiness.

it was what you had hoped for.

“i can’t believe this is actually happening,” ellie murmured, lips touching yours. she leaned back a little, allowing herself to look at you. her eyes expressed so much love you couldn’t understand how you went so long without realizing that.

“you’re blushing,” you commented, eyes sparkling.

“oh my g— why would you point that out?” ellie complained, but she wasn’t mad. “you’re blushing too, by the way.”

“shut up.”

you silently stared at each other with shy smiles. ellie caressed your face with her thumb and softly pressed her lips on yours, giving you one small kiss. everything felt so intimate that you had forgotten about the rest of the world, completely unaware of the fact that you were on the street.

“i was so fucking scared when i realized i gave you the wrong sketchbook. i thought i’d messed everything up,” ellie whispered, her eyebrows furrowing a little. “i’ve dealt with loss in the past, and even though it hurt like hell, i got over it. or at least i’ve been able to live with it, but losing you? There’s no way i’d make it.”

your heart fully stopped at her sweet words, “you’ll never lose me.”

“good,” she smiled. “y’know, i told myself to draw you whenever you were on my mind, just so i could do something with what i was feeling. turns out that i’m never not thinking about you.”

not knowing how to reply to that, you launched yourself forward, crashing your lips with hers. you could feel her laughing, making you giggle too.

“i was so nervous on my way here. i wasn’t sure if you felt the same way,” you let out a small laugh, lips a little swollen.

“what? the sketchbook didn’t make that clear?”

“well, i didn’t want to jump to conclusions. i could be another stella, you know, just some girl you find hot,” you bitterly said.

ellie grimaced, “yeah, about that…” she awkwardly chuckled. “i don’t she’s hot. i only said that because i was hoping to get a reaction out of you.”

you gasped, “ellie, what the hell? first of all, you’re a bitch. that was a low blow. second of all, well played. it worked. it made me sick, literally.”

“i thought that was a coincidence,” she let out a laugh. “am i a mastermind or what?”

you rolled your eyes at her gloating, “yeah, yeah. don’t let it get to your head. it’s already big enough.”

“hey!”

“kidding,” you pronounced in a sing-song voice. as happiness spread all over your body, you placed your arms on her shoulders and locked your hands behind her neck. grinning, you brought her closer and kissed her again, and again, and again, and again.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Can you request a Stan/Ford (Seprate) with a younger(29-49) girlfriend who's a Mortician and absolutely obsessed with death(in an artistic way)? Fluff ofc!

Okay!

Ford/stan pines x mortician reader

Ford Pines:

Ford is fascinated by your profession as a mortician. He has a deep respect for people who can approach death with curiosity and artistry like you do. Your discussions about the work you do, the art of preserving bodies, and the beauty you see in death intrigue him beyond belief.

You often catch him asking you all sorts of questions, from technical aspects of your work to philosophical ones. He loves talking to you about your unique perspective.

"So, when you're preparing a body, do you think of it as… scientific art? Like a preservation of life, but through death?

He finds himself comforted by your openness about death, especially considering his own near death experiences.

Your view on death makes it less frightening for him, and he loves how you’ve made it feel like a natural part of life rather than something to be feared.

Ford is surprisingly soft when it comes to your more artistic expressions of death. Whether it’s photography, sketching anatomical designs, or even macabre poetry, he loves seeing the world through your eyes. He thinks it’s poetic that your job is so tied to life’s greatest mystery.

Despite his mind, Ford can be romantic in his own way. Sometimes, he’ll surprise you with small, thoughtful gifts related to your interest, from a rare antique book on embalming techniques or a sketchbook for your death-related projects.

Ford loves hearing you talk about your day, even if it’s filled with things most people would find morbid. He's already quite used to stuff in that field. You make it sound fascinating, and Ford can’t get enough of your stories.

Stan Pines:

Stan is initially a little weirded out when he finds out you’re a mortician. Death isn’t exactly something he likes to think about, and your enthusiasm for it is unexpected. But once he gets over the initial shock, he’s intrigued. Really intrigued.

"So, you work with dead people all day? That’s gotta be a hell of a conversation starter!"

He jokes about it a lot at first, but it’s his way of trying to understand. And the more you talk about it, the more he finds himself genuinely interested.

He loves how you’re not afraid of death and how you’ve made it into something artistic. Stan is all about people who aren’t afraid to live life on their own terms, and you embody that completely. He admires how you’ve taken something most people shy away from and turned it into an art form.

“You’re somethin’ special, ya know that?”

Stan’s rough around the edges, but when he sees how passionate you are about your work, he’s hooked. He may not understand everything, but he loves listening to you talk about it.

He brags about you all the time. “Yeah, my girl’s a mortician. Works with the dead, and she’s damn good at it. Not everyone can handle that kind of thing, but she’s a real pro.” He’s super proud of what you do and loves showing you off for being so unique and talented.

He’s surprisingly romantic when it comes to your art. If you have sketches or projects related to death, Stan will look at them with genuine admiration. He may not fully get it, but he’s impressed by your creativity.

“I don’t know how you come up with this stuff, but it’s pretty damn amazing.”

When he’s feeling cheeky, Stan likes to joke about death in a lighthearted way.

“So, when I kick the bucket, you’re gonna make sure I look real handsome, right?”

It’s his way of showing he’s comfortable with your work and isn’t afraid to joke about it with you.

If you ever doubt yourself or worry that your obsession with death is too much, Stan is the first to shut that down.

"You’re incredible just the way you are. If people can’t handle that, screw ‘em. I love every weird, dark, artistic part of you."

At the end of the day, Stan is just completely in love with how unique you are. He may not always get your artistic take on death, but he’s endlessly proud of you and everything you do.

"You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, y’know? Don’t ever change."

A/n: got sick again while writing these

[athenaistired]

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭.𝟒 //

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ɪᴛ ��ᴀꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ.

art credit & word count: 4747

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ): ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ, ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅᴜᴇʟɪɴɢ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟ

— 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !4!

It has been a month since Donna had miscarried the baby. The tension in the house was over the roof, but what irritated Diluc further is that you always seemed to be in great spirits.

Their dark circles, weight loss, depressive states — none of that phased you. In fact, there was one time when the redheaded man was getting ready to collect some flowers in the Whispering Woods, and you watched him leave the house whilst standing in the hallway and waving him a good-bye with that shit-eating smirk that never left your face.

There was something evil in your eyes ever since he came back. You were not the same person that he knew once — you felt like a demon. A witch.

Every time he left somewhere, he was terrified that you would do something to Donna. Your actions felt like a slow build-up to a gradual event, and he couldn’t help but worry himself into sickness. Diluc always kept any form of a weapon on himself, and even his lover started sleeping with a knife under her pillow just in case you’ll come back to haunt her once more.

Planning your murder was not an easy task. There were multiple things that they had found in their way.

First, it was your absolute authority over the house and Mondstat. The attack couldn’t happen anywhere where you could have a potential escape route or a protector. You had to either be caught by a surprise, or be forced into attacking first to initiate the whole ordeal.

Second, your servant Marie. She wasn’t always visible, but her spirit was everywhere where you went. Diluc the other day had also caught a sight of a Hydro Vision embedded at the back of the maid’s long black skirt. He wasn’t sure if she specialized in the healing ability or fighting, but as the time went on he did realize one thing for certain — Marie wasn’t a mere servant, she was your personal bodyguard. Knowing you, you wouldn’t have someone responsible for your safety without proper insurance.

Third, your abilities. Even after all these weeks of living under the same roof as you, there was still not much known about you. He had attempted to investigate and find out if there were any potential trump cards that they still weren’t aware of, but he came up to nothing. In fact, the more he dug, the more their murder attempt was feeling less and less possible.

“Donna, there’s only one way that this can be done.” The redheaded man whispered, and his words made the woman tremble and grow pale.

“Absolutely not.” She instantly replied, but instead of a living gaze that she grew to love — eyes as cold as ice stared back at her. Her lover was fed up with everything. He just wanted it all to be over.

“I am giving you a month. If you don’t come up with a new idea — I will get this done the way I see fit.” He warned her, absolutely refusing to back down on his decision.

He couldn’t let you win.

He couldn’t let you win.

He. Couldn’t. Let. You. Win.

Never.

He would rather die.

“But Diluc—“ Donna begged from the bottom of her heart, but her plea was silenced once the man rose a palm before her face, tactically telling her to shut up. Brunette’s heart ached. She felt heavy, as if she was about to crash through the ground and fall down straight into hell itself.

She was losing Diluc.

To you.

There was a knock on the door, and soon no other but Marie had walked through the door. Just a few weeks ago, she would ask for permission before entering. However, the more your terror and power grew, the less Donna and Diluc were respected or cared for by the servants of the house. They all admired you on another level, and saw the two “guests” as nothing more than nuisances.

“Master Y/N is expecting both of you for breakfast.” The maid proclaimed after a small bow of her head. Well, she might have had no respect for their privacy, but she sure was always a well-mannered woman.

“Tell that witch to stop playing fucking house already.” Diluc snarled back like an angered animal. His fists were already clenched just at the thought of you. Marie lightly frowned at the harshness of the words, but didn’t let it show.

“For today’s breakfast we have prepared a freshly made croissant bake topped with cinnamon custard and wild berries.” The maid continued on as if the other two were not even in the room, “You’re expected to be downstairs in 5 minutes, so that the food does not get cold. Do not make Master Y/N wait for you.”

And just as Diluc was about to say further insults into her back, the maid had left the room.

-

“Good morning, you two.” You said the moment the parasites had entered the dining room. You watched Marie pour you another cup of tea. Today it was buckwheat tea with some honey as a sweetener, your personal favorite. The maid’s graceful hands clothed with black velvet gloves carefully moved the ceramic teapot and gently placed it back down. It didn’t even make a sound against the wood of the table once it was put down, “I pray that you had a good night’s sleep.”

“Are you having fun doing all of this?” Diluc snarled at you, and you rose a curious brow. Marie’s expression grew darker, but you put your hand up to stop her.

“Let him speak.” You said to your maid, and although she hesitated, she straightened up her back once again and put her hands behind her back.

“Diluc, stop.” Donna tugged at her lover’s sleeve, but the man instantly pulled away from her.

You watched in amusement as his resentment towards you was now pouring out and poisoning everything around that he loved. A woman that he treasured, carried around in his arms, and claimed to marry in the future — was now humiliated and ridiculed by no other but himself.

“No, Donna, let me tell this bitch exactly what I think.” Diluc said to Donna and began quickly approaching you. You didn’t even flinch, but continued to drink your tea as if nothing was happening, “Tell me, is this.. Fun?” He said almost straight in your face, “Is this.. A twisted desire of yours? Revenge? A fucking joke?!” You watched in disgust as the droplets of saliva from his mouth landed over your dishes.

You picked up a teaspoon and lightly clicked it against the plate. Marie instantly was on your opposite side picking up the dishes off the table. Both Diluc and Donna seemed confused by what was happening, but didn’t say a word.

You stood up from your chair, and stared long and deep into your husband’s eyes. You were trying to find at least small bits of evidence that the man you once loved was still there. However, as you searched — you couldn’t find even the smallest bits. You wondered, what would the Diluc from the past think about this? How would he react to what had happened between both of you? Would he allow himself to live knowing the shame he had brought upon his own family name?

No, that Diluc would choose death over being such a disgusting creature that was in front of you.

“You are just a dead man, fuming with rage and grief. There’s a deep hole in your heart that nothing can fill, and this malice that’s spilling out of you will never end unless you’ll rot away six feet under. You never got over your father’s death, and you make it everyone else’s problem. Well, you know what, Diluc? You’re not the only one who lost something important that day you left.” You could see his vision glowing, as if it wanted to spit fire at you right there and then, “Grow the fuck up already.” You said in a cold tone that made the whole room fall silent. Diluc blinked once, twice, and took a step back. Satisfied, you turned around to where Marie stood, “I will have my breakfast in my office.”

“Of course, Master Y/N.” The maid bowed and then held up the door open for you to leave.

“Ah, and one more thing.” You turned around, but this time you faced the brunette woman rather than the hot-headed idiot, “Donna, darling, you’re only 19 years old. Don’t waste away your years on this disappointment of a man like I did. He’ll turn on you the same way he did on me, then will cheat on you with a younger woman or man, and you’ll be left alone to pick up his shit after him.” You sighed, “I wasn’t always the way I am today. I know that, that feeling that’s been growing in me back then, is now growing in you. Listen to your gut, and make the right decision.” And with that, you finally left the room leaving both of them in a stupor.

-

“Oh, for fucks sake!” Diluc roared like an animal and smashed his fist against the wall. Donna stood behind him, slightly hesitant to move. Ever since she listened to your speech, she couldn’t seem to get her head out of clouded thoughts. You laid the seeds of your plans — to grow them apart as much as you could.

Rightfully so.

“Please, just.. Calm down..”

And it was working.

“Calm down? Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!” The man pulled at his own hair. He really did seem to be slowly losing his mind, “Are you fucking serious with me right now? They are humiliating me!” He let out a small laugh of disbelief, but Donna was dead serious.

“Why don’t you go on a walk? Cool down. Maybe let out some steam fighting Hilichurls. Go do something else except just.. Being here.” She breathed out a suffocated breath. It felt like she had been holding in these words ever since yesterday — and now she was finally able to let them out, “They’re getting into your head, Diluc.”

“They’re getting into MY head? Donna, you’re not making any sense here.” However, the man refused to understand the message behind her words, “Just a few weeks ago you came to me crying your fucking eyes out because you thought that Y/N caused you to have a miscarriage, and now what? You’re telling me to.. Let go? To.. Calm down?! TO. COOL. FUCKING. DOWN?” His voice was increasing in loudness with each word one by one, and Donna could barely hold herself from wincing away.

When had he become this?

Was he always like this?

What was happening to him?

Where did her Diluc go?

“Yes.” She nodded, “I am.”

The man stared at her for one second, two, three.. Time seemed to slow down while he studied her expression as if she was an animal at the zoo. They weren’t talking, but none dared to break the eye contact. One was trying to dominate the other in the disagreement by using pure intimidation. Donna wasn’t sure how successful her attempt was, but suddenly, her lover took quick steps right towards her and roughly grabbed her by the chin.

The brunette froze in place; feeling like a helpless bunny before a hungry wolf. He squeezed her flesh tight to the point that it burned. Her hiss of pain didn’t stop him, but only seemed to make the grip stronger. She would be shocked if it wouldn’t bruise later.

“Wipe that look off your fucking face.”

It felt like he could see you looking at him through Donna’s eyes.

Diluc finally let go, and almost made his lover fall down to the ground. The man quickly walked past, grabbed his coat, and headed through the hallway to the right. Soon, the loud bang that shook the whole mansion had echoed through the walls. He left. Thank god, he left. Relief washed over Donna’s psyche; her heartbeat was starting to slow down and she began to take deep breaths in and out.

She had no clue what to do anymore.

-

You sat in front of a chess board in your office. You carefully observed the crafted pieces before you, and hummed in thought. Eventually, you picked up the Queen and King off the board and showed them up to Marie who stood by the exit door.

“I am the King.” You announced, “And you — are the Queen. You do whatever I tell you to, and you protect me at the cost of your life. However, you are more than just a Queen — you can jump through pieces, you can go multiple times in a row, and you can engulf as many in your way as I desire.” Marie smiled, but remained silent, “And I am more than just a King, however, what I share in common with the King is that if I fall — the game will be over not just for me, but for everyone.”

“Marie?” You called out to your servant, who looked up at you with adoration. She already knew what you were going to ask, “If I told you to die for me, would you?”

“Of course, Master Y/N.”

You laughed in her face.

“If I told you to let me die. Would you?”

This time, with more hesitation, “Y-yes, Master Y/N.”

“Is that so? How adorable.” You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling. This feeling of power over others was just as addictive as a drug. The people of this house held you in such high regard, that they would even go against Barbados himself for your sake.

Suddenly, your expression went cold, “Then you are no Queen.. Just another pawn.” Your gaze shifted once more onto the wooden figures held in your hands, “Remember this — anything and anyone can be replaced, but the King.”

You dropped the chess pieces in your palms straight onto the chess board. The pieces clacked, and flew all across the table.

Chaos..

Discord..

Malice..

Death.

-

Weeks were passing by, and Donna was still out of options. Now, with a further sober mind, she wasn’t sure what she was meant to propose to Diluc in order to change his mind. If only they could just run away, but they were held like hostages to their own fates — prisoners of your home. Until this day, Diluc still called it “his” mansion, but anyone who wasn’t a complete cretin knew the truth. You’ve long planted seeds, strengthen roots, and bloomed in this house. They were strangers here, no matter how hard one would look.

“Donna, did you come up with a solution?” Diluc creeped up behind her like a ghost; she didn’t even hear his steps nor sensed his presence.

“H-honey.. Can we just.. Run away from here? Maybe we’ll build a cabin in the woods where nobody will find us.. And live there.. Forever?” The woman grabbed at his shirt and pressed herself closer to his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, but it sounded cold. Distant. Like an echo.

Diluc gently took Donna by her shoulders, and pushed her away to look deep into her eyes. Those eyes were the ones of a dead man who had learned how to walk and talk, but it was easy to tell that he had long abandoned dreaming and living.

She had lost him.

This was it.

“I won’t rest until that bitch is fucking dead.”

A chill ran through Donna’s spine. She froze, and didn’t even care to chase after him as he walked off into the distance. She shouldn’t have said anything to him that day when she lost her child, she gave him an idea — that turned into an obsession. He had become a sick man. No, he had always been a sick man, it was just..

It was just..

That he loved Donna before.

But he didn’t anymore.

His love for Donna, was replaced with hatred for you, and it seemed like Diluc’s heart only had place for one person.

It was her time to let go.

And so, the brunette slowly turned herself around to go back to the guest bedroom to pack away her things and leave this cursed mansion. She had enough money to hire an adventurer to escort her to Liyue. There was no more life left for her in Mondstat, not after what she had done. Not after what Diluc was about to do.

Perhaps.. They liked flowers in Liyue as well.

-

You knew that he was approaching, and fast. His footsteps echoed across the hallway long before he even reached your door. You and Marie exchanged a look; already expecting what was to come. After all, the walls were quite thin within the mansion.

When Diluc flew into the room, he had resembled a beast far more than a human. There was fire in his eyes — perhaps this was the first time that he had truly looked alive since the day that he came back to you. A lost hound had returned to its owner to consume it alive. You’ve ran out of things that could saturate his hollowing hunger.

“In Fontaine, you have the right to fight for your honor with a duel.” He said while staring down at you. You sat at your work desk on a massive red velvet chair whilst playing with a pen between your fingers. Your movements stopped, and you looked up at him with a smirk.

“Is that so?” You chuckled; feeling amused, “I am saddened to disappoint you, but you do so with a dualist assigned by the Chief of Justice.”

“Either you fight me or everyone in this mansion dies.” The red-headed man threatened you, at which you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore.

“They can all die.” You shrugged, “Dying for me is an honor, Diluc.” The man rolled his eyes at your response, but didn’t give up.

“Either you fight me — or I will set the whole of Mondstat on fire.” At first, you wanted to instantly reply back — ‘You wouldn’t do that’ — but with another second of staring into his eyes you knew for sure that he had truly lost his mind. He had nothing left to stay for, “I will murder citizens, women, children.. I will cause chaos, until I am stopped. However, you are able to prevent the loss of those lives by agreeing with me right here and right now to fight for honor.” He took one step after another, and eventually placed both of his palms against the table and leaned in closer towards you, “I wouldn’t be surprised if I am not the only one in the need of honor cleansing.”

You couldn’t care less about the humans’ lives, however, if the word got out that Diluc would not have committed crimes have you agreed to a duel, but you haven’t, it would greatly affect your reputation. Damaging to your reputation, would damage your status, damaging status, would damage the business, damaging the business would damage sales, and then slowly and eventually..

You will also be left with nothing.

“A duel it is.” You stood up and straightened out your hand. With hesitance, Diluc shook it, “One of us will not see the dawn, do you agree for such a risk?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, Y/N.”

-

Dueling is about recovering your honor, it was not an act of killing.

There were many important rules to a proper duel. First of all, such were not allowed in the country of Freedom and winds. Thus, it had to happen in the country of Geo and contracts, where both you and Diluc had signed the appropriate documentations which were overlooked by Lady Ningguang herself. Since both you and Diluc were considered to be individuals of high status, it applied even further complications to the whole ordeal.

You ensured that the vision from Diluc was confiscated, and that he was not allowed to use weapons he was further familiar with than you. So, the claymores and the swords were off the weapon choice. Both of you had signed for the weapon to be a loaded pistol. Your husband requested for them to not come from the production of your company, thus, also disabling any potential advantages from your side.

The day had come. Strangely enough, you did not feel nervous. You felt oddly excited.

Standing back-to-back with Diluc made you realize that it had been years since you were able to feel his warmth against your skin. It was a paralyzing feeling. This was probably the last time that you would feel it, but the idea of that brought you strange comfort.

You looked around, before you stood an audience of people, friends, and even some distant families. You could see in the center of the seating lady Ningguang together with her two most trusted servants by each of her sides. You could also see the glimpse of Master Jean, the Traveler, and even Paimon. You weren’t sure if the sights which were about to transpire were worth witnessing. There were also guards standing in each corner of the podium, ready to intervene under lady Ningguang’s orders if she thought that the duel had gotten too far.

Well, it was definitely going to get too far.

Dueling is about recovering your honor, it was not an act of killing. However, you and Diluc were gathered here today to kill one another. One of you can exist only with the death of the other. There was no loophole or another solution to this.

The loaded gun rested heavy in your palm, but you didn’t shake nor sweat. You had long abandoned fear or attachment to living.

There was a loud voice, you didn’t know what they said, but you knew what had to be done. 20 steps, and fire. 20 steps, and fire. 20 steps, and fire.

In 20 steps, your life was about to change forever.

20..

19..

Your heart was starting to squeeze, but the adrenaline rush kept you going forward. You stood proud and confident. Your chest was puffed out, and your movement never lost its grace.

18..

17..

The face of young Diluc flashed before your eyes. He used to be so happy, so full of life, and filled with passion. If only that boy had known he would grow up into such a monster.

17..

16..

You looked down at your gloves. You put on the best pair that you had. White silk with a black beautiful design stitched by hand. It also had some pearls situated at the corners of the black lines. This pair had come all the way from Inazuma, and last time you had worn them was on your wedding day.

16..

15..

The weather today was perfect. It was sunny, and it was easy to stay warm even in lighter clothes. However, the fresh breeze of a wind made you feel refreshed just how you would in winter. The sun of Mondstat, and the wind from Dragonspine, all the way in Liyue. The Archons were truly having a laugh at you.

15..

14..

You noticed that Donna was also present in the audience. She had been crying for a long time. There was a handkerchief in her palm, her eyes were swollen and puffy, her pupils surrounded by wine-red. Poor girl, you thought, but you felt no empathy. Karma would catch up with her as well, the same way how karma was catching up with you today.

14..

13..

You were trying to recall what you had for breakfast today, and couldn’t remember. Ever since you started preparing for your death, the days and nights have blended into one. You were truly in the moment — in the present — today.

13..

12..

For some reason, you wondered whether Diluc remembered the day of your birthday. Did he remember your anniversary? Did he remember the day when your parents had passed away?

12..

11..

You saw Kaeya sitting in the audience as well. He gave you a weak smile when he caught your glimpse towards him, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in irony of it all.

11..

10..

You noticed that Marrie was not present, just how she had promised. After all, you entrusted the last task to her. You knew she’d get it done. You knew that she wouldn’t get involved.

She was free.

10..

9..

You wondered what the life would have been like, if instead of running away, Diluc actually would have come to you for comfort. What if he had processed his grief, and the two of you would have moved on? Maybe you would have children by now. Perhaps, also dogs, cats and horses.

Maybe you would have been happy.

9..

8..

You saw a shadow of your parents standing right before you. Their faces were covered with a faint light glow. This made you wonder, you couldn’t quite recall how their faces had looked like. Or the sound of their voices. No, you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to have your father smile at you or what was it like for your mother to tell you bedtime stories. Those were luxuries of the past.

The dead had come to visit, as if already decided upon the fate that was about to be bestowed. There was no way around this, was there?

8..

7..

You could hear Diluc’s angry panting all the way from where he was standing. He was fuming. He was raging. He was burning from inside out from hatred and agony. He had decided that getting rid of you would put everything to a stop. That he would stop feeling like a monster was eating him alive. That he would be finally put out of his misery.

Oh, how wrong could one be.

7..

6..

You thought back to when Diluc had proposed to you for the first time. You were still just kids, and both of you had no clue that it was already decided that both of you will get married for diplomatic reasons. He had braided a stem alongside another stem of small, delicate flowers into a ring and a flower crown. He had gifted those to you, with a pure smile and a faint peach blush hovering his cheeks. You were in love.

6..

5..

You thought back to when Diluc had got his vision. At first, you were a bit jealous. After all, everyone wanted to have a vision. And knowing that both of your parents had one, however, you didn’t, always made you feel a bit petty inside. You could recall begging him to use his pyro abilities, because you wanted to see the magic, oh so badly! He asked you, which animal did you want him to make. Without any hesitation you replied, a bird!

5..

4..

You thought back to when the detectives that you have hired to investigate your husband’s disappearance first told you that they thought Diluc had passed away. Your whole world came crushing down. You felt sick right then and there. You were dizzy for weeks, the doctor’s couldn’t help you. There was one professor from Sumeru who decided to take your case and heal you from a “broken heart”.

In reality, it was a congestive heart failure. The causes were unknown. Your medications kept you stable for some time, but there wasn’t much time left.

4..

3..

You thought.. You thought.. You thought..

Almost as if time had come to a stop.

2..

1. . .

It was very sunny that day. You were a bit hungry, but felt too nervous to eat in the morning. After all, it was going to be the day that your life would change once and for all — you were going to be with your soulmate forever.

"Do you take Y/N as your lawful partner, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

The priest had asked Diluc the question, but he didn’t even need any time to think. The clear and loud “yes” had slipped past his lips even before the other could finish his sentence. The old and wise Priest smiled at the lovebirds, and the two of you sealed yourselves in a kiss — a promise.

Until death do us part.

[ayashitetsuko]

An open letter to David Jenkins

Some fans believe that we should not vent our anger and frustration to show creators. I don’t believe that. The thing about being a professional is that receiving criticism is part of your job—especially if you have done a terrible job.

OFMD went from groundbreaking to disappointing overnight.

There was a momentum to create a queer media that is smart, fun, sexy, and most importantly, respectful. In the way they are writing these queer characters. Especially older and disabled queer characters, a reflection of a generation of marginalised communities that have gone through so much. To give audience a glimpse of hope in their escapism.

But sir, you choose to Remus Lupin him instead.

This is not just about killing off a character. Hell, I might be willing to accept it. After all, I have read and even written fics with MCD in it—involving my favourite character.

But I want you to know that this is a special case. It is not just another popular character being killed off to drive plots.

I have issue with how you kill off a queer character that represents many marginalised communities in his arc.

Izzy is an abuse survivor who becomes disabled as a result of it. Izzy is a queer elder. Izzy is suicidal but manages to overcome it with the healing power of love and community.

Having him killed off just like that is a huge slap for fans who have gone through what he has gone through. Turns out, even in fiction, in our escapism, there is no joy. Only despair.

Also. Father figure? Where does that come from? Ed has never been shown to have any level of respect for Izzy. So let me ask you again. Where does “father figure” come from?

You have an opportunity to make a difference with OFMD; to be remembered in history for the right reasons. Yet somehow you choose not too. You choose to turn this into cheap, sensationalist entertainment where death and torture are thrown around for shock value.

It is like you have no idea how much power you have by being a professional storyteller.

Let me break it down to you. For you as a writer, perhaps killing off Izzy is nothing but an artistic choice. A plot point to figure out. But for audiences in marginalised groups, stories are mirrors. They see themselves in stories. That is how stories give them hope. This is why OFMD has never been “just a pirate story”. Perhaps this is hard to understand if you have never been part of an underrepresented community in the mainstream media, but this is how many are feeling about your work now. Your legacy.

OFMD has truly become an overnight failure. I don’t know how this happened. I would like to blame budget cuts, but your Vanity Fair interview makes me realise this is all deliberate choice.

So, what is next for us Canyonites?

If anything, this convinced me that queer and disabled people should write. And continue to write.

We can no longer trust major media to speak for us. We definitely can never trust David Jenkins again. Any form of progressiveness that he showed earlier was just coincidence, apparently. Even worse, it was fake.

As my friend Sam beautifully puts it, Izzy belongs to us now. We reclaim that character and give him all the happy endings he deserves in our fic, our art. We transform the works. We write about queer, disabled, suicidal characters the way the deserve to be written. If being a published writer is the path you choose, make sure you make wiser decisions than David Jenkins.

Thank you, sir. It was good while it lasts.

But this is a terrible job that you’re doing.