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fangirl-dot-com · 1 year ago

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Lewis Hamilton and George Russel - I'm with a Knight and Slenderman, No One Can Touch Me

It’s part 4 time! This was so fun to write and I laughed so hard at some parts. I feel like George is a really underrated driver. He’s funny and a good person (even though he looks like Woody from Toy Story). And the girlfriend effect has hit him hard. His hair is so beautiful and I need to know what he does with his bangs.

And then Sir Lewis – good Lord, he needs to go back to that one hairstyle from that one interview that made everyone fall for him

Specially dedicated to @treehouse-mouse <3

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED]

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all <;3

“Shit,” you muttered as you looked around the now empty paddock. You knew that taking a nap after your media duties had been done was a bad idea. You had played nap roulette with yourself and were now paying the consequences. You shouldn’t have said “oh, I won’t set an alarm. Someone will come get me. I might nap for ten minutes or it might be 3 hours. Who knows!”

Well, now you knew. It was three hours.

You looked around for your backpack that you had come with. But as your eyes danced around the garage, it was nowhere to be found. You sighed as you at least remembered your phone. But alas, the world hated you for being a woman: your phone was dead.

“Ok, there’s no reason to panic. Let’s head to the parking lot and see if someone is still here,” you whispered to yourself. Walking carefully, you exited the dark paddock. The parking lot was no different.

Dark, cold, and empty.

“Great. Just great.” You decided to sit on a curb and wait. Maybe by now, Christian or Max would know that you are missing, and will come back to get you.

Or maybe they were mad at you. Yes, you were on the podium. As a rookie. At your first race.

But you made a mistake that costed the team a 1-2 finish. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be looked for.

Before your thoughts could spiral more, two bright headlights blinded you. You raised a hand to try to cover at least some of your face. The two front doors of the car swung open. Your heart started to race.

It was just you out here and they might be kidnappers.

“Please I have no money on me. Don’t beat me up or kidnap me. Trust, you do not want to sell me or anything like that,” you spoke out, trying to hinder their unknown wants for you. Your fear slowly melted away at a familiar grandpa laugh and bean-pole build of the two figures.

“Lewis! George!” You stood up quickly.

“What are you doing out here?” George peered down. Your neck was bent to even look up at him.

“Um. I might have been left behind because I was taking a nap. And my phone is also dead.” You sheepishly grinned at the two.

Lewis sighed before bringing out his phone. “I don’t have Christian’s number, but Toto does. Let me give him a call.”

Your head cocked. “Do you not have Max’s number?” George let out a laugh.

“Kid. Think of Abu Dhabi 2021.” Your eyes widened.

“Sorry.”

Lewis waved you off and walked a bit aways to hear Toto. George just kind of stared at you as you stared at him.

“Are you ok?”

“Of course I’m ok. I’m with a knight,” you pointed at Lewis, “and Slenderman. No one can touch me.” You crossed your arms before giggling. George just gawked at your boldness. You took this time to look at the nice Mercedes in front of you. “Is this the new model?”

George nodded. “Yeah, Lewis just got it. He won’t let me drive it though.” A pout formed on his lips.

“I get what you mean. Max won’t let me drive his Ferrari.”

“Why would you want to drive that junk?”

Your head tilted. “I don’t know. I like my Porsches better though.” It was George’s time to raise an eye brow. “I haven’t gotten them yet. But they’ll be ready soon. I had to ship one to London and the other to Monaco.”

“Ah.”

You looked at Lewis, who was still on the phone. You had an idea.

A very bad one, but an idea none-the-less.

“You wanna go somewhere?” You pointed at the still running car. Lewis should have taken the keys.

“Where would we go?” George was already grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“There’s a burger king a couple of miles away.”

George was already climbing into the driver’s side. “Let’s get going!”

Back with Lewis, he was still on the phone. For some reason, Toto would still not give him Christian’s number.

“Please Toto, I am with two children,” he pinched his brow, “and I’m tired and I’d like to get back to the hotel. So please send me Max’s or Christian’s number.” He wasn’t aware of his car that was now filled with said two children making their getaway. He hung up once he got Max’s number.

His phone rang for a few seconds before Max’s voice sounded over the background noise of a party.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Lewis. You left your kid here.” He heard Max curse on the other side.

“I thought Vito was getting her, but Vito is right at the bar. Can you send me your location so I can pick her up?”

Lewis waved a hand, even though Max couldn’t see it. “No worries, I can just drop her off. I’m with George and we’ll driver her over. I have my-” Lewis stopped.

“Lewis? Are you there?”

Lewis’ eyes scanned the now empty parking lot. He groaned. “They took my car!”

Max laughed for a bit before he realized that Lewis wasn’t playing. “Send my your location, I’m already out the door. We’ll find them.”

By the time Max got to Lewis, you and George were already having the time of your lives.

You pointed out the window. “Look Georgie. Traffic cones. Have you ever put one on your head?”

When George denied that he had, you gasped and told him to pull over. You and him climbed out of the low car and walked over to the traffic cones. By now, your phone was a bit charged, courtesy of the charger in the vehicle. And it was blowing up.

But you didn’t see it or care.

You picked up one of the cones and put it on your head. Your giggle resonated through it.

“Y/n, smile!” You heard George say. You smiled, even though it wouldn’t be seen under the orange hat.

George told you that he was going to set up the camera to take a picture of the two of you.

“Let’s put our heads together.” The two cones whacked against the other. George had to bend over so that they would be close.

You laughed as your hair was staticky due to the cone. George’s hair was the same, which made you laugh even harder. “Send that to me, I’m going to post in on the gram.”

The only notification you looked at was the one from George with the picture. Quicky uploading it, you knew you were about to create even more chaos.

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a bit. Your thoughts from earlier quickly sprang into your head, due to the silence between you two.

“George?” you questioned, looking ahead. He was currently scrolling through his phone, but he made a noise to let you know that he was listening.

“What was it like having a teammate that you know you’ll never amount to? Not saying that you won’t amount to Lewis at some point, but,” you trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

The click of his phone let you know that George was now focused on the conversation.

“I get what you mean. It’s very overwhelming. You get put up with world champions, and people are already expecting you to beat records and perform as well as they do.” George sighed as he reflected on his first year with Mercedes. How the people would taunt that he wasn’t good enough to be Lewis’s teammate and that he should just be second fiddle to him. Suddenly, he noticed a hand had been placed on his shoulder. Tears also wetted his face.

When had he started crying?

You continued to rub his shoulder until his tears stopped.

You tried to console him. “Well, we can be second-fiddle buddies together?” you offered, hoping he would laugh. And he did.

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a few more minutes. But at this point, you knew that Lewis along with Max were probably on their way to get you. You pulled yourself up, then held out a hand to George, who took it without second thought.

Before you knew it, the two of you were back in the car, just chilling.

“Look what Max and Lewis are saying.” You showed him the screen and laughed. It really was fun to mess with old men.

“Are we still going to burger king?”

You nodded your head. “If Lewis can be a knight, I need a crown to be the king.”

“Don’t you mean queen?” he asked as he started the car back up again.

“Nope.” You popped the P and that was a good enough answer. George pulled away from the side of the street and made his way to the Burger King. The two of you were thankful that it was mostly empty, except for the employees. The two of you ordered more than enough food for two people. You justified it as giving the workers more money.

Your companion went along with it.

“Order number 69,” the tired lady called out. George and you shared a look before the two of you collapsing on the ground, dying with laughter and probably exhaustion. You were still giggling as you took the food from the lady. You muttered a thank you before you and George took a table near the back.

“Did you get your slushie?” you questioned, holding your cup.

“I didn’t know they had slushies!”

You took George’s hand and let him over to the machine. The amount of slushies that you slurped down would never be recorded. As you drank one of your last ones, you suddenly remembered an important detail.

You looked over at the tired lady who took your order. “Do you have the crowns?”

Max was still constantly trying to reach you, with one hand on the steering wheel and his phone in the other.

“Come on kid. Pick up,” he pleaded and cursed when the call went to voicemail for the umpteenth time that night.

Lewis was texting all the drivers in the group chat, asking if they’d seen the two of you. They came up short.

“This is ridiculous,” Max seethed. “How could you have let them do this?”

Lewis shot him a glare. “How could you leave her at the paddock after dark?” he bit back.

“Like I said, Vito was supposed to take her back to the hotel. She’s not allowed in the clubs.”

“Then Christian should find some way for everyone to party. The kid got a podium her first race as a rookie, and she was left behind.”

Max banged his head on the steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. Lewis was correct. He wondered if you felt forgotten. Knowing you, you probably did. And it was mostly his fault. He’d talk to Christian about alternatives until you turned legal age.

“I’ll talk to Christian about that. What were you and George doing back at the paddock anyway?”

Lewis grimaced. “I forgot a file back at our garage. George seemed antsy and restless so I invited him. Never doing that again.”

Max smirked, “Kids. Am I right?”

“Look!” Lewis pointed at a familiar car in the parking lot of an empty Burger King. Max pulled in on two wheels. As they walked up, their eyes landed on two people, crowns on their heads, hands flailing.

Max pushed the door open and stopped towards the figures. His hands landed aggressively on the table. “Do you two know how much trouble you’re in.”

He heard laughing from behind him.

“Max. That’s not them,” Lewis whispered.

Max’s head jerked and saw the scared faces of two employees. He heard more laughing and whipped his head around, eyes finally falling on you and George, whose phone was out recording. You looked as if you were about to explode with laughter.

“I’m sorry about that.” He turned around and stomped towards your table. “Let’s try this again.”

His palms hit the correct table this time. “Do the two of you know how much trouble you are in?” He looked into your eyes before glancing at George.

You stared up at the seething Dutchman. You pulled out a french fry.

“Fry?”

“Lewis, I got you an impossible whopper.” George held out the wrapped food.

Max sighed, anger waning by the minute. There was no fighting with the two of you. The two adult-figures sat down and started to eat. Max munched on a fry as Lewis started to eat the burger.

You and George continued to talk about your so-called adventures.

“And then George ran a red light.”

Lewis choked as George winced. Lewis’s head jerked toward George, eyes squinting.

“You’re paying for that.” George only shrugged, he had enough money anyway.

Max just stared in silence, mulling over the exhausting night. You could sense that he was still cooling off, and you were scared of what he might say in the car.

The food was quickly finished and the four of you were headed out the door. It seemed as though yours and George’s energy levels were quickly tanking as the two of you barely said a goodbye. The hug and faux tears though were enough for Lewis and Max to roll their eyes.

You watched as George and Lewis left in the Mercedes. You gulped as you got into the passenger side of Max’s rental vehicle. You winced at the proximity.

You mind quickly went back to your dad. How he’d hit the side of your face if you did anything that was “out of line.” Or he’d pinch your thigh until it bruised. Those were the easiest to hide. When your face was a little too red and purple, your helmet stayed on for the entire race day.

Your eyes welled with tears at the thought of Max turning out to be like him. You didn’t think he would, but you were out of line tonight.

No fun. No sneaking out. No stealing (borrowing) cars.

You were sinking into yourself, and Max could sense that.

He turned to look at you. What he said next was shocking.

“I’m sorry kid.”

Your eyes bulged. “Why are you sorry? If anything, I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness.”

Max just stared at you before slowly putting his hand near your head.

This was it. He was going to hit you and you’d have to live through everything again. You couldn’t tell Christian that his golden-child would do such a thing. And no one would ever believe you.

You jerked back as your eyes closed tight. Your body tensed, waiting for the repercussion to your actions. Your breaths got a little bit faster and shorter.

But it never came.

All that was, was a gentle placed hand on the top of your head.

Comforting. Loving. Cherishing.

Max wanted to cry as he saw how your body prepared for something horrible. Something nasty.

“Kleintje,” Max breathed out.

Your tears began to make their escape down the hills of your cheeks. You could only repeat and whisper I’m sorry, over and over again. Max couldn’t do anything but wait for you to calm down and maybe tell him what was racing through your head.

Your breathing evened out as you felt there was nothing coming. Soon you were embarrassed for thinking that Max, one of the only people to seem to care about you, would do such a thing. Yet, your mind always went back to your patterns.

People who should care, didn’t. Hands that were made for comforting, didn’t. Encouragements didn’t exist…for you.

Maybe you were the problem.

But, maybe you weren’t. You’d allow some comfort, just this once.

Max cooed as you leaned into his hand. He knew you were tired. A long day of racing and a long night of adventures would really do that to you.

He didn’t expect you to explain to so quickly. But you knew how to surprise someone.

“My dad and mom, weren’t the nicest. They wanted a boy, got me instead.” You harshly exhaled. “They put me in karting because if they had had a boy, they would have done the same. I was just a placeholder.”

Max listened, wanting to hear what you said.

“It started off small. A push here, a hit to the helmet there. I really didn’t think anything of it. Until I was about 7 and I crashed my kart on the last lap. I was going to win too, but I over compensated and hit the wall. All I remember after that race was my dad grabbing my wrist and yanking me to the car. I hit my head on the dash, I think. Or he was the one to push my head in.” You shrugged at the nasty memory, as if it didn’t matter.

Max on the other hand, was getting angrier. Yes, his dad did similar things, but he was a boy. He could stand up for himself. And he had his mom and sister.

You had no one.

“The next morning, I woke up and there was this giant bruise on my face and smaller ones littered my arms. I thought that was the end of it, except it continued. I was able to hide it pretty well. My race suit pretty much covered everything. I also didn’t have many friends, or, I just didn’t have friends. So there, wasn’t a need to worry. They stopped after I made it to the end of F4, because I was winning and there were more cameras. The moment I made it to F3 in 2019, they disowned me.”

He did the math. You would have been 16 at the time. Still a kid, but smaller. His heart broke for you.

“Kid, look at me.”

You turned your head and made eye contact. Your brows furrowed when you saw tears in his eyes.

He wasn’t supposed to cry. Why was he crying?

“I’m crying because no one should ever have to go through something like that.” Oh, you must have said that out loud.

You shrugged once again, “I probably deserved it.”

“No, geitje, no one deserves that. Ever. You didn’t.” You could only nod along. Your eyes were getting tired by the minute. Max could tell so he started the car. He only had one more thing to say. (translation : kid)

“My dad did similar things. But I had people to help me. And I know your dad isn’t around, but Y/n,” he said your name, trying to emphasize that he was serious. “I am here for you. Christian is here for you. Mitch is here and so is Vito. We love you. I’m not a good teammate, and you can see that I’ve gone through more teammates than anyone else has in the amount of time I’ve been here. I’m the only constant. But I think that we will actually work out. Best duo right?”

For the first time since Burger King, where you and him were still parked, he saw your eyes light up.

You nodded, “Best duo.”

Max finally took that as a sign that you’d be ok for the night. He carefully back the car out and started on the road toward the hotel.

“Do you think Christian will let me come to the club next race.”

Max let out a sarcastic laugh. “Definitely not.”

Your giggles filled the small space. Max’s heart swelled at making you laugh.

You’d be all right. He’d make sure of it.

AN: oh my gosh that got REAL depressing – I apologize. But, Max needed to know a bit more about your lore if he’s going to be able to fend off any unwanted visitors (FORESHADOWING). Anyway, I will see you all at the next chapter! Muah! Much love <3 – author :D

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 year ago

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ok i know you haven’t written possessive price yet and i genuinely can’t remember what i wrote in the ask and i feel like i’m gonna write the same thing but the roles are switched but idc…but imagine possessive sunshine!reader…like price is a good looking dude and imagine he gets hit on at marissa’s bar IN FRONT OF THE READER AND/OR MARISSA and price is doing his best at trying to get the last away from him but she just won’t fuck off

Soulmate Sour

Summary; When someone flirts with Price you take it into your own hands to let them know he's off the market.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 3.2k

Warnings; alcohol consumption (drink in moderation), possessiveness, hints at suggestive themes

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: so I adjusted this just slightly but the main parts are still there, hope you enjoy nonnie<3

You chat with Johnny, his left arm slung behind Marissa on the couch's backrest. Meanwhile, your friend is talking to Kyle. For once, you aren't at the Pearl. Marissa decided to close her place earlier for your group to enjoy a night out where she could join in. Perks of being the owner and controlling closing times, as she said.

It's still early for a Friday, only 9 p.m. There were two more hours before the pub you'd find your way to closed.

It was a much more traditional place than Marissa's. Dark, gloomy, food-to-the-drinks kind of place that half of the population would stop by on their way home from work. And your company wasn't entirely different.

Tonight wasn't a return-from-deployment night. It was a simple get-together after work that John asked if you wanted to tag along to, Johnny having done the same to Marissa. Despite having planned a girl's dinner, the boys had been scattered for a few weeks, most of them back on active duty like John, and tonight was the first time most found their way back to town from wherever so the get-together had been something you couldn't pass up on.

However, rather than fixing yourself to the somewhat special evening when John had knocked on your door, you'd greeted him with your computer in hand and a brief wave. A meeting with one of your clients ran longer than anticipated.

In the end, Joh waited 40 minutes for you to finish, giving you no time to change out of your work attire if the two of you didn't want to run unfashionably late.

You'd managed to reach the pub just as the others arrived. It was lucky you'd chosen a place that served food, seeing how your last meal had been lunch. Which, at the time, had been over six hours ago.

Your stomach had rumbled enough for Marissa to dig her finger into your side, asking if 'the workaholic cares for herself' in that partly teasing, partly serious tone. However, with everyone's plate of favoured dinner polished clean of food soon after finding a table -aside from Ghost who, when you asked, said 'don't fancy eating around other people, so ate earlier'- the soft feeling of fullness had eased your stomach.

Not soon after the dinner, and before the plates got cleared from the table, John had patted your thigh.

You'd been in the midst of your conversation with Johnny as you momentarily had turned to face the one seeking your attention.

'Gonna get somethin' to drink. You want anythin'?' John had asked once you turned to face him. 'Same old', you'd answered and he'd only nodded, squeezing your thigh before he slid out of the curved booth.

What brought you out of the thought 'he's been gone for a while now' was when the Scotsman trailed off in his sentence, his eyes perched over your shoulder rather than face, remaining pinned to something behind you.

Your brows knitted together, head cocking slightly at his sudden shift of attention. The minimal reaction to his strayed conversation was enough to make the Scotsman's face you again.

Something new had entered his eyes and you gave him a questioning look.

"Hate to say it to ye, lass, but old Price seems popular". Johnny nodded forward, motioning to whatever he spotted earlier.

Just as you shift to follow his gaze, a second voice momentarily stops your movement.

"Don't go rippin' a head". Your eyes flicker to Ghost sitting across from you. The man had apparently also noticed whatever Johnny motioned towards as his brown eyes shifted to you.

You only smiled back. "Don't worry".

Ghost only shrugs, eyes falling back to what he'd watched earlier and you finally turn towards whatever both men now observed.

It's easy to find John. His stature is not hard to miss.

He's standing by the bar, presumably having ordered the drinks he set out to do for you two. But, rather than staring at his broad back as he leans against the bar leisurely, waiting for the drinks to be served. John's standing straight, one hand resting on the bar, the other shoved in his pocket. His posture is tense enough that you note it across the room and if you would've been closer, you probably would've seen his jaw work too, as it often does when he's on edge.

The reason? A woman. She's talking to him, flirting with him.

You see it all the way from here despite not hearing a word she says, her body language screaming her intentions. She's smiling, head cocked to the side, her hand resting on the bar not far from John's. She isn't touching him. Still, she's standing close, closer than what's generally considered talking distance for strangers. Her upper body is leaning towards him, breaking John's personal bubble.

Your brows rise at the scene, your body turning towards the pair. Maybe Ghost was right with his comment as a sudden sour feeling fills your mouth. Despite this, you bite your tongue, remaining put as you watch the scene closely.

It doesn't take long, not even two minutes, before you spot what you only had a hunch would happen.

At something the woman says, John's head and upper body instinctively lean away from her before the rest of his body follows. He rolls his shoulder as he turns, his side facing her while replying. All the while, he attempts to step around the stool that previously prevented any smooth exit of putting distance between himself and his forced company.

The move signalled two things. John didn't try to hide that he didn't enjoy the woman's presence anymore and wanted to end the primarily one-sided conversation. And, he needed help, not because you doubted him but because the woman followed his step with one of her own.

You scoffed. Apparently, the woman was fucking blind if she didn't understand the signal.

"I'll be back", you said to Johnny and Ghost, both having turned to look at you upon what transpired. You slide from the booth, rising to your feet once at the edge.

"Go get her, lass". There was a big grin on the Scot's face, but you ignored it as you started walking towards the bar.

"Don't do anythin' I would". You hear the Englishman warn from behind, to which you raise a few fingers in recognition and a departing gesture.

As you weave between tables and occupied chairs, your eyes never leave John and the woman. She sweeps her dark hair over her shoulder, showing off more of the plunging neckline meant to draw eyes. You almost laugh when she frowns upon noticing it didn't have the desired effect, but you catch yourself in the last second.

Slowing your step, you switch to look at John. His exasperation with the situation is humouring enough that the gentle smile you let spread isn't forced.

"Hi, how's the drinks going?" John's head snaps ironically fast towards you, his body swivelling to face you rather than the bar. In the corner of your eye, you note how the woman's attention switch to you.

When you get closer, John pulls his hand out of his pocket and raises his arm, letting you sidle up to him. His hand lands upon your shoulder, making the two of you shift together when he turns to look down the bar. In the new position, you naturally face the woman, but at the moment, you don't look at her, focusing on John as his eyes drop back to you as he speaks.

"Soon done, love", he mutters. His voice is strained, annoyed. You don't need to guess because of what, or rather, who.

You circle your left arm around his waist, finally looking forwards, feigning realisation when you meet the woman's gaze.

"Oh, hello", you greet her with raised brows, catching the sour expression twisting her features for a split second. "Are you an acquaintance of John?"

You motion between the woman and the man at your side, pointing out their closer-than-strangers proximity. Upon the question, the dark-haired woman steps backwards to not stand as close to you.

"You're his girl". Your head cocks at the short remark and complete disregard of your greeting.

Satisfaction spreads through you at her response, but you only let the gentle smile continue to play on your lips. "I am, and you are?"

"Kathleen", she puffed out her chest, chin jutting upwards, eyes straying towards John before shifting back to you.

"Pleasure", you return with a nod just as the bartender puts your drinks on the counter. "But, if you excuse us, our company is waiting". Your eyes stray to the glasses to push your point.

"I was talking to John when you interrupted". His name is purred from her lips as if knowing it meant everything to her and should bother you. You look back at her with creased brows, a questioning look directed towards her. She must have taken it for displeasure rather than astonishment at what she thought she was attempting, as a smug smile spread on her lips. "And he never mentioned you".

Instantly, John tenses beneath your touch while his arm tightens around your shoulders. This time, you scoff. Did she really think that implied he was... what? Open to cheating because of that?

Your reaction makes John's head tilt downwards. You know he wants you to look up at him from how intently he's looking at you, but you don't face him, instead staring straight back at the woman.

"And yet, you don't assume I'm anything else than his girl when I join him? If you didn't already have a hunch, why didn't you just suppose I'm his thing?" You question with a smile. Her mouth opens and closes, caught off guard by your reaction to what evidently was an attempt at winding you up. Clearly, she didn't get the response she desired.

She sneers. "Well, maybe you are because he didn't object to it". She makes a sharp motion with her hand towards John to defend whatever her definition of it implied.

You can feel how he heats up at your side, his already warm body boiling from how she addressed you and what you know is a false statement. You'd seen it yourself. That's why you can't help but chuckle, stepping away from John towards the bar.

His arms remain around you for as long as possible until he begrudgingly lets it fall. When John doesn't touch you any longer, the air shifts violently. Tension immediately bleeds into the air.

"Be my guest then", you nod towards John as you grab your drinks, catching how not only the women's eyes widen at what you said. "If you want to get turned down a second or even third time, that is. Because from what I saw, my man isn't interested in you and tried to respectfully show that without dropping my name. Which should be enough anyways, don't you think?" You continue as you turn to face her.

The same smile you'd carried the entire conversation now flashed brighter towards the dark-haired woman, who sputters in bewilderment. Satisfied with her stunned expression and being tongue-tied, you turn towards John, whose eyes apparently never left you.

"You ready?" His blues shift so violently that it feels like they go from black to white when you offer him his beer. He takes his drink from your offered hand with his right one only to intertwine the fingers of his left with it instead. You take the hint. "Have a good evening, Kathleen". You bid her goodbye without turning to face her, missing how the perplexed woman follows the two of you, stunned when John tags along with an ease she'd found impossible to evoke.

As your back is turned to the woman, you finally spit at her in your mind. Fucking bitch.

You hadn't noticed, but you took your first deep breath in a long time when taking a similar route back to the others as you had previously done to the bar. That was until there was a tug at your hand.

You slow, twisting your head to look over your shoulder at John, only for him to twirl you around and into his chest before you manage. Some of your drink spill over your fingers, but you don't care about it the second his handsome smile and blue eyes greet you.

"Do you know how much more attractive you just got?" None of the previous tension lace his voice, only a lilt that reflects his lightened expression.

"What?" You ask, a bit dumbfounded, still mentally cursing the woman for how shitty she'd acted. Women empowering women, they say. Not those types of women.

John's eyes flicker over your face before settling to meet your gaze with a smirk. "Haven't seen you this possessive before". Your mouth drops open before you bite your lower one as it curls inwards.

"Don't like someone trying things on you", you mumble, shrugging as you continue. "Especially when they don't show some respect".

Your eyes widen when you suddenly feel John duck, attaching his mouth to yours. Though he catches you off-guard, you fall into the kiss soon enough, his big hand releasing yours to tilt your face.

He's warm, overwhelmingly passing the sensation into your body. You feel the last bit of resentment towards the woman leave you as John forces her out of your mind, replacing the mental place she'd occupied with himself.

The bristle of his beard brushing your lower face contrasts with how he gently cups your cheek. His beard oil and cologne fill your nostrils in a blend of something nutty and musky.

You're putty in his grasp and can't help the silly smile spreading when he nipps your lower lip when pulling back.

"Appreciate it, love", John chuckles, gazing at you with an upwards curve of his mouth. "And the confidence suits you", he adds.

"Need to have some when dating your handsome face". You tap his bearded cheek with your index finger with a cocked head and smile.

"This handsome face only has eyes for one woman". You dip your head with a shake, momentarily needing to escape his intense eyes as his hand falls to the small of your back. His fingers teasingly press into the area.

"Let's go back to the others". You nod backwards when you raise your head again. John agrees with a nod and a final peck before he guides you towards your table.

"Putting on a show, are you Price?" Kyle greets you with a smug look as you come closer. John only shrugs in return, not bashful about the action but not keen on discussing it. Everyone watches you as you retake your place, sliding into the booth first. John follows soon after, seating himself close enough that his side presses against yours.

Marissa leans forward, her forearms crossed upon the table. She sends you an amused and knowing look, one you roll your eyes at, understanding the whole table must have followed the spectacle.

Like the smile your friend flashes, Johnny harbours a similar grin as when you'd left.

"About time ya get someone who acts as yer saviour, Captain". The Scotsman remarks while he nudges his shoulder with yours, giving you a playful wink. This time, John huffs amusedly and you presume it's an inside joke as you catch the low chuckle escaping Ghost and Kyle.

The comment swung them into a new conversation with countless ribbings. You can't help but shake your head at their antics as you listen to their chatter with your glass in hand.

Sipping your drink, you melt into the seat, head resting against the shoulder of John's non-dominant side.

It had been a long and, by your standard, stressful day. It had taken a toll on you mentally more than physically. The only downside with not having an ordinary one-to-five, in your opinion. John asking you to tag along to this outing was just what you needed at the end of the day to be able to wind down, aside from one inconvenience.

The timing couldn't be any better as you suddenly feel someone staring. Your eyes sweep over the other occupants of the table before travelling further. You don't need to look for long until you find the source.

The same woman from earlier sits by the bar, your eyes locking when your attention falls upon her. You raise your brows, huffing more out of pity than annoyance as you take another sip of your drink.

Holding her stare, you don't hesitate to shift in your seat and cross your leg over your own and John's. You sit slanted towards him now, your leg resting comfortably over his thigh, dangling between his legs.

His response is immediate, his body aligning more towards you as he settles his left hand just above your knee.

"You get awfully touchy when tryin' to make a point to someone". John whispers as he ducks his head, breath skimming the shell of your ear.

You smile against the rim of your glass, noticing how the woman's face scrunches upon noting your intimate proximity. The reaction is enough to spot from your position. "How'd you know?"

"I'm a soldier. I'm trained to always be attentive to my surroundings", he hums in response, still keeping his head low enough so only you catch his words. "Likewise, to read someone's intentions. Gotten good enough to rival your skill when it comes to you". He humours you with a low chuckle. The rough sound sends a shiver down your spine as your eyes drop to his thumb, which begins a circling motion on your leg.

Your head tilts upwards, John accommodating by angling his head to catch what you say. "Well, good job, Captain". Your eyes momentarily lock with the women once more as John leans away, shielding your view as he stiffens upon hearing his rank being purred against the shell of his ear. But, you catch the reaction you wanted always, the woman promptly turning away.

Your eyes now meet gaze back at those blues focusing on you keenly.

Yes, John had gotten to know you quite a bit, your ticks and tells. But he indulged you in just as much.

You give him a coy smile and fall back slightly, resting your back against the couch again as you return his gaze.

John levels you with a firm look, hiking your leg slightly higher on his leg, signalling if you continue, this evening will definitely be cut short.

You only smile sweetly at him before you turn your upper body away, engaging yourself in the conversation with the rest. Upon catching his muted sigh, you sip your drink to stop yourself from grinning.

#john price x reader #john price #john price x fem!reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price x female reader #john price cod #captain price x reader #captain price #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #price cod #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

A Guiding Hand 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: I think my back is ok now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Tuesday comes too quickly. You don’t sleep the night before. It’s more than just Lee and your mother arguing that keeps you awake. The anxiety of your meeting bears down on you like an open maw, ready to devour you.

You don’t expect it to go well. You’re not even sure why you’re doing it.

That one thought repeats over and over. You don’t have to. You can cancel. You can make another excuse and stay a loser. That’s easy. Maybe that’s why it’s so scary. Because new things are hard.

You languish in bed as the time ticks by. You got to get up and get moving. Soon, you’ll do something. Soon.

You roil in the trepidation. Each move, each little thing, is a gargantuan task. You sneak out to wash your face and make yourself as presentable as you can. You waited too long. You have five minutes to put something on that isn’t wrinkled and stale.

You put on a black sweatshirt, hoping the little balls of lint aren’t visible. Maybe you can get away with just turning the microphone on. You open the computer and shift in the chair. One minute.

You find the email and scroll down to the link. You hover over it and stare. Noon on the dot. Your hand falters and you click the Zoom meeting. It opens in the browser and your breath traps in your chest.

The little box in the corner is black as you leave the red line through the camera icon as the mic catches the rustle of your shirt. There’s a man on screen. He sits before an office backdrop but you can’t tell if its digitally generated or real. His blond hair is combed back and he sports a thick beard and glasses. He wears a wool sweater over a collared shirt and stares down the camera.

“Hello,” he speaks, “anyone there?”

You clear your throat and croak, nearly choking on your own spit.

“Here,” you manage to squeak.

“Ah, hello there, may I ask you turn your camera on?” His voice is low and lilted, almost smoky in a way.

You hesitate and scratch your neck, letting your fingers wander up to your scalp. The itch spread, making sitting still unbearable. You wince as you hear someone in the kitchen, the fridge door closes heavily and a dish clinks on the counter.

“Hello?” The voice comes again.

You panic and hit the keyboard. You steady your hand and tap the camera, shying away as you slouch in your chair. The dim glow of your bedside lamp leaves you in shadow. Still, you feel exposed.

“Better,” he says but with little enthusiasm, “well, I suppose we best get to the meat of things,” he adjusts his posture.

“Okay,” you murmur and cross your arms, looking evasively at the wall.

“Good to finally meet. I’m Professor Smith,” he introduces himself and calls you by name.

“You too,” you utter out of courtesy. This is torture to you.

“Now, you’ve done very well on your completed work,” his eyes scan as he looks at the screen before him, "you’ve shown improvement up until a few weeks ago. You do have a lot of potential to be successful here--”

You nod and hunch down further. You just feel worse. You’re a lazy slob. You didn’t finish your work just like you never finish the laundry or cleaning your room.

“Irene!” Lee’s voice booms on the other side of the wall and you wince, looking over your shoulder then back to the computer. You huddle closer, hoping he didn’t hear that. Your mother’s drone responds to the holler.

“Perhaps it is the format? We could explore another option for your remaining assignments. I can accommodate where necessar--”

“Fuck off!” Lee shouts and a loud bang hits the hallway wall. You gulp and your lips part.

“Lee, please, I didn’t-- I wouldn’t--”

“Should’ve known better than to trust a whore!” Lee barks.

You cover your face and shrink down. No! Not now.

“Is everything alright?” He asks and you separate your fingers, looking through them. You drop your hands and nod.

“Sorry--”

Another loud thump, this time against your door and your mother sobs loudly as she slides down the other side. You stammer and your lip trembles as you stare mortified at the lens in the frame of the laptop. This is awful.

“What is happen--”

You wiggle your fingers on the touchpad and hit End Call. You retract and wrap your arms around your head, folding over your lap as you rock. How humiliating. You can’t believe that happened. Well, you can. It’s what always happens.

Your mother and Lee continue to argue, their fight just outside your door. You shake your head as you stay curled over. You don’t know why she does this. These men come around, call her names, knock her around, and she lets them come right back.

A tinkling noise comes from the speaker. Professor Smith is calling you. You decline the call. An email chimes in at the corner. It’s from him as well. You see the preview, a response to his last email.

‘Please respond or I will call authorities to confirm your saf....’

You click on the notification to expand the full message. You sigh and don’t bother reading the rest as you hit reply.

‘Everything is fine. I will take the fail. Thank you.’

Another call comes in. Just leave me alone! You hit the red button again and delete his last email. And he calls again. Ugh. What does he care. You’re sure he has lots of students to worry about. Another email and another call. Back and forth until you accidentally hit the wrong key.

He appears again, closer to the lens as his forehead lines, “hello, hey, hey,” he sits back, holding up a hand as you scramble, panicking as you fidget and try to figure out what to do, “don’t hang up, alright? Don’t, or I will be obligated to call the police.”

As he commands you, your mother and Lee continue their sparring in the hall, voices raised though not as clear from the front room. You sniff and rub your cheek, soothing yourself as you bring up your other hand to chew on your sleeve.

“Are you in danger?” He asked pointedly. You shake your head. “What is all that then?”

He’s quiet and you are enveloped again in the chaos outside your room. You shrug and tilt your head to one side. You look down.

“My mom...”

He sighs, “look, I wouldn’t have taken the time to call if I didn’t think you could do this. Perhaps, this was the wrong avenue. So, is it possible we meet somewhere neutral. In person?”

You shudder and sit up as much as you can, wringing your hands, “I... I... don’t drive.”

“That’s alright, is there a library near you, yeah? I can find my way.”

You frown and flick your lip under your teeth several times. You see yourself in the little box. You look scary as your eyes are pools of shadows.

“Uh...” you pull your hands apart and open a new tab, happy to have your image off the screen. You type into the search. You think there’s a library close by. “Yes, um, there is...”

“Send me the location. We’ll reschedule. When are you available? Thursday? I’m afraid tomorrow I’m booked up.”

You switch back to the video call. You feel tears tightening your throat and ready to spring. You shake your head and paste the URL of the library branch into the chat. His eyes flit down to read it.

“Thursday,” you repeat but it’s not as much a question as you mean.

“Thursday is good. Can we do earlier? Ten?” He asks.

You don’t know. You’re not used to making decisions. You don’t get asked for your preference ever.

“Sure,” you answer, just wanting to end the call and hide in bed.

“Alright, I’ll pencil you in,” he says, “shall I stay on the call until that...” he pauses as Lee continues to bluster, “subsides?”

“No,” you shake your head.

He stares at you, his forehead lined with disapproval. Why does he care so much? He doesn’t know you.

“Are you certain?” He intones.

You nod, “I have to go.”

You end the call and shut the computer. Your stomach is a jumble and you’re jittering with adrenaline. All your life, you’ve hidden behind these walls; you’ve hidden all that goes on there. To have someone witness it is worse than the yelling and hitting itself.

You ignore the chirp from the laptop and throw yourself into bed. Thursday. So, another torturous purgatory begins, waiting to face the professor and your incompetence once more.

📓

Thursday comes too quickly.

You sit in your room and convince yourself to go. It was easier when it was just a computer screen, though even that was difficult. Only for you because you’re so messed up. Because you can’t do anything.

What else can you do? The whole night you were awake thinking about how you would tell your mother. If you flunk out, you default on the student loan and you’re even deeper in the pit. The true consequences of your laziness are clearer now and you can’t let your sloth bury you again. If you do, you may as well give up on everything. Even life itself.

So, you have no choice. You’re being given a last chance. Again. You’d feel even worse for not taking it than you would for failing at it.

You pull on a hoodie and grab your house key and your knapsack with your computer and notebook tucked inside. That’s all you really have. No phone, no wallet. Just the bare minimum.

You shuffle to the door, standing just inside as you muster your courage. You check your digital watch, an old Casio you’ve had for years. The numbers are dim and hard to read in the dark. You have to get going.

You emerge and go down to the kitchen to sneak a sip of water before you go. Your room is always so dry at night. You drain a glass and rinse it out, leaving it beside the sink. As you turn around, you hear your mother’s bedroom door and the slap of her slippers as she slinks in.

“Ah, honey,” she smiles dopily. You can smell liquor from there. She might even still be drunk as her hangovers usually keep her abed. “There you are! Oh, gosh, are you going somewhere?”

“Mm, library,” you answer, “for school.”

“Oh, smart girl,” she slurs. You try to smile but it’s shaky and weak. Your mom tries, you know that, so you can’t hate her. “Can you stop by the shop on your way? I got a twenty. Wouldn’t mind some vodka.”

You pick at a fingernail, “mom, I don’t... I don’t like buying that stuff.”

“Mm, I know, but I...” she sways on her feet and belches into her fist, “never mind. I’ll just ask Lee when he comes by.”

“He’s coming?” You ask warily.

“Sure, sure,” she turns and staggers to the fridge, “he must be missing me by now.”

She bends, leaning on the door as she opens it, and peruses the mostly empty shelves. You leave her and go down the hall. You grab your shoes and slip them on, once more stopping at the threshold. Keep going. You made it this far.

You let yourself out and lock the door behind you. You take the stairs down to the first level and continue out onto the street. You keep to the edge of the pavement as you weave around other pedestrians that pass.

Your lips move as you recite the directions to yourself. You were sure to memorise the route as best as you could. You get turned around but right yourself and make it to the corner when you can see the grey brick of the library.

You wait at the light before you cross and your heart begins to race the closer you get. Oh no, you don’t know if you can do this. You want to just run away. What if he sees you and changes his mind? I mean, look at you. You’re not some perky coed, you’re... you.

You stare up at the facade and the large letters over the entrance. You take the first step, then the next. You focus on that. Right foot, left foot. Little things, one at a time. You can do this. You have to.

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #the gentlemen #a guiding hand

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thepagemistress · 2 months ago

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And I’d Also Like To Thank... (Day 7: Thankful)

Pairing/Characters: Jack, Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, Mary | Rating: Gen | Tags: this is stupid, dialogue heavy, Thanksgiving, post-canon | Warnings: none | Word Count: 642

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving and the Winchester (extended) family are celebrating. They all have a lot to be thankful for. Some more than others. Jack wants to make sure everyone gets a shout out. Eeeeeeeveryone.

“OK, kid, it’s your turn,” Dean said, nodding to Jack. “What are you thankful for?”

“Actually, I made a list, if that’s alright,” Jack said, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Uh, sure, have at it.”

Jack cleared his throat and closed his eyes before he began, reciting from memory rather than a physical list.

“I’m thankful for my mom who believed I was good and not the bringer of another apocalypse.”

“Heck of an opener,” Dean muttered, receiving a nudge and a shush from Cas.

“I’m thankful for Castiel for also believing in me and fighting to keep me around. I’m thankful for Dean for letting me be a part of his family even after killing his mom.”

“OK, uhh-“

“I’m thankful for Sam helping me to finally get Dean and Castiel to kiss by faking that case a few months ago.”

Sam choked on his beer as Dean yelled, “Wait, what?!”

Jack continued, undeterred.

“I’m thankful that Mary is back and sending me postcards from all the places she’s travelling to. And that she stopped by for Thanksgiving dinner!”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Mary said. “Especially if I didn’t have to cook.”

“The ghoul case? That one? That was fake??”

“I’m thankful for Granny Amara for taking Chuck’s power off me so I could live a normal life back on earth.”

“Just Amara is fine, Jack.”

“Jesus fuck! How did you get in here?!”

“Nice to see you too, Dean,” Amara said before blinking out of existence as quickly as she’d arrived.

“What the fuck...”

“I’m thankful for Auntie Rowena for showing me how to paint my nails and put on eye shadow and teaching me the best way to disguise spell usage.”

“Sam...”

“I’ll...I’ll talk to her about that.”

“I’m thankful for Eileen giving me my own sign name.”

He demonstrated with the combination of ‘sunshine’ and ‘angel’ that Eileen had designated and the woman in question mimicked it from across the table with a grin.

“I’m thankful for Charlie for creating my fake IDs and getting me a job at the library. I’m thankful for Uncle Gabe teaching me how to channel my powers into creating different realities.”

“What.”

“And I’m thankful again to Sam for not telling Dean about it for the last six months.”

“...”

“...I’ll talk to him, too.”

“Yeah, you damn well better. Or I’ll have Jack here snap you into a car for good next time.”

“And I’m thankful for everyone at this table for including me and giving me a home and a family.”

Dean softened, letting out a sigh. “You’re welcome, kid. Wouldn’t be the same without you. Now, time to get stuck in-“

“Wait, I haven’t gone through everyone at the library yet!” Jack said, opening his eyes to stare imploringly at Dean who was poised over the turkey with the carving knife.

With a defeated slump of his shoulders, Dean set the knife down and fell back into his chair, staring forlorn at the food he’d slaved over all day slowly getting cold.

Jack closed his eyes and continued. “I’m thankful for Jerry for printing out my name badge. I’m thankful for Katie for giving me a tour of the library. I’m thankful for Rachel for bringing in pastries after she got back from vacation. I’m thankful for...”

Cas leaned over to whisper in Dean’s ear as Jack continued. “You know, he doesn’t need to eat.” Nodding towards the massive spread on the table, he added, “Just be quiet about it.”

And so Dean cut the turkey and passed around bowls and plates – quietly – to his family as Jack continued to list off every single person he’d ever encountered in his short life.

(He reheated himself a plateful of everything once he was done with a click of his fingers, giving one last thank you to Dean for letting him finish.)

#suptober24 #spn fic #my fic #jack kline #this was meant to be something else entirely #but i wasn't feeling it #so this happened instead #i always feel kinda bad when prompts are so short #it feels like cheating but whatever #it is what it is!#i had fun with it

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dreamcatchers-husband · 2 years ago

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Celebration

Male Reader X Dreamcatcher Gaheyon

Length: 2200+

Tags: creampie, quckie

A tiny follow up to my NNN fic. You can read it here if you haven't before. Happy 1 year smut writing anniversary to me.

What would be a cause for celebration? Getting a raise? Getting a new car? There are so many things that can fall under that category but your entire company was in the building for one main reason. The celebration of your successful partnership with apple.

The launch of the new iPhone, combined with your camera technology shot profit margins up 16%. Getting a cut of the sales, it was simple to say how much richer you just got. With that money, you instantly booked a fancy caterer as well as unlimited drinks for your employees.

Everyone was in as you told them to come and just have a good time. That brought you to the main conference room, plenty of workers were piled in the room as well as you and the girls. As a camera pointed at your face, your mouth opened as you began to give a small speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry to have brought you all here. I’m sure the offer of great food and unlimited food sounded horrible to you all.”

A small chuckle left everyone’s mouth as you continued your speech.

“As everyone knows, this partnership helped our company reach new heights as our profit margins reached new heights. With that success, Apple has decided to continue working with us in the long run. So In honor of that, everyone here will be getting a pay raise as a thank you for all your hard work.”

Loud cheers could be heard all around after you said that.

“All of this couldn't have been done without you all so drink, eat, and enjoy yourselves. Cars will be available to drive you home should you require one. Have fun.”

With that said, the camera turned off and everyone clapped toward you. Once the clapping stopped, you found yourself surrounded by the girls. Dami immediately intertwined her hand with your own and kissed your cheek.

“Congratulations Kangdae. I think I speak for all of the girls here that we are proud of you.”

“No. I should be the one who is proud of all of you. If it wasn’t for Jiu, this deal wouldn't have happened. All the hard work you all put into it made this happen. I was just along for the ride.”

Jiu patted you on the back and rested her head on your shoulder.

“Ok ok. Enough of saying who did what. If we continued, we would get nowhere so let’s all agree everyone worked hard ok?”

With a nod, each of the girls picked up a glass of champagne and raised it. Following their example, you did the same.

“To Go Tech.”

“TO GO TECH!”

As you all downed the glasses of alcohol, Yoohyeon looked at all of you and smiled.

“As good as that champagne was. I think we need something a little stronger. How about a nice scotch?”

You already knew what Yoohyeon was asking for. A Certain bottle that had been in your office for a couple of years now, untouched.

“Yooh. I have been saving that bottle for a special occasion.”

Handong rolled her eyes at you and then spoke.

“I think this qualifies as a special occasion. We won’t finish it right now. Just let us all enjoy a glass.”

“Ok, what am I missing here? What bottle?”

Siyeon, always the last one to pick up on things, looked at all of you confused. Sua chuckled and gave Siyeon a small smack on the head.

“Kangdae has a bottle of 1928 Macallan. The anniversary malt just sitting in his office. You haven’t noticed it?”

“No! Isn’t that a $300,000 bottle of whiskey?”

“Yes, it is. Look, fine I will go grab it but please don’t finish it. I’ll be right back.”

Leaving the conference room, you found yourself at the elevator scanning your key card to give you priority. As the elevator dinged, a small figure stood next to you and took hold of your hand. The petite hand that held your own was Gahyeon so you just walked into the metal machine and ordered the button to the top floor.

“They told me to keep you company since some people came to talk to them but no funny business.”

“Of course. They want to try one of the most expensive bottles of scotch in the world.”

A small frown was on the girl’s face as she looked up at you. That face of hers was always a weakness of yours so you ducked down a bit and gave the girl a small kiss on the lips. At that moment, the ding from the elevator returned as you reached the top floor.

Walking out into the hallway, your legs brought you towards your office until you were face to face with the door. Pushing the wooden entry to the room, you made your way to the right wall and found your liquor bottles lined up. As your hand reached out for the brown bottle, your body was suddenly pushed. The sudden jerk on your body caused you to fall on the couch, looking up.

A toothy smile filled your friend's face as she walked closer and closer to you.

“Gahyeon. No funny business, remember?”

“Yeah. This isn’t funny business. What’s so funny about me sitting on your lap?”

Gahyeon did exactly that and sat down on your lap. The Chanel straps on her shoulders hit your eyes as they went farther down. Gahyeon had a gray skirt on, but in this position, it was very pushed up. Your eyes immediately noticed the uncovered fold on her lower half.

Your mouth began to water as the young woman raised your eyes back up to hers.

“Hey, Mister. No funny business remember?”

Gahyeon’s mocking tone was enough to anger you as you flipped your positions. Laying Gahyeon down on the couch, your hands pulled down on her skirt and exposed her lower half. Gahyeon didn’t even hesitate as she took off her blouse and bra.

Gahyeon was no stranger to sex in your office, so the speed she took off her clothes was faster than what seemed humanly possible. Wrapping your arms around her thighs, you immediately dig into one of your favorite meals. Your tongue repeatedly flicked on her folds as the woman let out small moans.

Bringing your hands to her folds, you opened her pussy and found the small nub which you knew would help you achieve what you want quickly. With each flick of your tongue on her clit, the more Gahyeon began to jolt around. Wanting to stimulate her more, you pushed one of your fingers into the woman's snatch.

Just one finger was already a bit of a struggle but when you introduced another finger, Gahyeon’s yells got louder. The combined efforts of your fingers and tongue brought your friend closer and closer to her peak. A sudden squeeze was felt around your head as the girl wrapped her thighs around it.

With each jump from her body, the faster you moved your appendages. Finally reaching her peak, Gahyeon yelled and squeezed your head as hard as she could with her thick thighs. A rush of fluids hit your tongue as you were quick to drink as much as you could.

Coming down from her high, Gahyeon loosened her grip on your head and panted for air. Cleaning your face of the remaining fluids, your hands took off your suit and other articles of clothing. Your cock twitched looking at the nude body of Gahyeon. When her eyes began to open once more, a smile filled her face as she saw your rod.

Without hesitation, Gahyeon got up and kneeled as you sat back down on the couch. Getting closer to your rod, Gahyeon wrapped her delicate hands around cock and stroked it. Her eyes seemed hypnotized as she continued to move her hand up and down.

“This cock of yours. I get amazed every time I see it. So what do you want me to do? Perhaps Kiss it?”

Gahyeon did exactly that and gave the tip of your rod a small kiss. The girl was normally the first to jump on doing anything with your dick, but this was the first time she was teasing you.

“No sweetie. You know what I want.”

“And what would that be? Maybe my tits wrapped around them?”

Bringing her chest up, her soft breast wrapped around your cock as the young woman began to move your length up and down between them. The soft skin from her boobs felt great as the girl just looked into your eyes. That dangerous smirk returned as she continued to play with you.

You finally got angry enough that you took Gahyeon’s face in your hands and glared at her.

“Suck my fucking cock you little whore. Get it ready for your pussy.”

“Yes sir.”

In an instant, the young woman put her lips on the tip of your cock and plunged her throat down on it. At first, the bops from her head are small ones until she gives you another smirk. Putting her hands on your legs, Gahyeon brought your entire length down on your rod. A bulge could almost be seen in Gahyeon’s throat as she swallowed your cock.

Gahyeon’s sucks began to speed up as you put your hand on top of her head. As you continued to guide her mouth down your length, Gahyeon suddenly stopped and pulled her lips off your cock. A grunt left your mouth as you gave Gahyeon an angry stare.

“Daddy. You said to get it wet so you can fuck my pussy. I think it’s wet enough. Besides, you know you love my pussy more.”

Gahyeon jumped back on top of your lap and lined her pussy up with your cock. A sudden plunge brought back into the familiar feeling of her snatch. Raising her hips, the young woman began to jump on your length. Putting your hands on her hips, you began to help her movements as she continued to fuck herself into your cock.

“Fuck, daddy. I love your cock. No one else can fuck me like you.”

A possessive nature took over as you grabbed Gahyeon’s face and made her look into your eyes.

“What do you mean no one else? Who have you been fucking beside me?”

“N-No one daddy. Just you.”

“It sure sounds like you have been. I better not ever see you fucking another guy. You got that you fucking brat?”

Putting your hand on her neck, the young woman began to look at you nervously as the hold on her neck tightened. Gahyeon’s pussy at that moment began to tighten around your cock as you continued to shove your length into her tunnel. Your speed increased as Gahyeon's eyes began to roll back.

You let go of the grip a bit but Gahyeon pulled you closer and tightened the grip on your hand once more. Seeing she liked it, you did your best to choke her as safely as you can while the girl bounced.

“I’M CUMMING.”

It was sudden but a rush of fluids shot from the girl's pussy as she began to jolt around like earlier. Gahyeon stopped bouncing as she laid her head on your chest. You knew that people were waiting for you so you decided to continue fucking her after a few seconds.

“W-Wait daddy. I j-just came.”

“Well, I didn’t you little whore.”

Throwing Gahyeon back on the couch m. You brought her ass up and shoved your length back into her tunnel. With your hands, you pulled her upper body and put both of your hands on her breasts. Giving her nipples a few small pinches, you pistoned repeatedly into her snatch as the girl yelled. It’s a bit embarrassing as you can already feel your cock twitching but with all the strength you had left, you fucked her pussy as her hands moved all around.

“I’M CUMMING AGAIN!”

Gahyeon gave you a slap to the face by accident but it somehow served as a catalyst for your peak to arrive. As your load shot deep into Gahyeon’s pussy, the young woman suddenly stopped moving as her pussy contracted around your rod. Gahyeon was milking you dry, and you were sure to give her all you had in your balls.

The strength in your body seemed to leave as you both lay down on top of the couch. As you both panted for air, the door to your office opened and the rest of the girls walked in on this scene.

“You two really couldn’t wait?”

The judging tone from Dami made you look down in embarrassment as your girlfriend walked closer to the two of you. Staring the two of you up and down, Dami threw your clothes at the two of you and laughed.

“It’s my day. Gahyeon you lost your day now and I get the rest of today. You better be ready, Kangdae. I’m going to make you so empty that you might cry.”

All of the girls giggled at what she said to you as Gahyeon began to put her clothes back on. She rolled her eyes but nodded her head in agreement with what Dami said.

You haven’t seen Dami give you a smirk like Gahyeon before. Should you be worried?

Guess only time will tell how you feel in the morning.

a/n- Thank you for reading. Thank you to anyone who enjoyed any of my works over this year. To be honest i have been debating if i should retire from smut writing and im still not sure but if i continue my work will just come out very slow. Thank you again.

#smut #dreamcatchersmut

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theotherbuckley · 10 months ago

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Fuck it Friday 🖋️

Tagged by @wikiangela <333

Guys I have officially written smut (which @diazsdimples was kind enough to read through thank you 🙏🏾). Ok I’m not gonna share it today though but I thought yall should know👀 currently it’s only really unhealthy sex with Buck and someone who isn’t Eddie BUT DONT WORRY I’ll make it up to y’all and have Buddie smut eventually in this fic too. Btw this is healing fic but like you knew that I haven’t written anything else for a while. Anyway here’s some more of that fic:

365 days after Eddie gets shot, Buck breaks.

He needs something stronger than a few beers, needs something to make him feel better, at least for a little while. So he opens his liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle he thinks is Gin and he gets ready to pour himself a glass when he wonders what the point of having a glass is. He hasn’t done the dishes in far too long and they’re piling up at the sink. So what’s the point of having another glass to wash up. He looks down at his feet, where the broken shards are still there, he knows there’s cuts on his feet, he can see specks of blood dotted on the floor, but he can’t feel anything. His body is just so numb.

He takes a swig from the bottle, dropping to sit on the floor, his head knocking against the cabinet doors. He takes another sip.

And another.

And another and another until his body feels lighter, and the world spins around him when he tries to stand up. And he laughs. He laughs because he’s still there and everyone else is gone. He laughs because he never thought he’d be back here. He laughs because he’s a fool, a fuck-up. He laughs because he knows he was always going to end up here, with too many scars littered on his skin, with a brain that hates itself, and a body falling apart. Alone, just like he was when he was 14 years old.

I realise that nothing I share from this fic is in any sort of linear order but to be fair I don’t write in a linear order a lot of the time either so 🤷🏽‍♀️

Ok so tagging the moots 💗💗 @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @malewifediaz @evanbegins @diazsdimples @bucksbirthmark @puppyboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 please tell me if you want to be added or removed !!!

#healing fic #911 abc #911 fandom #evan buck buckley #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 #911 wip #fuck it Friday

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kastukj · 8 months ago

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I dont know what sort of divine intervention happened but this is slowly becoming one of the best books I’ve ever read?? I’d like to thank whatever heavenly being being blessed me with this discovery

Incoming 2am word vomit ‘review’ so I can empty my brain a bit don’t mind me

Ok so to start I think the biggest thing I have to say is it’s very obvious the love and care that was put into writing this book. It’s a love story built off of an incredibly unfortunate situation and the author takes care in the way they talk about it in the story. It’s not played down, it’s not glorified or simplified or sugar coated or anything and it’s not just the initial situation that’s like that either, it’s plenty of other instances and subjects that are treated the same. It’s a situation that to some is horrifying in its own right, and will only continue to cause trouble because of things neither of them can control. The same can be similarly said for the main characters/LI’s as well I’d say, they’re not infallible by any means and it’s very refreshing. They’re both deeply troubled and make mistakes and hurt themselves and each other whether they mean to or not but they also work to fix those mistakes and to better themselves, not to perfection but enough to where they won’t collapse under the weight of the story if that makes sense? I think just in general it’s obvious the author loves and cares for this story and its characters and it shows in so many ways and it’s so incredibly heartwarming after stuffing my brain with bad book videos and conversations w friends about em Agdkshs

“I’m gonna start reading dune” I say as I buy a completely different book and start reading that instead

#part of me wants to tell everyone I know about this book because it’s not well known at all?#saying best book I’ve ever read (or one of) might seem like a big prize for a book I haven’t even finished yet but like man…#but the other part wants to keep it to myself as my little secret #this I think could be like my ultimate guilty pleasure book that id be embarrassed to tell people just how much I love it #also I saw a review on goodreads for it where someone says the middle drags a bit and like… really?? the middle?????#where shit hits the fan and everything you know and learn gets thrown upside down and the main LI’s are forced to face some of their #deepest fears??? even in this brief moment of reapite where I stopped for now they’re still worrying about the worst situation that’s still #very real and very plausible??#I’m also afraid what fandom people would do to these characters if they got their grubby little hands on them #I just know they’d belittle the main male LI to tsundere or a gentle giant and like MMMMMMM #my biggest fear rn honestly #just gonna hope more people find this book and relish in the quiet adoration and fascination while it lasts #if it does become more known I think I’ll cry if it is considered YA bc it’s not at ALL what current YA novels are #anyways I’m done now I’m gonna try and sleep and cry and maybe grab a snack first #some might say goving this best book I’ve ever read title is too generous for a book I haven’t even finished but like… man #there’s just nothing truly bad about this book that I can think of and I haven’t been so enamored by a book in a long long time #as a treat if you’ve made it this far the book is called ‘The Fox and the Dragon’ by S. K. Ehra #ok thank you tumblr for ghost deleting tags so I can’t see them but are still there so I can’t fix it and I’m repeating myself verbatim lmao

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dreamwatch · 2 months ago

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WIP Word Game

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Thank you to @occasionaloverboy for the word WARM, to @little-annie for the word LICK, and to @thisapplepielife for the word BEST. I’m so late to this; the brain isn’t braining right now and I haven’t written in a while. Maybe this will kickstart me. To make up for my tardiness here’s each of the words I was tagged with, each using a different WIP. My words were WARM, BEST and LICK.

Wayne’s driving them to work and Eddie’s more glad than ever for it because the drugs are getting him to sleep, and they’re keeping him asleep, praise fucking everyone in all the holy books, but…

And so it was that Nancy, Robin, Steve and Jonathan left for pastures new, and he, Eddie Munson, town freak, stayed behind, got a job with his uncle at the plant working nights, and for all intents and purposes dropped off the face of the planet.

Rent was a little higher, but Wayne had a bedroom and an actual bed for the first time in years.

Max did wake up.

****

Like, how fucking dare he get beaten up?

It’s going to take more than ignoring his calls and letters to make Wayne see sense.

Casey drags Eddie along to his cell to sit on his bunk and share Oreo cookies.

Kitchen table art interspersed with a couple of big pieces that clearly cost some money.

****

But he’s a cliche, and the freedom of being away from Indiana, the excitement of being in the middle of something, even if its not his something, outweighs his annoyance at being woken at all hours of the day and night by the sounds of guys getting sloppy blowjobs

Eddie slides his hand across her hip, down her thigh, because he needs to touch, wants to be touched back, but she pushes him off.

Seen in a way that could have been uncomfortable, if it had been anyone else doing the looking.

Two days after arriving in Butte, Eddie calls Wayne.

Ok, no pressure tags and apologies if you’ve already done it! @cchapsticck @klausinamarink @jo-harrington @the-unforgivenn @soaringornithopter @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @vthx

Your word is CLUE 🔎

#wip tag game #tag game

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malarkgirlypop · 1 year ago

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MEDIC! Part 21 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

I know I wrote this but I'm so mad at Don, but I did it so! Some fighting, some fluff, some ass hitting as per request of @next-autopsy, ahahah jk! Let me know what you think!

I also just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who reads my fic! I have now posted 21 chapters which is so much! Thank you for sticking with me, I know it's been long! I am so excited to keep going with this story. Probably the only thing I have stuck too and not given up half way, which my brain likes to do! I love you all, thank you for all your support and amazing comments, truly makes me so happy and I just want to keep sharing my work with you all! I really can't thank you all enough, how do I buy you all presents? ahahahah.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.Keep reading

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (let me know if you want to be tagged.)

The men wandered back into the room, I stopped Don as he walked in, grabbing him by his arm.

“Can we talk?” I asked, he nodded, moving out of the room again. I walked down stairs finding somewhere more private to speak to him. I walked into one of the empty rooms, Don followed behind closing the door.

“So are you going to explain what happened?” He asked, sitting on the edge of one of the bunks I sat opposite him on the other bed.

“Why were you in a towel?” He asked before I could tell him anything.

“Cobb stole my clothes while I was showering. So I marched through town in my towel to confront him.” I told him, his eyes widened as I told the story.

“Emily! You can’t do that!” He scolded me. I rolled my eyes. I felt angry, he wasn’t there. That was selfish of me, but I was still mad. I handled the situation myself, and he wants to tell me what I can and can’t do. He hasn’t spoken to me in days, he walks away when I approach him, he dismisses me at every turn. Now he wants to pretend like he cares.

“It’s already happened, so…” I say my tone clipped. There was a pause, I couldn’t help myself. “Have I done something to make you angry with me?” I asked. He furrowed his brows.

“No.” He stated. I huffed. Not satisfied with the answer he had given. So he was avoiding me just because.

“Well is something wrong, are you upset?” I tried to make sense of the distance he had placed between us.

“No.” I bit my lip, I was an angry crier, hell I was an everything crier, but still I didn’t want him to see me upset like that. I didn’t want to break down and cry. I needed to hash this out, without him trying to comfort me, or leaving cause I was sad.

“No, is that all you have to say? Don you haven’t spoken to me in days.” My voice wobbles, I take a breath trying to calm myself.

“I’ve been busy.” I scoffed. “I have! I’m a leader now, these men depend on me.” His voice was harsh.

“Yeah and you seem to make time for them. I’m in your team too.” I felt so selfish, but I was hurting, he was my person and he was just leaving me like I wasn’t his. Maybe I’m not his.

“Why are you stepping back from me? I thought we were friends! I thought you said we were in this together! You promised me you would always be by my side! Has that changed?” I felt the tears brimming in my eyes. I thought back to after the incident in Noville, after I had washed up. Don said, no he promised me that we would look after each other.

“I have a lot on my plate at the moment, I can’t be your babysitter! I can’t…” He trailed off looking at my face. Tears fell down my cheeks. That hurt, fuck that hurt.

“That’s all it was? You felt obliged to look after me?” I couldn’t hide the pain, like a stab in the heart. So he didn’t care, really. He felt obligated to make sure I was ok, there were no feelings involved. It was an order, a duty he felt he needed to take. He opened his mouth, but the door to the room opened, a soldier asking for him. I wiped the tears from my face, turning away from the door. He stood and left. He left, he didn’t say anything, just left. I took a breath, sniffing, wiping away my tears. I felt sick. I scrubbed a hand over my face.

I made my way back upstairs, the men lounging about.

“Here she is the streaker.” Grant clapped me on the back. I gave a weak smile, but they didn’t seem to notice, too busy laughing at their joke. I grabbed my bag.

“I have to go check on Lip!” I said, rushing out of the room. It was true, I should check on the very sick man, but it was a way to escape. I didn’t need them asking questions. I just needed to think by myself for a bit. I made my way to CP, it was quiet. I walked into the back room, sighing, pleased to see Lipton finally sleeping in his bed. I shut the door after ensuring he was breathing. I moved back into the main room, plopping down on the couch. I tried to get my emotions in check, but it was a lot, all I wanted was my mum. I just wanted a hug from someone. I sniffed, wiping the tears from my chin. Just a babysitter, I laughed in pain. I hastily dried my tears when footsteps approached the room. I glanced over to see Ron walk in.

“Emily? What are you doing here?” He asked, walking further into the room.

“I just came to check on Lip, he’s sleeping.” My voice betrayed me, wobbling slightly as I spoke.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Ron moved quickly over to me, kneeling in front of where I sat.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. More tears falling down my face. His brows pinched as he looked at me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, moving to sit next to me. I shook my head. “Do you want anything?”

“Can I have a hug?” I whispered. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around me. Pulling me into his chest, I clung onto his arm that held my front, he gently stroked my hair. My mum used to hug me the same way. The thought made me cry harder.

“Shh.” He cooed, rocking us slightly, his chin resting on the top of my head. I felt like a child again, after falling over, being comforted by your parent. I felt so small in his arms, I felt so vulnerable, I didn’t have to say anything but he could see it all. He didn’t comment but he knew.

We stayed like that for a moment, but I knew he was busy. I pulled away, his arms falling from around me. I wiped my tears, giving him a small smile.

“Thanks.” I said weakly. He nodded, smoothing down my hair with his hand.

“I have to go. Emily, remember you can come to me.” He said standing, I nodded, watching him leave the room again.

—------------

I made my way back to the house, dragging my feet. I didn’t want to see Don. Before I left I looked in one of the broken mirrors, my face was pink and blotchy, my eyes all red and bloodshot. If anyone looked at me longer than a second they would be able to tell I had been crying. I mean when am I not crying, it’s been my permanent state since I arrived here.

Lieb passed me on the street, “Hey we were going to see George, see if we could steal some goods, you wanna come?” He asked, but before I could answer he was already dragging me down the road.

Lieb and I walked into the ration room where George was working hard. Before we had entered we’d heard Martin and Cobb pestering poor Luz for candy.

Lieb waltzed right in, “Woah, Hershey bars!” Reaching over the counter to grab at the candy. George looked pissed, swatting his hand away.

“Jesus Chirst.” He muttered, Cobb swung around telling Lieb to wait his turn.

“Who are they for?” Lieb asked, pointing at all of the boxes filled with goodies. I stood behind the men just watching. I smiled at George, he gave me a wink back.

“Not you Lieb!” George growled at the men.

“Oh, come on George, one bar!” Lieb whined like a child, holding out his hand.

“George!” I said sweetly, making my way towards him. I stood beside him wrapping my arm around his shoulders, his arm snaked around my waist. “You look so handsome today.” I smiled, putting on my charm. “So strong.” I said, patting his chest. He grinned at me rolling his eyes. “I love what you have done with your hair.” I fluttered my lashes, running my fingers through his hair.

“Here, have a chocolate bar, you flirt.” He said leaning forward to grab me one from the box.

“Ah, for me?” I gasped, placing my hand on my chest acting coy. He handed it to me. I smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“HEY! Hey, why does she get one!” Lieb protested.

“Yeah what the hell George!” Cobb agreed.

“Cause she’s pretty, unlike you ugly son’s of bitches.” He insulted them. I laughed, poking my tongue out at the men, I held up the bar rubbing it in their faces. George shooed me away, slapping me on the ass as I retreated, I let out a squeal in surprise, turning to laugh with the man.

“George one bar!” Lieb pleaded.

“No, there’s not enough to go around!” George yelled at them.

I left quickly, seeing that Lieb seemed to be eyeing up my prize.

—-------------

“Let’s go!” Chuck shook me awake, I had almost completely dozed off on my bunk, but was rudely awoken by the man.

“Where?” I asked, sitting up stretching.

“Briefing at CP, come on.” He hauled me out of bed by my arms. I followed along, still spaced from being asleep moments ago.

“Why am I coming?” I asked trailing along behind the group, yawning into my hand.

“You're on call, if anything goes wrong.” Lieb tells me, I nod. I don’t actually think I need to be there, but I’m dragged to it anyway.

Babe slings me under his arm as we walk. I let him lead me, only having my eyes open a crack.

The boys slump down into their seats in CP waiting for the others to arrive for the briefing. I lean against the back wall by the window behind Web. I don’t need to be right up at the front with the rest of the men, as I’m not going on the patrol. Lt. Jones leans against the wall by the entrance looking nervous, quiet chatter filling the room.

“Come on, he can’t be leading.” I hear Grant whisper to Babe. There had been a rumour spread quickly, no surprises there, these boys gossiped like no one’s business, that Jones was leading the patrol. Which made them all very apprehensive of going, more so than before. We all saw what happens when we don't have a good leader running the show. Cough, cough Dike.

“I’m not sure what they decided.” Babe said to him. They lounge with their legs propped up on the table same as the other men gathered around the table.

“No way. Not on his first day.” Grant continued in his disbelief.

“Well, do you see any other officers here?” Lieb asked.

More men gathered in the room, standing around the table. I could make out a few of them Cobb, Skinny, two other guys I couldn’t remember their names.

They chatted briefly, with the new men wondering who was going to be in charge of the patrol. Sending worried glances to the young officer in the corner, hoping and praying it wasn’t him.

“10-hut!” Jones announced. I had no idea what that meant, but I straightened standing tall. Since when did we do this?

“Jesus.” I heard Lieb mutter to himself as he stood.

“At ease.” Winters told the men who relaxed back into their seats, Martin followed in behind him.

I kind of listened, kind of didn’t. I got the basics, the patrol was happening at 0100, how fun! That 15 men were going over on the patrol, which was a prisoner snatch. They had four rubber boats to go across the river, so that they didn’t have to swim in the icy cold water. Most importantly Winters informed the men that Lt. Jones would in fact be the ranking officer, but he was going to be shadowed by Martin. Sergeant Martin was going to lead the patrol in place of Malarkey. My brain clicked on, he isn’t going. I sighed with relief, I was glad he didn’t have to go.

I also didn’t miss the look shared between Jones and Web, neither did Martin glaring at the pair of them. What had they been up to together for that kind of interaction? Had they been planning this. I know Jones wanted in on the patrol. What had Webster done to hook him up with the position he was in now? Webster didn’t have any pull around here, he literally just arrived back!

“10-hut!” Jones’ voice pulled me from my thoughts, no one stood at attention which is what I assumed the call was.

“As you were, carry on.” Winters said disappearing with Martin.

“A little German, he speaks as much German as me.” Lieb said loudly enough for Webster who was standing right beside him to hear. Webster left the room quickly.

“Come on you, let’s go.” I was again dragged from the building by Grant and Lieb. We gathered outside, the pair bitching loudly about Webster.

“Hey.” I said smacking the pair of them. “You two are shit stirrers.”

“What are you siding with him?” Grant asked.

“No, I’m not. But I feel bad.” I wasn’t here to bully the poor guy.

“Why do you feel bad Em? That guy has been on holiday for four months, during our hardest time and then just rocks back up when everything is almost over to take all the glory.” Lieb told me, clearly pissed off.

“Em is just too sweet.” Grant said, pinning me under his arm and trying to tickle my neck. I hunched my shoulders up trying to hide the ticklish skin from his fingers.

“Let’s get moving. I want to try and get some shut eye before we do this.” Lieb said, Grant let me go from his hold. I hid behind Lieb using his body as a shield as Grant continued to taunt me with his wiggling fingers.

We walked back to base passing Webster who was talking to the officers.

“Hey, Liebgott, you want to sit this one out?” Ron asked Lieb as we passed. Grant grinning beside him.

“Yes, sir.” Lieb agreed, smiling brightly. “Thanks buddy!” Lieb sent Webster a wink.

I caught Ron’s glance, his eyes scanning my features. I could tell he was trying to see if I was alright. I sent him a smile, mouthing ‘I’m ok.’ He nodded, turning back to the men he was talking to.

—----------

We gathered in the basement having supper before we tried to get some sleep. I sat at the table sipping my water. My bad mood was back. Don was pretending like everything was fine. He smiled and laughed with the men, sitting and chatting with them. The more I watched him the more pissed off it made me. I was over here stewing, and he seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re going to crush the cup if you squeeze it any harder, Em.” Lieb said, sitting next to me. I loosened the hold on my cup not realising how much power I had behind the grip.

”I thought you would be in a better mood, now that your husband isn’t going on the patrol?” Lieb with a full mouth of food.

“Emily, you want some?” I looked up, Don stood in front of me holding out a pot of food, a lazy smile on his face. I took a breath, trying not to hurl my cup at his head.

“I’m fine, thanks. Not hungry.” My tone clipped. He nodded, moving onto the next person.

“Oh no, trouble in paradise?” Lieb nudged me.

“Fuck off, Joe!” I sent him daggers, he held up his arms in surrender.

“It must be bad, you never swear at me!” I chuckled, he smirked, “Aw there she is. Gosh that other one was scary! She looked like she was going to bite my head off.” I raised my eyebrows, cautioning him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked more seriously now, coming closer to keep his voice down.

“Nope. Not particularly.” He gave me an empathetic smile, rubbing my back.

“Come on, you know you’re hungry.” Lieb offered me his food out on the spoon. I rolled my eyes, but opened my mouth. He placed the spoon in my mouth. We shared his meal, he secretly snuck up to get more for the two of us.

We sat at the table talking when Webster approached us. “Hi.” He smiled, giving an awkward wave. Lieb nudged me under the table, I knew he was asking if I had seen the same thing that he did. I glanced over to Lieb, a small smile pulling to my lips as he hid his smirk behind his hand.

“Hey Web!” I said politely, focussing back on the man standing before us. “You gonna go get ready for tonight?” I asked, the other men had slowly left the room preparing themselves for the patrol, Martin had told them nothing rattles, nothing shines so they don’t give themselves away.

“Oh yeah, I was just going to head up and join them.” Webster smiled at me. Another kick under the table from Lieb but I ignored him. I waited for Webster to say something else, surely he had something else to say right, he didn’t just approach us to stand there awkwardly. I silently begged him to speak again. Come on Web don’t make this weird.

“You look nice.” He blurted, I heard Lieb snort in laughter. He made it weird. “I mean, you look clean.” I made a strange looking face at him, “No, not clean! Um, you look, dressed.” I chuckled, baffled by his comments as he fumbled over his words. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna, go.” He nodded leaving up the stairs. Joe waited for him to leave the room before howling with laughter, he clutched his belly as he did so. I sat there so confused at what just happened.

“That was a train wreck, that man cannot flirt.” Joe said after he had finished laughing.

“Flirt?” I asked, that’s not what I got from the conversation.

“Emily! Come on, he was clearly trying to flirt with you.” Lieb looked at me surprised.

“I don’t think so.” I shook my head, surely he wasn’t.

“God you’re hopeless.” He patted my back, getting up chuckling to himself. “Come on, we will do dishes.” Lieb instructed me.

“We will do dishes? Or you will stand there and tell me what to do while you watch?” I raised my eyebrows at him. He grinned, knowing I had caught onto his little tactic he pulled last time.

I washed the dishes while he dried. I dried my hands on the tea towel as Joe waited patiently for me to give it back. A devious grin formed on my lips. I twirled the tea towel round in my hand wrapping it around itself so it looked like a long snake. Joe wasn’t paying attention as I walked closer to him. I snapped the tea towel out, whipping him in the butt.

“Hey!” He cried moving away, it wasn’t the best flick, it didn’t snap like I wanted it too. I tried again, wringing the tea towel around. I flicked it out but Joe snatched it off me before the hit landed. He grinned as he did the same thing, wrapping the towel up.

“Joe! Joe! Think about it, you don’t want to hurt me.” I said backing up, he stalked me like prey with a grin plastered on his face.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish then!” He moved faster, I screamed moving away from him as he chased me around the table.

“Joe!” I cried as he backed me into a corner, I held out my arms trying to keep him at bay. He whipped out the towel it snapped just inches away from me. I yelped in surprise, making my move to run past him while he reloaded. I pushed past him but he was quick, the towel snapping onto my leg. I let out a cry, it had caught the back of my thigh. The snap echoed around the room.

“Oh Em, that was so much harder than I intended!” He laughed as I grasped at my leg hopping around the room.

“Ow!” I said, but still laughing, “Joe you asshole, that hurt!” I rubbed the spot where he had got me, it stung so much. “You little shit!”

“I’m sorry, aww Em!” He laughed watching me in pain. “That would’ve left a mark for sure.” He grinned.

“Owww, I think it did. Wait, I want to see!” I said undoing my pants, it was fine I had my shorts underneath which I normally slept in. I pulled them down exposing the back of my thigh. On my white skin was a harsh red welt with flicks of purple in the middle.

“Joe!” I said covering my mouth, it looked so bad.

“Oh god.” He hissed looking at it. “Whoops.” He said, still grinning. I smacked him on the arm, pulling up my pants. We finished the dishes together. Heading upstairs to get some sleep before the patrol.

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

Chapter 22

#Don made me angry cry #wth Don #but like I wrote it #but still it pissed me off #and then he pretended like nothing happened #ugh so annoying #like why am I the only one mad you should be too #ahahahah #band of brothers #emarkey #emily lane #band of brothers fanfic #donald malarkey #hbo war #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #bill guarnere #joe toye #dick winters

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circle--of--confusion · 4 months ago

Text

This Love is in Retrograde - Part 1

I was inspired to write a fic about Terzo and my OC Amelia from my Dracopia fic. This will be in 2 parts, Before [backstory leading up to their breakup] and After [after the Copia/Sarah fic where she and Terzo get back together].

Summary: Set before my "Cardinal and the Seamstress" fic, Amelia, the head of the clergy sewing department begins a relationship with Terzo, the new Papa. They navigate the highs and lows of her anxieties around dating the Emeritus brother.

Paring: Terzo | Papa Emeritus III x OC Amelia

Chapter 1: Before

Words: 10.2k

Read on AO3

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

MASTERLIST

Tags: fluff, angst, intense make-outs, friends to lovers, closet confessions, time skips, poorly translated itallian [google translate sorry]

divider credit to @gothdaddyissues

Amelia just came back to the studio from a meeting where Papa Secondo was announced to be stepping down and his slightly younger brother was set to take Papa’s place. Cardinal Terzo. The Ghost Project has been a growing success and it’s time for a new era.

New era. New Papa. New ghouls.

New things to worry about.

Today, Terzo will be measured for his new “uniform” that he will wear as Papa and they will service as his Ritual costume. From what she knows about the Emeritus brother, this meeting will probably be a tedious nightmare. The flirty bastard doesn’t know when to turn it off, regardless of who he’s speaking to. Amelia rolls her eyes every time someone would mention how he would “help them find their release!” while they swoon and retell the story.

She can concede that he’s handsome. Handsome and charming to everyone and he always seems to act as if he’s one sentence away from charming the pants off of you.When Terzo sauntered into the studio for Amelia to measure him, she could already tell the headache remedies will need to be on standby. He’s smirky and slippery as he walks into the room. Terzo doesn’t have his cassock on, instead he wears slacks and a light sweater.

“Terzo, ready to get started? We need to get a mockup put together soon.” Amelia gestures to the middle of the room.

He laughs. “So eager to get your hands on me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just. Please get on this square platform over here. I’ll be quick.”

He steps up and stands there waiting for Amelia to measure him. Throughout the process her assistant Alex took notes while she shouted numbers and body parts. He’d quip something and she’d quip back. Sweet Lucifer can he ever shut off his mouth!

Amelia takes his arm and moves it to extend outward so she can measure it. “You know, normally when I have someone this close to me with their hands roaming my body, we have a lot less clothes on.” Terzo looks over to her.

She flicks her eyes up at his for a moment before looking back at the number on the tape measure. “Apologies for not sensually feeling you up enough while I do my job.” she mumbles. ”I will make sure to do better next time.”

“Oh no your skilled hands are doing just fine as they are.”

She smiles sarcastically at him. “Wonderful.” Amelia crouches down at his feet. “Ok, Terzo. One more and then we’re done. I need to get your inseam measured.” What will he say, Amelia could only imagine. She starts the tape at his crotch and extends it down to his foot. The room falls silent in anticipation and she swears she can hear the blood flowing in her brain. She feels bold enough to look up at Terzo and he’s simply looking forward with a soft smile. Nothing else. No quip. Nothing.

She looks back down at the tape and hides a slight blush. Damnit. She stands back up and drapes the tape around her neck like a scarf.

“I take it that we’re finished?” Terzo asks. Amelia nods and he steps off the platform.

“Yes. I plan to have a suit mockup ready in a couple weeks or so. I haven’t had time to come up with a theme, it’s all been so sudden. Do you have any ideas on suit inspiration? Have you thought about the aesthetics? The colors?” She takes the notebook from Alex and looks at Terzo.

He crosses his arms. “I haven’t been able to give it much thought as well. Lately I’ve been reading about the rococo and baroque art movement, maybe try something with that?”

Can’t say I was expecting that. Amelia writes down his response and puts on an impressed face. “I’ll take that into account, thanks. You’re free to go now and do… Papa type things.”

“Thank you, Sorella.” He walks over to the door and turns around. He has a look on his face that Amelia doesn’t like the moment she sees it. “I can’t wait to see what your brilliant brain and hands do to me.” He walks out of the studio with a wink and closes the door after him before she can respond.

◊◊◊◊◊

Amelia and Alex had been brainstorming ideas for the suit the past two days. They have printed photos pinned to a cork board on a far wall of the studio. The theme is rococo for now but the color scheme is very minimal. Black and white. After a while of very frustrated scribbling Amelia decided to go to the library for inspiration. Walking around to the history section, the last person she expected to find amongst the books is the subject of her ire, Terzo.

“Oh! Handsome and well-read. Can’t say I expected to find you here.” Terzo startles at Amelia’s words.

He bows his head and sighs. “Why is that?” he looks over to Amelia with an unamused smile.

Nothing about calling him handsome? she smirks. “You don’t strike me as a book worm.”

“I get that a lot. It annoys me. Very much.” Terzo scoffs. “I was a cardinal! I studied just like everyone else.”

“I’m going to be honest, Terzo, but I don’t think I know what a cardinal actually does here.”

He nods his head and looks to the side. “I’m not sure I really know either.” Terzo returns to the books on the shelf in front of him.

Amelia looks over at the shelves. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the books on European Royalty are?” She asks. He wordlessly moves his right hand to the shelf one section to the right and points down. “Ah.” Amelia crouches down and begins her search.

Terzo hums a small tune to himself while he looks for his book of choice. She looks up to watch him pick through the options the shelf has to offer. He moves closer to the right and his leg bumps Amelia’s arm. He makes a small surprised noise and looks down to see Amelia already looking up at him. “I think I’m getting a sense of déjà vu.”

“I may regret this, but what were you thinking about the other day?” she stands up. “I figured you’d make a lewd comment about me on my knees in front of you. You certainly weren’t holding back earlier in the session.” Amelia crosses her arms.

He swats his hand in the air. “That’d be too easy.” She raises an eyebrow. “I was just… thinking about how happy I was to become Papa, to finally have an opportunity to perform.” He smiles. “I wish to see, how did mio Fratello put it, ‘masses standing in awe’? It’s all still a bit surreal.”

She snorts. “Did you just allude to yourself as the Antichrist?” Terzo winks. Amelia nods her chin to his book. “What’cha reading?” She looks at what he’s holding.

Amelia looks genuinely interested and he smiles at her. It takes him a second to look back at the book he grabbed from the shelf. “Oh! I was browsing other eras of history and became fascinated on the 1920s art deco aesthetics which led me to reading about 1920s America. It was a very fascinating time culturally.” she hums, encouraging him to continue. “On one end, you have the roaring twenties, a time of great prosperity and opulence. People were over-spending and over-indulging just because they could. And then on the other end, prohibition, making the sale of alcohol to be illegal! And despite all that, people still found a way to drink.” he's waiving his hands while one of them is still holding the book. “Fundamentalist and religious groups managed to con the people to make it- wait what’s so funny?” He stops and stares at Amelia who’s started giggling.

“No, oh I’m so sorry, but I never imagined you as such a… nerd!” How endearing.

Terzo’s free hand grabs her arm and he leans in as he whispers to Amelia. “Shhh don’t speak so loud.” he smiles at her. “I’ve cultivated quite the Casanova image for myself. I can’t have you ruining it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ok. Whatever you say.” Amelia walks to her section on the shelf for the book she planned to check out. “Except I’ll know that you’re a big.” she grabs her book. “Old.” she stands back up and leans in towards Terzo, whisper-hissing to him. “Nerd.” Amelia can hear him shush slightly as she walks away.

While she gets the book checked out at the front desk, she can overhear Terzo and a Sibling talking to each other. Amelia looks back and he has his hand next to the woman’s head on the wall as he leans towards her. She’s blushing profusely while he smooth-talks to her. The sister looks down and softly says “Oh, Papa.” Terzo briefly looks up and over to the front desk while Amelia is still there, watching, and he winks before turning his face back to the Sibling of Sin. Alright, Casanova.

◊◊◊◊◊

Alex flips to a page in one of the books Amelia checked out. “What if we did something like this.” He shows her the page. “He’ll still have his robes but we could do a different outfit that looks like something kings wore back then. White shirt, long coat, embellishments and buttons?”

She takes it in. “Ah! Good idea. I’ve been reading about this Swedish king from the late 1700s. He reigned in the latter half of the century, and it was in the rococo time period. The pictures I’ve seen of him show him in those long coats like you showed me.” Progress!

Soon after sketching out a rough outline of the coat, she pins it to their cork board and the two get to work on cutting the mockup pieces. To save time, they’re cutting the shirt and jacket as if it’s all one cohesive garment. It saves them time on sewing and keeps the layering to a minimum.

“I actually ran into Terzo while I was looking for the books. We talked for a bit.” Amelia says while cutting out fabric.

“In the library?” He sounds surprised. “What was he doing there?”

She hesitates to tell Alex about his bookish tendencies. “Oh, the usual. Flirting with a sibling.” She scoffs.

Alex stops cutting fabric and looks up at her. “You sound… annoyed by that?”

Am I? “Oh, am I?” Amelia laughs and dismisses Alex. I can’t have a crush on Terzo, I am a grown woman!

“Hm.” He goes back to cutting.

◊◊◊◊◊

With the mockup done and ready for Terzo, he visits the studio a week and a half later for the first fitting.

“Wonderful to see you again, Amelia. What do you have for me today?” He says as he walks into the studio.

“I took your rococo suggestion and managed to come up with something. I have it in the dressing room. Please get the suit on and come out when you’re ready.”

Terzo claps his hands and walks to the dressing area. He takes a few minutes to change and then he walks out, sauntering over to the step in front of the mirror to look at himself. She watches Terzo as he takes in the suit mockup. Her hands are wrung together and she looks back and forth from his reflection in the mirror and the mockup. He’s moving around, observing himself and occasionally his eyes find Amelia’s looking back. She can’t take the silence any longer.

“King Gustav.” she says, breaking the silence. Terzo turns around to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Gustav the Third, former king of Sweden. He ruled from 1771 through 1792.” Amelia rambles. “Rococo period. That… was my inspiration.”

He nods his head and hums. “I wonder if the Cardinale knew him. Ha!” he chuckles.

She walks up to Terzo, crossing her arms. “Just because he’s lived for hundreds of years doesn’t mean he’d know every historical figure.” She jests.

He points his finger at Amelia. “You say that but Copia claims he’d stumbled on Jack the Ripper one night while he was hunting.”

She knits her eyebrows together. “Wait, which one was hunting? Copia or The Ripper?”

Terzo moves his eyes off to the side, thinking. “He never specified.”

“Anyways! Do you like the suit? Does it fit well?” she nervously smooths down the shoulders and the back of the jacket, fiddling with parts of the upper section of the mockup. “I wanted it to be easy to wear while you’re performing; not too many layers.” he nods. “For the actual suit, I thought about placing a Grucifix patch,” Amelia touches the tips of her fingers on the left side of his chest. “,right about here.” She looks up at Terzo.

“That sounds good.” he looks down to look at her.

They don’t say anything for a handful of seconds. Her icy demeanor towards Terzo has been melting and lately she’s been wondering more about him. She was worried he wouldn’t like their decision and it really would’ve hurt. A loud, theatrical cough rings through the room and it’s in that moment she realizes Alex has been there the whole time. Amelia yanks her hand from Terzo and steps back. Terzo looks stunned, however his eyes haven’t left her as she moved away.

“Uh, if you’re fine with this mockup, we can get started on an actual suit, yeah? I should have one ready in a week, maybe less. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

“If I have any other suggestions, I should come by?” He nods his head and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah! Feel free. I could give you my number and you can text me anything that comes up if it’s late.”

Terzo smiles. “Bene. Sometimes I get my best inspiration at night. I’m more stimulated.”

And there he is. “Yes well, go back and change and we’ll get started on a suit. We’re going to have to make a lot.” She sighs.

Terzo changes back into his clothes and walks back to Amelia. “I was thinking. Could you include purple in some way? Maybe my robes?”

“Sure! Any reason why?” Amelia grabs her notebook to write his suggestion down.

“Well, purple is associated with royalty. Since you were inspired by a king, I figured you could include it as another nod.”

“Noted! Thanks.”

“And do you know why purple for royalty?” Terzo eagerly asks.

God, what a nerd. “I think I do. The source of the pigment, right? It was hard to find, making it rare and therefore expensive, so only rich people and nobles could afford to have their clothes dyed the color.”

He smiles. “Exactly!”

Terzo leaves the studio shortly after he gets Amelia’s number. It’s quiet in the room when Amelia walks to where the fabric is being stored to start on the official suit and Alex asks “What the Hell was all of that?”

“I uh,” she scrambles for an answer. Amelia waves her hands around aggressively. “I don’t know!”

◊◊◊◊◊

--------

Terzo: 3:25 pm

I looked up this Gustav fellow. You made me a suit after a man who was ASSASINATED.

--------

Amelia: 3:26 pm

Let’s hope for all of our sakes you don’t meet the same fate.

--------

Terzo: 4:28 pm

Yes, let’s. I wouldn’t enjoy being ambushed by a shot from behind from someone in a mask.

--------

Amelia: 4:29 pm

I’m not sure anyone would.

--------

Terzo: 4:35 pm

Could you do me a favor?

--------

Amelia: 4:36 pm

I’m not telling you what I’m wearing, Terzo

--------

Terzo: 4:37 pm

No! Nothing like that!

Terzo: 4:37 pm

Unless….?

Terzo: 4:39 pm

I need you to come with me to some dinner tomorrow. Sister Imperator is throwing something together for the upper clergy now that I’m Papa. I will have to come wearing the paints and “be Papa” and I need backup.

--------

Amelia: 4:41 pm

Oh! That reminds me, do I need to start calling you “Papa” now? You never correct me. You’ve been wearing the paint for a while but I still forget to use it.

Amelia: 4:42 pm

And yeah, sure, I’ll go. I’m always down for a nice meal. But why me? Couldn’t you just find a sibling to go with you?

--------

Terzo: 4:44 pm

Terzo, please. I am happy to be one but hearing “Papa” has been taking some getting used to. And of course, I wouldn’t have a problem finding a sibling to go with me but I don’t know! I like you. And you know a little more about me than most people. I feel comfortable around you.

--------

Amelia 4:45 pm

Calm down there Mr. Humble. What should I wear?

--------

Terzo: 4:46 pm

What are you wearing right now? ;)

--------

Amelia: 4:47 pm

I’m blocking you now.

--------

Terzo: 4:48 pm

Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace. You can wear anything you like. I’m Papa after all, and what I say goes.

--------

Amelia: 4:49 pm

Wow! this papacy thing clearly hasn’t gone to your head at all.

--------

◊◊◊◊◊

The last few finishing touches on Amelia’s outfit are almost complete when she hears a knock at her door. She opens it to find Terzo on the other end, he messaged earlier that he will escort her to the dinner.

“Hi! I’m almost ready.” Amelia says to him, opening the door wider to let him in. “Come in! I just need to grab my shoes.” Looks like I won’t be overdressed.

He stands by Amelia’s door after he closes it. Terzo wears a black button up -a couple of them undone- and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. His pants are dark gray slacks and he’s decided on a pair of loafers with a gold buckle across the foot. “Take your time, Amelia. If we’re late maybe they’ll cancel the dinner.” He hopes. His crisp skull paint and the straight line of his lips give off the look of an eternal disdain.

She leans against a chair as she slips on her flats. “Don’t want to go? Couldn’t you have said something and they would’ve canceled?” Amelia walks closer to Terzo. He’s admiring what she chose to wear; a dark purple square neckline dress with gathered sleeves that cinches in at the waist and flares out to end just past the knee. “Am I dressed well enough?”

“Perfetto. Sei bellissima!” he smiles. “I love the purple.” Terzo holds out his arm and they start walking to the dinner location where Sister Imperator, Nihil, the previous Papas and upper clergy members await their arrival. “Let’s get this over with.”

“So why are you not in love with what’s happening tonight?” She asks as they walk together.

He waives his free hand. “It’s not that I’m antisocial. I enjoy being around others but I just don’t have it in me today. I’ve been busy writing songs and I summoned ghouls earlier this afternoon.” Amelia perks up at that. “I didn’t get all I needed but I have some.”

“That’s exciting! I can’t wait to meet them when I get their measurements for their suits.” She smiles at Terzo. He gives her a tired smile back.

When they make it to the dining hall with the rest of the Clergy members, Secondo yells over at them.

“Fratello! Sono felice di vedere che finalmente sei arrivato.” he stops for a moment to take in Amelia. “E con un ospite?”

Terzo’s arm stiffens as Secondo walks closer to the pair. “Si.”

Secondo is confused. “Non mi hai mai detto che stavate scopando.”

“stai zitto, Secondo.” Terzo spats. “I invited Amelia because she’s the one making all of the costumes the ghouls and I are going to wear, I figured she deserves a nice meal as compensation.” He nods towards Amelia and smiles.

“And honestly, good food I don’t have to pay for is always a bonus.” She snaps and gives finger guns.

Secondo laughs. “You’re right about that, sorella.”

Once they’re all seated for the meal, Nihil at the head of the table, Imperator to his left, Terzo at his right, Amelia is seated on Terzo’s right side, much to the dismay of the Cardinal Copia. She gave a whispered “sorry” to him as she sat down, causing Copia to find a seat elsewhere. Shortly after everyone starts eating, Nihil starts up a conversation with Terzo.

“I heard you summoned ghouls today? How was it?” Terzo’s father asks.

“It was fine. I summoned a Quintessence, Air, and Earth ghoul. They should help me get started with working through the music I’ve written so far.” He tiredly responds. Terzo pokes at his food on the plate.

Sister Imperator nods. “That’s great! You’ll need to finish up that album as soon as possible.” She hums.

Nihil looks over to Imperator. “Seestor! Can we at least let him enjoy his Papacy for a moment before you have him off on a tour?”

Terzo slumps in his chair, his chest deflates at the mere idea of a tour. Amelia moves her left hand to rest on Terzo’s knee as a small, silent support. She looks up across from her spot at the table to see Secondo looking very curiously at the two.

“Of course I don’t want him to feel rushed. I just want to make sure we keep up the momentum.” Sister Imperator responds.

“I have most of the songs written at this point. I just need the ghouls and I should be ready to put the album together.” Terzo responds.

Nihil smiles. “See! He’s fine. Let’s enjoy the rest of the meal without stress, Seestor.”

And they do. Or at least Amelia thinks so. Someone asks her about the costumes and she explains all about the technical aspects of the process to a Cardinal who clearly couldn’t follow but tried hard to seem like it. Amelia was rambling on about the pattern making process. “And so, I had to cut part of the bodice to make them separate pieces to make the ‘coat’ pieces and the ‘shirt’ pieces be all one top to prevent too many layers during the performances. It’s themed after an outfit that kings wore back then during the rococo art movement! I got the idea from,” she looks back to Terzo to include him and he’s staring at her while she talks; he slouches at the table to watch her speak. His elbow rests on the surface while his head is cradled in his hand. She smiles awkwardly under his watch. Amelia takes a breath turning back to the poor Cardinal “I got the idea from a book.”

“Must’ve been some book.” Secondo chuckles. “Rococo art is very theatrical and romantic. Does that remind you of anyone, Sorella?”

Amelia smirks. “No clue.”

Later in the evening when the meal is over and everyone retreats back to their homes to rest for the night, Terzo walks with Amelia back to her room. They stride down the halls in a comfortable silence, arm-in-arm like earlier.

“Thank you.” Terzo says when they get to Amelia’s door. “I appreciated you being there for me. With me.”

“You’re welcome. And I want to say I’m sorry.”

He’s surprised. “Sorry? For what?”

Amelia looks down. “For being shocked that you’re ‘well-read’ when I saw you in the library a while back. It seems there’s more to you than I thought. Than most of us think, really.” she sighs. “I’ve thought a lot about that day.”

Terzo looks at her for a moment before speaking. “I believe you also said I was handsome?” He grins.

She blushes intensely and looks down at the floor. “I did.”

“I think you may even like me.” He chuckles.

She looks up at Terzo. “Well, now, let’s not get too presumptuous.” Amelia smiles at him and then looks down again.

Terzo steps closer to her. His left hand moves to tilt Amelia’s head up so he can stare into her eyes. “Maybe I will.”

Amelia feels very flustered. His eyes bore into her own. The imposing Papal paint on his face and stark white eye contrast with the delicate touch of his hands on her chin and the softness in his eyes. Terzo closes his eyes and he leans towards her, Amelia’s eyes close in anticipation. She feels his lips on her forehead and lets out a shaky breath.

“Amelia, may I?” He whispers.

“Yes.” She quickly responds.

He laughs through his nose and both hands move to hold her head in place. When he kisses Amelia, it starts as a soft touch to her lips and at first and she doesn’t know what to do. Terzo presses his lips more to hers, pulling her face closer. She can’t fully understand that Terzo is kissing her yet, it all feels slightly surreal. A short few seconds pass and Amelia’s brain catches up with the situation; she starts kissing him back. Her hands move to Terzo’s back to pull him so their bodies are flush with each other. Smiles into the kiss when he feels Amelia pulling him closer to her. One of her hands travel to his hair and she threads her fingers through the silky black strands.

Terzo’s left hand slides down from her face to her waist, then to her lower back. Amelia’s tongue pokes over to Terzo’s mouth, asking to entry. He hums an approval and their kiss evolves into a frantic back and forth of tongues and tenacity. Mouths battling for each other’s breath, the only sounds in the quiet hallway are of their sloppy make-out and satisfied hums. Lost in the fog of their lust, her left hand moves from his hair to Terzo’s chest, making a fist with in the fabric and Terzo’s hand on her lower back slides down to cup Amelia’s butt; he gives a slight squeeze.

The two stop kissing once she opens her mouth and tilts her head back, letting out a low groan. She can feel something stirring inside, deep in her stomach. Their chests heave slightly to get air back into their lungs and they stand in each other’s presence, breathing heavy. Her head leans back to rest against the door and she watches Terzo. His head is tilted to the side, eyes still closed while he has a massive, dopey smile on his face. Amelia freezes in pace and her eyes are wide as she looks forward.

When did Terzo’s hand get on my ass? She comes-to and nudges Terzo off of her, removing her hands from him. “Uh.” she coughs. “Thank you for this evening, Terzo, I enjoyed… it.” she quickly turns to open her door and walks into her room. On her way to close it she sees Terzo’s confused expression. His head is still tilted to the side, eyes are now squinting and his mouth is pursed. Terzo’s mouth paint is incredibly smudged. “Goodnight, Terzo.” She smiles awkwardly at him and closes the door.

Amelia can hear a muted and confused “Goodnight?” from him through the door and then the sound of his footsteps growing silent as he walks away, back to his room.

The rest of the night is devoid of sleep for her. Tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about their kiss. It was so good. Very good. As Amelia thinks more about her feelings towards him, she’s scared.

◊◊◊◊◊

Over the following three days if you’d asked Amelia what she was doing, she’d say she totally hasn’t been avoiding Terzo. She’s been too busy to answer his texts and calls! And coincidentally every time Amelia’s walking down the hallway and she sees Terzo, she just so happens to have remembered something and needs to head back in the other direction.

Amelia has had to rip out a shirt sleeve seam about three times now and when she slams down her seam ripper onto the table, Alex calls over to her.

“Hey uh, boss? Is everything okay?” He asks, looking up from his machine.

No, I’m not okay. I kissed the most beautiful man and now I’m making it weird. “I’m alright, Alex. I just…” She sighs. “I just uh… realized we haven’t measured the new ghouls yet!” she snaps her fingers and perks up. “Could you go to Terzo and ask if they’re all here and summoned… and stuff?”

He looks at her, puzzled. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Alex returns about half an hour later and says they can all be here tomorrow for measurements. She nods and they get back to work for the rest of the day. Every so often Amelia can feel Alex’s concerned eyes on her. He leaves once the work day is over and Amelia waves him off. “I need to finish up a couple things. I’ll be out soon!”

“Ok!” Amelia’s phone buzzes and she anxiously looks over to the screen. Alex calls out before he closes the door. “Have a good night.”

She hums and goes back to work. Another text from Terzo. Another spike of worry. “It’s not wrong to have enjoyed it.” she thinks out loud. “Why am I being so weird? This is nothing.” The siblings would eat me alive if I took him off the market because I don’t share!

After enough time has passed where she thinks Terzo will have walked back to his room for the day, Amelia turns off her machine and begins to walk back to her room. She passes by a storage closet on her way and it looks partially opened. She walks over to close it and out from the darkness of the closet, a hand pops out and pulls Amelia in. She yelps as her abductor maneuvers her into the closet and closes the door. She fights against him and he’s grunting. The door is fully closed and it’s dark, then there’s a flash of light.

“Terzo?” she shoves him away. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“You’ve been avoiding me for days, Amelia!” He’s breathing heavy.

“This was your genius plan to talk to me?” She huffs back.

He laughs deliriously. “What else should I have done? You won’t answer my calls or texts. Any time I see you in person you run away.” he points at Amelia. “You even sent your assistant to ask about my ghouls. So tell me, what else is there for me to do?” He waves his hands out to the side.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy!” Amelia defends and Terzo scoffs. “It’s the truth!”

He takes Amelia’s hands into his own. “Did I do something wrong? Did I cross a boundary? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” He asks with genuine fear in his voice.

She gives a deep sigh. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Amelia looks up to him. “It’s me that’s the problem.”

His hands drop Amelia’s. He’s confused. “I’m not following…”

Amelia interrupts him. “I’m terrified about the fact that I really liked kissing you, Terzo. And I’ve been avoiding you because every time I see you, I think back to that evening and I can’t think straight.”

“Oh.” Terzo moves back half a step, he’s slightly surprised. “Oh.” he smiles. “Was I that good?”

Amelia grumbles. She shoves Terzo back more. “This isn’t funny, you smug bastard!”

“No, no, I just haven’t ever been in a situation where someone would avoid me because they enjoyed kissing me.” he shakes his finger in the air and nods his head. “That’s a new one.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m happy I could be a first for you on something. You’re welcome.” Amelia deadpans.

“Grazie.” he replies smugly. “I owe you a proper date, then.” Terzo states matter-of-fact.

“What?”

“Amelia, if you think I’m letting you go, you have another thing coming.” He laughs incredulously.

She knits her eyebrows together and crosses her arms. “Shouldn’t I have a say in the matter?”

“You do, but I doubt you will say no.” he smirks. “Anyways, that clergy dinner was a lousy attempt of a first date.”

Her face contorts. “Was that your attempt at a date?”

He puts a finger up in the air to defend himself. “I’d like to call it an experiment.”

“I’d like to get out of this closet.” Amelia opens the door and Terzo follows her out.

He grabs her hand as they stand in the hallway. “So, what do you say? You. Me. Tomorrow evening? I’ll text you the details around lunchtime.” One hand comes to rest on her cheek.

She laughs incredulously. “You’re going to keep me in suspense all morning tomorrow while I’m measuring your ghouls?” She looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“Yes.” Amelia scoffs. “I now enjoy watching you squirm, actually. It’s cute.” she playfully hits at Terzo’s chest and he laughs.

“Fine. Yes tomorrow evening sounds good.”

◊◊◊◊◊

All day Amelia has been on edge, waiting for Terzo’s text with their date details. At least measuring the ghouls had gone okay. They showed up on time and behaved relatively well for Demons that have been summoned from Hell, though the Fire ghoul had quite the spark in him when she measured anywhere near his waist and hips.

--------

Terzo: 1:45 pm

Meet me in the library at 8pm. Wear your purple dress, per favore?

--------

Amelia: 1:46 pm

I can do that. I’ll see you at 8!

--------

The library? Ok then.

Amelia and Alex spent the rest of day drowning in pattern paper. The ghoul measurements weren’t too varied between the five she measured so they plan to make two pattern blocks: one bigger and one smaller. A couple of them will come back and be fitted to make sure it’s not too big on their bodies.

7:40 pm rolls around and Amelia determines that she’s waited long enough on her room. After coming back from the studio, she took a shower to calm her nerves and re-dressed in the outfit she wore the other night at the clergy dinner. Away from the studio, from work to distract, her mind is idle and it won’t shut up. Amelia attempted to calm her mind by casting on a knitting project but she kept dropping stitches. With shaky hands Amelia put on her shoes and she heads over to the library. Her thoughts swirl with anxiety. Has he done this with other siblings? He said he wasn’t ‘letting me go’? Does Terzo even date?

She checks her phone. 8:00 on the dot. Do I knock? Will he hear it? She walks in and standing by the reading couches and chairs, on the far-left side of the library is Terzo, wearing the same outfit from the dinner the other night. He’s fixing something on the table so his back is facing Amelia. She watches him for a moment; Terzo appears to be fiddling with the food placement on the table. He’s just as jittery as I am. And in a small way, she’s comforted by it. He wants a do-over.

Terzo startles and stands upright when Amelia gives a small cough, signaling her arrival. He turns around and she sees his face is without the skull paint. He’s just Terzo tonight.

“I hope you like charcuterie.” he gestures to the platter on the table. “It was the only thing I could put together that didn’t have the kitchen staff coming at me with knives.” He clasps his hands together nervously.

She smiles. “I do like it. Thank you.”

“Sit, please.” Terzo sits down on the couch and leaves room for her to sit next to him on his left side.

Amelia sits down, leaving a foot of space between them. They eat in silence for a bit. Once she’s finished, Amelia turns her body to look at Terzo, her legs shifting so she can lean into the side of the couch. “Great choices on the food. Thank you.” Her hands rest in her lap.

He hums. Just like Amelia, he turns his body to look at her. “How did the measuring go today? Did my ghouls give you any Hell?” He smiles.

“They weren’t too bad. The Fire ghoul as I suspected has a little more fire in him compared to the rest. Any time I got near his hips he’d start purring!” They both laugh.

“The ghouls are going to be magnificent on tour! I can just tell. While we practice my songs, it already feels like they’ve been playing together for centuries.” he’s beaming. “It’s only been a few days but I can tell these ghouls are special.”

“How do you have songs written already? You were announced as Papa only recently?”

“Ah! I figured when Secondo became Papa that I was on borrowed time.” He waves one of his hands in the air.

She nods. “I see, makes sense!”

Terzo scoots closer to Amelia. “What was the rest of your day like?”

Amelia lets out a breath. “Oh, well, after the ghouls left the studio, Alex and I made a mad dash to start the pattern blocks for the ghouls’ costumes before the day could get away from us.” She smiles. “I think I have at least three or four papercuts on my hands at this point.”

Terzo grabs Amelia’s hands. He rubs at her palms and pretends to be worried. “Oh, per favore Amelia, I can’t let you hurt your skilled hands! Your precious tools!” He lifts her hands to give a small kiss to the palms. She blushes and looks down.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I should probably be more worried about carpal tunnel from knitting too much.” She giggles.

His eyes go wide in mock-surprise. “She sews and knits! I didn’t know I was in the presence of a double threat!” More giggling from Amelia. Terzo leans in closer to her. “What other skills are your hands hiding from me?” He raises an eyebrow and then leans away. He lets her hands go and she tries to hide the disappointment. Terzo lays his left arm to rest on the back of the couch. Amelia shifts herself by bending her right leg to lay in the cushion and leans on her right, propping up her head in her right hand by leaning on the back of the couch.

“Tell me about your day, Terzo. What does a recently inducted Papa do?” She swats his knee.

“It’s pretty boring, if you can believe it. Right now, my main focus is song writing and rehearsing.” he counts on his fingers. “I’ll probably be able to go on a promo tour in a few months!”

“Already? Wow!” she looks away and hesitates before looking back at Terzo. “Could I listen and watch in on your rehearsals one day?”

“Of course! When you have a free moment, I will gladly give you your own private Ritual.” he leans in. “I would love to serenade you with it being just the two of us.” He smiles softly.

They go back and forth talking for what feels like hours. Terzo’s eyes watch Amelia with an intensity she’s not used to. Sure, she’s been on dates but no other man has looked at her with purpose like Terzo does. He watches her speak like it’s his job, like he’s trying to absorb her words and not just hear them. She feels like his white eye specifically is trying to look into her mind. It’s slightly intoxicating to have his full attention.

He asks Amelia about her sewing and knitting hobbies. She can tell that Terzo has no idea what a ‘cast on’ or ‘circle yoke’ means but he’s a champ nonetheless. On the flip side, Terzo can tell when Amelia’s eyes glaze over at the differences in guitar brands versus the particular sounds they make. Are they not just the same sound with different bodies? To which Terzo softly replies “No, tesoro.”

At this point they’ve scooched closer to each other so much that their knees are touching, nearly overlapping. Amelia’s right hand rests on her knee and Terzo’s placed his hand on top of hers. Their nerves dissipated as the night went on but the calm haze in her mind shifts slightly once she realizes Terzo’s face is creeping dangerously close to hers, reminding her of their first kiss a few nights earlier. His cologne, the way his shirt rests open at the top where Amelia can see some of his chest hair. And the way he’s looking at me. Is he going to kiss me again tonight? Amelia looks down and her hand tenses up on her knee; he notices.

She breathes in and then out. “Terzo?”

“Yes?” He responds quietly, rubbing lightly on her hand with his thumb.

She looks up at his lips and then into his eyes. He half-smirks. She places her left hand on his shoulder. “Could you kiss me?” Terzo nods.

He wastes no time and his lips fall to hers in a fury. There’s no hesitation this time around between them and she moves her hand from his shoulder up to the back of his neck, pulling Terzo forward. His hands find themselves onto her back and his right leg that hangs off the couch helps to give him leverage as he pushes himself up and leans into Amelia causing her to fall back into the couch on her back with Terzo resting his body on top of hers; he slots himself in-between her legs. His left hand stays on Amelia’s back and his right arm supports himself as he continues the kiss from her lips down to her neck. She has one hand on the back of his head while the other rests on his chest. Terzo nibbles at her neck lightly and Amelia feels him smile before his mouth latch onto the sensitive skin, lightly sucking and biting. She lets out a few soft “Ah!” sounds in his ministrations.

Terzo’s left hand drags itself from under her back and glides down from her hip to slip under the hem of her dress to caress her thigh as he moves his body further up. She breathes out a heavy sigh when she feels him rubbing small circles on her inner thigh. They’re grinding lightly against each other, and Amelia can feel Terzo’s hand starts to slowly move up her leg. She remembers in that moment where they are and the rational side of Amelia’s brain makes her groan loudly before speaking up.

“Terzo…”

He hums into her neck. “Mmm. Si, amore?”

“As much as I would enjoy taking things further ah!” Terzo sucks lightly again on her neck. “We can’t do it here.” She can feel his mouth turn to a pout.

“Why not? The doors automatically locked half an hour ago.” he pleads. Terzo lifts himself off her body slightly to look at Amelia.

Her hand on his head shifts to run her fingers up through his hair. She tugs on the strands lightly and he leans his head back, smiling. Terzo gives an intense stare into Amelia’s eyes. “I’m not going to let you fuck me on the library couch, Terzo.” he looks at her slightly disappointed. “At least have the decency of doing this in a bed.”

Terzo smirks and then removes himself from her. He smooths his shirt down his torso and holds out his hand for Amelia to come with him. “Si, padrona.”

“What about the food?” She asks as they walk out of the library.

He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her into his side, leaving a kiss on her temple. “I’ll come back for it later.”

◊◊◊◊◊

It’s been a few weeks since their date and they’ve settled into a calm rhythm together. Amelia will eat dinner in the dining hall and head over to Terzo’s to spend the evening with him. She still sleeps in her room from time to time, only long enough before Terzo asks for her to come back. A few times she’s had dinner with him in his room, sharing a small meal while recapping their day. Some siblings have caught on to their routine and sometimes she can hear them talking about her.

Amelia finishes up in the bathroom and walks out to see Terzo, leaning back in bed, wearing his reading glasses with a book propped up in his lap. She smiles. “Have I mentioned how much I love your glasses? They make you look so handsome. So distinguished.” Terzo smiles when she places a kiss to the top of his head as she passes by to sit on her side of the bed.

He hums. “Do my bifocals turn you on, amore?” Terzo turn his head to Amelia and smirks.

She thinks for a moment and then tilts her head, dramatically batting her eyelashes at him and smiles. “Yes, the glasses stay on during sex.” She grabs her knitting project and goes to work. A simple scarf project has made its home at Terzo’s bedside for nights where she stays over.

Terzo laughs and pecks her cheek with a small kiss. “If you insist.”

For a while they sit in silence. He gasps slightly at something and Amelia can’t help but wonder.

“When did you become such a bookworm?”

He places a bookmark in between the pages and sets down the book. “Recently, actually. Becoming Papa allowed me so much extra time in my day.” Amelia tilts her head. “I’ve been devoted to Sathanas and the Church for my entire life but never had the time until the past few months to do what I want. My brothers were Papa, my father was Papa! His father…“

“Papa?” Amelia stops him with a playful tone in her voice before he can go on further.

Terzo’s face scrunches up in disgust. “No no no, Amelia, I am not Papa with you. Around me, I am Terzo. I will always be Terzo Emeritus: Lover…”

She knits her eyebrows together. “…and?”

“Well that’s pretty much been it. We had a big expectation put on us to lead the band once it looked like Primo would start it back up again. Our wants and needs were put on the proverbial back-burner.” he chuckles. “But how could I resist when a pretty face comes to me, asking for help in their carnal desires?”

She rolls her eyes. “What a hero.” Amelia lets out a yawn and decides that knitting is done for the night. She lays down on her side and wraps an arm across Terzo’s stomach, under his arms as he holds up his book. “What are you so enraptured with tonight?”

He turns his head and looks down at her. He smiles softly. “It’s about an art thief. The man and his amore managed to work together and steal hundreds of pieces from small museums around Europe before getting caught.”

“Read some of it to me?”

“Of course.” Amelia snuggles her head into the pillow. “European oil works that blossomed at the end of the Renaissance and the dawn of the Baroque. Paintings that distil dreams…“ Terzo’s voice soon soothes her into a peaceful sleep.

◊◊◊◊◊

Terzo’s album, Meliora, is about to be released after a few months of non-stop work with the ghouls. He let amelia know a couple nights ago that there would be a short tour to promote it. A small group of music stores and radio stations would be graced with his unholiness in the form of an intimate, acoustic concert. “And there’s a special surprise, amore!” He said excitedly before brandishing a kazoo.

The rest of the Ministry now know they’re together. It’s not like he formally said anything, she made sure to talk him down of any sweeping, romantic public declarations of love. Terzo is compromising by kissing her just on the cheek when they’re around others. He still manages to make others think they’re interrupting a private moment when he gives her a simple kiss. The weird looks haven’t ceased from the other siblings, however. It seems Terzo being in a relationship is… odd to the rest of the clergy. Amelia swears she hears dramatic, wistful sighs when she walks by.

On the evening before he heads out on the unplugged tour, Terzo texted Amelia that he’s staying late in the rehearsal studio to refine a couple things with the ghouls. He said for her not to wait up and she goes to her room to rest for the night. By 11pm he hasn’t messaged anything to let her know he’s back to his room, so she makes a plan to walk over and see if he wants some company. On her way to the studio, she walks by a couple of Terzo’s ghouls and waves at them. She and Alex have finished up their suits and the ghouls are ready for their debut.

She’s made it to the rehearsal space when she can hear Terzo talking to someone. A sister? Terzo sounds tired. She watches from around a corner and eavesdrops on the scene.

“Papa, are you tired? Sit down. Let me rub your shoulders.” She asks.

Amelia rolls her eyes.

Terzo sits down. “You may be right sorella, about the sitting. My old legs are not made for all this standing.” he shakes his head. “I’m not sure why they promoted me now to be Papa!”

The sister smiles and walks behind him. She places her hands on Terzo’s shoulders and he tenses up. “Oh, Papa you really do need a massage.”

“Ah, there’s no need for that.” His eyes flick from side to side.

There really isn’t!

Terzo stands up from the chair, groaning slightly. “Sorella, please, go back to your room. Get some rest.”

Amelia walks away slightly and then calls out to Terzo, making some noise to announce her arrival. When she walks into the room, Terzo’s tired face looks a bit less pouty through his paint. He must not have had a chance to wash it off yet.

“Amore!” He makes it obvious to the woman. “I am so happy to see you!”

Amelia smugly smiles to the sibling and then looks at Terzo. “I was worried sick.” She dramatically sighs.

Terzo’s eyes light up, catching on. “Oh, amore mio, mi dispiace.” He takes hold of Amelia’s hands in his gloved hand and sighs into a kiss on her lips. He’s taken to wearing white gloves with his new suit.

When they separate, Amelia looks around the room and the sister has disappeared! Imagine that! She laughs.

Terzo’s arms loop around her waist and he pulls Amelia’s body up to his. He leans down to her ear and whispers “Jealousy is an interesting shade of green on you, amore.”

She leans away to look at him. “I don’t like seeing people flirt with my… boyfriend.”

One of Terzo’s hands cups her face. He leans in an kisses her. “They don’t do it that often.”

What? She frowns. “But they do do it?”

“Amelia, I can hear the cogs turning in your head. It’s fine. They’ll eventually give up.” Terzo kisses her cheek. “Let’s go to bed now, eh? I have a tour to start tomorrow!”

◊◊◊◊◊

Terzo’s been gone for a week and a half and Amelia is still thinking about the other night with the sibling. He reassures her repeatedly that the advances of others are nothing for her to worry about. It still doesn’t help her mind that it’s happening in the first place. While he’s been away, she’s gone into an anxious spiral and today it’s all come to a head. Amelia decides today that her body is too weary to go to the studio.

--------

Amelia: 7:45 am

I need a personal day, Alex. You can do whatever you want in the studio today.

--------

Alex: 7:46 am

Can I work on Marilyn? She’s been calling my name like a siren’s song!

--------

Amelia: 7:48 am

I don’t know why you insist on naming MY sewing machine but sure, go ahead.

--------

Alex: 7:49 am

Because she’s a vintage 1950s beauty! She deserves the honor. The respect.

--------

Amelia: 7:50 am

Sure.

--------

Amelia’s not hungry enough to go down to the dining hall so she snacks on a box of granola bars she keeps hidden in her room for times like these. For the rest of the morning, she decides to knit a simple hat to keep her mind busy. The TV on the other side of the room plays old episodes of Scooby-Doo. Episodes she’s seen countless times and the steady rhythm of the knit stitch lull her into an impromptu nap.

There’s a knock on the door and Amelia jolts awake; She fell asleep while knitting and the needles are still in her hands. She checks the time on her phone, it reads “2:37 pm” and there are some missed texts from Terzo and Alex. There’s a slight crick in her neck from her head lolling forward while she napped. Amelia gets up from her bed, lightly rubbing at the back of her neck on her walk to the door, and opens it to see a frantic Terzo clutching a tub of soup in one hand and some rough looking roses in the other hand. He’s wearing the Papal paints on his face but they’re noticeably smudged around the eyes.

He walks towards her and wraps his arms around her as best he can while his hands are occupied. “Amelia, amore mio, what’s wrong? I got back today from the tour to find that you weren’t at the studio.” he pulls back and looks into her eyes. “Alex said you weren’t feeling well?”

“Basically, yeah.” She sighs. He walks into her room and Amelia closes the door. “I think preparing the costumes for a tour, however small it was… and everything else caught up with me.” she looks at the flowers in his hands. “Oh! Let me get something for those.”

“I brought some soup, a Secondo Classic, to feed the belly and flowers from Primo’s garden to feed the soul.” Terzo explains. “Secondo was happy to give up the soup but Primo… was not the same about the roses.” he laughs. “When he caught me cutting off a few, he threw a shovel towards me. I had to yank the rest out of the ground at the last second.”

Amelia looks up to him in horror. “He what?”

Terzo smiles at her when she takes the flowers from him. “Ah it was no big deal! It was just a warning shot.”

With the roses now in the biggest cup Amelia could find, she sets it down and walks up to Terzo, she puts her hands on his shoulders. “Well, I don’t take too kindly to someone trying to hurt my Papa. Even if it was… a different Papa”

He raises an eyebrow. “Your Papa? Some of the members of this ministry might have some trouble with that.” Amelia frowns slightly. “Go lay down, amore. I’ll join you.” He gives a light kiss to her hairline.

She looks down and notices his shoes. “Could you take off your shoes? I don’t want dirt tracking all over the carpet.”

“For you, anything.” He laughs and removes his shoes from his feet. Amelia gets comfy in bed and Terzo follows right after. The soup rests on her nightstand next to the roses she’s placed there.

Amelia lays down on her left side and Terzo lays down on his right so he can face her. He wraps his arms around her and Amelia wraps her right arm around Terzo’s waist. She’s tucked under his chin and for a few minutes they lay there in silence. Amelia lets out a deep sigh and snuggles closer to Terzo’s chest. He runs his left hand up and down her back. Her eyes are closed and she yawns.

“Could I tell you about the tour?” He whispers.

She mumbles “Mhm” into his chest and nods.

“I think it went very well. The audience certainly liked my kazoo surprise!” he smiles. “I’m excited to plan a full-fledged tour now that the album is out.” He lets out a loud yawn and settles more into the bed, closing his eyes. “But now, we rest.”

The pair drift off into a short nap. After about half an hour, their arms fall asleep and they wake up with pins and needles in their arms. Amelia and Terzo sit up and she decides it’s a good time to try the soup he brought. While she drinks the soup, Terzo takes the moment to go to her bathroom to wash off his paint. He always says that around her, he doesn’t want to be in the paint, the costume. Around Amelia is where he wants to feel like himself. He says that Papa and Terzo are two different people. How long will it take before the two merges into one? Amelia worries. How long until Papa gets tired of me?

◊◊◊◊◊

One night, some months following Terzo’s unplugged tour, Amelia is sitting in his room nervously biting her nails and checking her phone. Some clergy dinner or event needed Terzo there as the current Papa and she’s sitting in a chair nervously bouncing her knee, waiting for him to come back to his room. These types of events have cropped up more lately and Amelia can’t bring herself to attend them. Siblings still stare at her. Terzo as Papa is a tantalizing sight to the congregation and some of the sisters and brothers lament that his charms are being reduced to just Amelia’s direction. And they make it very obvious.

She knows she shouldn’t worry. Terzo reassures her there isn’t anything she needs to be concerned about! Every time he reminds her though, Amelia feels like a burden and she feels like shit because of it. His door opens and he stumbles through and Amelia shoots up from her seat.

“Amelia, amore mio, you’re still up?” He asks.

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep without you.” She trails off towards the end and then looks down to the floor.

Terzo walks over to her and holds her face to give her a kiss. Amelia dodges Terzo’s advances and he removes his hands. She notices something on the white fabric of his gloves. Kiss marks?

“Terzo, what happened?” She grabs his hands and he looks tired.

“Nothing, Amelia. Really! A sweet sorella was being a little too devotional is all.” she rolls her eyes. “I didn’t want to disappoint her as Papa!”

“You also have a mark on your collar, Terzo!” she points. “Was it the same sister?” his eyes look off to the side and he frowns. “Are you serious?”

“It means nothing personal to me!” He reassures.

“What’s to stop someone from getting bolder in the future. What if I walk around a corner to meet up with you and see someone getting way too handsy?”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t let anyone get to that point. I wouldn’t want anyone to get to that point!”

Amelia’s fingers pinch the bridge of her nose and she closes her eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Terzo! I don’t want to feel…” she waves her hands in the air in surrender and walks around the room. “I feel like a burden to you. I feel like I’m making you choose between me and the church and I can’t do it anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” He rushes to her.

“You can either be Terzo and be with me, or Papa and be there for the Clergy.” she pleads. “Obviously, you’re Papa so that should come first.”

“Do you think I’d prefer anyone else?” he asks.

Amelia shakes her head. “No, I don’t. But the Papas are known for… being with siblings from time to time.” She puts delicately. “It’s almost considered a badge of honor.”

His hands rush to grab Amelia’s. “Amore…” he whispers. “Please understand that I wouldn’t betray your trust, ever.”

“I believe you, Terzo.” he moves to speak and she cuts him off. “But I can’t-” she feels her eyes welling up “I can’t handle this anymore. While you lead the band and the Clergy… It’s all too much on my mind. The siblings won.” she removes her hands from his and walks away from him. “You deserve to help your flock without me weighing you down.”

“Amelia, wait! Please don’t go.” He frantically pleads to her as she walks towards the door.

Her hand is on the door handle and she hesitates for a moment. “I wanted to ask you about the smudged paint around your mouth, but I’m not sure the answer would’ve helped in the end.” Amelia walks out of his room. Terzo chokes out her name, calling her to come back but she’s too far down the hall to care about turning around.

◊◊◊◊◊

--------

Amelia: 11:29 pm

Congrats on the Grammy. It’s a beautiful song, worthy of the award.

--------

◊◊◊◊◊

Open browser… Y-o-u-tube… Search bar… ‘Papa Emeritus the third’… ‘pulled from the stage’… Enter…

…

“Oh my god.”

Thank you for reading!

Translations:

Sorella [sister]

per favore [please]

“Perfetto. Sei bellissima! [perfect. You’re beautiful.]

“Fratello! Sono felice di vedere che finalmente sei arrivato.” “E con un ospite?” [Brother! I'm happy to see you've finally arrived. And with a Guest?]

“Non mi hai mai detto che stavate scopando.” [You never told me you two were fucking]

“stai zitto, Secondo.” [shut the hell up, secondo]

grazie [thank you]

#papa emeritus fanfiction #terzo x oc #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus III x oc #my fics #ghost fic #personal #terzo fanfiction #ghost

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donaka-screaming · 2 months ago

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thank you @johnwickb1tsch and @another-identityofmine for tagging me!! 💕💕

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

yes like all of these are taylor and lana references im cringe and predictable it’s fine ok

1. donaka mark lana thing honeydew/thunderbird/butterfly

2. wick daylight

3. constantine ttpd thing fortnight/sandcastles/arson’s match

4. kekeverse halloween thing

i think almost everyone in this fandom has done this by now but if you haven’t DO IT 😭 everyone here is so talented okay like seriously i want to read every single thought any of u have ily all

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shigaraki-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

minors do not interact!

18+ only

warning tags: nipple play

relationship: shigaraki x reader

summary: shigaraki gives his subscribers a nice show

reminder this is purely for entertainment purposes!

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✧ a nice live show ✧

Shigaraki was a gamer. He played live and he had a decent amount of subscribers and tonight he had decided to do his first Q and A. Something he has never done before.

His subscribes asked him many question. Such as…

what’s your favorite video game?

how did you get into gaming?

what game are you playing next?

Those were some question that came and Shigaraki answered them. Some other questions that were just plain weird he even answered. That was until a question came that caught his eye and interest.

are you in a relationship?

Some of his subscribers started to reply to the question, such as…

No way dude is in a relationship

I’ll be surprised if he is in one

You really think he’s in a relationship

You really think a guy who looks like him is in a relationship

Shigaraki didn’t mind these answers. He could understand why those answers were said. Shigaraki wasn’t the best looking guy. He always wore a simple black hoodie, his hair a blue-ish white color, his eyes red, his neck horribly scratched, along with other things.

“Yes, I am in a relationship.” Shigaraki answered.

The chat was going crazy at Shigaraki’s answer. Shigaraki at that very moment had gotten beaten by another player and sighed. He looked into the camera and gave his subscribers a grin. “Would you like to see her?”

Yes

Bet he’s lying

Bring her out

Show us proof

“BABY CAN YOU COME HERE!” Shigaraki called out for you. You slowly opened the door and poked your head into the room. “Yes?” You answered.

Shigaraki extended his arms out, “Come here.” You walked into the room and walked towards Shigaraki standing next to him.

His subscribers saw nothing but your smooth legs and a long shirt that stopped at your mid thigh. “Yes babe?”

Shigaraki grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto his lap. Your back against his chest and he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist. “Say hi to all my subscribers watching.”

You got flustered quickly when knowing you were being watched. “Umm… hello everyone.” You gave a small wave and shy smile.

“See I’m not lying.” Shigaraki happily said. You turned around to face him, “Can I go now?” You didn’t want to be here anymore.

Shigaraki was going to let you go but he quickly thought of an idea. A sinister idea. “Stay with me for a while. Be my lucky charm.”

“But you’re good at games you don’t need me besides I’m not to comfortable especially with what I’m wearing.”

Shigaraki placed his hands on your thighs both his pinkies up in the air avoiding your skin. “You’re perfect besides they can’t see your lower half.”

“I don’t know Shiggy.”

His hands spread your legs apart and one of his index fingers found your clit slowly rubbing circles. “Come on baby. Be my lucky charm.”

You were a massive sucker when Shigaraki would play with your clit. You would fall at his mercy. You obeyed and agreed to any thing and all things. “Ok just a few games and then I’m leaving.”

Shigaraki smirked and kissed the back of your neck. “Just a few games. You can occupy yourself by talking to my subscribers and answering a few of their questions.” And he quickly went back to play another game.

And you did. You occupied yourself by answering a few questions that is until Shigaraki decided to put pause and he placed the controller in your hands. “My hands are getting tired why don’t you play for a while. Show them that you’re good at games.”

“But I haven’t played this game. I’ll lose.”

“I’ll walk you through it. Just relax and focus on the game.” Shigaraki wrapped his arms around your waist placed his head on your shoulder.

“Ok.”

Shigaraki walked you through the game showing and telling you which buttons to press. You were doing a decent job and when you passed the level you couldn’t help but happily jump on Shigaraki’s lap. “I did it! I passed it!”

Shigaraki nodded and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “I knew you’ll make it.”

“Can I play another one?” You asked to which Shigaraki agreed.

You started to play another level while Shigaraki decided to see the chat. And then Shigaraki saw something and couldn’t help but grin.

Those jiggle quite nicely

Shigaraki knew that this certain subscriber was talking about your boobs. And suddenly Shigaraki grabbed the hem of your long shirt and pulled it all the way up your breast coming into view. “Aren’t they nice? Just look how they bounce.”

Shigaraki started to bounce you on his lap making your breast bounce. You quickly dropped the controller and covered your breast with your hands. “Shigaraki let my shirt go. This isn’t something your subscribers are here to watch.”

Shigaraki looked over at the chat and it was blowing up. Shigaraki grinned and he acted quickly he shoved the shirt into your mouth, pulled your hands away from your breast and placed them behind your back trapping them as he pressed his chest against your back.

“You’re wrong doll, they definitely want to see this.” Shigaraki grabbed ahold of your nipples with his index finger and thumb and pulled and squeezed them. Whimpers came from you. You never liked when Shigaraki played with your nipples. It always hurt you.

You dropped the shirt and spoke, “Shigaraki stop. You know I hate it when you play with my nipples. It hurts.”

The chat was going crazy and Shigaraki didn’t care about the chat or even how he knew you were hurting. “Be good for daddy or else your sweet cunt will be next thing that will show up on my live stream. So open that little mouth and don’t you dare drop your shirt.”

You opened your mouth and Shigaraki shoved the shirt back in and you bit it keeping it in place. You definitely didn’t want your cunt on live stream for people to see.

Shigaraki abused your nipples, tears streamed down your face as your nipples were getting abused. Finally Shigaraki stopped and repositioned you. Your front facing him and he gave you an apologetic look. “Shh… I’ll take care of you Baby.”

Shigaraki pushed you down against the gaming desk your teared up face showing for the whole live to see you. Shigaraki leaned down and placed his tongue against your very red and swollen nipples. You couldn’t handle it anymore. You let go of your shirt and spoke, “Shiggy stop. It hurts.”

Shigaraki stopped and looked at you. “I know Baby. I know. So let me take care of you.”

Shigaraki looked at the camera and spoke, “Duty calls.” Shigaraki cut and turned off the live stream. Shigaraki picked you up and walked towards the bedroom. “Let me take care of you.” Shigaraki slowly placed you down and he took very good care of you and your swollen nipples.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tenko #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tenko x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tenko x reader

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 2 years ago

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Can i request a part 2 of lost in time with luxiem where Reader do something to reunite with their s/o. I don't see reader not doing anything? You don't have to do this.

lost in time with luxiem, pt. 2

↢ part 1 here.

hello happy valentines everyone i hope you’ve shown your love to the people you care about including nonromantic ones. if you have a partner go get them flowers. even if they’re a man. especially if they’re a man. trust me on this one

it’s canon in this series now. while luxiem was off being all emo and whatever reader was actually pulling their weight. what a genderboss

tags: comfort no hurt, ok well there’s a little bit of hurt but it’s fluffy, angst with a happy ending, gender neutral reader

⚠️ drinking in luca’s entry

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland

Ike lives in periods of forgetfulness and remembrance, pooled together like blended watercolors. He lives to forget where he lives. His memories of the past scramble with the present as he loses himself in his writing, and at the worst of times he has to tell himself the voice of Reader is mental. They aren’t here. They could never be here.

Time passed. Some of his short stories were being published in magazines. One of the magazine editors, he was told, loved Ike’s image. “A mysterious, moody dark horse that reflects his themes of solitude,” they called him. He had to give it to them; their pitch for the image of the novelist Ike Eveland was tantalizing, but just as unreachable as Tantalus himself.

After all, he blinks and for a moment he can see the flowering fields of his homeland, the streets in sepia, candy colors on his wall and the aurora borealis heralding his origin. The rolling sky, and from the corner of his eyesight the edge of your hand pointing out a cloud. A resting body bundled in blankets like snow. Sun rays on a face turned golden, they’re simply so radiant everything they touch becomes priceless.

Ike catches himself calling your name more than he’d like to admit.

But he carries on, unfortunate as he may be. He takes care of himself, because if he’s going to hear your voice no matter where he goes, the least he can do is pretend you’d be disappointed if he wasn’t getting enough sleep, food, water…

He returns to his desk the second he finishes a late-night snack, and freezes the second he sees an envelope square in the middle of his desk. In the center of the envelope he reads his name. Underneath it is yours.

His desperateness is seconded only by his caution. He takes his time opening the letter with as little damage as possible but can’t read fast enough.

To beloved Ike Eveland,

This is Reader. I wish I had the room to tell you everything in this letter, but I simply can’t. I’ll keep it as short as possible. I learned what caused you to blink out of existence. There’s a force of nature- really, a freak of nature that causes the force. I haven’t been able to identify it. What little I can see of it is searing.

This isn’t about me, though. I found a way to manipulate the freak-force, I think. Keep this letter, but make sure the envelope I sent you is in usable condition. Remove my letter from the envelope. It’s hexed. Now write me another letter. I should be able to receive it. Tell me everything you can fit about where you are. Address, country. What your home looks like. I need a location and visualization. Then when you’re done place your letter within the envelope. The seal should still work as if it had never been used before. Seal it tightly. Then fall asleep, as soon as you can. Don’t move the envelope anywhere other than where you found it. I suggest sending your letter right before you go to bed. Dreams are the freak-force’s transportation, and it’ll give us the best chance possible.

I don’t know how long I have nor how long this will take but it’s all I have. I don’t think I could bear it if you never came home.I’ll fill the rest of the page with this: I love you eternally. If this doesn’t work then I pray you know I will always think of you no matter our distance. Please be safe. I need you safe.

With diligence and love, your Reader.

Ike stops everything he planned on doing, grabs a sheet of blank paper, and writes. He has to get up a few times to check his location for sure (he’s a shut-in, and only now is he realizing it may bite him in the butt) but before long the paper is covered in all he knows about the gray world outside of his letter.

When he’s done, he holds the envelope in his hands and inspects it carefully. It’s normal at first glance, but now that he focuses on it, he notices small circular grooves in the paper, similar to the grain on a regular parchment. There is a slight color change from one corner to the other, cream to eggshell. And sure enough, the glue on the edge of the envelope is perfectly intact.

It’s a late hour already. Ike finishes getting ready for bed before he folds his letter, gingerly places it within the hexed envelope, and seals it. He sets it in the center of his desk, just as how he found it, and hurries off to bed. Whatever you’re planning, the last thing he wants to do is be the reason it fails.

Ike falls asleep before the anticipation threatens to keep him awake.

Ike wakes slowly, and his vision returns even slower. The world blurs together like he opened his eyes underwater.

Someone calls his name. “Ike!”

And just like that he surfaces. He fights to regain his vision, and when he meets your eyes it’s like a breath of air after drowning.

You call out his name again. “Ike, are you awake?”

Your voice is an oasis in a desert, and it attaches to a heavenly face when his eyesight clears. You lean over his body as he stirs, and the sun is covered by your head. An arc of light accompanies your visage.

“Reader,” he says, so slow and quiet he can barely believe it. “You’re beautiful.”

The kiss you share makes up for lost time. Your hands support his head, so gentle as not to hurt him but keep him steady against your lips as he lays. Even when it turns passionate, he’s still so tender with you. You treat him as a diamond: one of the strongest of his kind, yet you still hold him like a precious treasure even when you part.

“How did you find me?” Ike asks, and sits up. He’s laying in a field dotted with wildflowers and trees, and you sit next to him. The sun crosses against your skin.

You grant him a pained smile. “I’m not entirely sure. I don’t think I ever want to be sure. There’s a lot of things in this universe us humans don’t have the ability to process correctly.” You turn around and raise your shirt.

Underneath the fabric on your back are tiny markings that make up an entire illustration. When Ike focuses on the details he can identify wave patterns, astrological signs, and what looks like tentacles weaving through your skin in black ink that shimmers deep teal in the sunlight, completely unlike any tattoo he’s ever seen before.

Looking at the illustration as a whole is maddening. Ike trails a finger lightly against the patterns on your spine, a jumble of tendrils and tentacles reaching along the bone.

You continue as Ike takes in the illustration on your body. “That freak of nature I was talking about in my letter? It marked me. I think this means I’ll be one of its vessels when it awakens, but I doubt it will during my lifetime. It’s sentient, but unaware. Sleeping, I think. I don’t remember a lot about how I came into contact with it, but it connects different worlds and times together in its dreams.” You lower your shirt and look back into Ike’s eyes, and he notices that even your own eyes have a shimmery teal hue to them now. “I spent as much time as I could learning how it worked, and before I knew it one day I woke up with that tattoo seared into my back and so much knowledge about how it works, it makes my head spin if I think about it too long. When I started to get tired that night, I simply just knew I should write you a letter, and on my bed was an envelope I’d never seen before.”

“That was hexed, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly. I think in the freak’s dreams, it manifested you out of our current time, the one we’re in right now. So the letter helped me manifest you right back.” You tapped your head. “You did what I asked. I never received your letter back, but something in my brain generated an address, and a time, and what it was like to be you in your new time. I focused in on it as hard as I could, and, well.” You looked out to the field. It was far away from the town, but Ike recognized it as his home. A gentle breeze swept through the air. “Here we are.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Ike’s hand brushed against your own, and you intertwined his fingers with yours. “You’re amazing, Reader.”

“I doubt it. A dive into some unknowable force will do that to you, no matter who you are, and I’m afraid I get nightmares now. Horrible ones I can’t even recall.”

“Then you’re amazing and courageous. It must’ve taken a lot of strength to even withstand whatever it was, and the fact that you’re here just proves it.” He squeezes your hand. “I’m honored to say I love you. I’m honored to have even met you.”

“I love you too,” you say. “Eternally, no matter what may become of me. Now, let’s get you home.”

“We can stay here.” The sun rests along Ike’s face, and the shadows of trees makes the light look like sprinkles along his cheeks. “I just want to appreciate that I’m here. With you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “With you, that’s all,” he repeats. His head rests upon yours, and for the first time in the months he’s been torn away from you Ike is at peace.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

The day after Luca saves that woman from the thugs, he goes to the club again.

Unfortunately she’s just as much of a regular as he is, and he sees the top of her head on the dance floor while he gets his drinks in. She waves him over. He averts his eyes.

The woman is headstrong, though, and when he ignores her she moves across the bodies and plops herself on the barstool next to him. She sits with her arms on the bar and looks out to the party like she owns the world.

“Some heroic behavior, ignoring a fair maiden like that,” she snarks. She calls to the bartender. “Two strawberry margaritas for my friend and I! On my tab.”

“I don’t drink margaritas,” Luca says.

“You do now.” The woman isn’t as plastered as she was that night, but seems intent on changing that, and when the bartender slides them their drinks she raises it. “To whatever you’re searching for.”

He obliges. The woman gulps down as much as she can in one breath while Luca takes a tentative sip. The lime and salt startle him. It’s fresher than his usual beers, and far tastier. He drinks more.

“So what are you searching for?” She asks.

“I don’t know what your deal is.”

“You know what I mean.” Everything about her gives Luca the impression he should just just dismiss her whole spiel as drunk ramblings but she’s too sober for that, and even though he tries to ignore it the answer is clear as day.

But she keeps talking, completely ignoring the vibe Luca keeps giving out. “You are sooo emo. Like, what’s the point of going to a club if you’re just going to sit and drink beer of all things. Tastes like piss! You’re young. Have fun with yourself. Go dance, get a marg.”

“I’m not all that into dancing.”

“Oh, so you like watching. Gotcha. Perv.”

Luca puffs up in protest. “I am not a perv!”

“Yaaaay, a reaction!” The woman throws up her hands in a cheer. “So you got broken up with, huh?”

“I did not.” He tries to state it like it’s nothing, but his voice patters out, and he’s sure the woman can’t hear over the music. He’s certain nothing was the matter in his relationship, but he’s taking the separation hard. He wonders if you got over him. He hopes not. Clearly he hasn’t gotten over you.

Luca goes in on the margarita. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you.

“You look out at the floor all longingly but whenever someone hits on you, you chicken out. That’s okay. You’ll find someone new soon enough. Plenty of fish in the sea. Any time now your balls will drop and you’ll order a drink for some sap on the floor,” the woman says. “You always miss ‘em until you remember the sex wasn’t all that.”

“It isn’t about that,” Luca growls. His temper rises to heat. “It’s about-”

He cuts himself off. The woman implores him to keep talking, but he shuts up before he can let the whole time-travel thing slip. Margaritas were made with tequila, weren’t they? He’s screwed.

In a moment of weakness Luca looks for anything to serve as a subject change. He realizes that in one hand the woman holds a piece of paper smaller than her hand. “What’s that?”

“A cute guy’s number,” she deadpans. When she doesn’t get a laugh, she relents. “Kidding. You remember the night you…”

She trails off. She has a glassy look in her eye, and the first time that night the woman actually seems uncomfortable.

Maybe that’s not the word, Luca thinks. ‘Pensive’ might be a better fit.

“...When we met,” she decides on. “And I took a taxi. I barely remember anything but when the taxi arrived to my place, there was this freaky driver. They gave me this card and told me to give it to one Luca Kaneshiro.”

She produces the business card on the surface of the bar, and when he reads the name emblazoned his blood goes cold.

In a blink of an eye, Luca grabs the woman’s head and drags her ear to to his mouth. He whispers under the howling music. “You’re going to answer my questions honestly or else.”

“That’s hot,” the woman whispers back.

“What did the driver look like?”

“Total weirdo. When I entered the car it was just a normal guy. Can’t remember the face, it blurs together. I took a nap and when I got to my place they had this lion mask on.”

“The name on this card. What does it mean to you?”

“Nothing? I just thought it was a lawyer. Or a cult.”

Luca turns her head to look straight at him. Her cheeks are cupped between his hands. “Their name is Reader.”

He searches for a reaction, but unfortunately she keeps the same expression even when he says the name aloud. “I know I said I wasn’t interested, but if you keep this up I’m going to get excited.”

Luca lets go and fishes out a bill from his wallet. He figures it’s enough for the margarita. A tiny part of him wishes he had the time to take in more of the drink, but that business card snapped enough sense into him to shake off some of the buzz. “You’re useless.”

He snatches the card from the bar. She sputters. “Hey! That’s not for you!”

“It is, actually.” He taps the Kaneshiro name emblazoned on the card. “These are my boys.”

“You’re Luca?” The woman watches him as he stands up. “Cool name! For an asshole! You’re an asshole, Luca!”

“Thank you for the information. I wish you well.”

“And you’re righteous, too? God, I know how to pick ‘em. Some fucking hero!” She turns around in her stool. “Fine, okay, just brush me off. Some fucking hero.”

She knows how to get under Luca’s skin, but he stares at the card as he leaves the club, transfixed. In neat gold font is Reader Kaneshiro, front and center.

He starts off the route home, already planning out what to do with this, when a taxi pulls up and parks next to him. The window lowers. Luca doesn’t make eye contact, because how you do you see through someone wearing a lion mask?

It’s simple: you don’t. Luca designed these masks for his mafia to use expressly for that purpose.

“Get in, Boss.” The car lock clicks open. “The underboss wants to see you.”

Like a well-oiled machine Luca opens the door.

“How are you here?” Luca asks.

“Science mumbo-jumbo,” the grunt says. As soon as Luca straps himself in he floors it. The grunt curves down the road into some back streets. “But for what it’s worth, it’s good to see you in the flesh again, Boss.”

The taxi stops in front of an arcade. The grunt opens the door for Luca, and he guides the Boss through the halls. As they walk, Luca realizes the entire building is clear of machines and utterly abandoned, save for more goons in lion masks. They stand before him in reverence, even more so than when he was in control of his past. He overhears one whisper to another, “Oh, snap.”

His driver leads him to the back of the building and to a door labeled Employees Only.

“The underboss is waiting for you in there,” he said. “Go in by yourself. And be nice to them, will you, Boss? They’ve waited long enough already.”

Luca nods, and the grunt departs as Luca pushes open the door.

On the other side, a figure in silvery vintage clothes awaits. You sit on a counter, looking as uninterested as ever, until you catch a look of the face that enters and time stops.

You pounce off the counter and into Luca’s arms the second you see him. “Boss! Luca!”

You feel you feet lift off the ground as Luca returns the hug, so tight you can barely breathe, but the pressure is a gift. You laugh as he practically spins in a circle and swings you along with him. “Luca, I can barely believe it! I mean, all the signs pointed to yes, but it’s you!”

“I missed you!” He places you down so he can land a kiss against your smile. “I missed you so, so much!” He punctuates his words with even more kisses across every inch of your face. One on your forehead, one on your nose, one on your cheek, and so many more you lose count until another on your lips. “Reader, how is this possible? You’re sixty years in the past!”

“Sit down. There’s a lot to explain, but I’ll try to keep it simple.” When he does, you place yourself in his lap and wrap your arms around his body. You’ve spent so much time trying to find him, the skinship acts as a constant reminder of your success. “When you disappeared, I became the defacto leader as the underboss, and prevented inheriting your title of leader as much as I could while our boys investigated. Then when rumors started flying around that you jumped through time, we just couldn’t buy it. So we captured one of the leading voices in quantum physics. He’s a revolutionary.”

“You captured a revolutionary scientist?”

“Yeah. We went to Deezneyworld.” You produced a photo out of your pocket. You, a chunk of macho subordinates, and one very out-of-place scientist all posed at the gates of the Kaneshiro family’s money laundering front, an amusement park. Everyone wore happy smiles and lion-ear headbands from the gift shops, including the scientist. “He’s a brother to us now. But anyways, his research was paramount to learning where you went, and how to recreate the phenomenon. It’s really nerdy. Gets confusing. But once he confirmed his theories, I deployed myself and a small squad of scouts into the future, and turned the city upside down looking for you.

“We figured you might’ve run off to the red-light district or some club scenes, where pretty much any mafia gets their start. Figured you’d start schmoozing with a bunch of drunks. Not so sure about that, but then we saw on the news last night about some brutal mugging gone wrong on the side of the muggers, and one of the cubs heard something from a drunkard about a hero in an vintage pinstripe suit and fur coat that saved her. The cub sent her off on her way to find Luca Kaneshiro, and some others started staking out the club she came from.” You smirk in satisfaction, and press a kiss to his jawline. “Totally unconventional mission statement, but I did pretty good for an underboss, huh?”

“I love you so much,” Luca says. “You’re the best partner in crime I could ask for.”

“It’s a privilege working with you, Luca. I’d do it again and again if it means we run the world together, never separate.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck. His fur coat and blond hair tickles your face. Oh, you missed this feeling. Luca is so warm, and now that you’re in his arms once again it’s like a long winter returning to spring after months of no sun. “I love you too.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦊 Mysta Rias

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, yet Mysta works himself into circles. How else could he manage? He knows he will never have all the answers in the world. It’s a foolish pursuit to make knowledge a trade and all you have. It makes you jaded and sour, without any wonder for the world itself. Even as a detective on the case for the truth, he keeps things out of his reach and likes it that way. Leave yourself unanswered questions, after all, and you’ll always have something indefinite to inspire you.

He believed this wholeheartedly, and when he’s not on the clock at his private investigation office he tried to practice what he spent years preaching. His efforts have failed. Even during business hours, if he just so happens to blink a certain way it reminds Mysta of how the ground melted into a spiral before him and swallowed him whole, only to spit him out in the future without a single thread connecting back to his home.

It just doesn’t make any sense. On days when he’s itching for a distraction he even reads and watches fantasy and sci-fi stories, just to see how the characters manage the time they find themselves in. Then he converts their logic to his predicament, and expects it all to change back as it once was- but it never does, and Mysta can never let go of his reason in an unreasonable situation.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, yet Mysta always picks his cold case back up. I missed something, he assures himself, without a shred of evidence to affirm the suspicion. He retraces the steps and sniffs out the clues once again, with a different perspective than the one he had last.

None of them work out. A man can have any perspective at all, but in the end, Detective Mysta Rias was thrown out of his world and into a new one sixty years in the future. Reason alone cannot explain it, nor clarify, nor aid. The absurd is absurd. You cannot think outside the box when the box is within a cube. His head hurts just thinking of that analogy.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, yet when Mysta tries to remember the events of that day nothing grants him peace of mind. All his thoughts fall into a lump of tangled spaghetti, and he’s starting to understand Einstein’s words.

It was normal in the way that he defined normal. He woke up Friday morning with his partner, Reader, right beside him in bed like normal. Went to work at his detective agency in the late morning while Reader stayed behind on their day off and planned to do some errands like normal. No major field work, only papers to be filed and officers to call, like normal, and he clocked out at night, just like normal.

The next part is where it starts to get weird. While walking home from the agency, he saw a man in a gaudy fur coat steal a purse, and gave chase. This is one of those things that others would call “exciting,” but considering his line of work it’s just another day- and he dreads to say this- like normal. By the time he cornered the thief, Mysta’s blue eyes furrowed under his brow right before widening as his feet lifted off the ground and sent him into a rip in the air like a galaxy.

Then he was in 2022, which is decidedly not normal. He’s revisited this moment thousands of times. The thief went unidentified with the future’s resources, and the alleyway he thinks he visited right before his time travel stint provided no clues. He’s no astronomer, and even if he was, he didn’t get a good enough look at the galaxy unfolding before he fell into the future. Mysta detests this. There just has to be something he’s missing from that day, but without the tools to recreate it nor investigate professionally, he’s a sitting duck.

Except for the fact that for the first time in his life, he has a question that needs to be answered at all costs, and he hates being a sitting duck when he’s itching to figure it out. It’s a cycle that snowballs.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, yet Mysta always expects a face he’ll never see in this time whenever someone knocks at the door. It’s usually a mailman or a deliveryperson, but the want is still there.

It would be so much easier if it was Reader on the other side, and they admitted that they forgot their keys and locked themselves out. That was uncommon, but not unheard of ever since you moved in together. Or Reader at the door ready to pick him up for a date, as you did before then. Or even earlier than that, Reader at the door with a bouquet and a determined blush, like that evening when workplace crushes turned into a relationship.

Mysta is so lost in what could be that he forgets what is, until the person on the other side of the door knocks again. The dream is on pause, and grumpily, he opens the door.

Huh. Reader is on the other side. That’s a surprise.

Mysta blinks, stone-faced. Then again, and once more to set it it that, no, this isn’t a cruel delusion. That’s his partner, in the flesh, right before his very eyes, after so much time pursuing this moment.

Mysta throws himself at you in a tight embrace. You nearly lose your balance when his arms clutch around you. He doesn’t say a word, and you can’t see his face while you’re pressed up against his chest, but he holds you with such force that his desperation spreads to you. It’s been a long investigation, trying to locate his whereabouts across your home sixty years ago to a future you never should’ve entered, and all the relief pours out of you as you return his embrace. Mysta’s arms are your resting place.

You curl around and whisper in his ear. “Let’s get inside. I want to tell you everything.”

It’s almost like nothing has changed. You don’t waste time on pleasantries, because the stretch of time you spent separated from your partner was like living through a wreck. You and Mysta do things in your own language, in your own way, and it’s always been a source of pride that you’ve always been on the same page as him without having to overcomplicate things.

Mysta doesn’t remove himself from you as you sit on the couch. Instead, he shifts himself to one side and holds your arm while you get situated, then places himself behind you on the couch. His lap is your pillow. “I’m afraid that if I stop touching you then we’ll be separated again,” he admits. “I don’t want to let go.”

“Then don’t.” While one of his hands traces patterns along your shoulder, you take the other and kiss the back of his palm. Mysta’s heart flutters alive, and the feeling is so foreign to him over these last few months, he wonders if he’s experiencing his last moments.

“Your missing persons case was a weird one. Law enforcement was at a loss, and so was I,” you say. You fall into the same cadence you use in the detective agency on debriefing cases. “Reports stated you left the office safely, but never came home. I tracked our usual route and the side trips you usually take, to no avail, and when Occam’s razor failed- the simplest explanation is the correct explanation- it was then I started thinking outside of the box.

“I made tons of theories, and canceled out just as many. One night, I was so at a loss of ideas that I just started solving other missing persons cases, just to see if anything could apply to yours. That’s how I found out about the disappearance of Luca Kaneshiro.”

“The mob boss?”

“The very one. When he went missing, he was last seen on a street you were also recorded at. He was reported missing days after you, you see, and when I reinvestigated the area was crawling with his goons. After staking out the area I made an alliance with them, minimal resistance.”

“Makes sense. The Kaneshiro mafia is well-known for being docile even to law enforcement until you poke the sleeping bear,” Mysta recounts. “I’m not surprised you managed to talk to them, much less ally with them.”

“They made the connection before I told them. A mafia boss and a detective disappear into an alleyway, never to be seen again? Anyone would think that’s suspicious. We compared notes. While Mysta Rias was presumed missing, the mafia figured Luca Kaneshiro was abducted. Get this. In a matter of days when I reached out to my Kaneshiro contact again, they had a breakthrough. Time-fuckin’-travel. They recruited a quantum physicist into their ranks and everything to prove it.”

“I can’t imagine.” Mysta attempted to be sarcastic, but he was still too in awe that his partner was right where they belonged in his lap to get a full deadpan out.

“So now that I was investigating both the Rias and Kaneshiro cases, the underboss started putting together a squad to search for their big boss. I provided them insight on where their boss might’ve gone across time. In return, they gave me a lift to all this-” you gestured to Mysta’s little apartment and the city outside of it, a world too big to summarize in a word- “-And the assurance that you and I would return to our original timeline with the underboss’s squad once they found Luca Kaneshiro.”

“You trust them?”

“Better than I trust half the unchecked cops we work with. You said it yourself, baby, they’re docile. Luca Kaneshiro believed in protecting the weak with kindness, and it seems he’s trained his family well. I’ve given them nothing but faith, and they’ve given me theirs. They wouldn’t have pinpointed their boss without my deduction, after all.” While you rested your head in Mysta’s lap, he glanced down at you as you spoke. Even as he responded to your debriefing, amazement was still struck on his face, though it toned down since the moment you reunited.

You’re reminded that even now, you both moved so naturally into your daily discussions of detective work that you haven’t processed properly that you and Mysta are finally in the same room again.

With fondness, you reach out and tap the tip of his nose. His eyes follow your finger like a puppy, and when you crack a smile at his reaction, his face falls into blushing bashfulness. “Happy to report that finding you and getting you back was all my doing, though,” you say. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You’re so hot for that,” Mysta says. Then he covers a hand over his mouth and looks away, as if that’d erase his shyness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I’m in love with you, it’s just been so long since I’ve seen you, that’s all. I’m not sure how to handle this.”

“We’ll figure out where to go from here together. We have a way out, after all. Let’s just take the time to stay where we are comfortably.” You roll your head back and shift in Mysta’s lap. His attention returns to you. “Hey, Mysta. I love you too. You know you can kiss me.”

“You’d let me? Even though it’s been so long?”

“Especially because it’s been so long.”

The last thing you see is the comfort in his smile before he bends over and presses his lips upside-down against yours. Maybe not normalcy… but it’s the beginnings of the return, in a language only you and Mysta understand.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino

“Shu. Don’t wake up. But be lucid, now, I need you to listen to me.”

“Reader…”

“It’s me. Come on, Shu. You’re dreaming.”

“My dreams aren’t usually this meta.”

“Stay grounded. I’m astral projecting to you right now.”

“That was always the one thing I taught you that you could perform…”

“It took a lot of effort but it’s coming in handy now. Oh, that doesn’t matter. You look awful. Don’t give me that look. Well, you look okay enough here but once you wake up, figure it out. You’re doing this all wrong and hurting yourself because of it.”

“My rituals…?”

“Yes! It pains me to see you overexert yourself when you don’t have to!”

“It’s what I need to do to summon you.”

“No, it’s not- oh, Shu, sweet thing, don’t tell me. You’ve been intentionally reaching across space?”

“I have to. It’s for you.”

“Yes, yes, I’m very flattered, but there’s an easier way to do this. One that doesn’t involve ripping a space vacuum in our apartment. It’s time only that separates us, Shu. I’m… somewhere. I’m not sure. I don’t know metaphysics like you do. But I know the difference is our timelines, not locations. I’m able to do some astral projection, after all, that should account for something.”

“And you’re a novice. How long have you been trying to contact me?”

“Ever since I warped away.”

“That would be months, then. There’s no way you would be able to transmit a projection across universes like that so quickly.”

“It makes sense. Listen to me- good, I can touch you. Let me hold you. Get yourself some rest. Real rest, none of these short barely-functioning naps, I mean an entire night. Can you do that for me?”

“But I need to keep working.”

“And your work will get you nowhere if you’re not in top condition. I need you in top condition. Okay? And you figured it out. You’re putting in too much effort to find the right answer, and it’s going to suffocate you one day, literally. It doesn’t have to be that way. When you wake up, write every single thing down. Don’t give yourself a chance to forget.”

“I need to reach across time alone. I don’t need to consider space.”

“Good boy.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Maybe. But the time thing was real. I wouldn’t joke about that when I can see you exhausting yourself. It breaks my heart.”

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“But you’ve got to be one of the strongest people in the world to endure it. It’s just that you don’t have to endure it. Come on, rest with me.”

“You’re soft. Can we stay like this?”

“Of course. Just get comfortable, I’m hoping it’ll force you to sleep longer. Oh, you sweet thing, oh. My sweet Shu.”

“Can you sing to me?”

“My singing isn’t all that.”

“It’s calming. I’ve heard you hum before.”

“If that’s really what’ll help you rest.”

“I want to hear it.”

“Shhh, I know you do. You can barely keep your eyes open even now. Keep them closed, sweet thing, I’ve got you.

“Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…”

Shu wakes up the next day with music coursing through his head, the ghost of a dream. At the thought of your face he finds the nearest pen he sees and writes your advice on his arm. Don’t rip apart space. Just time is fine.

He wonders if you can see him as he grabs a scrapbook off a shelf. Its contents are treasured, but a chunk of the photos inside are missing. The book itself chronicles his relationship with you. The big moments are safe, but the little memories that color the story in daily photos were removed from their pages, and he thumbs through the pages where there isn’t a single photo that stares back at him.

His pace slows when he realized he can’t remember any of the photos that use to rest on one page. Every day for the past few months, he would draft a new ritual to summon you, and in return for you summoning he’d sacrifice a photo, representing a moment in time he could never truly get back. Miracles aren’t cheap, after all.

The pages flip upon themselves, and when he finds a photo still in pace he slips it out from the protector with as little thought as possible. But as little as he tries, his mind still connects the dots. This one doesn’t have faces, but he can recognize his arm in the background. You took a candid picture one wintry evening when you and Shu decided on making cookies. The photo focused on one sugar cookie covered in royal icing that was so ugly you couldn’t help but laugh, and tried to take a serious, artsy picture with the ugly blob of frosting as the focal point. It just so happened that you could also see Shu in the corner, struggling to frost one of his own cookies.

The moment comes to Shu on instinct the second he sees it, no matter how hard he tries to resist. The sound of your laughter is attached to the photo, and he hates the idea that soon he’d forget exactly how your giggles rose and fell, the way you fought to compose yourself.

Miracles aren’t cheap, and he hopes it’s enough this time. After all, you came to him in his dreams, and he’s sure it’s not his consciousness deluding itself.

Time manipulation is one of the most difficult subjects of magic, and viewing other timelines is simpler but still not an easy task. Retrieving objects- or people, in your case- in between those two subjects, and his initial rituals always connected retrieval across time along with the distortion of space. The subject of space was a lot simpler to grasp- after all, there have been spellcasters that can teleport themselves with ease- but still nothing to sneeze at. When spatial retrieval combined with temporal, it was simply too much.

These past few months, Shu tried to brute-force it by honing his abilities with practice, but today he takes a glance at the words on his arm. Your advice.

Shu repeats the steps he’s come to memorize. Jasmine and palo santo incense fills the room as he draws a new magic circle. He drafted the circles of his other attempts with a combination of temporal and spacial elements. This one is minimal in comparison, and already his shoulders feel lighter knowing he doesn’t have to mess around with the oxygen in the witch hut getting sucked out by a rift in space.

By the time the incense cleanses his hut, he places the three components- one of your favorite accessories, a strand of your hair, and the photo- within their spirals.

As he sets the photo down he does so knowing it’s the last he’ll ever see of it. “Please work,” he whispers, and that’s the last regulated thought he has.

Shu stands in the center of the circle, and when he speaks the incantation his intention is set.

The chalk circle bursts aflame in magenta, and he knows tendrils of fire spurt out from his back as he continues. He doesn’t allow his mind to wander as sorcery flows through his bloodstream and through the fire. The circle becomes a wall that cuts him off from the material, and the heat is intense, blurring through the air and making mosaics of his environment. He doesn’t feel a thing.

Really, it’s like second nature.

The incantation goes forth. Burning ashes flicker off of the flames that take up all his vision. Magenta curls around his arms now and wraps around his body. Shu stands his ground. He continues to stand his ground, adamant in the flame, even when the last utterance of the incantation is spoken and the magenta world goes white.

He’s not quite sure if he faints.

But when he does regain his consciousness, he stares up at the apartment ceiling, not the witch’s hut he’s spent his lonesome in. Smoldering smoke and ash assails his nostrils. His ears are ringing, and even as he blinks he can see the white light flooding in from the corners of his vision. He lays on the ground. His body feels heavy.

“Shu.” The weight shifts, and his head rises so gentle. The light clears.

Shu’s chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath. He’s too entranced to speak out loud, so he does so under his lost breath. “You’re back.”

When you fell back into place it was right where Shu stood, and after the ritual, where he lay on the floor. You sat upon his lap, one leg on either side, and your hand held his head so it wouldn’t drop to the hard ground.

Shu holds his arms out to reach for you, and you help him sit up properly. He places himself around you and his lips take in yours.

His hands are an exploration, and he goes in hungrily but tentative. With each fistful of fabric and brush of skin, it’s another affirmation that you’re real, and in his arms no less, and all his efforts were recognized. When his hands rest against your thighs you hold him tighter, a confirmation. Where he holds back, you go all in; it’s been so long since you’ve been able to feel anyone else, and when the first thing you come back to is Shu, keeping him close is second nature.

Even when he parts to regain his breath he still supports you. Shu stands, and before you know it he sweeps you up in his arms as well. He’s muscular, and his voice is still so quiet, like he’s in a place of worship.

“Let me hold you,” he says, and you cling to his neck. He smells like jasmine and palo santo. He carries you to your bedroom, and sets you down carefully, like a delicate keepsake.

“I’m glad I talked to you.”

“I don’t think I would’ve figured out the answer without you.”

“Even though it was so simple?”

“I never would’ve made the connection.” Shu pecks your lips, and somehow it’s even more emotional than the first for the moment it lingers. “I never would’ve rested.”

“You need to.” You hold Shu’s face between your hands. His cheeks squish against your fingers and it feels like heaven, but the dark circles under his eyes are not lost on you. “You’re better than when I saw you in your dreams, but I’m still concerned.”

He laughs. “Only you could be literally lost in time and still find time to worry over me.”

“Of course I would. I care about you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you.” Shu lays back on the mattress, and the only thing connecting you both is his pinky finger, crossed between yours. “Are you tired?”

“A little.”

“I’m making up for lost time. I haven’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you disappeared.”

“I know.”

You tuck Shu in while his fingers rest intertwined with yours, and he squeezes before closing his eyes. He’s serene, and it stuns you just how composed he is for a sorcerer that just retrieved his lover from across time itself. If it weren’t for how exhausted he looked through pale skin and heavy bags, then you would think him untouchable, an invulnerable man.

You caress his colorful hair and the side of his face. He must be one of the most beautiful men alive, and his dedication is no different. Vulnerability is his strength.

You muster the love Shu inspires and sing.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Vox Akuma

Vox finds out he landed in the United Kingdom, across the world from where his castle once stood. It’s been months since he reincarnated, but he hasn’t even started rebuilding an empire yet. It’s natural for a demon to vie for control, and he thirsts for it, but whenever he starts to seriously consider it, the memories of Akuma Castle return all over again, salt in the wound. Then he thinks of how he watched you bleed right in front of him, and how he wasted your intervention, and he has to sit while his heart screams in phantom pain.

He walks the allies at night and abuses his voice for ease. The strangers that pass by dressed in expensive clothes give him their wristwatches like he’s an old friend, and when they regain their senses he’s already gone. The ones that get too nosy are on the receiving end of his nastiest voice, and if he had any more of a bleeding heart he’d feel bad about how they would never forget the way his tone simply shatters even the strongest resolve.

It’s a pitiful existence. He should be living a life of glamour surrounded by humans that follow his every command and all the wealth the world can offer, but here he is, simply getting by like a street rat.

But the pain is too fresh. His heart aches. Phantom pains.

Vox revisits the subway he landed in on occasional nights. It’s a compulsion. Sometimes Akuma Castle’s final moments flood back, but more often he sits at the bench with a blank look on his face, waiting for something to happen.

Tonight is one of the latter. Vox leans back against the wall and stares at the tiled ground. It’s late enough that this train shouldn’t be running until dawn, but the time is uncertain. After all, he’s underground, and the closest thing to the moon down here is a flickering fluorescent light.

He exhales. He can never forget the moment you passed on. A wise advisor, a formidable warrior, and beautiful lover all gone in such a moment, simply because he didn’t strike true into the bleeding man that was his undoing, the reason you had to save him, the price of your life, phantom pains…

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears footsteps echo through the empty station and enter the corner of his vision.

“What do you want?” Vox grumbles, not willing to give the stranger the satisfaction of looking at his face.

The stranger gets down on a knee in reverence, and Vox’s curiosity gets the better of him. He watches them lower their head, and when he recognizes them his eyes widen.

Reader, gorgeous as the day they met, untouched by war nor blood, speaks clearer than water. “Milord. I see now that “the Voice Demon” is no mere nickname.”

Vox is struck into silence and doesn’t dare move, like a deer in the headlights.

You raise yourself. You cock your head. “Milord Vox? Is everything alright?”

“I- I must be dreaming,” Vox says. He sweeps his hand over his open mouth. “You died.”

“I did. In the heat of battle, beside the one I love and the family I swore myself to protect.”

“Then how are you here? You should’ve passed on into your afterlife- no, don’t tell me. You’re not at peace, are you? You’re not at peace, and it’s all my fault.”

“Don’t wound yourself, Milord. Every moment I spend on the battlefield it’s with conviction that I may die for my own beliefs, not by command of careless officer. You would know that best, darling Lord.” You sit next to him and stretch out your hand. “Touch me if you think I am but an apparition, and look into my eyes for the answer.”

Vox doesn’t have the strength nor understanding to move, but he meets your eyes. The pupils are thin, nearly catlike, and things fall into place when a flicker of orange breaks through the color. They’re virtually human, but lava seeps through the color and tints them infernal.

“You’re a demon,” he blurted out.

You nod. “When I died, I was selected out of purgatory and sent to Hell for my wisdom and strength in life. The demons that greeted me- your people- presented me with a choice: enter my proper afterlife as I imagined it would be when I lived, or continue immortally with infernal blood coursing through me. The choice to carry on the demonic legacy of balance in this world with the skills I fostered through my human life.

“I have to speak in truth, Milord. I was too surprised my presence in Hell was requested to understand the choice entirely. The demons granted me the time to make my decision, and to that I am grateful for their hospitality. I spent time meditating on each outcome. Peace and rest, or an unending adventure so I may die time and time again, each with the same conviction as I held when my mortal life ended.”

Vox reaches out and feels the palm of your hand. His fingers are slight, and you allow him to press down on the hand, take in the warmth of your skin, and brush against your calluses before he fully clasps his around yours. You notice the tremble in his lip, and how he tries to bite the inside of it. He’s about to cry.

“Oh, Milord Vox, my darling.” You press your lips to the back of his palm, then squeeze his hand. “It’s a lot of information, but understand this. I did not become a demon as debt or mindless loyalty. I did so of my own volition, for my own identity, under my own name. Even then, I am exceedingly honored to continue alongside you in our infernal lives. I see I truly was blessed to walk this Earth following you, and that blessing follows me as I have followed you.”

Vox’s voice is as wet as his eyes. Rarely does he express his vulnerability, but when he does, it’s with utmost trust. “How could I ever be your blessing when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

“Milord, come here.” You outstretch your arms, and Vox collapses into you. He buries his head into your chest, and sniffles as you stroke his hair. “My darling Lord. We found where we need to be, and each other once more. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“None of this ‘Milord’ title anymore,” Vox says. His words are muffled against the fabric of your shirt and the tears in his eyes. He struggles to catch his breath, so you rub circles along his back in your embrace. Vox swallows down a hiccup as you whisper and shush comforts. He continues speaking as he clutches you. “Call me Vox. I love you too much to pretend we’re not equals.”

You brush aside a lock of hair and kiss his forehead. “My darling Vox, then. It would be my pleasure to be yours in immortality. Now and forever, and with every bone in my body, I pledge myself to you. I love you.”

“No pledges, either, Reader.” Vox rubs at his eyes. His voice still wavers, but it’s more controlled now. “I mean it. We’re more than master and servant could ever be.”

“That… is new.” Your eyes cast downward, even as Vox is still in your arms. “But not unwelcome. I’m just surprised you think of me so highly.”

“The best thing that’s happened to me,” he repeats. “Truly, the best thing. We’re demons. I’ll have you know you have my utmost loyalty just as much as you pledged yours to me in our lives before this current time.”

“I see. Is there a ritual, then? Or a ceremony, as the time before my death?”

“No rituals, no ceremonies.” Vox loosens from the hug. He presses a gentle fist against your chest, where your heart beats. “We don’t use titles. We just act on it. We show what we feel.”

“I fear I have a lot to learn about ‘acting on it,’” you admit.

“We have all the time in the world for you to learn.” He dives back into your embrace, but now his lips are flush to your ear, and he whispers a secret only you can hear. “Think about it this way: in the past you were mine to control. You still are.” Vox’s voice grows deeper. The rumble sends shivers down your spine. “But now, I’m yours.”

“Y-you must not toy with me like that, Vox…”

“It’s the truth. I’m a wreck without you.”

“Then I’m flattered to be the one to keep you together, my darling.”

Vox lays a kiss right below your ear, and when he parts away you take a chance. Your hands clutch around his jawline and shoulder as you aim for his lips. Hellfire awaits you. You’ve always detected the heat that courses through Vox every time you touch him, but it all falls into place with the infernal life behind your kiss as well.

No secrets are left uncovered. Vox leans into you, a testament to his dedication. His tears dried long ago, and as you kiss him, you swear to no one but yourself; as many times as he cries, you always want to be the one to help him smile again. He would do the same for you, no doubt. He always has.

Equals, you think. Vox’s hands clutch around your neck as the kiss continues. You’re someone he can depend on. I would go anywhere beside him.

There’s no other world you’d rather be.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

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