#My eraser and paper were suffering

[dimensional-traveler3]

Fanart! :D

Fanart for @diroxide-art ! It's their Marxolor fan child, Eris!

I legit can't get enough of their Marxolor art so I just had to draw Eris because I can't not get her out of my brain

[spookieloverslittlemind]

How protective are they…

includes: Michael Myers, Pinhead, Brahms Heelshire, Art the Clown, Sun and Moon (fnaf), Marta (Outlast 2)

a/n: it’s grey and rainy outside yk what that means

Michael

Is this a joke. Michael will literally kill anyone who breathes your air if you ask him to. In fact, at the start of your relationship you had to set a boundary by telling him not to kill every person you encounter, unless you give him the clear (given those kills aren’t his own random kills, he allows you to set a rule of “don’t just kill everyone”). This stems from him walking out your front door, following the mail man one time. Michael is the epitome of the “me and my bitch don’t argue she tell me shut up and I do” trope when it comes to you except his version of shutting-up is putting down the knife. That said, you’ve got plenty of time to stop Michael because he’s only ever walking after someone, so there’s not much danger of him accidentally killing the wrong person. When, however, you do give him the green light to commit murder in the first degree…Michael’s all over it like a bad rash. You’ve never seen him walk with more purpose than when you’ve sighed and said “fine” to him killing someone. Once, you made the mistake of telling Michael he was allowed to threaten but not kill - you were very specific - man who’d been bothering you at work. At first, you thought the guy was just off sick for a couple of days out of pure fear from his encounter with Mike. Then you started seeing the missing person posters. You had one of them on the dining room table when Michael next came to visit and he just tilted his head with the closest expression he can pull to resemble 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 behind the black eye holes of his mask.

Pinhead

Is this a joke. Pinhead can and will summon a portal to any circle of Hell of his choosing to forcibly grab any mf that tries you in any capacity via chains and drag them to eternal suffering. He doesn’t even have to be there to witness the crime before he’s playing judge, jury and executioner that omniscient bastard. He’s very calm and collected about his protectiveness unless someone actually hurts you, in which case he personally handles their eternal torture. Pinhead doesn’t have much of a concept for politeness but the first time he felt the energy of a cashier being less than friendly to you he summoned a portal and you had to rush home to explain that any poor soul working in customer services suffers enough and should not be sent to Hell for being less than happy working in a different kind of Hell for minimum wage. Thankfully, Pinhead brought them back and erased their memory (and injuries) so that trauma never really happened and he learned a valuable lesson that day x

Brahms

Is this a joke. Brahms will not hesitate to kill anyone that sets foot in the house unless you give him a full briefing on, like, your sister coming to visit or something. He’s more lenient with women coming over because he likes watching you smile as you talk to them from where he resides behind the walls but men? Hahahaha. You’re funny. Real funny. You should try standup. ‘Cause you know who’s standing up whenever a man’s voice is heard. And you know who’s killing them with his bare hands. It’s rare anyone has the opportunity to upset you because you’re trapped in Brahms’ mansion, but he’s the kind to track down the exact piece of paper that gave you a paper cut and tear it to shreds. Burn it. Eat it. So it’s fair to say Brahms is very, very protective. It’s a good thing he’s not allowed out, really.

Art

Is this a joke. Like everything about him, Art’s protective nature is…unique, but he’s definitely got it. He’ll watch someone upset you until it makes you cry and then flay a man, type beat. If anyone physically hurts you then yeah, they’re dead, but apart from that he likes to test how far someone will go to upset you before he steps in to act their punishment. Surprisingly, Art’s a lot more laidback than others on this list when it comes to not wanting to kill every person you come in contact with; he’s more prone to jealousy, really, because if he sees someone else making you laugh anywhere close to the amount he makes you laugh, he will want to gut them. And he probably will when you’re out of the room. And he’ll dispose of the body before you get back and mime something about “oh 😱 they had to go ☹️👉🏻 suddenly 🤭” and then you never hear from that person again, for reasons Art pretends he doesn’t know.

Sun and Moon

Is this a joke. Sun is incapable of withholding Moon if you get even mildly disrespected in any given circumstance they’re so protective of you, just hearing about you being upset is enough to get Moon appearing. Sun’s the type to remind you that you are safe and he (and Moon) will never let anyone or anything hurt you. Moon’s the type to shout at and throw toys that have hurt you or tripped you up in the Daycare. Sun is very good at comforting you and cheering you up after the fact, but it’s Moon who handles the punishment. He’s been known to leave the Daycare out of working hours to hunt down “naughty” people, and because you’ll feel guilty about it he deliberately doesn’t tell you the things he does, except to say “they will not upset you again…🌚”

Is this a joke. This servant to God has dedicated her life to cleansing the world of heretics and you think she won’t disembowel every soul that blasphemes in the presence of God’s purest gift to her? She may not have a sense of humour but you, my friend, are hilarious. Marta doesn’t understand petty offences of someone being unkind to you, unless you explain it to her, but as soon as she comprehends the fact you are even remotely unsettled by someone’s presence…God has whispered that person’s fate in her ear, and she won’t hesitate to bring it forth. Marta is not someone you can reason with, so people very quickly accept that to harm you, your spirit or your purity in any conceivable way, is to sign their own death warrant. You can’t stop her, either, because unfortunately when you say “they hurt my feelings”, God sends her a telepathic message that’s the equivalent of “🫵🏻👁️👁️👉🏻🔪”

[k-s-morgan]

I in no way mean to be disrespectful, I hope you and your family are doing well and I’m so sorry for the recent attacks. I’m just ignorant and want to know what would happen if Ukraine surrendered to Russia?

I hope you are safe from bombing and air raids 🙏🙏

Hi! Thank you <3 And don't worry, that's a good question.

What I'm 100% sure would happen in case of Ukraine's surrender, even under the most optimistic scenario:

We'd have to give up the entire country, not just a part of it. Russia always comes back for more. It's been following the same pattern with different countries forever. With Ukraine, it got a pretty decent chunk back in 2014. That land continued to belong to Ukraine on paper only - in reality, it was fully under Russian control, and no one really fought for it any longer. Was Russia satisfied with it? No. It kept preparing and then attacked to overtake even more land. It will never have enough, so to give up now means to acknowledge that the entire Ukraine will cease to exist as a country, whether right away or after Russia starts another war against us.

Ukrainian language, culture, and heritage would be destroyed completely in the coming years. Our history - and the history of the world children are taught - will be re-written. There is a reason why the majority of countries that were a part of USSR speak primarily Russian. Russia keeps carefully erasing other languages and culture, it's been doing it for ages. It's doing it right now on the occupied territories.

Pro-Ukrainian activists and people of note would be persecuted, kidnapped, tortured, and killed. This is also a pattern, it happens everywhere Russia invades. I know many examples personally.

We'd be gradually cut off of the outside world. Like, Russia has banned major fanfiction sites; it's trying to block YouTube and other platforms. The transformation into a semblance of North Korea would be inevitable.

Ukrainians would be treated as third-rate non-humans on their own territory. Again, it's been happening everywhere Russia barges into.

Ukraine would be used as a military base to attack other countries, and Ukrainians would be forced to become Russian soldiers.

As for the rest, it could go in several ways. Maybe Russia would want to show how 'amazing' it is, so it'd turn Kyiv into a second Moscow, creating different well-paid positions and opportunities to suck up to Kyiv residents and to prove its hypocritical benevolence.

On the other hand, it could just as well turn the entire country into a concentration and extermination camp. Russia has been torturing, raping, degrading, and murdering our people everywhere. Stealing their homes, kidnapping children, etc. and etc. I have a huge number of friends, people I know, or their friends who shared their stories, and each of them has been absolutely horrific.

My Mom's colleague, for example, used to live near Bachmut. When Russians came in, they immediately began to hunt down anyone related to the police and the military and killing them or actually demanding ransom for them. They kidnapped this colleague's friends, a married couple, kept them in a dog's kennel, pissed on them, beat them up, and raped the wife repeatedly. At that point, the colleague managed to flee the area, and she has no idea as to what happened to them afterward.

This could very well be the fate of our country in case of our surrender since the world obviously doesn't care and wouldn't bat an eye at the millions suffering and dying, kind of like it's happening now.

So surrendering is dangerous because we might cease to exist, but perhaps we are just prolonging the inevitable. A tiny country with a pathetic level of support cannot win against a giant that has a ton of everything and whose allies keep sending it even more weapons of destruction. Oh, and let's not forget how Russia keeps producing more and more weapons because the US and EU keep selling it the parts it needs for missiles and other stuff, and how Ukraine, after seemingly getting help from these US and EU, is forbidden to use it to strike Russia back.

It's all a joke to everyone but us, so I honestly don't envision a positive outcome at all. In the end, as long as our heroes are determined to defend Ukraine, we'll keep trying to hold on. The future will show what it'll lead us to.

[literaila]

HEYYYY!! It's me again!!

I have two things to discuss today.

Firstly, have you seen those reels where Megumi reminds Gojo of Toji and he gets freaked out? So has this ever happened in the Gojo household? If yes, how dramatic does Satoru act?

Secondly, I have a request, It would absolutely make my day to see Satoru jealous. (Yes, I know we saw a it with Nanami, but can you blame a girl to want more?) Like if the reader got hit on, I am sure he'll pull something like he did to Megumi with Nobara and Yuji.

Thank you for reading this,

You are amazing and I love you.

(I'll do anything you ask me to.)

no doubt, for the first couple of months (two years) megumi lived with satoru, every time the boy woke up in the morning with his hair deflated, or walked in the room scratching his head, or sat on the couch, or went into the bathroom—satoru had to refrain a wince.

it’s not that the likeness was uncanny�� but… well, the attitude was.

when megumi had on that evil smirk—usually when one of his many plots against satoru came to fathom—it was clear that the very man satoru had erased from existence had shared some of his more… admirable qualities with the boy.

sometimes it was the way megumi spoke. the tiny little inflections that satoru was probably making up, but were also definitely there. the little sigh when he asked the boy a question or the clearing of a throat when megumi was confused.

and the eyes.

megumi’s eyes were always cold, always hesitant, always moving around, constantly looking for some problem to focus on. and his glares, and his eyebrows, and uuugch.

sometimes satoru had to run into the bathroom just to cower himself away for a moment.

and if megumi happened to knock on the door, already scowling when satoru opened it a crack, really, the gasp that came next was unavoidable.

“what’s up with you?” megumi demands, shaking his head at the older, very immature man. “can you move?”

said man would open the door as little as possible as he squeezed by, trying and failing not to stare at the little boy—who has very dark hair, dark eyes, and dark intent specifically when it comes to satoru.

none of it goes unnoticed.

so if satoru is leaning over the counter, his eyes pleading with yours, you already know what it’s about.

(you’d learned about satoru’s weird superstition about two days into becoming his co-parent).

“no,” you say immediately, going back to making both of the children’s lunch.

“i didn’t say anything.”

“still no, satoru.”

“but, please,” he falls against the counter dramatically, wide blue (alien) eyes basically perfect spheres as he widens them. “just this once?”

“it’s a supply store.”

he shakes his head intently. “that’s not the issue.”

you give him a bland look, unamused with his stupid qualms, and put the lid on a container.

“he looks freaky,” satoru whispers, conspiring. “there’s something off.”

you look over to megumi who is sitting at the table, swinging his legs and chewing on some cut up ginger.

he looks as pleasant (frowning) and sweet (irritated) as always to you.

you raise a brow at satoru, choosing not to argue with him about this. god knows you do it enough.

“do you want me to cry?” satoru asks, pouting. “i have ptsd.”

you roll your eyes. “ever heard of exposure therapy?“

so satoru takes megumi to the store to get markers and papers for a school project, giving him questionable glances from beneath his glasses, and making weird comments under his breath about psychopaths and plastic surgery.

when they get home megumi is annoyed as ever, attempting to slam the door in satoru’s face before he can walk through.

you’re, of course, sitting with tsumiki at the table and watch as this interaction happens.

megumi stomps by and tells you, “please kick him out. he’s being weird again.”

and satoru just opens the door, red faced, finger pointing at the little boy, demanding: “see?”

so, yeah. satoru suffers with the memory of toji, and his biggest ideation (hurting the six-eyes user) comes to life in the form of a little boy who now lives in his home. just two rooms down the hall.

seriously, who really won that fight?

but as the months (years) go on, satoru learns to mostly ignore the resemblance between the two. sure, when megumi wears his hair differently or says anything in that rough, angry voice satoru gets a little freaked, but so what?

(if he has to go sit in his closet for a couple of minutes it’s just because he’s tired, okay? it has nothing to do with being afraid of a six year old or anything of the sort).

still, things slowly begin to change as megumi grows accustomed to satoru’s antics, and satoru becomes accustomed to being called out for them.

(you do it occasionally, but satoru knows you’re mostly joking. you’re nothing if not the benefactor of his schemes.

on the other hand, the only other person to ever seriously call him out about his ego was… suguru.

so. there’s that.)

and eventually, satoru doesn’t even notice if megumi is looking at him with devious intent. he’s well prepared and not afraid of some whiny little kid who can’t even reach the top shelf in the fridge.

(he hides behind you, usually.)

but even satoru can’t ignore the way megumi begins to change as he grows. literally, several inches by the time he’s eight.

and then there’s the way his eyes—his cold, evil eyes—change when he’s talking to tsumiki, or you. the way he softens when you’re trying to tell him something, or when he needs help. the tiny, affectionate grin that grows on his face when tsumiki is bouncing around, so full of energy that she can’t sit still.

satoru looks at him sometimes, and he doesn’t see the gifted sorcerer killer that the boy comes from, but a brother. a son that gets to be adored by the best person in the world (him you)

that is, of course, until megumi looks satoru’s way and the scowl is back, even harsher than before.

and then theres the learned attitudes, the things that you all shared—you, satoru, and the kids—just as a result of being together for so long.

isn’t there something about developing the traits of the people closest to you?

so, even though megumi is a photo copy of his father, satoru begins to see other things in the boy.

like the crinkles by his eyes, matching tsumiki’s.

or the way that his eyebrows go up when he’s trying not to smile, and the eventual twitch of his lip when he can’t help but laugh at something. satoru’s dreamed of that sight since he was seventeen and first set his eyes on you.

and then the eventual pout that megumi develops when he’s giving everyone a hard time. the pout that satoru practices in the mirror, making sure to save for only the most dire of occasions.

(also, satoru can’t help but think of megumi as the thing that keeps him… humble, in the face of everything. that question that continuously reminds satoru to keep growing, keep getting stronger, just so he can protect everything that matters.

he won’t admit it, but satoru knows that someone had to do it. someone had to be a replacement for the only other person who could ever compare to the strongest sorcerer.

and if suguru could meet megumi, satoru thinks, sometimes, when no one else is around to hear it, they would get along.

they have a lot in common, after all).

sure, megumi might have the same face, and same smirk as toji. he might as well be a literal clone of the man, just waiting to age into his skin.

but, satoru decides, one day a couple of years in, when there’s that innate protective feeling as he observes the boy—one that satoru never thought he had, much less be able to feel—maybe it’s more that toji resembles megumi, and not the other way around.

so satoru doesn’t flinch anymore because megumi’s face brings up memories he’d prefer to keep locked away—he flinches because megumi was waiting in the shadows.

just to scare him.

(secaond idea is here)

[sturniozo]

In The Shadows I

masterlist

Most people that work for their father’s company have no choice, they’re thrown into it against their will. I was no different. Ever since I learned what my father really did for a living he had decided it would be what I do to. And I do it well. I’ve been training since I was 16. Now, 6 years later I’m the greatest assassin his company has ever produced.

My father runs a business, a hit man business. Some people are rich enough to hire people like us, people like me. We don’t just kill, we erase. We make people suffer and we make them silenced. Some people hire us just to investigate, gather information on an enemy.

You wouldn’t believe the amount of people that have wanted others dead. Exes wanting revenge, spouses wanting to collect life insurance, adult children sick of their parents. Some of their reasoning isn’t even good, but hey, moneys money right?

The cash isn’t even why I do it. It’s the thrill. Being undercover, being sneaky, solving things people had made difficult because they thought they were smart enough to hide them.

Everything I do, I do for the thrill. That rush of adrenaline that I’ve yet to let anyone who cares about me know about. Most assassins are like me though. No one really does it for the money. That’s just a bonus.

My father’s the only one who knows what I do. He made me what I am today. A killer. Not even my boyfriend of two years knows. He thinks I’m a planner at a company that sells stocks. That’s my cover. Thats my lie.

My eyes snap open as I hear my alarm go off. I dig under my pillow for my phone and shut off the alarm. I set my phone down on the night stand and rub my eyes. 5 am. I look over to my side and see my sleeping boyfriend, Luke. No doubt he went to bed not even an hour ago. He spends most nights staying up all night playing video games.

I sit up in bed and yawn. I get up and make my way to my bathroom. I take a quick shower before leaving to my usual coffee shop for breakfast.

The barista hands me my usual order with a smile. I’m used to seeing her here almost every day. Her usual days off are Wednesday and Friday. I sip on my coffee as I head back to my car. The clock on the console reads 6:53 am. I set the coffee down in the cup holder and drive off to the building I spend so many days in during my childhood, before I knew what it held.

I park in my usual spot, right next to my father’s car. I get out the car with my purse and my coffee, heading to the building entrance. I nod at Bobbie, the security girl, as I swipe my access card. It grants me access to the building and I head straight to my father’s office as I do every morning.

“Ah, good morning my dear.” My dad says as he gets out of his chair and walks to me for a hug.

“Good morning, Dad.” I say as I hug him back tightly.

He pulls away and smiles at me. “What do you have for me today?” He asks.

I dig through my purse and find a little paper bag. I hand it to him. “Open it.” I say while biting my lip to contain my excitement.

My father smiles at me and opens the little paper bag, letting a ring fall out onto his hand. “24 karat diamond?” He asks as he examines it.

“Yep. Fresh off the finger of a very unlucky divorcé.” I tell him.

“Ah, so this is the proof of contract completion for that Mrs. Aubrey then?”

“Ms. Aubrey.” I correct. “And yes, her ex husband won’t be bothering her or her children anymore.”

“That’s a good girl, I knew I could count on you.” My father smiles and puts the ring back in its paper bag. “I’ll have it delivered to her tonight, expect your payment in full my tomorrow morning dear.” He sits back down in his chair.

I sit down in the seat in front of his desk. “That’s my last contract, I’m officially out of running orders.” I say with a laugh.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve got something for you.” My dad smiles as he begins typing away at his computer.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning in.

“I’ll tell you in a bit, go on back to your office dear.”

“Why wait?”

“There’s more than just you and I for this contract, it’s a big one.”

I smile brightly. My father’s finally giving me a big important contract for my own. “All right. Just call my office when you’re ready for me, Dad.” I say with a smile as I get up from the seat.

“I’ll see you in a bit, dear.” He says as he waves me off.

I walk out of his office and to the elevator. My father’s office is on the top floor, while mine is about seven floors below that, a bit more than 2/3 of the way up the whole building. I walk out of the elevator and see the cubicles. I’m glad I got to skip that part.

I walk down the cleared walkway to my office, but am stopped when someone waves me over.

Casey. She started here as an information analyst just over a year ago. Now she profiles the subjects of our contracts. She’s the one who decides which assassin does what job.

“Hey, Casey.” I rest my arms over her cubicle.

“So, your new contact.” She smiles at me.

“I take it you chose me?” I laugh.

“No, this one came straight from the big man, your dad.” She says.

“Ah, okay. So you have no idea what it is then?” I ask.

“Nope.” She shakes her head.

“Then what did you call me over for?” I ask with a laugh.

“To gossip, duh! What else?” She laughs.

“I’m not one to gossip, Casey, you know that.” I say as I begin to walk away.

“I just wondered if you heard anything about the new guy.” She shrugs.

I turn back to her. “New guy?” I ask.

“He’s on loan from another industry. Apparently he’s their best assassin. Might even be right up there with your skill.” She chuckles.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Well, I didn’t get a name, but he’s handsome. I snuck a peak at his photo in his file when I was in your dad’s office yesterday.” She smirks. “He’s gorgeous, like a god!” She whispers.

I laugh. “He’s a trained killer?”

She nods. “His file was definitely an assassin file.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be spreading this around. Idle gossip isn’t what people come here for.” I say before walking into my office.

I shut the door behind me and let out a breath. I walk to my desk and set down my now half drunk coffee and my purse. I rub my temple and check the time on my phone. 8:14 am.

I groan and lay my head down in my arms on my desk. No contracts, no one to research or study. Nothing. I sigh and start scrolling aimlessly on my phone.

I get bored fast and see my phone down on my desk. I run my fingers over my face and bounce my knee up and down. The agony and boredom is killing me.

I shake my head and begin searching through my drawers, taking everything out and organizing everything. Within an hour I have everything in my office rearranged. I step back and look at it all, smiling.

I turn around and look out the glass wall of my office. Anyone who looked in here would think I was crazy. I just tore apart my entire office and rearranged it all in an hour, just out of boredom.

Staring out the glass I see someone who makes my breath hitch. Matt Sturniolo. Matt worked at this company years ago. He was one of my father’s greatest assassins. He even taught me most of my tricks. But that all changed when Matt betrayed me.

The call finally comes. My father telling me it’s time to go back up to his office. I have a weird feeling in my stomach, a feeling Matt has something to do with it.

I make my way to the elevator and go back up to my father’s office. I walk out of the elevator and stop when I see him. Matt standing in my father’s office. Just talking with him.

I gather my courage and walk into his office, ignoring Matt completely. “Got the call,” I say to my dad. “What’s the contract?”

“Y/n, you know Matt Sturniolo.” My dad gestures to Matt. I side eye him before looking back at my dad.

“Yes, I remember him.” I mumble.

“He’s your partner for this contract.”

My jaw drops. “He- what?” Matt laughs and I turn to glare at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask him.

“Just you.” Matt says. “You’re like a high school girl with a grudge.”

I glare at him before turning back to my dad. “There’s got to be someone else, or I could just do it myself!” I tell him.

“No, you two are the best assassins I’ve ever met, the best trained killers, the best investigators, the best of the best. I need both of you for this.” My father says in a demanding tone.

“What’s the contract?” Matt asks.

“Finley Wilson.” My father stands up and hands both Matt and me a folder. “Collector of rare curios. He’s not the target though, your job is to befriend him. Pose as a couple in search of useless art and befriend Wilson. Find out who he cares about the most.”

I stare at my father. “Us? A couple?” I point between Matt and myself.

“I won’t hear any of your complaining.” My dad says. “This is an important contact, I want reports every night. Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon, I suggest you be ready then, understand?” My father says sternly.

I nod and keep my mouth closed.

“Good. Don’t worry, I’ll have your things for your cover sent with you. You’ll need to make a believable couple, and Wilson will have to believe you’re a rich couple looking to buy his curios. That is important. You need him to believe this cover. He’s paranoid, it won’t be easy.”

Matt closer the folder and holds it under his arm. “Where are we going?” He asks.

“Switzerland.”

TAGS: @sturniolopookie @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer

[persefolli]

𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐍𝐞𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐢

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐍𝐞𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐝

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @seashelldom,@neteyamforlife, @shadowmoonlight0604,@arminsgfloll,@avatar4life, @jackiehollanderr,@theblukit2,@demonic-black-queen , @dazecrea, @hoziersfairy ,@go-river-flows ,@babyymeme,@ssc7514,@ducks118,@ok-boke,@myh3artttt,@graysonmalik2550,@vermillionzombie-blog,@elegantzippercashshoe,@perseny,@papichulo120627,@jxrdxnh,@reallysparklychaos,@navs-bhat,@zoexme, @laylasbunbunny,@defiance749,@cheyehc,@ramdomhoe, @nilrilie,@misscaller06,@oh-no-tia,@rgbsona,@midnightliacr, @cupidddd-d, @strnger ,@depressedriches,@ellabellabus07,@lemonmoonmochi, @newjeansbonnie, @silententhusiastdreamer,@im-in-a-pansexual-panik,@ipangbitch46-blog,@libdarkheart, @janelongxox,

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

Tonowari made it a mission to keep his promise to you fulfilled.

“Uturu will no longer be accepted by reef clans”

The echo of the stamp on the paper traveled through the now silent room of shocked council members. Uturu was a universal thing on Pandora, and it was rare for clans to decline an Uturu request. The Metkayina people did have questions, but it was clear that Tonowari would not back down.

He slid the next paper across the table and raised his head, looking at the council members again. “Reef clans will no longer trade with the Omaticaya. They will have to find some other ocean resources without coming onto our lands.”

The bang of the stamp made everyone flinch again, including you. He made sure to read the declarations to you around five times before they were presented to the council to ensure it was alright with you. He knew you were hurting, and he knew it would take a while to erase Jake's influence which took the whole Metkayina tribe by storm.

You had guessed that the declarations affected more than just the Omaticaya because letters began coming in. Other clans, begging and asking Tonowari to reconsider. Clans even vowed to become a separate entity from the Omaticaya, which was a little extreme for some ocean resources.

As you read over one of many letters at dinner, you couldn’t help but to feel bad. All those artists and ocean admirers out there who would suffer because of Jake’s wrongdoing.

“Tonowari…you don’t think this is dramatic do you.” You placed the paper on the table and looked at him with solemn eyes.

“No.” He looked up from his bowl. “Do you think it’s dramatic?”

You sighed and began to stir in your food. “I just…don’t want people thinking I'm a pissy bitch who punished everyone else because I got my heart broken.”

“People won’t think that sweetheart. All of the Metkayina know your story, nobody blames you.” He said softly. “If any of the clans have an issue, they can continue sending letters.” He nodded towards the discarded letter on the table.

“I also don’t want you to make decisions you know will impact the clan solely because I'm upset.”

Tonowari dropped his cutlery and clasped his hands together. “As your husband I am obligated to protect you. Y/n, if you wanted me to fly to their Hometree and burn it down, I'd have a squad ready within the hour. Don’t underestimate my loyalty to you.”

You smiled and reached over the table to envelop his hand in yours. The two of you shared a silent embrace.

Meanwhile on the other side of the globe, Jake sat frowning, clenching a pen in his hand.

He’d been sitting at his desk for hours, figuring out what to write. The note was addressed to you, yet he could think of nothing. There was no way he could apologize at this point. He’d already received backlash from his own clan after being cut off by reef clans, and the news of the Uturu ban had taken all clans by storm.

“Jake, what did I tell you about this?” Neytiri appeared behind him, taking the paper and crumpling it. “You need to spend your days focused on the clan, not worrying about her.”

Jake sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I owe it to her, Tiri. I told her I would never leave I-”

“You told me the same thing.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Jake spun around in his office chair to look at her, “That's different and you know that. We weren’t in love anymore. I needed the space.”

Neytiri sighed, “But we are mated. For life. You should’ve known I would always be back.”

Jake sat silent, knowing she was right. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He couldn't shake you off. He dreamt about you, spent all day thinking about you even while training other soldiers. He wanted to come back, apologize, get on his knees and grovel, but his guilt for leaving Neytiri was also present.

“Okay.” He said in defeat, standing from his desk and placing his arm around Neytiri's waist. “Let's get some rest, yeah? We have a lot of stuff to go over.”

A few weeks later, you and Tonowari got a letter from Jake and Neytiri themselves. They requested your presence at Hometree, and it could only be for one thing.

“I’m not going Wari.” You said quietly.

Tonowari huffed and looked at you with crazed eyes, “Y/n I can’t refuse this. This is a council call.”

“What's a council call?”

“All the forest clans will be there,” He explained, “They’re going to deliberate and pick apart my new policies.”

You placed your hand on your forehead and sat down on the nearest surface. Huffing deeply, you felt yourself wanting to cry again. “This is all my fault.”

“No. No It is not.” Tonowari made his way over and kneeled in front of you. “Look at me.”

You moved your hand and looked your husband in his eyes.

“Jake left you. He hurt you. He broke his promises to you, even though he said he changed. He endangered us all, and I let him.” He reassured you. “I told you I am loyal to you and you only, that's not going to change.” Tonowari grabbed your hands and sighed. You knew he was agitated at the call as well, but according to him there was nothing the two of you could do.

“What if…you didn’t go.” You asked silently.

“It may be considered an act of aggression.”

You hissed and shook your head.

Tonowari tilted his head and looked at you with soft eyes. “You don’t have to go.”

“I am Tsahik. I will attend alongside my husband.” You said confidently. As a leader, you couldn’t run from your responsibilities, not even because of silly emotions. “I won’t let you go there alone.”

Little did the two of you know, the council was already in session, the first day starting the day you got the letter.

Clan leaders yelled in anger as Neytiri broke the news, stating that the two of you didn’t show up. “I have sent many letters over the course of two weeks.” She started. “They have ignored us, so I don’t have confidence they will show up.

”They dare to refuse the council!” One of the leaders yelled. “Use our resources yet cut us off?!”

Jake watched in horror as the council began to get rowdy. Old and young leaders spat insults towards both you and the Metkayina clan.

“Wait. Wait!” He held his hands up, “This is not the answer, give them more time!”

“Enough time has passed, my people are suffering!” A clan leader stood against Jake. “You dared to leave your wife!” He spat. “And now your whore of a mistress has gotten one of our strongest allies to turn against us.”

Jake hissed and grabbed the leader by his shoulders. “Stand. Down.”

The council went silent at Toruk Makto’s sudden outburst. Appalled, Neytiri approached and pulled Jake away from the leader, hissing at him herself. “What are you doing?!”

“Preventing an unneeded war. We already have the RDA on our asses! We don’t need this.” Jake said silently. Neytiri looked at her husband in disbelief, but eerily, her facial expression softened. “You are right.” Jake let out a breath in relief but Neytiri looked back to the circle of clan members, who was thinking the exact same thing as she was.

The council meeting was to be in a few days, and you and Tonowari gathered a group of men to lead the Metkayina in your absence. You traveled by water, riding your skimwings for days at a time to make it back to the forest.

“You can turn around at any time you know that right.” Tonowari looked back at you. You flashed a smile and splashed some water up at him.

“Don’t try and get rid of me too easily.”

The two of you made it to the border of the forest in three days. Now all that was left was to find ikrans, and fly to Hometree.

The two of you found a shore to pull up on, Tonowari grabbing you from under your arms and pulling you up. “Are you alright?” He said once you stood on two feet. You groaned and stretched out, body aching from the trip. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“We can rest.” Tonowari reassured, “We have time.”

You smiled softly, but noticed your husband's ears flinching around. You held your breath and listened out too, hearing something faint in the distance.

“We’re not alone.” He said,

Over the cliff above, multiple na’vi hung over the ledge pointing bows and arrows at the two of you, hooting and yapping. More na’vi emerged from the coves, surrounding both you and Tonowari. Quickly he pulled you in, holding you close as his other hand was surrendering to the na’vi.

“Mawey! Mawey!” Tonowari said harshly

A single na’vi male with piercings approached, circling the two of you.

“Tonowari. Y/n.” He greeted. Tonowari began to speak up but he was quickly shushed by the clan leader.

“Congratulations. The two of you are officially in custody of the Omaticaya clan.”

[pnkvmp]

☆♪ Talk to me? ( Bakugo x gn!bpd!reader comfort )

♪ ~ this is my first fic ever omg I’m a little nervous but I suffer from bpd and I wanted to write a little fic for anyone else who might need comfort through a split, this is just based off of what it feels like when I’m splitting and what triggers me !! I also wanted to give a little heads up I use the term pretty in here as a gender neutral nickname ^_^

♡Summary: You and Mina are close friends and one day she doesn’t talk much to you causing you to split and shut down, your boyfriend bakugo notices and tries comforting you through it.

It was your average day at U.A, the day was going by slowly, your teachers lecture echoing through your hollow brain and the words going in and out the other ear. You tapped the eraser of your pencil on the desk trying to entertain yourself but suddenly caught by the deep voice of your teacher, “alright everyone, That’s it for my lecture today.” and as he picked up his papers and set the chalk down on the ledge of the board he began to step out of the room in favor of the next teacher who would be teaching the next lesson, as he left the idle chitchat in the room grew and you eagerly turned toward your best friend Mina who sat closest to you.

“Hey Mina! You should see this-“ before you could even finish your sentence you noticed she was turned around to Kirishima, chatting and giggling with him, so you tried speaking up again “Hey Mina!-“ and to your own surprise you were once again ignored. You sighed and turned around resting your chin in your palm and tapping your eraser back onto the top of your desk, Mina never usually did this to you did you upset her? Maybe you’ve been on her nerves and she needs a break. The thoughts of why she was ignoring you began to weigh you down as you slightly slumped into your chair.

It wasn’t long before the day had passed, you had made multiple attempts to chat with Mina, and even the others but it seemed like you were just invisible to them for some reason. As you gathered your things to head home you noticed a familiar blonde standing beside you, “Something the matter?” he raised his brow at you already noticing your demeanor, you sighed and looked up at him not really in the mood to talk, negative thoughts weighing in on you and draining you like a battery “m’ fine..” you said as you shut your locker and raised your backpack over your shoulder “your lyin’ it’s written all over your face.” He scoffed as he followed you on your way home, it wasn’t uncommon at all for katsuki to spend the evening with you after school sometimes he would even spend the night and the two of you would walk to school together in the morning, you shrugged him off and the two of you walked to your house in comfortable silence.

Whenever you made it home you threw your backpack onto the floor and katsuki followed suit, he watched as you irritatedly pulled out your cellphone and opened the group chat for the Baku-squad and hovered your finger over the leave button, it quickly caught his interest as he spoke up “woah, what’s going on? Did those idiots say something to you?” sitting down beside you on your bed as close to you as he could, “no, I just don’t want to be friends with them anymore, I didn’t like them anyways..” you scoffed leaving the group chat quickly and bakugo looked at you with a shocked look before realizing what was going on. When the two of you started dating you were very open to him about your disorder and how sometimes when someone wouldn’t talk to you you’d split and start spiraling, this wasn’t the first time you had split on one of your friends in the time of you two dating so he knew what to do and how to help you.

“Woah pretty, let’s calm down. Tell me what happened today.” Bakugo said gently grabbing your hand that was picking at your skin angrily in an effort to stop you, “They wouldn’t talk to me at all! I tried to talk to Mina and she completely ignored me, same with Kiri and Denki they all just hate me I didn’t do anything to them!” You said as you furrowed your brows and scoffed, you started angrily rambling to your boyfriend as you spiraled into a hole of negativity and he quickly stopped you, “Just ignore those damn bastards, they get full of themselves and full of shit sometimes that they don’t even realize there are other people around” he said bitterly, he was quite angry that your group of friends would ignore you and make you feel like this. You sighed and held his hand up to your face and rested your cheek in the palm of his warm hand, “maybe I’m being over dramatic, I’m such a crybaby I don’t know why you put up with me..” Katsuki shook his head and scoffed “Quit saying bullshit like that! You ain’t being over dramatic yer just upset, and you ain’t no crybaby!” he said as he gently pulled on your cheeks “Later when you’re feeling better message those assholes and tell them what they did made you upset you hear me? And if they don’t apologize I’ll make em!” He scoffed as he moved a hand away from your face to set off very minimal explosions in his hand causing you to giggle a little, “alright I will I promise” you sighed looking dreamily at your boyfriend.

Despite what everyone thought about katsuki and how loud and mean he could be he was always sweet with you, it wasn’t like that from the start but he grew on you and you grew on him, it was moments like these that you loved so much about him you loved that he cared so passionately in such a violent way, it always cheered you up. As the evening settled closer to night time the two of you had your individual showers and changed into your pjs, bakugo sat on the bed and you were laying on top of him with your head nestled into his neck and his legs wrapped around yours as he ran his fingers through your hair. The whole ordeal with the bakusquad had been settled and you managed to completely forget why you were even upset as you embraced your boyfriend’s warmth and dozed off to sleep.

[spacelatinoluvr]

THE WOLF & THE DRAGON (6/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 4.2k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: depictions of blood rating: 18+, !MDNI!

BLOOD UPON THE SNOW

To my dear sister Alarra,

The days are longer without you here. Ser Wildrow seems more bored than ever, not having you to torment him. I hope you are well and I hope your sword has not touched the scales of any dragons yet. I have been busy with duties so I have not had the time to write. I assume you are just as busy as I have not received a raven from you just yet. I hope to hear from you soon, I am only a raven away after all.

Cregan

Alarra set the letter down, leaning back in her chair. She missed Cregan terribly. And now the guilt was beginning to eat away at her. She didn’t know exactly what to say to him. She could tell him the good things, how great things were with the little princes. She would not tell him about how awful Ser Criston Cole was, how he tormented her at every waking moment. And she doesn't know why. She assumed he was envious. But why should a knight be envious of a princess? Alarra picked up her quill, filling it with ink before she started to write to her brother.

Dear Cregan,

I am angry at you for not warning me of the waves. They made me terribly sick. My food did not rise like the others but it was still awful! I am well, my dagger has not been in use just yet. I do miss pushing you to the ground. The princes have been a pleasant replacement for you. Jacaerys reminds me of you. I want to come home

Alarra erased the last bit, putting a thick line through it. She crumpled up the piece of parchment, throwing it somewhere across her room. The door creaked open, a knock sounding after.

“Still in your nightgown, my lady?” Eyla entered the room, heading for Alarra who was sitting in her vanity, her hair a tangled mess. “‘Tis early.” Eyla countered, her hands running through Alarra’s hair before she reached for a brush on the table. Eyla noticed a pile of crumpled paper by her bed and let out a tiny snicker.

“Writing is not as easy as it seems.” Alarra grumbled as Eyla tugged through a rough knot in her hair.

“Not as easy as swinging a sword, is it?” Eyla teased, working through the knots. Alarra sighed, leaning her head back as the brush glided through her hair, the knots disappearing slowly. “Just tell him what you truly feel. That is what letters are for are they not?”

“But I do not want him to worry. He already was skeptical about this arrangement-”

“Your brother cares for you, my lady. He only wants to hear from you,” Alarra glanced at the discarded letters on the ground, the words “I want to come home” still etched freshly in her mind. Alarra was still unsure of what to say to Cregan. Maybe she should just pour her heart out to him, telling him exactly how she felt. But, Alarra would not do that. That would only make the girl seem weak. And Alarra knew one thing for certain: she was not weak.

“Jace, you need to fix your posture.” Alarra reprimanded the boy, standing behind him as he was hunched over slightly. Alarra pushed his back lightly, so that he would stand up more. And he instantly stood up, turning his head to glare lightly at Alarra. Alarra grabbed a wooden sword from off of the ground, the one Lucerys had been previously using, and set it between Jace’s shoulder blades, within his arms. He looked like a duck flapping its wings, and he groaned, turning annoyingly to Alarra.

“How am I supposed to yield a sword now?” He slashed mindlessly and unsuccessfully (the sword barely raised above his head), unable to move his arms properly.

“You have to keep your body upright. No more slouching. This will teach you.” Alarra was now in front of him and he gave her an unsatisfied look.

“Go on!” Alarra waved a hand, gesturing for Jace to swing his sword. Lucerys was lightly giggling from behind Jace, and Jace whipped around facing his younger brother. Lucerys quickly stopped laughing, and cleared his throat.

“What is funny Luke?” Alarra had instructed Luke to work on his balance by standing on one foot. He was no longer doing that, and was laughing at his brother instead. Luke straightened up, looking at Alarra with wide eyes. He quickly stood back on one leg and Alarra tried to hide her laugh.

“Alarra?”

“Yes, Luke.” Alarra sighed, her hands on her hips. She had decided to wear a tunic and pants today, for she and the princes were alone in the courtyard early that morning. No one else was to be around, so Alarra deemed it appropriate.

“How much longer do I have to stand like this?” He was wobbling slightly, starting to fall but he caught himself.

“Until I say,” Alarra responded, and Luke paled, starting to wobble more. Alarra let out a laugh, approaching the boy. “Alright, that’s enough for today.” Luke sighed, standing on both of his feet. Alarra had been training the boys for about a week. They were both skilled in swordsmanship but they had a lot of improvement ahead of them. Alarra enjoyed spending time with both of them; they reminded her of home. Alarra felt like Cregan whenever she reprimanded them. She felt closer to him every time she picked up a sword. Jace and Luke left the courtyard after thanking Alarra for her time. Alarra always told them to not thank her because she was glad to share her skill with others. She was happy to help them, it may help them later on.

Alarra was walking through the halls, ready for a bath after sweating all morning, when she passed by a room, the door slightly ajar. Coughing was coming from the room, loud and it echoed into Alarra’s ears. She jolted for the door immediately, instantaneously thinking of her father. The door creaked open loudly, and the king was hunched over his desk as another cough rang out of him.

“Your grace!” Alarra rushed over to him, her hands reaching for his shoulders. The king waved his hands before Alarra could help him, a cough coming from him again before he spoke.

“No, no I am alright!” The king was irritated, his voice coming out harsh like pebbles hitting rocks. He coughed again, breathing in a ragged breath. It was quiet while he breathed in and out and Alarra cleared her throat.

“I apologize, your grace. I was only concerned-”

“What is your name?”

“Alarra, your grace.” He hummed, sitting down harshly in his chair.

“And you are a servant? What are you doing in these parts of the Red Keep?”

“No I-”

“A harlot then? Get on your way-”

“No!” Alarra’s voice was louder than she proposed, and her face was contorted into one of pure disgust. She cleared her throat, wiping her face clean of any open expressions. “Your grace.” She muttered, stepping back a foot.

“A handmaiden, perhaps?” Alarra rolled back her shoulders, tucking her tongue beneath her throat holding in a remark.

“Yes, a…handmaiden.” He clicked his tongue. Alarra figured he wouldn't remember her anyway, a tiny lie would not hurt. He was old and deficit, his brain slower than molasses.

“I knew I’d seen you before.” He muttered quietly to himself, staring at the desk in front of him as he smiled, hundreds of papers laying untouched. Alarra hesitated, glancing at the frail, hunched form of the king as he looked over the pieces of parchment. The king was barely recognizable now, weakened and tired, his hands trembling as he rose them. Alarra slowly backed away, turning to leave the room when the king rang out once more.

“Faces are a blur, and names fade yet you remind me of...” Alarra stopped walking, turning around to look at the king again. The king shook his head, mumbling something before turning back to the scattered pages. “A woman with pants! Now that is a sight to see.” The king yelled as Alarra left the room hurriedly, closing the door tightly. She stood outside the room, looking around the halls to find no one in sight. Alarra really needed that bath.

Otto Hightower scoured the halls, the king nowhere to be found. The king couldn’t have wandered off, somewhere not too far. The hand stopped walking when he heard a cough from inside the king’s study. Otto burst open the door, scaring the king slightly. Otto bounded towards the king, looking exasperated.

“You are assigned bed rest, your grace. You cannot just-“

“I am the king! I will do what I want.” Viserys looked up from the desk at the hand, dropping the papers that were in his palm. Otto glanced at the pages among his desk.

“I told you- the council and I will take care of your affairs.”

“Only I can take care of my affairs. I don’t need you or a girl with pants and a sword at her hip to tell me what to do.” Otto ignored the last part: the king was old and sick after all.

“You can barely speak or walk. I will get a guard to carry you to your chambers.” The king was silent and Otto left the room to find a guard.

Alarra stood outside her chambers, just about to enter when she noticed her door was left cracked open. Alarra knew that she locked her door, she knew for certain that she shut it at least. Her hand hovered above the knob, gazing into the thin gap.

Someone was in there.

It was now nighttime and Alarra did not remember the time of day and how the sun had slipped past her. The room was dimly lit with candles in every space and crevice lighting up the room. She ventured into the room and realized it was unfamiliar.

This was not her room.

Alarra felt that everything was strangely distant, as if veiled in a cloud of mist. Alarra walked further into the room and pale blonde hair appeared in her view. The figure turned around and it appeared to be Helaena who was in her room. She looked deathly afraid, her lip trembling slightly.

“Helaena-” A babe’s cry erupted from Helaena’s arms.

“Protect them.” Helaena whispered, soothing the saddened babe as the crying got louder and louder. The babe had a head of black hair and Alarra gasped as the room seemed to shift, Helaena and the babe now gone from her sight. Alarra’s hand reached out but all that was in front of her was her own hands. She looked down at herself to see a thin white nightgown on her body. When had she put that on?

“Helaena!” Alarra turned, her breath getting caught in her throat. She was now in the hallway but not in the Red Keep but Castle Ward. Her home. Alarra's heart pounded as she took in her surroundings. She hadn’t set foot in Castle Ward in months, yet here she was, standing in the very corridor she knew so well: the cold stone walls, the flickering torches casting shadows along the tapestries she remembered from childhood. The familiar scent of pine and firewood lingered in the air, yet everything felt unnervingly hollow, as though a fog hung over the hall, dulling its colors and muffling its sounds. Alarra paused at an unfamiliar painting. It was larger than the rest and Alarra realized quickly that it was a painting of herself.

Alarra froze, staring up at the painting that loomed over her. In the waving torchlight, her own likeness gazed back yet it wasn’t quite her. The face was familiar, yet older, with shadows cast beneath her eyes and a hint of sorrow etched into her expression. She looked regal and hardened, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword, her posture proud yet burdened. She wore armor emblazoned with the sigil of her house, though it was marred by scratches and dents, as if she’d been through a long, grueling battle. Alarra’s fingers brushed over the frame hesitantly, feeling a chill run through her as she did. A low, distant sound, faint but clear, echoed down the corridor. It was the cry of a babe, the same haunting sound she’d heard moments ago.

A bright light shone down the end of the hall, and Alarra followed the path, the wails getting louder. Alarra peeled open the door at the end of the corridor to find the source. What lay in front of her now was her mother, laying on a bed with a babe in her arms, the crying ceased. Alarra’s eyes shimmered, able to see her mother again now. Tears pricked at Alarra’s eyes as she took in the scene before her. Her mother lay on the bed, looking as she had in Alarra’s memories: soft-eyed and gentle. Her mother held a newborn, swaddled tightly in soft cloth, the babe’s tiny fist clenched around a lock of her mother’s hair. The child’s cries softened at the gentle touch, settling into soft whimpers as her mother rocked him, humming a lullaby Alarra hadn’t heard in years.

“Mother.” Her mother did not notice her, for she was engulfed in the baby before her. Her mother spoke quietly.

“I shall name you…” And then her mother was gone, and Alarra let out a muffled cry, shaking her head. Alarra’s fingers passed through the empty mist that was once her mother and she staggered forward falling to her knees as the ground turned soft. Alarra was in a field of long thick pale needles and flowers of marigold and plum. Her fingers whispered amongst the shrubbery, lightly feeling the tall grassy hill. It was vast, and spread all around her but she could not see too far in front of her for a thick fog encapsulated the air. And then it started to snow.

She first saw a tiny spec of ice fall from the sky and land delicately in her hands. And then the ground was flooded with snow, encasing her legs as she knelt on the ground. It was not cold nor was it hot. Alarra felt at peace. Alarra closed her eyes just for a moment. For what felt like a second, letting the cool icicles settle on her skin as they softly melted away at the touch of her warm face.

The atmosphere around her was still and tranquil, almost as if Alarra was suspended in time and nothing could disturb the serene spirit of the snow. Alarra opened her eyes, the pure white snow had now been stained with a dark crimson color. The snow had been littered with blood all around her and Alarra’s breath caught in her throat again and again. She gulped in the air, turning head in a panic to find more blood scattered in the snow.

“Blood?” Alarra whispered to the emptiness and of course there was no answer for only the stillness of the snow clung to her.

“Vezhvenor.” A figure had appeared through the mist, approaching Alarra. Alarra’s head rose as she looked around her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Helaena was with her once more and she kneeled in front of Alarra.

“Wolves bite…” She started, her eyes scanning Alarra. Alarra finished the sentence for her.

“And dragons take flight.”

Alarra jolted awake in her bed, the sweat slick on her forehead. She was breathing heavily, and she felt her heart as it beat out of her chest. Alarra swung her feet over the edge of her bed, trying to comprehend her dreams. Her visions. The book she had been reading was frozen on her nightstand, and it lay untouched since she had grabbed it from the library. She was scared to read it. To see what it had within its pages for her to read. Alarra rose from her bed to grab a lit candle by her desk, returning to the edge of her bed. She sat the candle next to the book, reaching for the spine.

She sat the book in her lap, flipping open the first page. A picture of Bran the Builder was printed, and she traced the picture. Alarra grew up hearing stories of her ancestors. She knew almost everything about her family. Except what Aemond had shown her. And she was afraid of what the rest of the prophecy entailed. She had marked the page and she played with the book before turning open to the page of the prophecy. She scanned the page, reading the prophecy as a whole.

A prophecy forgotten by the Gods…

A Wolf from the North will bleed into the South.

Blood of a Wolf can start wars, but the blood of a Dragon will end the realm.

When one dragon meets fate, a Wolf will seek refuge.

Packs are large but dragons are much larger.

A Wolf from the North. A Dragon from the South.

Wolves bite, and dragons take flight.

The dragon's flame will burn the sky,

But in its ashes, a Wolf will rise.

Beneath the door, a path will unfold,

A bond of blood to be known by both shadow and light.

The Wolf will reign where it once bled.

For blood and bone is thicker than fire and steel.

Alarra finished reading the page, looking to the next to find that the rest of the next page had been ripped out. Alarra flipped through the rest of the book and it contained nothing but her past. Her house's legacy. Alarra scoffed, slamming the book shut. She knew exactly who did this and where he would be.

“Why did you rip out a page in this book?” Alarra slammed the book down in front of Aemond and he raised his eyes to meet hers, an irritated look on his face. He glanced at her before looking back down at the book on the table. His hair was draped carelessly over his shoulders and Alarra watched as he paid no mind to Alarra’s intrusion.

“That book is centuries old-” He started but Alarra would not have him avoid her inquiry.

“Answer the question.” Alarra bent down, setting her hands on the table inching forward towards Aemond. Alarra knew that she could not intimidate the prince but she still tried.

“The book was like that when I read it.” He responded while maintaining a steady gaze with Alarra. Alarra pushed herself backwards, away from Aemond. She huffed starting to get agitated with him. Liar.

“You are deceitful. And a liar-”

“I do not lie.” Alarra’s gaze hardened.

“That was a lie. All men lie.”

“Well I do not lie.” Alarra paced the floor while looking through the slim windows at the shine of the moon. How had she found herself alone with Aemond again?

“Do you dream during the moon’s rule, my prince?” Alarra raised an eyebrow at him and Aemond froze for a moment before responding softer than before.

“Dreams are not real.”

“But they can be. Your sister-”

“Do not bring my sister into your nightmares.”

“I never said they were night terrors.”

“I can see on your face that they were not pleasant,” Alarra gripped the table with her hands, a flash of anger contorting her features. “Alarra the Fierce scared? I did not think I would rue the day to see such a frightening individual cowering at ink on paper.” Alarra turned around from staring through the window to shoot him a sharp look.

“I am not scared.” She gritted below her teeth.

“Mhm, you call me a liar but you are a liar. Something is bothering Alarra the Fierce.” He said her name like he was mocking her and Alarra’s eyes hardened even more.

“You mock me.”

“I mock no one.”

“You lie again!” Alarra yelled, starting to move gradually towards Aemond. “I knocked you on your royal arse and you would be wise to not humor me.” Aemond stood from his seat, a small smirk on his face.

“Is that a threat?” Alarra was getting hot now.

“A promise.”

“You speak with such certainty…like a dog.” He snarled, slowly making his way over to Alarra. He now stood in front of her, his body towering over hers slightly. Alarra did not know what to do at that moment but remained still. “Do you obey your master like a dog as well?” He questioned, his head tilted to the side. He wanted to get a rise out of her. His hand rose as if he were going to grab her, and Alarra flinched. Aemond hummed lowly, his hand sinking back at his side. Aemond leaned down his face dangerously close to hers. Aemond didn’t know why he touched her. Why did he feel the urge to trace her scar, her face? Why was he so close to her?

The proximity was close; too close and Alarra held her breath for what felt like minutes; hours, waiting for the prince to speak. Aemond’s eyes scanned her face and his hand rose to her face, tracing the line of her scar. He dug his finger, his nail catching the healing skin, and Alarra blinked rapidly, her eyes watering, biting her tongue to swallow down a low groan of pain.

“Threaten me again and you will learn to obey.” His breath fanned over her face now, and Alarra swallowed as his finger traced her scar towards her lips before his hand stopped abruptly and he pulled away from her. He looked at her for a pregnant pause before swiftly turning and leaving the library. Alarra stood there, her thoughts a mess inside her head. Aemond had touched her. He had touched her face. Her scar. He had reached his hand voluntarily to touch her. Alarra raised a hand to touch her scar, feeling the blood already dripping on her cheek. Aemond was provoked by Alarra. But, Alarra was not angry.

No, she was fierce.

In the morning, the first thing Alarra did was visit the princess Helaena. She felt obligated to speak to the girl after her odd dreams. She wanted answers. And she thought that Helaena would give them to her, no matter how confusing her words might be. Helaena was standing on her terrace staring outside at King’s landing before her. At the structures and buildings, at her city. Alarra was behind her and Helaena turned, unafraid as if she was expecting her.

“Lady in Red.”

“Princess, I don't mean to intrude-”

“We spoke last night.”

“I'm sorry, I do not recall-”

“In the mist, we spoke in the mist.” Alarra approached the princess slowly, setting her hands on the railing of the balcony as she looked out into the city. Birds flew past in the morning dew and the sun was just starting to rise from below the skyline.

“I’m…scared.”

“We should all be scared for what is to come,” Helaena walked towards Alarra, standing next to her as Alarra still stared at the city.

“But, why-”

“I do not know. Answers are a precarious thing. Answers are something we seek but cannot find. They are hidden for a reason,” Helaena paused, seeming to gather her thoughts and sucking in a quiet rasp. “I dreamt of you, Lady in Red.” Alarra was getting slightly agitated now.

“Helaena, I do not wear red.” She said swiftly but Helaena’s eyes widened as if she were on the verge of tears and she grabbed Alarra by the shoulders tightly.

“It is not red that you will wear but the blood of those you have slain. Alarra the Fierce; Lady in Red,” Helaena shook Alarra as she held her and Alarra blinked, her face scrunched up in pure astonishment. “You, Alarra, have already begun the path. The door has closed and there is no return from what is to come.”

Cregan,

I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home.

A/N: Thanks so so much for continuing to read! I'm really excited to get more into the fantasy aspects and what roles Helaena will play in this story.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara

[colectingstrz]

THE RECEPTIONIST ☏

➤ (📞) GENRE: fluff, strangers to lovers | PAIRING: jay x fem reader | WC : 1.9k | SUMMARY: When you find your self crushing hard and constantly go to your local hospital just so you could see the cute receptionist again or in which the cute receptionist is amused by your antics and secretly anticipates your return.

SOO’S SMOL NOETY 📝:

𖤐 lowkey off topic but I’m quite embarrassed to say I’ve never seen these pictures of jay before... (＃＞＜) Like ive been stanning enha sine iland as well I don’t get it.. I came across this and was so shocked cuz how come I’ve NEVER SEEN THESE JAY PICS!!?? it’s just added an extra 5 years onto my lifespan (thank you to my man!! 🥰) + this is 80% proof read see a weird word? Erase it from your memory ❤️

YOUR MOTHER WAS DRAMATIC. Everything little thing that happened, she would inflate out of proportion, just like today. When you called her and told her you had some odd rashes, she freaked out and arrived to your university accommodation within 10 minutes. You tried to reassure her that it wasn't deep, but she didn't want to hear it. Assuming the worst, she literally dragged you by your ear to her car and drove you to the hospital.

The whole thing was humiliating as your friends and anyone who lived in your section watched the whole interaction form their windows. You understand your mother wanted to make sure you were alright. Especially as you were the youngest sibling she always was extra mindful of you. But she was doing way to much for your liking. You just wanted to get this over with and go home.

Once you arrived you and your mother approached the counter and rang the bell so that a receptionists could be alerted. Soon a tall male appeared “ I apologise for the wait I had an important call.. what can I do for you miss?” You shot your head up once you heard the voice stepping closer and locking eyes with him .

For you, it was love at first sight. He was cute, he was handsome, and all of the above. You had never seen anyone as attractive as him in your 20 years of living. Who is this angel from above his jawline? I need him to cut me in ha- " y/n sweetie, why don't you explain your problem to the gentleman?"

Oh yeah..my rashes

“uh... I have some rashes uh... that are uh... spreading all over umm..my back” you internally slapped yourself for speaking like that and stuttering it's bad enough you showed up with your mum at your big age and now this..what was he supposed to think of you. It was difficult to concentrate on your words as his deep brown eyes were fixed on you.

He hummed as he scribbled something on his notes, “ladies please sit over there on the red chairs and make yourself comfortable I'll set you up with one of our doctors in a minute ” oh I'll make myself comfortable alright “pardon? ” You covered your mouth with your hands as you gasped, realising you had spoken out loud. Here I am again, embarrassing myself in front of him .

The male chuckled to himself before heading off down the hall.

Later that week more like 2 days after you found yourself at the hospital again Why? Because you were sick sick. Suffering from what? A bad case of I’m attracted to my hospitals receptionist syndrome and you needed an antidote quickly.So What perfect way to curs yourself by seeing the cause instead.

Plus you couldn’t focus at uni he lived in your head rent free and you didn’t even know his name. You wanted to talk to him again to hear his deep voice. Maybe you were obsessed ? Crazy? But you were crazy in love and needed to see him. So during your free you took the train and made your way to the hospital.

As you approached the counter you were met with an unfamiliar pair of eyes it was another receptionist. Where’s the sexy jawline dude who the hell is this old woman? “ umm excuse me ? Where’s the hot receptionist” the lady looked up from her paper and raised a brow eyeing you up and down “ if your a fan girl please excuse yourself out the hospital if your not actually sick “ tch she has an attitude “ uhh..im actually his girlfriend im here to drop somthing off ! I’ll be quick” you forced a smile as she squinted her eyes once more giving you a look as if searching for you obvious lie but she seemed to buy it “ I’ll call him for you stay here ” she disappears into the back and eventually your “boyfriend” comes out.

“ boyfriend ? “ he raised a brow with an amused smile on his face. You will be soon you just don’t know it yet “ i..uhh I only said that so you could come out please don’t misunderstand anything ” he nodded sitting down on the chair “ well then since you requested me what do you need ? ” you didn’t actually come there with a plan. Not having enough time to think of some fake diagnosis to give yourself you chose to be honest.

A sudden wave of confidence washes over you “ I need you ” he raised a brow “pardon ?” You nodd “ you heard me” the male chuckles to himself “you came all the way just to say this.. I’ll applaud you for your determination but im not interested ” im going to throw my self of a building “ don’t speak so soon.. once you get to know me your going to become interested” he hummed “ sure sure” you crossed your arms “ well if your going to reject me can I at least know the name of the guy I’ve been dreaming about ” he smirks “ you’ve been dreaming about me? Your very honest I like that.. and the names jay “ even his name is sexy

“ I’m honest and a lot more things you will like if your willing to find out jay..” you graced your fingers over his lightly before turning off to leave. With a proud smile on your face

Jay didn’t really understand what just happed but he found you amusing. It’s not like he hadn’t had girls come here and put it on him but something about the way you carried yourself and acted was different. He wouldn’t admit it but he hoped to see you some time soon.

As quick as the next day you showed up. You approach the counter to be met with the same old annoying lady “ here to see your boyfriend? I’ll get him ” maybe she’s not so annoying anymore you smiled to yourself as your little lie seemed to be doing you wonders

“ good afternoon jay how’ve you been did you miss me” he rolled his eyes while flicking though some documents “ you’ve been gone for 21 hours.. there’s nothing to miss it hasn’t even been a full day” he was counting..? “ you counted how many hours soooo…you did miss me didn’t you ?” you spoke with a slight blush on your cheeks at the thought that he actually missed you to some extent. Jay noticed this he thought it was cute how easily flustered you got “ your cute when you blush ” hearing him say that you made your legs melt like jelly almost losing balance to the point jay even stood up reaching out for your arm in concern

“ y/n.. are you alright ?” You nodd slowly “ you know my name..” you speak in a dazed tone to which jay smiles “ of course your not someone to forget.. so are you actually sick or.. you came here to see me” what do you think “ no this time I’m actually a little under the weather do you want to know why jay ” he nodded getting out his notepad

“ I’m stuffing from unrequited love.. the guy I like doesn’t feel the same way.. and I think I might die from a broken heart ” you spoke dramatically with a small pout flashing jay your doe eyes hoping he would be tranced by your attempt to be cute and fall in love with you. To your shock he flicked your forehead “ ouch! Why would you do that ! ” he now moved closer to you placing his hands on the counter staring at you deeply

“ it seems your suffering form something else too.. stupidity ” huh? What is that supposed to mean “ what.. please elaborate I’m unaware of this symptom” you speak deeply confused so you move closer to jay urging him for an answer. Almost closing the distance between the two of you. You action caught jay of guard causing him to move back and hide his deep blush with a cough “ that’s a conversation for another time “ you raise a brow “ another time? So you intend to see me again when’s the date ” he laughs “ I never said I was taking you out on a date ” you pout again

“ fine then.. I guess I’ll just go to another hospital form now on..” you turn to leave wishing he would follow you but the more you headed to the entrance you realised he wasn’t. You sighed maybe this is a sign I should move on.

Though just as you stepped foot out the entrance you felt a force pull you to an outside wall pushing you against it. You were shocked to see jay. “ are you that dense y/n” what what what “Huh..? I don’t I.. I don’t understand ” his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips he seemed as if he heisted at the thought of kissing you

“ on second thought.. I-I don’t need to understand if your going to kiss me just do it ” he chuckled lightly placing his finger on your lips “ I want to make that move in a better and more appropriate setting if you get what I mean” he still wants to kiss me so a win is a win.

you couldn’t belive that this whole time jay liked you back you mentally facepalm yourself for being so dense how did you not notice sooner? A regular person would have shooed you away yet he entertained it all. It was so obvious I’m an idiot

He pulls away from you slightly now resting on the wall next to you

“ wait so you really did miss me? ” he nodded but you didn’t fail to miss the small tint of red that was evident on his ears as he attempted to turn away “ yeah.. I actually gave you my number but I guess you didn’t notice “ you raise a brow number HE GAVE ME HIS NUMBER AND I DIDINT NOTICE !?

“ wait wait wait when? “ he shrugged “ on the first day I wrote it on a sheet of paper and when I escorted you and your mom to the doctor I slipped it into your bag since you left it open Damm it this was the 3rd mental facepalming you had revived for your actions, as you do in fact remember seeing a scrunched up ball of paper but assumed it was rubbish and threw it in the trash.

“ I threw that in the bin thinking it was rubbish oh my gosh Jay why didn’t you just straight up say it to me my memory is impeccable!” he smiles “ I wanted to tease you a little bit longer I like seeing you all cute and flustered ” now it was your turn away and hide the blush on your face.

You had so much more you wanted to say to him but the interaction was cut short by that annoying old lady. Yes after what interrupting your lil moment with jay she became annoying again

“ Jay.. stop sucking your girlfriends face off and answer to some customers I’m on my break !” She yells as you could hear her approaching. You turn to jay with a frown. Though Shocking both you and him Jay unknowingly places a quick kiss on your cheek mouthing a small “I’ll see you later” before running back into the hospital.

You sigh as you lean on the wall placing your hand on your cheek as you relived the moment on reply. Again and again and again and again- “ y/n!” you hear jay call out for you. He approached you quickly placing a folded paper in your Palm “ my number.. please don’t throw it away again and call me”

And he sped off again

You smiled to yourself as you held the paper firmly in your hand not wanting to let go. You never knew in your life that you would be thanking your mother for being so dramatic.

@COPYRIGHTS SOOTREEPEAR 2023

𖤐 steal my work and I’ll come to your house and suck your blood 🧛‍♀️

𖤐 This story is very personal to me not that I’ve done this before 💀 but like it’s so real to me cuz this is exactly what i would do if In some other universe jay was a receptionist at my local hospital tho the difference is I’ll just admire him from after 😔 Aniiii ways I hope you liked it !!

- peace and love ♡︎

𖤐 link to my other works

[manicrouge]

Champagne Problems

[ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 07/02/24

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: Reminiscing about the past always leaves a bitter taste in Johnny's mouth. Especially when those memories include you.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 5,814

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt and absolutely ZERO COMFORT!!! Mentions/ implications of alcoholism, angst, implied family issues, suggestive content.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: Pain, suffering and agony. You are welcome.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). Also I would like to have all my work in one place rather than spread across other blogs to avoid confusion !!

ENJOY !!

Please do not post my work to any other platforms, thank you.

He finds it difficult to stomach as he looks out of the window on a train. 

The return from deployment is always bittersweet. In particular, knowing he can return back to his hometown for a short while before having to eventually go back to the base.

But, all of that disappears as he’s sitting on the train, looking out the window as rain bats against it. His eyes can hardly make anything out, it’s far too dark for his eyes to make it much further than the outline of a mountain in the distance. His arms aching and he’s unsure how long he’s been looking out of it. He’s quite sure the sleeve of his jacket is completely soaked from the condensation dripping down the window, pooling on the window sill his elbow is resting on. Still, nothing changes his position, not even the shifts of the cart as it storms along the tracks. 

In his chest, he feels his heart murmur at the thought of getting closer to home.

It’s been a while. 

The silence on the train is unnerving as he turns his eyes away from the window for a moment. Across the aisle from him, there’s another traveller. His head is pressed firmly against the back of the chair as quiet snores escape his open mouth. As he focuses on him, he notes a glistening trail on his chin and grimaces, turning his eyes away from the man, directing his gaze back to the window.

Trains during the night-time are always strange, he was familiar with them when he first joined the army. Travelling to and from always seemed worse during the day, so, he'd opted to stay at the base for an extra day, leaving in the dead of night to catch the last train available home. There was no reason to leave during the day because at night, he knew he could sleep away all the worries, arriving home well rested. 

But then something changed.

After another op, he returned to his schedule of sitting on the train at night, looking down at the sketchbook resting against the table in front of him. Holding a pencil in his hand, he busied himself with a sketch of a familiar face. There were the remains of a mistake engraved into the paper, odd rolls of the rubber sitting on the bend of his notepad as he readied the eraser in his hand in preparation for another.

His tired eyes were heavy as he observed the features of the man on the page, a small grin forming on his face as he thought about the reaction from the man when he saw him again. He’d probably only nod his head at his attempts of drawing him, noting that the details of his mask were a little janky, but that wouldn’t matter; the eyes were perfect. But Johnny knew he would still lie to him because being sincere was not one of his lieutenants specialities. 

‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ 

Setting the pencil down, he raised his head to see you standing in front of him. You smiled at him with a small glass in your hand, holding the seat opposite to him to keep yourself steady. ‘It’s just cause there’s no one else here and my phone died,’ you explained, ‘I won’t make a peep, I promise,’ you added. 

With a short nod, he motions towards the chair opposite to him, moving the pencil tin above his notepad so you had some space to place down your belongings. ‘Aye,’ he says, ‘be my guest, bonnie.’ 

So, you took a seat, placing your backpack on the chair beside you, setting your glass down. He observed the colour of the liquid, the colours faint as the bubbles raise from the bottom of the small glass, dispersing at the top. He recalled how odd he thought it was when he had first seen the funny little drink on the table, only knowing the train-line to serve water and the occasional cup of tea.

‘Champagne,’ you answered, following his eyes to the glass, ‘thought I’d treat myself.' 

‘What’s the special occasion?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow, picking his pencil back up, resuming his portrait of the moody lieutenant. The train creaked at the cart turned slightly, and he caught your hand steading the drink. ‘Ye get a promotion?’ 

Looking at you again, he noted how you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Your eyes fell to the aisle and your chest rose as you took a deep breath. There was something about your apprehension that troubled him, the way your flushed cheeks paled left him wounded for a short while before he realised that he had no clue why he was thinking in such a manner.

It was her eyes, he reminisces while keeping his eyes trained on the window beyond the cart.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, the memories of you still wrapping around his mind as a kids train set does a families Christmas tree during the holidays. Looping round and round and round until it's put into a box. The season in his mind has lasted longer than the measly length of the month of December, spanning years (it seemed). It's torture, yet, despite it being so cruel, he dreads the arrival of the day where he finally has the courage to box you up and shove you to the back of his mind because that would be when he could begin to forget you.

Even after all the years that have passed, he finds his mouth moves as he recalls your response to his question when you had sat opposite to him on the train.

‘Moving out, actually.'

It was just as well everything happened for you on that day, you moved out the day he got the train home. Had anything been different, neither of you would have crossed paths and while agonising, he looks at the stars in the nights sky with an air of gratitude.

You admitted after a while, your eyes falling back onto him as you heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Been stuck in a shitty situation for a while, been sitting around waiting for a chance to get out of it and tonight just so happens to be the night that everything fell back into place.’

Your words haunted him during the night, appearing like a phantom in his dreams, calling out to him. The glint of gratitude in his eyes wavers.

Your words are soft as you spoke and he likened the look you gave him to one of the valleys he had witnessed when he had taken the day train home after his first deployment. A valley with a river right below it in the midst of shrubbery and trees. The water was blue, he could see it when he looked at her. The reflection of the sun reflecting off of the surface, mirroring the rocky trails of the mountains. The sight of such had left him breathless, just as you did when you took a deep breath, reaching out for her glass, bringing it to you mouth. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling a stranger my problems,’ you mumbled. 

‘It’s nae an issue, lass,’ he responded, ‘happy to hear y’ got outta whatever was making ye so miserable,’ he confessed, ‘and Scotland, eh? Pretty place if y’ ask me,’ he said with a short laugh. You laughed with him before taking another sip from your drink.

He watched as you did so, noting the glint in her eyes as you moved your eyes away from him to his notebook. Pulling the glass away from your mouth, you placed it down with a hum, swallowing the last of the drink in your mouth, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. It's a charming sight, clumsy and amusing.

‘You’re good at drawing,’ you noted, pointing at the drawing, ‘is he a character of yours?’ you asked, motioning to the drawing of the man with the skull face. A short chuckle passed his lips as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. 

‘Guess ye could call him that,’ he said, 'someone I know, actually ,' he confessed.

Your brows furrowed, wrinkles forming on your forehead as your eyes grew wide. Your hand ghosted the glass, wetting your fingers with the condensation dripping down the outside as you looked at him with glossy eyes. Fingerprints marked the glass as you forced your hand away.

'I'm so so sorry- I didn't mean it as an insult it's just-'

'Keep the heid, lass,' laughed the man.

You stared at him.

'Relax,' he said, noting the confusion on your face. Your tensed muscles softened as your picked up the glass off of the table, taking a big gulp, finishing the last of the contents in it. He frowns when he notices you shaking. You thought you had done so much wrong with a single observation. 'you weren't to know.'

'Does he really wear that mask?' you whispered as though Simon was right behind you, and had he been, Johnny could say with his heart that he wouldn't have been surprised; the damn man appeared out of nowhere all the time.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Is it part of his job?'

Your intrigue was adorable.

'No, he just prefers to hide his face,' he explained, 'suppose it makes work easier,' he said, nodding to himself. Despite his time knowing Simon, he never did know why he covered his face. Of course, it kept the human version of the man from the man who committed countless atrocities in the name of justice, yet, the point you brought up left him thinking for a short moment.

'You work together?' you asked, 'what do you do for work?'

'Part of the military,' he told you frankly, 'he's my lieutenant,' he added, although, he didn't care to tell you much more as he looked at the you with a furrowed brow, not wanting to leave you with enough time to respond to his confession, 'what about you, lass?'

'I write,' you said, 'I got a remote position at a publishing company, that's whats given me the money to move out.'

'I enjoy writin' from time to time,' he responded, 'not that good at it though, prefer drawing,' he uttered.

You were though, he didn't even bothers to think of your response because, truthfully, your humbleness in terms of your own talent was wounding to his own love for writing. As he would with advertisements, inwardly, he skips by all the small talk in his mind. It's cruel the way the mind works; memory was a burden to hold, yet as entertaining as a late night TV show which was to only be watched in secrecy.

'What's your name?' you asked, picking up another cup of champagne. He watched as you did so, lifting his own cup that you had gotten for him when you had excused yourself to the bathroom.

He kept his distaste of the beverage to himself, besides, it was free.

'Johnny,' he answered, ' and y'urself, bonnie?'

You answer accordingly, stating your name with a smile. Repeating your name, he finds it rolls off his tongue well and the longer he observes you, the more a conclusion dawned upon him.

'Suits ye well,' he complimented with a wink.

Rubbing his face with his hand, his breath fogs against the window of the train and he turns his head away, absentmindedly wiping down the window with the sleeve of his puffer jacket. In the meantime, he busies himself looking at the empty seat opposite to him.

In the blink of an eye, you're there, sitting across from him.

'When do you get off?' he asked.

'Last stop,' you answered, 'staying at a hotel for a few days before my place is ready... was eager to leave,' you said. As soon as the words passed your lips, he felt compelled to be a gentleman. That, alongside taking into account the trouble that could have occurred if you did walk to the hotel alone, besides, the least he could have done for you buying him a drink and keeping him company was help you find you way to your hotel.

'We can share a cab if ye want,' he offered, 'put my mind at ease, wanna make sure you get there safe, besides, far too cold for ye to be walkin', bonnie,' he said, biting the inside of his mouth as he awaited your refusal, only, you nodded your head and smiled.

'I'd appreciate that, Johnny.'

His memories blur for a while after that, and his cheeks flushed red as he recalls how you looked at him before you got out of the cab. Glancing at the same hand that paid the fare only far enough to go to your hotel he curses as he watches the memory of him getting out of the taxi to chase after you.

You waited for him at the entrance in hope he'd have a change of heart, and he recalls how delighted you were when he walked through the door and caught you standing there, waiting for him.

Truthfully, he knew he was in deep shit when he felt the way you wrapped around him, the way you called his name, and how pretty you looked underneath him. Even after years, it was difficult to escape the thought of your first night together. Perhaps it was the entire being strangers thing that made the sex much more enthralling than any other one night stand he had had, or maybe it was just you.

Shoulda never let her have me number, he thought to himself.

It was difficult to deny that there were only ever terrible times. Resentment bubbles and it turns the fondest of moments to the worse; there was something there for him to miss when he thinks fondly of you. Fondness makes forgetting a hell of a lot harder, at least it does for him, anyway.

He hardly even thinks about Graves anymore and he resents him.

He resents you too.

But whenever he thinks of you, he thinks of your laughter. And then the guilt seeps in and he curses himself for ever thinking so lowly of you in the first place. How fucking dare he do something so terrible. You deserve it, though, for all the shit you put him through: the bruised heart thats still bandaged up, the sleepless nights as he waited for you to come home, the drunken phone calls he would get while on an op.

All of it.

Then there was everything else: the moments you shared together, the sound of your laughter which would seemingly travel down the halls of your apartment and wake him whenever you spent the night together, the sight of you in his shirt while cooking breakfast in the morning and your excitement when you finally persuaded him to dance with you.

The last one was particularly difficult to forget. His fondness will never let him let it go, he's convinced.

In the depths of the night, you danced together. He acknowledged the look on your face as he held you in your arms, the laughter as he spun you around in a circle, pulling you away just for you to end right back in his arms. He'd never let you wonder too far, scared that if he lost grip of your hand, you would have disappeared forever.

It became a routine and he recalls all the times he had held you in his arms while dancing to a song by Sinatra or Aretha Franklin and all the times he saw you smile. All of those happy moments moulded into one, while only a few stuck out.

During that night in particular, he couldn't look away from your eyes.

Whenever he looked at you, he was started by the glint of colours in your eyes, reflective of the colourful lights you had decorated your Christmas tree with. Rather, instead of decorating the tree, the lights in your eyes worked well in decorating the brambles you called eyelashes as you looked up at him. Every time you blinked, he found the same glossy sheen he had seen that night on the train. Every blink seemed to edge you closer to tears, as though your eyelashes were antagonising your poor eyes constantly.

Then he smelt the liquor on you breath and was reminded of the underlining truth of everything.

You were always emotional whenever you had something to drink. It couldn't have been helped, it was simply who you were, and he was going to resent you for something you couldn't have helped.

'Yer oot yer face,' he mumbled, speaking softly to you as you swayed with one another to the low hum of music from your vinyl player. Neither of you noticed how the song skipped, far too busy with one another to notice such a flaw.

'English, MacTavish,' you answered, your tone gruff as you recalled the story he had told you about the man with the skull mask and the city soaked in blood. He chuckled, pulling you closer, resting his head against your shoulder, looking at you. You turned your head to the side to look at him too.

'You're drunk,' he said quietly.

'I only had a glass,' you answered abruptly. You tensed in his arms when you responded to him and he felt his head sink further down until it sat, burning in the acid of his stomach. 'I had it while I was making dinner; the sauce had some of it in,' you explained, turning in his arms so your chests were pressed against each others. placing your hand against his face. You looked worried in that moment, observing his features. 'You're not mad at me, are you?'

Placing his hand over yours, he sighed, 'nae, bonnie, just don't want ye to hurt y'urself,' he explained, pulling your hand from off of his face, planting a kiss atop of it, moving his other hand from the small of your back to hold your waist. 'Love you too much for ye to do that,' he said, letting go of your hand to place his fingers beneath your chin, forcing your head up so you were looking at him. 'Y'know that.'

'I do,' you weakly answered.

The only bastard 'I do' he ever got from your lips. It was laughable really as he looks back on that night, how the pair of you had been so close in your home, dancing together as though you were an elderly couple celebrating your 40th wedding anniversary together.

Think I'll live that long?

Probably not.

Had anyone from 141 been there to witness how he fell to pieces with you in his arms, they very well would have laughed until they were blue in the face. And the longer he looks out the window out on the Scottish countryside, he concludes he too would laugh at that man dancing with you for being such a smitten fool.

'Good,' he hummed, pressing a kiss against your lips. The were chapped, dry, but he didn't care. Instead, he deepened the kiss as the pair of you stumbled backwards, muffled laughter escaping you as you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while he kept the pair of you from falling.

Moments of happiness seemed so common in the beginning.

The night trains shifted to day trains again.

He'd hit the ground running after returning from an op, only showering because he didn't want you to smell the remnants of war which stained him and his skin. Nothing kept him from seeing you, not even his distaste for the day train.

All of it meant that he could get home sooner; he recalled the sinking feeling in his chest whenever the trains were delayed by a measly twenty minutes. Love made him a different man, he realised, a man who enjoyed the day train and the man who loathed the night train.

'I thought you weren't going to be home for another couple of days,' you said, opening the door to see Johnny standing there with a bag on his arm. Dropping it, he pulled you into a tight hug, resting his hand against the back of your head as he swayed you from side to side. 'Did you get the day train for me?' you asked.

Pulling away, he caught sight of the smile creeping onto you face as he nodded his head slowly, 'didn't wanna wait longer than I had to,' he answered, 'saw a photo of ye in me wallet an' knew I needed to be here with you sooner,' he added, pressing a kiss onto your lips as your cheeks flushed red.

'You have a picture of me in your wallet?' you quietly asked when he pulled away for you. He smiled.

'Of course I do, bonnie,' he responded as though such was an obvious fact, 'need to see that face of yours every day, ye like medicine to me.'

'Really?'

'Aye, lass.'

Everything moved so quickly and it wasn't long before you were well acquainted with his mam.

Meeting his mother was the confirmation he needed to say that he wanted to marry you. No one else in the world mattered when he saw how you and his sisters bonded, and while sitting alone on the train, he clenched a his fist at the emptiness of the palm of his hand while imagining the light weight of the ring his mother had placed in the palm of his hand while he stood in the kitchen helping her prepare the Christmas dinner. It had been over two years since the pair of you had started dating when she did so, working well to convince him that the timing meant that something else in the universe had willed it to happen.

'Mam?' he asked, looking down at the ring in his hand.

The band was quaint, golden as an green gem stared him in the eyes as he squinted, holding it up to the yellow light of the kitchen. The elderly woman in front of him chuckled, patting his shoulder as she walked past him to open the oven.

'Well, she's the one, ain't she?' she said, speaking into the heat of the oven as she grabbed the tray of duck-fat potatoes with a stained tea towel.

'Ye think?'

'Gonnae no’ dae that!' exclaimed his mother.

'Don't do what?' he scoffed.

'Act surprised,' she scolded, 'it's in ye eyes, son,' she chuckled. 'Yer nana told me to give ye the ring when I thought ye'd found the right one,' she confessed, 'and with your father gone, 'ave got no reason to wear it, but she has,' she uttered, looking from out of the kitchen into the living room.

His eyes followed hers and he watched as you sat with his youngest sister. The pair of you chatted away, though his stomach twisted at the sight of you holding a glass in your hand.

'She's a good girl, Johnny.'

'Aye, mam, I know.'

'So, marry her.'

With his mam's words echoing in his mind, the memories always came to the one that caused all the air in his lungs to escape.

Nothing wants to stay whenever he thinks of that, and he's sure if he was wounded, all his blood would leave him in a second in order to stay out of the cycle in his head that always brings him back to this one thought.

He supposes, in hindsight, it was terribly foolish what he had done. His ignorance to pressing issues was immature and irresponsible, only, they were easy to ignore when he had his mothers ring in his pocket. But he noticed, years down the line, how you had dropped his hand when the pair of you had been dancing, all to go and get another drink because the glass in your hand was running dry.

The party was one you both had planned, only, you had done so to celebrate a win himself and the boys had had during their time away, and he had invited everyone with the intent of proposing to the love of his life.

In the moment, he had been so crushed. He recalls how his mouth was dry, the dull ache in his cut knee as he awkwardly remained kneeled as you stood and stared. The speech he had prepared disappeared when you turned your back on him and rushed away, leaving his ego bleeding as everyone looked at him in horror.

'I just... I don't know why you would do it,' you mumbled when you heard him walk through the door into the kitchen away from the guests.

He was silent as he looked at you, traces of a storm in his eyes as he fought off the urge to cry. His chest hurt as he looked at you with a glass in your hand, and he couldn't do anything but stand there and watch as you drank from it. 'I told you, Johnny, I fucking warned you and-'

'I thought ye would've had a change of heart, love-'

'Well I haven't!' you angrily snapped, slamming your glass down onto the counter, glaring at him. 'What, did you think just because I'd have a ring on my finger all of our fuckin' issues are going to disappear? You're a smart man, Johnny, stop trying to play the role of the fool. It doesn't suit you and it never will.'

You were just as embarrassed as he was. He curses himself while sitting on the train, thinking back to your flushed cheeks and teary eyes. It wasn't only because of the booze that time, it was because of him too.

'I- I'm trying, John, can't you see that?' you croaked, 'I'm trying but I can't be everything you want. I don't wanna get married... at least not yet.'

'Ye don't love me,' he blurted.

You snapped your head up, furrowing your brows as you looked at him with wide eyes. 'Is that serious what you think?' you shakily asked, disbelief etched into your features. 'So what? You think all the fuckin' nights I've spent worried that you're not gonna come home when you're away working were for-'

'All the fuckin' nights you spent with a bottle in your hand too, eh?' he quickly cut you off, retorting in a manner that had left you breathless, draining all the colour out of your face. 'Don't pull that card on me, bonnie, don't you fuckin' dare do it 'cause I worry more about you and your drinkin' habit than I do my own life when I'm out on the field- tell me how you think that's fair!'

You stared at him, your eyes drifting to the empty glass abandoned on the counter. It was unfair for him to pull that card, he was aware enough in the moment to understand it, but he was so utterly devastated that he chose to stand his ground. An apology wouldn't have mean anything even if he had said it.

'If ye loved me... you'd stop goin' to the bottle every time ye have an issue,' he bleakly said, 'but am not even sure if you would pick me over the drink anymore, bonnie.'

'How would me saying yes to you fix any of that?'

He stayed silent.

Reflection allows him to find that he only ever proposed out of love. He was aware of your issues, noting it was never always smooth sailing from either of you, but he supposes he just wanted to have proof that at least once, you would pick him rather than the liquor.

But he was stupid for ever thinking you were more than your champagne problems.

'Getting married would only complicate things between us, John. You know that,' you said after a while of silence, 'and clearly, we don't listen to each other... I'm sorry I embarrassed you today, and I'm sorry I keep causing you to worry- I'm sorry for being such a burden to you but you don't make it easy for me,' you uttered, rubbing your face with your hands, wiping away the tears that fell down your scarlet cheeks.

There was nothing else for him to say to you, and he's ashamed at the very fact that, in the moment you needed him the most, he walked out of that room and left you there crying, alone.

As the train turns on the tracks again, he ponders what would have been different if he had stayed there with you, only, he finds his mind drifting to the words on a page which confirms exactly why he was thinking.

He was only prolonging the inevitable.

As he turns to the final page in his notebook, he finds it difficult to breath as he retrieves the piece of paper he had pushed to the back of it, unfolding it. Pressing his hand against it, he leaves it to sit on top of the page marked with splashes of the drink you had spilled, unable to find the strength as he stares down at the words scrawled on the page.

A crude reminder of what became of his engagement.

'Johnny,

In time, I hope you'll forget about all my problems and find someone who you deserve. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused and I'm sorry for not being ready for you.

Give your mums ring to someone who deserves it and put the special ladies picture in your wallet instead of mine. For the sake of yourself and me.

I love you, Johnny, nearly too much, and while you will see my absence as cruel, know I see it as necessary and that's the issue; we never have seen eye to eye on a lot of things.

We're not ready for each other, I know you think it but you're too scared to say it, so I'll bite the bullet and say it for you. We're not ready for each other, Johnny.

Love shouldn't be a tug-of-war, and I grow tired for you watching as you always try and pull me to you. Besides, I heard your mother after you left the room, she said I was fucked in the head for not agreeing to your proposal and it leaves me wondering what type of person you've made your family believe I am.

I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted, but know that everything I'm doing: leaving, writing this letter, not saying goodbye to you in person, is for you. You always said you hated goodbyes; they were the hardest part of your career, and I can't promise that I wouldn't run back into your arms the second you'd open your mouth and beg me not to go.

But I'm prolonging the inevitable by staying with you.

I'm making you miserable with my problems and that is not what I want you to do. You have a life, and you had a life before we met on that train.

All I ever did was make you worry and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want you to worry about me, I just want you to move on and love and be loved. I'm going to work on myself and I'm going to get better because I know that that is what you want, and in truth, it's what I want too.

I love you and I fear I always will, but I can't have you, and I'm punishing you and myself by staying here.'

He turns his head away from the letter, looking back to the window at the small dots through the foggy water as he utters the last part of the letter under his breath. 'One day, we may meet again, perhaps the stars will align and you'll see me on a nighttime train back to your home town. And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

A breathy laugh escapes him, repeating 'And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

How appalling it would be when you realised that you leaving only resulted in the reversal of roles. At least, he likes to think he would have the strength to refuse you if he's to ever see you again.

When he turns away from the window, relieving himself of the pain of remembering all that has gone wrong in his life, he takes the letter from off of his notepad, folding it along the worn edges, pushing it back in a small slip at the back of the notepad.

Shrugging off his jacket, he put it on the seat beside him with a hard sigh, turning his attention back to the notepad in front of him. The nights long and his journey proceeds to drag his feet and he's unsure if he even wants to be back home or if he should have just stayed in the base until Price needed him next. But it's Christmas and he couldn't have left his family because of his own sorrow about something that happened years ago.

He just misses you more in the holidays, but he supposes that's okay as long as he doesn't let the phantom you left him with ruin everything. So, he picks up the pencil and pursues what he was doing the night you two met, only this time, there's a ghost sitting opposite to him, not the living thing that greeted him many moons ago.

His ignorance to the world around him keeps him from hearing the footsteps storming up the aisle after the train stops at a station. Even when the voice of a woman announcing the last stop enters his ears, he doesn't lift his head. All the noise culminates into a twisting storm, similar to how he imagines the billowing smoke exuding from a chimney on a winter night swirls in the wind. It's deplorable and he grunts as he attempts to chase the flurry of emotions away.

His efforts result in even more tension at the front of his mind as he looks into the eyes of the drawing he's sketching, realising just whose eyes he had depicted in the midst of his worry. Even after all the time has passed, he's impressed by the fact that he still remembers your features so well.

Always so difficult to forget, he supposes his contemplation proves such.

Then he hears it.

The very thing that works to break him free.

A quaint shaky breath.

A shadow covers his bulky frame, light peering from either side of the mass standing on the aisle holding onto the seat opposite him. Lifting his head, his lungs rattle in his chest as he realises the eyes he had been sketching in his notepad are right before him in human form, staring right back at him.

'Johnny?'

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: implied torture

“[Hero], I– I’m so sorry…”

The hero doesn’t even look at the villain. Their head is bent, staring distantly at a crack in the concrete floor. “It’s okay.”

The villain had called the superhero’s bluff. Tried to, at least. They never thought a superhero could be so cruel to one of their own. But the superhero had been more than happy to prove them wrong, to make the villain watch him inflict nothing but agony on the hero until they’d finally spat out exactly what the superhero wanted.

The supervillain probably doesn't stand a chance now. They don’t care.

Even from their own dingy cell the villain can see the blood seeping mockingly through the hero’s shirt. Their palms rub together mindlessly like that’ll erase the crimson nightmare from their hands. They seem like they’re barely conscious, blankly honed into the tiny blemish on the floor like it’s a portal they’re waiting to open.

None of this is okay. The hero’s just saying that. The villain kind of wishes they’d just gone and died in the street like the supervillain had intended. At least that would’ve saved them both from this.

The hero is sitting on the floor, not moving except to scrub at their hands, but the villain is restlessly pacing back and forth. They have so much pent up energy from the last hour—it has to go somewhere.

“We’re gonna get out,” they say into the silence.

“We’re not.”

The villain turns to the hero a little harsher than they meant to. The hero flinches even from several metres away, and the villain’s heart crushes just that little bit more. “We are, [Hero]. We’re gonna get out and [Superhero] is never gonna touch you again.”

The hero makes some noise that is clearly meant to be a scoff but comes out as more of a broken sob. “Big dreams.”

The villain doesn’t bother commenting on that. “No window, no lockpicking.” They glance around for ideas. “No bribery, I’d assume. No help.”

“How long were you here before… we spoke?”

The villain pauses. “In prison? I don’t know, a few days.”

The hero frowns. The villain doesn’t like it. “Have you not tried breaking out before?”

“I didn’t think I had anything to live for before.” The villain carries on glancing around to avoid looking at the way the hero’s face twists like they don’t believe them.

-

“There you are, you little shit,” is the greeting the superhero gives the villain. “Your codes were bullshit, weren’t they?”

He glares at them expectantly. There’s a lump in the villain’s throat that words seem to be stuck behind. “I– I gave you what you wanted.”

“Like hell you did.” The superhero throws an aimless hand over his desk. The villain’s papers are all over the place, various scrawls across their pages in a clear attempt to figure them out. “Your so-called codes didn’t work.”

The villain’s mind is blank. That can’t be right. They gave him the fucking codes. He should be descending on the supervillain this very moment, but instead he’s here, claiming they don’t work—

“Wouldn’t want your special sweetheart to feel the consequences of this, would we?”

The villain’s gaze snaps back to where the superhero’s smirking at them knowingly. They want to smack that look clean off his face. He knows too much, and now he’s using it all against them. The hero is back here, suffering the fate they fell into the villain’s grasp trying to escape, and they’re back here because of them. The villain feels sick at the thought.

“I gave you the fucking codes,” the villain spits. “It’s not my fault if you’re too thick to use them.”

The superhero’s face momentarily twitches in hatred, but it doesn’t last long. “Not to worry,” he says smoothly. He waves a hand for the security guard at the door to step forward. “I’m sure I can get an answer out of you pretty easily, hm?”

For a moment the villain can feel the burn of rope on their wrists, their throat sore, their eyes hot with tears of sickness and horror and guilt.

The security guard touches a hand to their arm, and before they can think about what they’re doing they turn around and punch him in the face.

The superhero’s on his feet immediately but the villain’s already moving. A quick boot to the middle keeps the security guard on the floor, and they meet the superhero at the desk without a thought. He tries to point a pistol at them but they butt it out of his hand, kicking it across the floor for good measure.

The superhero throws a fist at them and connects with their shoulder with the fury of the sun. The villain stumbles and the superhero’s confidence throws him in for a second blow. They dodge back, just, jabbing an elbow into the side of his face. The superhero staggers with an enraged cry and the villain leaps the desk to make for the gun.

It’s in their hand before either of the two can realise what’s happened. “Okay,” the villain says slowly. Their shoulder is throbbing but they have no time to think about it right now. “I’m gonna leave, and you’re not gonna say jackshit when I do.”

The superhero laughs, the sound wet with blood. “You won’t get far without death following you.”

“My paperwork’s still encoded. I’m not too worried.”

And with that they’re out into the corridor, more than happy to spend the superhero’s bullets on anyone stupid enough to come near them.

An alarm whirrs, drooping the halls in flashing red light. They’re lost, unaccustomed to wandering the corridors alone, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll get to where they need to be. They just have to survive first.

“Don’t worry, [Hero],” the villain whispers, like saying it outloud is a promise. “I’m coming.”

(next part)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer

[bonezone44]

Muddy Waters, pt 3. (18+)

'Lateralus'

Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You and Joel spend an evening together. It's romantic. And awkward. The next morning, you and Ezra have 'quality time.' It's filthy.

Word Count: 8,8k 

part 1, part 2 ----- part 4

tags: NSFW 18+. Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Polyam. No use of Y/N.

This Chapter: Pet names: baby, darlin, 'shy girl'. Oral (f receiving), fingering, objectification (maybe?), rough/painful P in V, bicurious!Ezra, dirty talk re: anal, threesome, double penetration, math, activities involving a hairbrush, cuckolding.

Warnings: Country music, slow dancing, romance. 

Author's Note: I feel like I'm fresh from the trenches. My body hurts from sitting at the computer and ruminating! I suffer for my art!

----

That night, once Joel had finally peeled himself off of you, you got up from the kitchen table and started talking to him like nothing had happened. He tried to grab a rag to help clean you up, but you waved him off and grabbed it yourself. You washed the glasses and put away the liquor. You even made sure the table was in its right spot and the chairs were back underneath it. You made it look as if you had never been there to begin with. No remnants of you at all.

Something about it made him feel used.

Then Ellie walked back in the house.

And you looked just as shocked as he did.

“Joel!” Ellie whined.

You were able to compose yourself faster than he was, hands held carefully in front of the cum stains on your clothes.

“Jesse?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Ugh!” Ellie groaned and stomped. “Is it that obvious?”

You offered a sympathetic smile.

“Joel. Jesse is ruining me and Dina’s house plans!”

Joel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of you. Utterly befuddled.

“I’ll let you handle this,” you whispered. You waved good-bye the same way you did after your first visit. All nice and friendly-like as you stepped out the front door.

What the hell?

Now he was really confused by you.

“Joel! Are you listening?” Ellie waved her hand in his face.

“What?”

“Dina showed Jesse our house plans and now he wants to make ALL these changes and they’re bullshit, okay?”

“Wait, what houseplans?” Joel tried to orient himself.

“You said I have to follow your rules as long as I’m under your roof.”

“Okay?”

“So we’re gonna build us a new roof!” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And put a house underneath it! But look!” She slammed a piece of paper down on the table. Right where you had been sitting only minutes before.

Joel’s stomach turned.

“Look at the bathroom!” She pointed to the drawing, pencil lines drawn and erased several times. “Anytime I tell Jesse anything, he has to do the opposite. He wants to put the toilet and the shower and the sink on all different walls—”

“Well, Ellie,” Joel cleared his throat, trying to focus himself. “Y-you really wanna have all your water in a line on one wall–”

“That’s what I told him!”

Joel looked one last time out the front door, but you were long gone.

There was no way–absolutely–no–way that you knew that Ellie would come back home instead of staying at Dina’s overnight like she had said she would. And yet you got up and cleaned the place as if you did. 

Joel didn’t like that. He didn’t like the burning it made him feel in his chest, like a fresh wound stinging in the open air.

And, once more, you got away without him learning where you lived.

And now he really couldn’t ask someone in town. They would know there was something between the two of you for sure. It would be written in red all over his face. And he wasn’t ready for that.

He would have to wait again. Wait until the two of you happened to cross paths in town or by the stables. Or, if Lady Luck was favoring him, you would walk by his house, and he could invite you in again.

Joel didn’t like waiting. Especially when he had already had a taste of what he wanted. Not even a real taste at that. His hands never crept under your shit. His mouth never went lower than your neck. He didn’t see your bellybutton–your pants were pulled up too high. He can’t remember if he even held your hands.

It was like getting the scent of coffee wafting by and not being able to take a sip. He couldn’t find where the goddamn coffeepot lived, for Christ’s sake.

But at least you were out and about again. That was something to look forward to–aching every day for the sight of your smiling face, walking in the sunshine, and knowing you were aching for him right back.

‘Poor Ezra,’ Joel thought. ‘That man’s not gonna know what hit him.’

+++++

The next time you visited Joel, it was Friday night after dinner. He had found you in town to invite you–said something about Ellie staying out ‘for real this time.’ And before you parted ways, you made sure to tease him for ‘looking for you.’

But once you got home to get ready, you became an anxious mess.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Ezra,” you said as you stood naked in your shared bedroom, digging through your clothes dresser. “Is-is this okay? I mean, am I being selfish?”

“Selfish?” Ezra smirked with furrowed brows. “You think anyone else in this town wants to fuck that old man?”

“Ezra!” You turned to him with a gasp and slapped him hard on the arm. You couldn’t fight back your smile.

He chuckled. “I would like to point out that you did not answer the question.” He raised his brows, lines drawn on his forehead. “And it is certainly a fair one. Shit, baby.” He placed his hand on his chest with his fingers splayed. “The way I see it–” His eyes were wide and serious. “--You’re doing this town a favor. You fuckin him is a goddamn public service. Maybe while you’re over there you can pull that giant stick out of his ass.”

“Ezra.” You groaned. “You’re not helpin me.”

“Well,” he held his palm out. “I am supplyin you with my perspective of the matter. I suppose it is up to you, then, to determine how you feel about the whole situation.”

Part of you wished that Ezra could read your mind and figure it all out for you, but he clearly wasn’t even gonna try. You sighed. “... I want it, you know?” You stared down at the top of your dresser, covered in clothes and books. “But I don’t understand why. I don’t–I mean–shouldn’t–” you huffed and faced Ezra. “Should you be enough? Why do I want this?”

“You are an evolved woman.” He held your hands within his own and looked into your eyes. “And you are precious to me. And if you believe that this will make you happy, then why are you worried about whether it is something you should or should not do?”

You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose. “I just… I need it to make sense.”

Ezra stood from the bed. He released your hands and slid his fingers up your arms, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You opened your eyes again when he cradled your cheeks. “Not everything is going to fit into a pretty little box for you to define and decipher. Embrace the random,” he said with a grin. “Ride the spiral to the end.”

You fought back a smile. “It may just go where no one’s been.”

“That’s right, baby,” he muttered and kissed you softly on your lips. “Now c’mon. You need to get dressed.” He smacked your bare hip with the flat of his hand, causing you to yelp. 

How was Ezra so sweet and so perfect to you? You rested your forehead in your palm, smiling and shaking your head. “I-I don’t know what to wear.”

“Wear the blue number,” Ezra suggested with a wink. He was sitting on the bed again with his left ankle crossed on his right knee. His right knee jumped up and down.

Your lips curled in. The blue number–named affectionately by Ezra himself. It was a bra and panties from two completely different lingerie sets whose shades of blue vaguely matched. They weren’t even the same material. The panties were a simple cotton and the bra was a dull satin–the wire long gone. He enjoyed it, though. Not that it ever stayed on for long.

“No,” you shook your head resolutely. “That’s for you. I don’t wanna wear it for him.”

Ezra leaned back on his elbows with a thoughtful look. “Well, then wear whatever makes you comfortable, baby.”

Now that was the right idea. Comfort. That’s what you really needed.

You didn’t want to spend the whole evening tugging on your clothes and worrying about your appearance. You wanted to focus on Joel. Focus on yourself. Focus on whatever the hell was bringing you two together.

Turned out, Joel had dressed up for you. Your chest warmed when he opened his front door. His hair was brushed neat and his beard was freshly trimmed. You swore he even ironed his button-up shirt; deep clay red with tortoise shell-looking buttons.

“You look amazing,” you blurted out after your quiet hello’s.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“I feel so underdressed,” you said quickly, watching him close the door behind you. “I was so nervous about someone seein me walk over here all dolled up so I just put this on. I hope that’s okay.” You wore your favorite long sleeve shirt and jeans. The comfort of it wasn’t make you feel as confident as you had hoped. Not with Joel looking sharp and smelling crisp with cologne.

He walked to your front, placed both hands on your lower back, and gently pulled you close. “I think you look beautiful,” he spoke softly.

You wanted to wave him off, part of you unconvinced, but he leaned forward a little more and pressed his lips into yours. There was no tug or pull, no beginning or end. It was light and playful the way your mouths met. His facial hair tickling your skin.

It made your cheeks burn. Your hands slid up his arms, resting on his broad shoulders. The fabric of his shirt was smooth and felt almost new.

He stepped backwards and you stepped with him–his hands guiding you further into the living room, lit warmly by table lamps. Excitement was already heating you within. The house was quiet and still.

“So, no Ellie tonight?” you asked.

“Some kinda campin trip for the older kids.” He huffed and shook his head. “I can’t figure why they wanna sleep outside.”

You grimaced. “Campin stopped bein fun a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.” He leaned forward for another kiss. As light and teasing as the one before. It felt good. Comfortable. You were a little embarrassed, though, by how quickly he could turn you on and how easily you let him pull you in. Ezra had to do the work, sometimes, to get you to relax.

“What did you uhh… have planned for us?” you asked in an attempt to slow things down a bit.

He nosed your cheek. “We can do whatever you want, darlin.”

You scoffed with a smile. “You invited me over.” Your hands slid down to his arms and squeezed. They were warm and firm beneath your fingers. “I’m not here to just fool around.”

He stood tall, his hands rising to your waist, thumbs sliding back and forth. “You’re not?” he smirked.

You laughed. “I am your guest, Joel.” You smirked right back. “Entertain me.”

“Okay.” He nodded with a sparkle in his eye. “Alright.” He let you go and walked over to the corner of the room, fiddling with something on the end table while you fiddled with your too-casual outfit.

Shit, you felt silly. You felt out of place and out of time. He looked beautiful over there with his shirt tucked into his dark denim. Long fingers messing around with an old stereo. He looked mature. Sturdy. Put together. In fact, his whole house was nice and clean and organized. Nothing appearing out of place. His presence felt like a towering mountain and you–you felt like a street puddle in comparison.

Soft country music began pouring from the speakers, only a little warped. You didn’t recognize the singer’s baritone voice, but you were never much for country music anyway (It wasn't angry enough for your taste).

“It’s not the best, but it’ll do,” Joel said as he returned to you. “Alright.” One hand circled your waist while the other grasped your hand and raised it in the air. It made your stomach sink. You knew what was coming. “May I have this dance?” he asked.

Your eyes went wide. Your free hand clenched his bicep. “I-I don’t know how to dance.”

“What?” he huffed, amused and confused. “Everybody knows how to dance.” He shrugged. “It’s easy.”

“I’ve never… danced,” you said, feeling like sweat was about to start dripping down the side of your forehead.

His brows furrowed with a smirk. “You never went to a school dance even?” He shook his head. “Homecoming? Prom?”

“Not really.” You squirmed. “I’d go with friends, but I wasn’t the type to really dance. I never dated anybody to-to-to dance with.”

“Really?” He grinned wide with surprise. “You’re too pretty to not been asked.” He raised his chin. “Were you one of those shy girls or something?” Clearly implying that he was not one of the shy ones in school.

You had to look away, suddenly feeling even smaller than a street puddle–you felt like a bead of condensation falling off the corner of a window unit mid-summer.

“I wasn’t that shy,” you mumbled in defense of your younger self. “Boys just wanted sex in high school and I was not about to have sex with any of them.”

“Yeah, we were trouble, weren’t we?”

“Y’all were awful.” You forced a smile, though you felt anything but happy about those years. “I was terrified.”

He laughed. “Alright, shy girl.”

You shrank even smaller.

He bit his lip. “Lemme show you how to dance.” He pointed with his chin. “Put that hand on my shoulder.”

You brought the uncertain hand that had been resting on his bicep back up to his shoulder. Your thumb toyed with the collar of his shirt as you held your breath in your chest. You prayed he didn’t enjoy this ‘shy girl’ thing too much. You weren’t exactly here to relive your teenage years.

Though you two did get off last time like teenagers.

And boy, if you knew then what you knew now–

He took a tentative step forward and you fumbled.

Your face went cold. Your body froze.

“Just relax.” He spoke gently. His smile, soft and kind. “We were dancin when you came in.” He brought his lips to your neck. “Just move with me, darlin,” he whispered beneath your ear. “I gotchu.”

You swallowed. His mouth felt so good and his smoky voice washed away all the anxious thoughts that were icing up your mind. You could finally feel his hand, too, the one holding yours. It was both soft and calloused, strong and tender. His sturdiness comforted all the frightened little nerve endings that had spread throughout your limbs. He was a mountain–grounding you and giving you a stable surface to stand upon.

Maybe you weren’t condensation.

Maybe you weren’t a street puddle, either.

Your bodies came together once more and he swayed you both from side-to-side, meandering to a song of love and longing. Your footsteps creaked along the wooden floors, but you felt like you were floating.

He pulled his head back as you two glided. “Ezra never dance with you?”

“Ha!” You rolled your eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’d find the whole concept ridiculous.”

“Damn shame,” he said with a smirk, bringing your bodies even closer. “You got a good way of movin.”

His compliment gave you butterflies. Though you weren’t really doing much of the moving–you were just following him.

But maybe that was what he liked about it.

Maybe he wanted someone flowing along with him, wherever he guided. Like a stream running down and around the crevices of his stony surface, following along whatever path he carved out.

“Did you dance with a lot of girls in high school?” you asked. “You seem to know what you’re doing pretty well.”

“Yeeaah, I dance with a few.” He nodded. “Danced a lot more after high school, though. Used to go to this bar back in Texas called Howler’s.” His mouth widened to a grin. “My friends and I would go on Saturday nights. Get all dressed up to meet women.” His brows went high into his forehead. “Women. Not girls. Women,” he clarified with a laugh. “We somehow got it in our heads that we were too mature for the girls our own age and we belonged with real, sophisticated ladies.” He started shaking his head with a flustered smile, cheeks turning red. “They taught us a thing or two, I tell ya. Laid us out flat.”

You laughed. “I… I honestly can’t even picture that.”

“Oh yeah,” he assured you. “They were havin none of us, I can tell you that much.” He smirked. “It was fine with me, though.” He shrugged. “Got real good at dancin and got real good at women.”

You wished you could see a photo of young Joel Miller. Wished you could see him trying to hit on older women at bars and get turned down or laughed off. What a riot it must have been.

It ached, though. You never got to have that experience. You were only eighteen when everything happened. You had just started taking classes at a community college and feeling like you were in thirteenth grade. You hadn’t even been to a club, yet, let alone a bar. You were in a new town with a new home, new job, surrounded by new people. All alone–

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You quickly wiped the tear from your eye, only recognizing it when Joel spoke up. “I just… I like this.” Because you did. “I like gettin to dance.” It was healing something in you that you had forgotten even hurt.

“‘M happy I get to share it with you.”

It was hypnotizing the way he was looking at you. His smile was steady as he searched your face, moving you around without looking where he was going. There was so much affection in his sweet brown eyes. You had to close your own to stop your cheeks from burning and instead, chose to rest your head on his chest. He was so warm. So tender. And you were so present that you could hear his heart beating over the music.

As Joel continued to lead you around the furniture in the living room and kitchen, you suddenly thought of the other night, when you were grinding against him and he countered your rhythm so perfectly. The carnality of the memory brought your stomach to the floor and fire to your cheeks. You opened your eyes, wanting to kiss him again. Wanting to feel the poke and scratch of his mustache.

And there was Joel, still staring right back down at you with stars in his eyes. You couldn’t help but lean forward and press your lips into his–finding a way to dance and kiss and melt all at once. The kiss was slow. Languid. Dragging on and on without breaking.

And then Joel stopped dancing–stopped following the flow of the music.

The abrupt change of momentum set your heart racing, running laps in your chest. You wanted to keep dancing, keep moving, but you didn’t know how to express it with your lips tangled as they were.

You felt his broad hands slide up and down your back and it made your breaths grow shallow. You tried to push past it and adapt to the new direction. You didn’t realize how much you had been focusing on the music. The movement of your mouths felt so disparate to the tune coming out the speakers.

You heard a weighty thud and realized Joel had backed into the wall. He pulled you into the space between his legs, his growing hardness pressing against you. Part of you wanted to pull back.

One of his hands tugged your shirt by the hem before slipping beneath.

As soon as his warm fingers touched your flesh, you gasped.

Your body flinched and your hand came down and clutched his wrist.

“Shit.” You bit your lip. “I-I’m sorry.” You weren’t though. You were grateful that your body spoke up when you didn’t know how to. Your eyes squeezed shut. You took a breath and let go of his hand.

He rested it lightly on your hip. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so embarrassed.” You gave  him the most apologetic look you could muster. “I-I don’t think I can do anything tonight.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “We don’t have to.” He stood tall, separating your bodies. The hand on your hip dropped away while his other found rest on your shoulder. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just–” you briefly closed your eyes again and sighed. “I suddenly feel like a–like a scared teenager.”

A sheepish smile bloomed on his face and you weren’t sure why. “Yeah, I hear ya.” He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes wandering the room. “Let’s go sit down,” he said and pointed to the couch with his chin.

Fuck, you felt awkward–loud footsteps bringing you back to Earth after a brief stroll through the heavens. This whole thing was going very differently than last time and very differently than all the scenarios you had been imagining all week in your head with your hand between your legs. You wondered if this was even going to work or if your previous visit had just been fueled by too much alcohol in your systems.

Shit.

It felt so weird and confusing to be alive sometimes.

You sat on the couch feeling so much colder than you had only moments before. Like a bucket of water had been poured over you–wet clothes clinging to your skin.

Joel turned the music down low before joining you on the couch, the cushions sinking deep to the weight of his body. “I haven’t done my due diligence,” he said as he angled himself toward you.

“What do you mean?” You turned to him as well. You were close enough to each other that your knees could touch if you wanted.

He reached forward and grabbed one of your hands, holding it and grazing the top of it with his thumb. It was nice. Sweet, even.

He looked into your eyes, working his jaw, words on the edge of his lips. A smile flashed on his face–arriving and disappearing in seconds. He looked down and sighed.

The anticipation only made you more curious. Whatever he wanted to say was clearly something difficult. You always considered yourself easy for others to talk to–you tried your best to be open and accepting. It was why you were so good at visiting people.

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. “I noticed you for a long time.”

You blinked. “...what?” you whispered, shocked. Some unknown emotion started twisting itself in your throat.

“You’re beautiful,” he said so matter-of-factly. So clean cut and dry. “And you always look so happy, but I–” He released a hot breath from his nostrils. “--But I never had a reason to talk to you.”

“Joel…” You had no idea. Not a clue. His words caressed your heart. 

He gave a playful smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Then you noticed my shutters.”

A laugh burst from your chest and your free hand flew to your mouth, trying to quiet down. “I was pissed,” you said, grinning beneath your fingers. “I see everything that goes on in this little town but I never saw you workin on those things.”

“‘M glad for it.” He chuckled. “I am.” He looked down at his hand holding yours. “And you got me feelin like a teenager, too.” He smirked up at you. “Got me movin fast and makin assumptions. Thinkin I know everything.”

It felt good to hear him say it. It felt good to hear him admit to something. But he wasn’t the only one moving fast.

“You know, you were right the other night about…” You steadied yourself through your stuttered words, unable to look at him as you spoke. “About you callin for me and I just came runnin.” You stared at the woven threads of cotton spanning your knee. “People tug on me everyday.” Your free hand moved to your stomach. “I can feel them wantin my help or wantin my attention. It’s like they got a lasso around my waist and I gotta dig my heels in to-to-to make ‘em leave me alone. But with you–” You threw your hand up and met his eyes. “When you tugged on me, I didn’t question whether I should or shouldn’t.” You shrugged, but that unknown emotion was snaking around your throat again. “I-I came runnin like it was nothin.” You shook your head, eyes back to your knee. “I don’t know what that means–”

“I don’t think it means anythin bad,” Joel said with a laugh.

“Yeah,” you smiled and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

What was that from before? If you knew then what you knew now–and now, there was nothing in your gut telling you to stay away. Not yet had Joel given you any kind of warning sign that he had any particularly nefarious intentions. 

Your body wasn’t so cold anymore. The music no longer felt so disparate. You felt comfortable with Joel again. You felt at ease. You felt tired, too. The excitement. The dancing. The talking. It wore you out. You had had a long day on top of it all.

“I don’t wanna leave, yet.” Because you didn’t. “Can I stay over?” You placed your hand on top of his. “Just to sleep,” you clarified with a wide grin.

“Of course.” He mirrored your expression. “I want whatever you want.”

That phrase he kept saying… He was giving you something with it, but you weren’t sure what exactly. He couldn’t possibly want what you wanted when you didn’t know what you wanted. You tried not to think about it too much.

You made it to bed about an hour later, after more conversation. You were content to sleep in your own shirt. Joel stared at you from the other side of the bed as you undid your jeans and slid them down your legs. His expression made you laugh.

“Sorry. I’m not sleepin in these,” you said as you stepped out of them.

“That’s fine,” he muttered and looked away–fingers scratching the back of his neck. He wore a plain white t-shirt and navy blue sleep pants.

If you were at home, you would have left your jeans in a little ring on the floor, but Joel’s house was too clean. You picked them up, folded them, and placed them on the dresser next to the bed. You hated to do it, but you kept your bra on, knowing your back would ache in the morning. It felt too exposing. Even under your shirt.

Climbing into bed with him had your body warming up all over again. But it had your heart racing, too, just like before. It felt so strange to share a bed with someone other than Ezra. You hadn’t even shared a room with anyone else since you two first arrived in Jackson a couple years previous.

“I’ll stick to my side of the bed,” said Joel as he got situated under the covers. 

You laughed. “Thank you, Joel.” You reached over from under the blanket and grabbed his hand. You pulled it close and kissed his knuckles. “Good night.”

He rolled toward you–watching and making sure you weren’t gonna pull away. He placed his palm on your cheek and leaned in, kissing you sweetly. “Good night,” he said into your lips. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back, showing you the grin on his face.

He turned away to face the window and–-there was that mountain again. His broad shoulders high above the low dip of his waist. You felt like gravity was pulling you in, bringing your body closer to his. You slid your hand along his ribs, fingers splayed to hold him.

“Is this alright?” you asked with your neck tilting your head up from the pillow.

“Yeah.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “It’s alright.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you tighter.

You kissed the back of his neck and nuzzled into him before falling asleep.

+++++++

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel.

Not one bit.

Not even a little.

Okay, well, maybe a little.

But only in the way that kept him on his toes–kept him from taking advantage of the partnership you two shared.

You were right to say that Ezra didn’t keep you on a leash. You were your own woman. Always had been. Always would be.

Ezra was just along for the ride–doing everything he could to love you and see you happy. He made sure to protect you and take care of you.

Because not only did you understand him–you indulged him. You let him indulge in you. You let him express parts of himself he hadn’t known existed until you came along and found a way to reel it right on out of him.

He couldn’t remember how it started between the two of you all those years ago. Just that it did. It was while you and Ezra were still working alongside his cousins.

Seemingly outta nowhere, you two had slowly gravitated towards one another on a level deeper than survival and then—SMACK! You were like two magnets clacking together; lips, hands, groins, in constant contact. And then there were times when you would be so repelled from each other it was like one of you went flying off into the sky, getting lost in the clouds, til the inevitable pull of gravity brought you right back down again.

You two had good times and bad, but Jackson was good. Very good. And he was keen to let the good times keep rolling.

It just so happened that Joel Miller became a part of these good times.

Now…

Ezra was a man.

He wasn’t supposed to want this. He wasn’t supposed to want another man making love to his woman. It was insulting to his physical prowess. Humiliating to his ego. Downright derogatory to his dignity.

Which made the situation all the more appealing to him–being as contrary a person as he was.

Ezra was overwhelmed by the thought of Joel fucking you. Couldn’t stop fantasizing. Couldn’t stop touching himself. There was no need to savor the orgasms, either. Ezra was rubbing them out, one right after the other as he leaned his forehead against the shower wall, muttering to himself. He didn’t feel like some aging man hitting 40 anymore, with libido and desire in decline. He felt like some pubescent kid who newly discovered what his dick was for and was aching to get some practice in.

Ezra loved you. Loved you more than his extensive vocabulary could possibly define. And the thought of someone else loving you? Doing things to you that had hadn’t and maybe in ways that he couldn’t?

And the fact that it was Joel Miller of all people? Ol’ Gruff ‘n’ Tuff with the stick up his ass?

Sheeeeiit.

(For how explicit Ezra could be with his thoughts and feelings, there was a certain piece of all this that had him speechless. A forgotten memory had been unearthed. An old fantasy. An unrealized dream from decades ago that Ezra had put out of his mind for reasons he could not yet approach for fear of rapture. It came to him in flashes and dick twitches. It set his mouth watering and his heart racing. It had him sweaty and confused. It was the thought, the idea, the implication of himself being sexual with another man.)

Ezra had been aching for you to come home–had been aching for you all night, in fact, while he was out on patrol. He had been uncharacteristically quiet with his patrol partner as they circled their way around the outskirts of Jackson. He was too busy wondering what Joel might be doing to you and how he was doing it and what kind of noises that old man might make and how loud he would be when he made them.

It didn’t matter how many times he had just jerked off in the shower, he was ready and eager for more–his leg bouncing impatiently while he sat on the bed. 

He sighed in relief when you met him in the bedroom. He rubbed his palms on his pajama-clad thighs.

“There’s my little slut,” he said with a sly grin.

You laughed and waved him off. “I am not dealing with you right now.” You walked over to the dresser and started taking off your clothes.

“Why not?” He asked, all offended.

“Because nothing happened!”

“What?”

“Nothing happened.” You repeated. “We didn’t have sex.” You laughed again. “He didn’t even get to second base.”

“Not even second base?” Ezra was aching and pained. “Baby.” He gave you a compassionate look. “Could he not… perform?”

“Ezra!” you shouted. You picked up one of your notebooks from the top of your dresser and threw it directly at his face.

He caught it. “It was an honest question,” he mumbled and tossed the book on the bedside table.

You took your time to explain it all and Ezra did his best to understand.

He thought it was the sweetest thing in the world that Joel danced with you. He had no idea you were a dancing kind of woman. He tried to picture himself dancing with you and–no. It was wrong. All wrong. Ezra just wasn’t a dancing kind of man.

Maybe dancing was for you and Joel.

Like the ‘blue number’ was for you and him.

He liked that. He could work with it.

All you had changed into was a loose t-shirt and a pair of underwear before lying down next to him on the bed. You clearly had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. So he decided to feel you out. Poke at you a little bit to see how you responded.

He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. “I think you’re beautiful, too, you know.” He grazed your arm with his finger.

“I know, Ezra.” You smiled and turned your head away.

“It is unfortunate that your body reacted the way that it did.” He caressed your cheek with the scarred-up knuckle of his right index finger. “Your love is the most precious experience there is.”

“Stop.” Your embarrassed grin grew wider as you squirmed and turned away again.

Ezra crawled over you and you made space for him between your legs. “It’s been a while.”

You covered your face with your hand. “I know–” You looked up at Ezra with urgency. “--and it has nothing to do with Joel, okay?”

Ezra’s cheeks warmed and he felt a lightness grow in his chest. “I know, baby,” he cooed. “I know.” It soothed him to hear you say it aloud. He mouthed at your breast through your shirt with his eyes up.

Your worry disappeared–replaced with a soft smile as you looked at him affectionately. You wove your fingers through his hair.

He palmed your breast and found your nipple. He sucked on it through the fabric, increasing the intensity over time. Harder and harder.

Your breath hitched and your mouth opened. 

The hand around your breast tightened as he pulled his mouth away.

You released the tiniest whimper.

“Lemme play with you, baby,” he said with his chin tucked in and his eyes wide and serious.

Your expression changed once his suggestion registered. Your jaw went slack. Your breaths shortened.

You swallowed.

He waited.

“Okay,” you whispered and started to nod before stopping yourself. “Wait. But… but…”

“But? But?” He mocked you. He already knew your answer. He knew whatever excuse you had wasn’t worth a damn. He knew you were already getting wet for him. “But what, baby?” he smirked.

“I should shower first,” you whispered.

Ezra threw his head back and laughed. “Baby. Have you met me?” He shook his head at you, bewildered by your protest. “If that’s your best appeal, then we shall proceed.” He scooted down the bed and tugged your underwear roughly down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder.

He tapped your knee with an amused sigh. “Alright, show me what’s good.” He said it with his eyes locked tight on your lower half, mouth watering like some cartoon wolf about to eat a Thanksgiving feast. 

With slow breaths, you slowly pulled your knees up and lifted your feet into the air. You grabbed the backs of your thighs and spread them apart. Exposing yourself.

Ezra moaned. “Been far too long,” he muttered to himself. He licked one strong stripe up your seam, causing you to twitch. “Baby,” he began with nothing but endearment in his eyes. “You are like sour candy the way you make my mouth water.”

You threw your head back against the pillows in an attempt to hide the burning shame on your face.

He wasted no time in spreading your pussy part with both of his hands. He applied pressure with his forearms on your thighs to keep you from squirming too much. You yelped and cursed when dove straight into your clit, laving it with languid strokes and teasing it with the tip of his wet tongue.

“I am a disgrace to every man on this planet, baby, and I apologize sincerely for that.” When he pulled away to speak, he’d reach out with one of his long fingers to toy with your bud, watching it puff and swell. “No time like the present, I suppose,” he murmured against your lips, rubbing his mouth up and down your spread folds, tickling you with unkempt facial hair. He gave it a chaste little kiss. “I should be eating this pussy every day.” He looked up at you tenderly. “Lord knows you deserve it.”

He slipped his finger inside of you to collect your wetness. His eyes glittered as you gasped from the sudden intrusion. He pulled it back out and swirled the tip around your entrance. “Fuckin’ ambrosial.”

Next, he used his tongue and finger at the same time. He lapped and sucked at your clit, lazily moving his finger in and out of you.

“C’mon, Ezra. I need more!”

He pulled back, pulled his finger out, and slapped you hard on the meat of your hip. He pointed at you–with the same fucking finger that was just inside you. It was shining in the dull light of the room along with everything surrounding his mouth. “You take what I give you and you fuckin like it.” His words rolled out of him low and heavy.

This was the only time Ezra was allowed to speak to you like that–all angry and mean. It was rare for him to speak to anyone like that since living in Jackson. He knew how much you loved it–how much you loved this fun, chatty man turning cruel and denying you.

“Here I am, providin you a fuckin service,” he muttered to himself. You had become someone in the background, again. His mind focused solely on your pussy. Like it was a mystery of the universe he was so close to solving if he could just fiddle with it the right way. He licked into you with the flat of his tongue and moved his head up and down. He tried to keep at least one forearm on your thigh, his fingers spread across your folds as he splayed you apart. “Fuck, I missed this,” he spoke into the hair on your mound before giving it a loving kiss.

“Me, too,” you sighed.

Ezra grinned. “I haven’t fucked your asshole in a while, either.” He felt sweet victory when you moaned. “That was the one good thing about Memphis, huh? That big jar of Vaseline.”

“Uh-huh,” you answered.

“Yeah?” His fingertip found your entrance once more. “You liked that, huh?” He spread your slick around your lips.

You moaned out a ‘yes’ and rolled your ankles.

He stared between your legs at your wet cunt, at the spit and moisture that leaked down to your other hole. “You took that hurt so good, baby. So fuckin good.”

“Mhmm.”

“Strongest woman alive.” He slid the broad side of his index finger up and down your folds, lost in a distant memory. “Remember that hairbrush?” he smirked.

“Ezra.” You whined and adjusted the grip you had on your legs.

“It’s just me and you, baby. There is no reason to feel any sense of shame.” His finger dipped inside you, all the way. “Nothing wrong with using what you have on hand.” He wiggled it around, teasing you without any significant stretch or pressure. “Or are you worried about Joel uncovering your avaricious and sordid history?”

Your eyes and brows were squeezed tight. You huffed. “Ez.”

“What?” he pulled his finger back out, all wet and glistening before sliding it around your folds again. “He seems like the kinda man to appreciate our ingenuity, don’t you think?” He didn’t expect an answer. His mind already somewhere new. “How big did you say his dick was?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” you spoke between frustrated breaths.

Ezra grunted in disappointment. “I was trying to visualize my fat cock stuffing your ass full and him in your tight little cunt instead of that hairbrush.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned and started rolling your hips.

Ezra’s tongue was back on you, digging deep into your entrance.

You were crying out his name and whimpering.

“C’mon, baby,” Ezra said low with his mouth still buried close. “Gimme one.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You were shaking your head and writhing. “I need more.”

He burst into cruel laughter. “No, you don’t.” He leaned back and replaced his tongue with his finger. “I've seen you get off with less than this.” He shook his hand side-to-side, finger sliding back and forth across your wet clit at a rapid speed. “You want me and Joel to fuck you at the same time, don’t you?

“Mhmm!” you answered through hitched breaths. Your right leg jolted.

“Well, now let’s examine the options, baby. Two men for three different holes.” He grinned. “What’s the math on that, you think?” Your whimpering desperation spurred him on. “It’s called variation.” He raised his brows. His lone finger continued its unforgiving pace across your clit. “And I believe it adds up to six, but that just sounds wrong and limited, don’t it?” He tilted his head to the side. “If I’m in your ass and he fucks your mouth, that’s one. If I’m in your ass and he’s in your cunt, that’s two.”

You started bouncing on the bed, trying to grind yourself into Ezra’s hand.

“Stay still!” he groused and placed both hands on the backs of your thighs.

“Nonononono,” you whined and kicked at him with your feet.

He held you tighter and snarled. “I am trying to work out the specifics of this equation with you and you are not helping my concentration.”

“Fuck, Ezra. Why are you like this?” you cried.

“If you are unhappy, then you are free to leave,” he said.

You whimpered. Sighed. Resigned. “I’ll stay.”

He huffed with a smile. “Fuckin predictable.” He slapped the back of your thighs with both hands. He hummed, fingers squeezing into your skin. “If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fuckin your ass, that’s three. If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fillin your mouth, then that’s four.” He looked up at the ceiling, murmuring to himself. He rocked back and forth, using his palms on your thighs as leverage. “Actually in this situation, it would be six variations for myself as well as six variations for Joel. But if we include using the same hole at the same time, then it would be nine variations per.” He looked at your dazed expression with a grin. “Doesn’t that sound nice?"

“Yes, Ezra. It sounds very nice.”

“I thought so, too.” He collected the growing moisture in his mouth and spit on your entrance, causing your body to shudder. He slipped his finger back inside. “Do you think you could fit two cocks in here, baby?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned.

He shook his head, slowly pulling his pruning finger in and out. “I’m sure with enough lubrication and determination that Joel and I could find a way.” He swallowed, overcome with an image in his mind. “Or maybe I fuck you and make him watch.” He stared at your sopping wet center, finger gently circling its edges. “Make him sit in the corner like a bad little boy and jerk off without gettin to touch you at all.”

You moaned and Ezra grinned.

“Think about it, baby.” His voice grew deeper. “Think about Joel Miller wantin you down to the depths of his soul but I won’t let him touch you.” He grunted, wiggling his finger around inside of you. “I would likely have to cuff his hands together. Otherwise I am sure he would simply pull me out of you and replace my cock with his own inside this wet little hole.” He started grinding his erection against the mattress. “Think about it. Think about the chains of his handcuffs jinglin while he’s jerkin off, wishin he could fuck this tight, chokin pussy.” He curled his finger, finally pressing against the tender spot of your inner wall. He sucked your clit in a strong, steady rhythm–slurping and lapping at your wet flesh.

And there you were, shaking beneath his mouth, breaths short and high in your chest. You groaned deep and loud as if your orgasm had been punched straight from your diaphragm. You reached down with frantic fingers on his head and face to push him away.

“Too much. Too much,” you panted.

“From not enough to too much.” He grinned and relented.

“Holy shit, Ezra.” Your legs fell and you stretched them out, curling your toes. “Oh my god,” you sighed. You shifted your hips around and rolled your shoulders.

Ezra waited for your breaths to become slow and even before he asked, “Are you good?”

“Yeah, my hip almost started cramping,” you answered in a daze. Your whole body appeared limp and sinking into the bed.

“Good.” Ezra stood up and ripped his shirt off over his head. He shucked his pajama pants off, too, before crawling back between your legs. “I’m not stretching you out.” He hovered above you. His hard, wide cock was warm and moist against your thigh. He looked down at you, wide-eyed and serious. “You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re gonna like it.”

You nodded with your eyes barely open. You licked your lips. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna tear you up, alright?”

Your eyelids fell shut. “Yes,” you whispered with your brows furrowed deep.

“You like that, huh? When I tear you up?” Asking these questions and hearing your answers made his whole chest heat up. His cheeks burned and his hips rolled into you–the pressure relieving some of the ache he felt in his cock.

“Yes, Ezra,” you whimpered desperately. “Tear me up.”

He huffed. “Alright.” He guided his cock to your entrance, breaching it only just so. Then with his other hand, he covered your mouth. “Fuckin masochist,” he muttered. He locked eyes with you. His hand muffled your pained groan as he swiftly pierced your tight wet cunt.

“Shit, that’s beautiful, baby.” He didn’t wait for your body to adjust before pistoning in and out of you. He moved his hand from your mouth to the back of your head, holding it in place so he could maintain eye contact as your warm hole swallowed his cock. “This pussy takes it so good for me. So beautifully.”

You nodded and groaned.

He palmed the backs of your thighs and pushed them upward, in the same way he had you positioned before. “Old man doesn’t know what he’s missin,” he laughed as you shouted in pleasure–his cock thrashing against your g-spot. “Maybe you should inform him of the ways I pleasure you. Maybe then he’d have something to fantasize about while fuckin his own hand in the shower.”

You were nodding and groaning, dazed and slack-jawed beneath him. Face twisted in anguished pleasure. His hips snapped harder, deeper and deeper.

“I can’t wait,” he spoke through panting breaths. “I can’t wait for him to fuck you. Want that dirty old man to fuck you so bad.” One hand released your thigh and grabbed your cheeks. He got real close, his lips touched yours as he spoke, as he pistoned in and out of you. “I want you chokin on his cock, baby.”

“Uh huh?” you cried.

“Let him fill up that pretty mouth of yours with his cum.”

“Mhmm! Mhmm!” you nodded. Your voice was breathy and shaken.

“You gotta let me know how it tastes, okay?”

You nodded again. Frantically. 

“Yeah?” You’d do that for me, baby?” He let go of your face and leaned back, clenching his teeth. All angry and focused. “You’d let that old man fuck your pretty mouth? Let me taste that cum inside you?”

You whimpered. “Yes! Yes!”

“Fuckin filthy,” he spat, chasing his own high, using your pussy to get him there. He wasn’t worried about you coming again. It was his turn now. “Fuckin filthy.” He repeated, shaking his head.

He wished Joel could see you like this–split wide open on his cock–lost in a warm vortex of pleasure and speaking in tongues.

Ezra continued to snap his hips into you until a warmth tingled through him and a white hot light overtook his vision. He spilled into you with a pained groan. He rolled his hips again and again as your cunt milked him dry–his whole world coming to a quiet standstill.

He fell forward on his palms over you.

Ezra was wide eyed and clear-headed, but a little unstable, as blood pulsed in waves through his body. The whole room seemed to jut out at him–all the shapes and colors suddenly becoming three-dimensional objects. His mind reeled. His face and body stung sharp from those words he said toward the end.

‘Let me taste that cum inside you.’

He replayed those words again and again.

All with a clear vision in the back of his mind of Joel’s cock–well, the way he was imagining it, anyways–making his mouth water and making his dick fire into the heavens.

But you were there beneath him with chewed up lips and glazed eyes and tears running down the sides of your face.

“I love you. I love you.” You said again and again, sniffling and pulling him close with trembling hands. “I love you so fuckin much.”

You.

You made everything so easy. You took Ezra. You took everything he gave you. You weren’t doing it because you were forced to. It wasn’t an obligation. He wasn’t a chore.

You did it because you wanted to. Because you both had an overwhelming desire to hurt and be hurt. To love and be loved.

He pressed his forehead into yours. “I love you, too, baby.” He let you kiss him soft and slow with your tongue. “I love you.” You had no idea how much you made everything okay–how much you allowed him to allow himself to think and experience.

Ezra’s tenderness returned in full force as he cleaned you up and cradled you. He showered you in kisses and caressed your skin.

“My angel,” he said and he meant it. He felt like you were some divine entity sent to Earth to heal him and love him. To save him from a life of plasma-hot anger and pain.

“Born bad,” his daddy would say. Ezra had spent most of his childhood in juvenile detention. He had just gotten out of jail for the first time, in fact, when it all …happened.

And then you came along and told him he was ‘too smart for his own good.’ Though, because you two were arguing at the time, there were a lot more curse words involved in the sentiment. But it had given him so much peace to be recognized as something more. Something other than the ‘stupid fuck-up’ he had been taught his whole life that he was by his daddy and his cousins and the government bodies that had shuffled him around.

There were so many times over the years that you soothed him, altered his perspective, guided his hand toward more cooperative choices.

He worshiped you. He worshiped every inch of your skin and every ounce of your soul.

He loved you so much.

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel Miller.

He only worried about your happiness.

+++++++

tag list: @toxicanonymity @jksprincess10 @walkintotheriveranddisappear @shotgun-shelby @alwaysdjarin @longlongtime2023

Author's Note: I hope that smut at the end was okay. I've overthought it for the past 72 hours. I don't know who's cucking who at this point. 🙏 god bless.

+++++++

Part 4

(story masterlist)

(my masterlist)

[areyoudreaminof]

and we kissed as though nothing would fall: A Helion x Lady of Autumn Playlist

It's a great day for being sad! Here's Helion x Lady of Autumn for you.

Of all the novellas and backstories, I know we all want this the doomed affair that lasted for centuries, and resulted in our favorite fox boy. There has to be so much hurt and longing still lingering there. This playlist goes through the range of emotions that I thinkk this heartbreak brought upon both Helion and the LoA. But I wanted there to be hope too. That soft kind of hope that these two can come back together to each other where they belong.

Listen Here! Lyrical deep dive under the cut.

Special dedication to my favorite Helion x LoA besties @spell-cleavers and @ablogofsapphicpanic

I've added a second link to the playlist above, as it seems that it does not show up on the browser, just mobile.

The One That Got Away-The Civil Wars Got away from me Before anybody has to bleed

Oh, if I could go back in time When you only held me in my mind Just a longing gone without a trace Oh, I wish I'd never ever seen your face I wish you were the one I wish you were the one that got away

A Record Year for Rainfall-The Decemberists

What's the use of all of this? It's to remember you in the entire 'Cause I'm watching it slip away And in the annals of the empire Did it look this grey Before the fall?

Falling Slowly-The Swell Season

Falling slowly Eyes that know me And I can't go back And moods that take me And erase me And I'm painted black Well, you have suffered enough And warred with yourself It's time that you won

Samson-Regina Spektor

You are my sweetest downfall I loved you first, I loved you first Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth I have to go, I have to go Your hair was long when we first met

Beloved Wife-Natalie Merchant

My love is gone Now my suffering begins My love is gone Would it be wrong if I should Surrender all the joy in my life Go with her tonight?

Such Great Heights-Iron & Wine

I am thinking it's a sign That the freckles in our eyes are mirror images And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned And I have to speculate That God himself did make us into corresponding shapes Like puzzle pieces from the clay

Skinny Love-Bon Iver

Come on, skinny love, just last the year Pour a little salt, we were never here My my my, my my my, my my Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer I tell my love to wreck it all Cut out all the ropes and let me fall My my my, my my my, my my Right in this moment, this order's tall

Hey Jupiter-Tori Amos

Sometimes I breathe you in And I know you know And sometimes you take a swim Found your writing on my wall If my heart’s soaking wet Boy, your boots can leave a mess

No Rest for the Wicked-Lykke Li

My one heart hurt another So only one life can't be enough Can you give me just another For that one who got away? Lonely I, I'm so alone now There'll be no rest for the wicked There's no song for the choir There's no hope for the weary If you let them win without a fight

No One's Gonna Love You-Band of Horses

Anything to make you smile You are the ever-living ghost of what once was I never want to hear you say That you'd be better off or you liked it that way And no one is ever gonna love you more than I do No one's gonna love you more than I do

I Need My Girl-The National

I am good, I am grounded Davy says that I look taller But I can't get my head around it I keep feeling smaller and smaller I need my girl I need my girl

Death With Dignity -Sufjan Stevens

Somewhere in the desert, there’s a forest And an acre before us But I don’t know where to begin But I don’t know where to begin Again, I've lost my strength completely, oh be near me Tired, old mare with the wind in your hair

The Greatest-Cat Power

Melt me down Into big black armor Leave no trace of grace Just in your honor Lower me down To culprit south

Heroes-David Bowie

Though nothing, nothing will keep us together We can beat them forever and ever Oh, we can be heroes, just for one day

And the shame was on the other side Oh, we can beat them forever and ever Then we can be heroes, just for one day

Taglist: @bookofmirth @bellatrixship @brieq @citruspearls @c-e-d-dreamer @damedechance @eyllweambassador @gaeleria @ofduskanddreams @highqueenmorrigan @hugeclearjellyfish @itsthedoodle @autumndreaming7 @kataravimes-of-the-shire @krem-has-a-mess @kingofsummer93 @lucienarcheron @octobers-veryown @andrigyn @mossytrashcan @witch-and-her-witcher @popjunkie42-blog @reverie-tales @rosanna-writer @separatist-apologist @secret-third-thing @lucienforhighking @thesistersarcheron @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @ultadverb @vulpes-fennec @velidewrites @vanserrass @wittyrejoinder @bagelfyre @xtaketwox @yazthebookish @wilde-knight @iftheshoef1tz @labellefleur-sauvage @carmasi @corcracrow @courtofthought @corvulpescompendium @tuzna-pesma-snova @cursebrkr @acourtdelaluna

Here is the link again. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/65pMS8WExB3Aywccg3CPn3?si=_R276WLATEWC9jUd1u4XWQ

[samiiy20]

✩ 𝗞𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗬𝗲𝗼𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗴 ✩

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Kang Yeosang x fem! reader 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗲: Smut, Fluff 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.8k 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: dom!Yeosang, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, cum eating, praise, use word like: bitch. 𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: You miss your boyfriend and you decided to sleep with his clothes but he discovers you.

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

You always kept busy when your boyfriend went on tour so you wouldn't miss him, plus you almost always tried to talk on the phone and you watched all the recordings that came out of him to feel him present, but sometimes you felt that that was what made you miss him further.

His absence was present with each day that passed away, but you put up with it and tried to support him just as he was in charge of supporting your projects and goals.

You had met Yeosang by mere coincidence and although you didn't believe in fate and stuff, this was different, you felt that it really wasn't just luck that brought his paths together.

Although it was not easy to get to where they were, they were proud of what they had achieved, a nice house in a nice place with jobs that they both liked.

But not everything was good and there were days like today when work made you want to explode and you couldn't bear the fatigue in your body, you just need a hug from Yeosang, but thinking that that day just wouldn't be alone made you want to cry.

You were standing outside the house, but you didn't want to go inside and feel the loneliness in the environment, but you also didn't want to freeze outside so you turned the key once and for all erasing the illusion and wish that Yeosang would be inside waiting for you, but it was obvious who wasn't there when the lights out greeted you.

You sighed leaving your things aside and throwing your shoes in some corner of the house on the way to your room and you threw yourself on the bed extending your hands to cover the entire mattress, but you didn't make it.

You closed your eyes for a moment but in reality hours had passed and you didn't realize when you had fallen asleep, but now that you had 10% more energy you went to shower.

When you left a trail of water with your steps because you had forgotten your pajamas, but when you were looking for it and you saw your boyfriend's clothes you wished he was here because you really needed him, you wanted to tell him that your useless classmate spilled coffee on your papers for "accident" and you had to redo them, that the boss had decided that you would be the one to close the office and you stayed up late doing paperwork.

It wasn't that bad if you thought about it, but there were times when you wanted him to listen to you, it didn't matter if they were good or bad things, he had always paid attention to every detail you said and laughed or suffered with you, but not today.

You stopped thinking and took a shirt from the closet, you hugged it trying to comfort you a little with the perfume it was wearing from him, but it wasn't enough, it felt so empty in your hands.

Then you had a fit of desperation and you took all the clothes you could until your hands weren't enough, you went to bed with just a pair of panties and without letting go of the clothes you went to bed inhaling the smell that came from the clothes.

With your arms around the clothes and your nose tucked between them if he closed his eyes hard enough you could imagine he was there. were you crazy? Maybe, but he made you feel good and you clung to your clothes as you tried to fall asleep imagining that he was really next to you, that his hands encircled your body and you rocked to the sound of his heart beating.

***

Yeosang was surprised to see you asleep in bed with the room in a mess, there were clothes thrown away and some small puddles of water but you were peacefully asleep hugging a lot of his clothes.

He couldn't help but smile and she went to bed, pushing aside the pile of cloths and replacing them with his body just as you had imagined but didn't realize.

He kissed your forehead and he covered you with the sheets without stopping smiling at your crazy efforts trying to sleep and stop thinking about how much he loved you.

***

The sound of someone in the kitchen woke you up and you got scared because you still thought you were alone, so you put on the first thing you found and went to see what was happening with your phone in one hand ready to call the police and in the other, well also take the first thing you saw and you were carrying a lamp.

You were barefoot and your steps could not be heard, your hands trembled but when you turned in the corridor and saw Yeosang you were surprised.

"What are you doing here?" your voice alarmed him a bit but he smiled as he turned to see that you had a lamp in your hand and this time he didn't hold back a laugh "it's not funny, I thought someone had entered."

You walked over, leaving the things on the table, and gave him a little punch on the arm, but he kept laughing, so much so that his stomach had started to hurt.

"I…I…I wanted to surprise you, but you're always faster."

"But stop laughing" you gave him a series of blows but he took your hands defending you. You were happy to see him, really, but the scare he gave you had taken away your longing for last night.

"I'm sorry, but you're so silly" he hit his body before you could say anything and his hands wrapped around your waist "I missed you so much."

You stopped fighting and also put your hands around him, letting yourself be intoxicated by his scent and the heat that came from his body.

"me too"

"I think so" he pulled you apart to see your face and started laughing again "you looked like a bird when I found you."

"A bird? That sounds bad."

"You were asleep in my clothes, as if I were still nest, did you miss me so much?"

You blushed a little and rolled your eyes looking away. Yeosang took your face in his hands and forced you to look at him to get closer to your mouth. You let his lips rest on you and you closed your eyes as you felt how he began to move them trying to keep up with the rhythm until the phone began to ring.

Before you could react Yeosang took over and you just stood there dazed a bit until you remembered that you had to go to work and realized that maybe it was someone from work.

"Yes, she won't go" Yeosang said on the phone "she's very sick, I think she has to stay home for a couple of days" you tried to take the phone from him but he stopped it "of course, I know I'll say it no problem, good day ."

"what are you doing?"

"getting you vacation."

"but…"

"It doesn't matter, it's done" you sighed looking at him but then you smiled a little "what do you think we better go to our nest?" he asked taking your waist and putting his lips on your ear blowing a little making your skin stand on end.

Between kisses and trips they arrived at the messy room and you felt like your body was beginning to warm up a bit. He led you to the center of the room and left you there without saying anything while he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands next to his body, smiling, looking you up and down.

"what are you doing?"

"You were thinking of going out like this to attack someone?" You looked down and realized that you were only wearing panties and a half-zip jacket "but I won't deny that you look great baby"

You clenched your hands at your sides and tried to bear the weight of his gaze on your bare legs.

"I wonder what else will look good on you- he turned to take one of her shirts and threw it at you " why don't you try it on? "

Yeosang sometimes liked that you took control and let you play with his body, but there were times when he just liked to watch your body obey him and you didn't ask any questions.

He refrained from repressing a sigh as you uncovered your breasts as you slowly unzipped and as the clothes left to take the other, he detailed every movement of your body and watched how your breasts stood on end through the white fabric but he felt that this was not the case. It was what I wanted to see you with, it did not highlight the figure in your body.

He searched through his clothes and found one of his white shirts and just imagining he felt how his member fussed in his pants. You saw the white cloth land on your feet and you picked it up seeing that it was his white shirt and the image of him with it came to your mind, you really liked it when Yeosang dressed up and before placing it on your naked body you didn't you could avoid smelling it by letting yourself be carried away by the fragrance it released.

You only buttoned the button in the middle and let the others show a bit of your abdomen, Yeosang bit his lips and contained the desire he had to pounce on you when you gave him an "innocent" look and pressing the sleeves of your shirt because you it was a bit big.

"how I look?"

"come here" you took a step, swaying a little and trying to look a little scared, but as you were halfway there he stopped you "no baby, get on the floor."

You didn't hesitate for a second and you put your hands and knees on the cold ground, you crawled to where he was while making eye contact trying to figure out his next move. When you were finally close you touched his knees and caressed his thighs but he took your hands.

"what are you doing little bird?" I ask making fun of you for sleeping in his clothes.

"Don't call me that…" He took you by surprise by the hair, feeling a small burning sensation on the back of your neck and approached your ear.

"Do you like it better when I call you a bitch?" His voice became deeper and you let out a groan but you nodded quickly "use your words"

"Yeah"

He released you and returned to his starting position with his hands next to his body, spreading his legs wider so he could admire how you fit into them. With a single gesture in his gaze, you knew what he was asking for and carefully went to unbutton his pants to release his member.

You licked your lips when you saw the tip with precum but before that you touched it with your fingers massaging a little to lubricate it.

"show me how much you missed me"

His words were left behind as you tasted just a little bit of him, your tongue circling over his tip as your hands massaged up and down, his head recording your movements and getting lost in the sensation of your tongue playing with his length but he wanted to more, even so, he let you have control for a moment until he lost patience and took your hair again to make you go deeper, letting him feel the depth of your throat.

You felt the weight of his member on your tongue but didn't stop when he raised his hips to fuck your mouth. You held your breath for a bit and felt your eyes sting as he thrust a little hard but you stood your ground and grabbed his thighs so you could warn him and that seemed to calm him down letting you go at your own pace.

The tears had already started rolling down your face and he wiped them away with his thumb to try and apologize but he couldn't say anything as you sucked on the tip letting him moan instead noticing his eyes closed and he let his head fall back encouraging you to continue like this. You did what he asked you until you perceived how his member began to tremble inside your mouth announcing his release.

You moved faster trying to ignore the moisture in your panties and the pain in your crotch, focusing only on the moans that Yeosang released from his throat when he took your head so that you hit bottom again, you felt a hot liquid run inside you and you swallowed what you could but something spilled out of the corners of your mouth rolling down your neck along with the tears in your eyes.

You separated from him leaving the sound of a pop and smiled as you noticed that his face had turned red, Yeosang wasted no time and took you by the arms so you could sit on his lap while he cleaned the white trail he had left on your skin You let his mouth sink into your neck as you cupped his hair and rocked your hips over its length that hid between your legs to fill you up a bit but you knew that wasn't enough with your panties in between.

"Yeo…"

"I know, I can feel you baby" he whispered into your skin and with quick movements he turned them around leaving you face down on the pile of his clothes and when you least expected it he left his hand on your butt before rubbing you and taking off your panties "sorry for making you wait, you've been a good girl" you nodded at his words and he raised your hips, spread your legs to align and ran his fingers over your pussy making you moan "easy baby I haven't even started yet."

You rocked your hips at the same time as his fingers ran down your walls and massaged your swollen clit.

"Yeosang… please" you begged looking at him over your shoulder with the trail of new tears in your eyes. You saw him smile but you noticed how he finally took his member and passed it through where his fingers had been and provoking you, leaving his tip at your entrance.

You moved your hips back and felt his member slide into you a little until he finished the job with a quick thrust letting out a moan in unison. You felt Yeosang start to move and you held on to the fabrics around you as you tried to hold the pressure inside you.

You buried your face on the clothes and inhaled the aroma, getting drunk with a mixture of his smell and his movements, you felt your whole body filled by Yeosang, his smell, his voice, his fingers on your hips, his member hitting your walls, your mind just was focused on him and no one else.

Your vision blurred as your legs began to shake and your arms began to burn from supporting your own weight, but you focused on the sensation inside you as you squeezed your boyfriend's cock and how it began to contract again.

"Don't stop Yeo…"

"I won't do it."

You suppressed your moans on the clothes that were already dirty from your saliva and you felt how the knot in your stomach began to tighten more with each thrust, but suddenly you just sighed, releasing yourself and letting your body tremble from the sudden rush.

You let yourself fall feeling Yeosang's hands clinging to your hips while he finished quenching his pleasure, you felt his release spill inside you leaving you warm and you could only respond by moaning with him when he fell on your back trying to catch his breath.

The weight of his body comforted you when you felt his mouth on your neck to adorn it with kisses while he told you how well you had done. He left you standing to one side caressing your back still covered by his shirt that had now become his favorite.

"Are you okay?" You nodded, opening your eyes to see him and smiled when you noticed the slight layer of sweat on his forehead "let's take a shower."

"No, I want to be here for a moment."

You stuck to his body, bringing his lips together in a tender kiss while you were aware of his hands rising to your chest.

"Do you want to continue?"

"Just a moment…" you closed your eyes hugging him while his hands held your waist and kissed your forehead "I feel intoxicated… by you."

Yeosang wanted to laugh but he held back holding you close to his body and feeling his chest swell for you.

"You're crazy."

"I know you love me."

"Maybe" You punched him in the chest and he let out the laugh he contained "Yes, I love you more than anything."

[angelicglib]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Champagne Problems ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

[ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 27/12/23

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: Reminiscing about the past always leaves a bitter taste in Johnny's mouth. Especially when those memories include you.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 5,814

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt and absolutely ZERO COMFORT!!! Mentions/ implications of alcoholism, angst, implied family issues, suggestive content.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: Pain, suffering and agony. You are welcome.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

ENJOY !!

Please do not post my work to any other platforms, thank you.

────────── ⋆⋅🚂⋅⋆ ──────────

He finds it difficult to stomach as he looks out of the window on a train. 

The return from deployment is always bittersweet. In particular, knowing he can return back to his hometown for a short while before having to eventually go back to the base.

But, all of that disappears as he’s sitting on the train, looking out the window as rain bats against it. His eyes can hardly make anything out, it’s far too dark for his eyes to make it much further than the outline of a mountain in the distance. His arms aching and he’s unsure how long he’s been looking out of it. He’s quite sure the sleeve of his jacket is completely soaked from the condensation dripping down the window, pooling on the window sill his elbow is resting on. Still, nothing changes his position, not even the shifts of the cart as it storms along the tracks. 

In his chest, he feels his heart murmur at the thought of getting closer to home.

It’s been a while. 

The silence on the train is unnerving as he turns his eyes away from the window for a moment. Across the aisle from him, there’s another traveller. His head is pressed firmly against the back of the chair as quiet snores escape his open mouth. As he focuses on him, he notes a glistening trail on his chin and grimaces, turning his eyes away from the man, directing his gaze back to the window.

Trains during the night-time are always strange, he was familiar with them when he first joined the army. Travelling to and from always seemed worse during the day, so, he'd opted to stay at the base for an extra day, leaving in the dead of night to catch the last train available home. There was no reason to leave during the day because at night, he knew he could sleep away all the worries, arriving home well rested. 

But then something changed.

After another op, he returned to his schedule of sitting on the train at night, looking down at the sketchbook resting against the table in front of him. Holding a pencil in his hand, he busied himself with a sketch of a familiar face. There were the remains of a mistake engraved into the paper, odd rolls of the rubber sitting on the bend of his notepad as he readied the eraser in his hand in preparation for another.

His tired eyes were heavy as he observed the features of the man on the page, a small grin forming on his face as he thought about the reaction from the man when he saw him again. He’d probably only nod his head at his attempts of drawing him, noting that the details of his mask were a little janky, but that wouldn’t matter; the eyes were perfect. But Johnny knew he would still lie to him because being sincere was not one of his lieutenants specialities. 

‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ 

Setting the pencil down, he raised his head to see you standing in front of him. You smiled at him with a small glass in your hand, holding the seat opposite to him to keep yourself steady. ‘It’s just cause there’s no one else here and my phone died,’ you explained, ‘I won’t make a peep, I promise,’ you added. 

With a short nod, he motions towards the chair opposite to him, moving the pencil tin above his notepad so you had some space to place down your belongings. ‘Aye,’ he says, ‘be my guest, bonnie.’ 

So, you took a seat, placing your backpack on the chair beside you, setting your glass down. He observed the colour of the liquid, the colours faint as the bubbles raise from the bottom of the small glass, dispersing at the top. He recalled how odd he thought it was when he had first seen the funny little drink on the table, only knowing the train-line to serve water and the occasional cup of tea.

‘Champagne,’ you answered, following his eyes to the glass, ‘thought I’d treat myself.' 

‘What’s the special occasion?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow, picking his pencil back up, resuming his portrait of the moody lieutenant. The train creaked at the cart turned slightly, and he caught your hand steading the drink. ‘Ye get a promotion?’ 

Looking at you again, he noted how you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Your eyes fell to the aisle and your chest rose as you took a deep breath. There was something about your apprehension that troubled him, the way your flushed cheeks paled left him wounded for a short while before he realised that he had no clue why he was thinking in such a manner.

It was her eyes, he reminisces while keeping his eyes trained on the window beyond the cart.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, the memories of you still wrapping around his mind as a kids train set does a families Christmas tree during the holidays. Looping round and round and round until it's put into a box. The season in his mind has lasted longer than the measly length of the month of December, spanning years (it seemed). It's torture, yet, despite it being so cruel, he dreads the arrival of the day where he finally has the courage to box you up and shove you to the back of his mind because that would be when he could begin to forget you.

Even after all the years that have passed, he finds his mouth moves as he recalls your response to his question when you had sat opposite to him on the train.

‘Moving out, actually.'

It was just as well everything happened for you on that day, you moved out the day he got the train home. Had anything been different, neither of you would have crossed paths and while agonising, he looks at the stars in the nights sky with an air of gratitude.

You admitted after a while, your eyes falling back onto him as you heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Been stuck in a shitty situation for a while, been sitting around waiting for a chance to get out of it and tonight just so happens to be the night that everything fell back into place.’

Your words haunted him during the night, appearing like a phantom in his dreams, calling out to him. The glint of gratitude in his eyes wavers.

Your words are soft as you spoke and he likened the look you gave him to one of the valleys he had witnessed when he had taken the day train home after his first deployment. A valley with a river right below it in the midst of shrubbery and trees. The water was blue, he could see it when he looked at her. The reflection of the sun reflecting off of the surface, mirroring the rocky trails of the mountains. The sight of such had left him breathless, just as you did when you took a deep breath, reaching out for her glass, bringing it to you mouth. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling a stranger my problems,’ you mumbled. 

‘It’s nae an issue, lass,’ he responded, ‘happy to hear y’ got outta whatever was making ye so miserable,’ he confessed, ‘and Scotland, eh? Pretty place if y’ ask me,’ he said with a short laugh. You laughed with him before taking another sip from your drink.

He watched as you did so, noting the glint in her eyes as you moved your eyes away from him to his notebook. Pulling the glass away from your mouth, you placed it down with a hum, swallowing the last of the drink in your mouth, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. It's a charming sight, clumsy and amusing.

‘You’re good at drawing,’ you noted, pointing at the drawing, ‘is he a character of yours?’ you asked, motioning to the drawing of the man with the skull face. A short chuckle passed his lips as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. 

‘Guess ye could call him that,’ he said, 'someone I know, actually ,' he confessed.

Your brows furrowed, wrinkles forming on your forehead as your eyes grew wide. Your hand ghosted the glass, wetting your fingers with the condensation dripping down the outside as you looked at him with glossy eyes. Fingerprints marked the glass as you forced your hand away.

'I'm so so sorry- I didn't mean it as an insult it's just-'

'Keep the heid, lass,' laughed the man.

You stared at him.

'Relax,' he said, noting the confusion on your face. Your tensed muscles softened as your picked up the glass off of the table, taking a big gulp, finishing the last of the contents in it. He frowns when he notices you shaking. You thought you had done so much wrong with a single observation. 'you weren't to know.'

'Does he really wear that mask?' you whispered as though Simon was right behind you, and had he been, Johnny could say with his heart that he wouldn't have been surprised; the damn man appeared out of nowhere all the time.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Is it part of his job?'

Your intrigue was adorable.

'No, he just prefers to hide his face,' he explained, 'suppose it makes work easier,' he said, nodding to himself. Despite his time knowing Simon, he never did know why he covered his face. Of course, it kept the human version of the man from the man who committed countless atrocities in the name of justice, yet, the point you brought up left him thinking for a short moment.

'You work together?' you asked, 'what do you do for work?'

'Part of the military,' he told you frankly, 'he's my lieutenant,' he added, although, he didn't care to tell you much more as he looked at the you with a furrowed brow, not wanting to leave you with enough time to respond to his confession, 'what about you, lass?'

'I write,' you said, 'I got a remote position at a publishing company, that's whats given me the money to move out.'

'I enjoy writin' from time to time,' he responded, 'not that good at it though, prefer drawing,' he uttered.

You were though, he didn't even bothers to think of your response because, truthfully, your humbleness in terms of your own talent was wounding to his own love for writing. As he would with advertisements, inwardly, he skips by all the small talk in his mind. It's cruel the way the mind works; memory was a burden to hold, yet as entertaining as a late night TV show which was to only be watched in secrecy.

'What's your name?' you asked, picking up another cup of champagne. He watched as you did so, lifting his own cup that you had gotten for him when you had excused yourself to the bathroom.

He kept his distaste of the beverage to himself, besides, it was free.

'Johnny,' he answered, ' and y'urself, bonnie?'

You answer accordingly, stating your name with a smile. Repeating your name, he finds it rolls off his tongue well and the longer he observes you, the more a conclusion dawned upon him.

'Suits ye well,' he complimented with a wink.

Rubbing his face with his hand, his breath fogs against the window of the train and he turns his head away, absentmindedly wiping down the window with the sleeve of his puffer jacket. In the meantime, he busies himself looking at the empty seat opposite to him.

In the blink of an eye, you're there, sitting across from him.

'When do you get off?' he asked.

'Last stop,' you answered, 'staying at a hotel for a few days before my place is ready... was eager to leave,' you said. As soon as the words passed your lips, he felt compelled to be a gentleman. That, alongside taking into account the trouble that could have occurred if you did walk to the hotel alone, besides, the least he could have done for you buying him a drink and keeping him company was help you find you way to your hotel.

'We can share a cab if ye want,' he offered, 'put my mind at ease, wanna make sure you get there safe, besides, far too cold for ye to be walkin', bonnie,' he said, biting the inside of his mouth as he awaited your refusal, only, you nodded your head and smiled.

'I'd appreciate that, Johnny.'

His memories blur for a while after that, and his cheeks flushed red as he recalls how you looked at him before you got out of the cab. Glancing at the same hand that paid the fare only far enough to go to your hotel he curses as he watches the memory of him getting out of the taxi to chase after you.

You waited for him at the entrance in hope he'd have a change of heart, and he recalls how delighted you were when he walked through the door and caught you standing there, waiting for him.

Truthfully, he knew he was in deep shit when he felt the way you wrapped around him, the way you called his name, and how pretty you looked underneath him. Even after years, it was difficult to escape the thought of your first night together. Perhaps it was the entire being strangers thing that made the sex much more enthralling than any other one night stand he had had, or maybe it was just you.

Shoulda never let her have me number, he thought to himself.

It was difficult to deny that there were only ever terrible times. Resentment bubbles and it turns the fondest of moments to the worse; there was something there for him to miss when he thinks fondly of you. Fondness makes forgetting a hell of a lot harder, at least it does for him, anyway.

He hardly even thinks about Graves anymore and he resents him.

He resents you too.

But whenever he thinks of you, he thinks of your laughter. And then the guilt seeps in and he curses himself for ever thinking so lowly of you in the first place. How fucking dare he do something so terrible. You deserve it, though, for all the shit you put him through: the bruised heart thats still bandaged up, the sleepless nights as he waited for you to come home, the drunken phone calls he would get while on an op.

All of it.

Then there was everything else: the moments you shared together, the sound of your laughter which would seemingly travel down the halls of your apartment and wake him whenever you spent the night together, the sight of you in his shirt while cooking breakfast in the morning and your excitement when you finally persuaded him to dance with you.

The last one was particularly difficult to forget. His fondness will never let him let it go, he's convinced.

In the depths of the night, you danced together. He acknowledged the look on your face as he held you in your arms, the laughter as he spun you around in a circle, pulling you away just for you to end right back in his arms. He'd never let you wonder too far, scared that if he lost grip of your hand, you would have disappeared forever.

It became a routine and he recalls all the times he had held you in his arms while dancing to a song by Sinatra or Aretha Franklin and all the times he saw you smile. All of those happy moments moulded into one, while only a few stuck out.

During that night in particular, he couldn't look away from your eyes.

Whenever he looked at you, he was started by the glint of colours in your eyes, reflective of the colourful lights you had decorated your Christmas tree with. Rather, instead of decorating the tree, the lights in your eyes worked well in decorating the brambles you called eyelashes as you looked up at him. Every time you blinked, he found the same glossy sheen he had seen that night on the train. Every blink seemed to edge you closer to tears, as though your eyelashes were antagonising your poor eyes constantly.

Then he smelt the liquor on you breath and was reminded of the underlining truth of everything.

You were always emotional whenever you had something to drink. It couldn't have been helped, it was simply who you were, and he was going to resent you for something you couldn't have helped.

'Yer oot yer face,' he mumbled, speaking softly to you as you swayed with one another to the low hum of music from your vinyl player. Neither of you noticed how the song skipped, far too busy with one another to notice such a flaw.

'English, MacTavish,' you answered, your tone gruff as you recalled the story he had told you about the man with the skull mask and the city soaked in blood. He chuckled, pulling you closer, resting his head against your shoulder, looking at you. You turned your head to the side to look at him too.

'You're drunk,' he said quietly.

'I only had a glass,' you answered abruptly. You tensed in his arms when you responded to him and he felt his head sink further down until it sat, burning in the acid of his stomach. 'I had it while I was making dinner; the sauce had some of it in,' you explained, turning in his arms so your chests were pressed against each others. placing your hand against his face. You looked worried in that moment, observing his features. 'You're not mad at me, are you?'

Placing his hand over yours, he sighed, 'nae, bonnie, just don't want ye to hurt y'urself,' he explained, pulling your hand from off of his face, planting a kiss atop of it, moving his other hand from the small of your back to hold your waist. 'Love you too much for ye to do that,' he said, letting go of your hand to place his fingers beneath your chin, forcing your head up so you were looking at him. 'Y'know that.'

'I do,' you weakly answered.

The only bastard 'I do' he ever got from your lips. It was laughable really as he looks back on that night, how the pair of you had been so close in your home, dancing together as though you were an elderly couple celebrating your 40th wedding anniversary together.

Think I'll live that long?

Probably not.

Had anyone from 141 been there to witness how he fell to pieces with you in his arms, they very well would have laughed until they were blue in the face. And the longer he looks out the window out on the Scottish countryside, he concludes he too would laugh at that man dancing with you for being such a smitten fool.

'Good,' he hummed, pressing a kiss against your lips. The were chapped, dry, but he didn't care. Instead, he deepened the kiss as the pair of you stumbled backwards, muffled laughter escaping you as you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while he kept the pair of you from falling.

Moments of happiness seemed so common in the beginning.

The night trains shifted to day trains again.

He'd hit the ground running after returning from an op, only showering because he didn't want you to smell the remnants of war which stained him and his skin. Nothing kept him from seeing you, not even his distaste for the day train.

All of it meant that he could get home sooner; he recalled the sinking feeling in his chest whenever the trains were delayed by a measly twenty minutes. Love made him a different man, he realised, a man who enjoyed the day train and the man who loathed the night train.

'I thought you weren't going to be home for another couple of days,' you said, opening the door to see Johnny standing there with a bag on his arm. Dropping it, he pulled you into a tight hug, resting his hand against the back of your head as he swayed you from side to side. 'Did you get the day train for me?' you asked.

Pulling away, he caught sight of the smile creeping onto you face as he nodded his head slowly, 'didn't wanna wait longer than I had to,' he answered, 'saw a photo of ye in me wallet an' knew I needed to be here with you sooner,' he added, pressing a kiss onto your lips as your cheeks flushed red.

'You have a picture of me in your wallet?' you quietly asked when he pulled away for you. He smiled.

'Of course I do, bonnie,' he responded as though such was an obvious fact, 'need to see that face of yours every day, ye like medicine to me.'

'Really?'

'Aye, lass.'

Everything moved so quickly and it wasn't long before you were well acquainted with his mam.

Meeting his mother was the confirmation he needed to say that he wanted to marry you. No one else in the world mattered when he saw how you and his sisters bonded, and while sitting alone on the train, he clenched a his fist at the emptiness of the palm of his hand while imagining the light weight of the ring his mother had placed in the palm of his hand while he stood in the kitchen helping her prepare the Christmas dinner. It had been over two years since the pair of you had started dating when she did so, working well to convince him that the timing meant that something else in the universe had willed it to happen.

'Mam?' he asked, looking down at the ring in his hand.

The band was quaint, golden as an green gem stared him in the eyes as he squinted, holding it up to the yellow light of the kitchen. The elderly woman in front of him chuckled, patting his shoulder as she walked past him to open the oven.

'Well, she's the one, ain't she?' she said, speaking into the heat of the oven as she grabbed the tray of duck-fat potatoes with a stained tea towel.

'Ye think?'

'Gonnae no’ dae that!' exclaimed his mother.

'Don't do what?' he scoffed.

'Act surprised,' she scolded, 'it's in ye eyes, son,' she chuckled. 'Yer nana told me to give ye the ring when I thought ye'd found the right one,' she confessed, 'and with your father gone, 'ave got no reason to wear it, but she has,' she uttered, looking from out of the kitchen into the living room.

His eyes followed hers and he watched as you sat with his youngest sister. The pair of you chatted away, though his stomach twisted at the sight of you holding a glass in your hand.

'She's a good girl, Johnny.'

'Aye, mam, I know.'

'So, marry her.'

With his mam's words echoing in his mind, the memories always came to the one that caused all the air in his lungs to escape.

Nothing wants to stay whenever he thinks of that, and he's sure if he was wounded, all his blood would leave him in a second in order to stay out of the cycle in his head that always brings him back to this one thought.

He supposes, in hindsight, it was terribly foolish what he had done. His ignorance to pressing issues was immature and irresponsible, only, they were easy to ignore when he had his mothers ring in his pocket. But he noticed, years down the line, how you had dropped his hand when the pair of you had been dancing, all to go and get another drink because the glass in your hand was running dry.

The party was one you both had planned, only, you had done so to celebrate a win himself and the boys had had during their time away, and he had invited everyone with the intent of proposing to the love of his life.

In the moment, he had been so crushed. He recalls how his mouth was dry, the dull ache in his cut knee as he awkwardly remained kneeled as you stood and stared. The speech he had prepared disappeared when you turned your back on him and rushed away, leaving his ego bleeding as everyone looked at him in horror.

'I just... I don't know why you would do it,' you mumbled when you heard him walk through the door into the kitchen away from the guests.

He was silent as he looked at you, traces of a storm in his eyes as he fought off the urge to cry. His chest hurt as he looked at you with a glass in your hand, and he couldn't do anything but stand there and watch as you drank from it. 'I told you, Johnny, I fucking warned you and-'

'I thought ye would've had a change of heart, love-'

'Well I haven't!' you angrily snapped, slamming your glass down onto the counter, glaring at him. 'What, did you think just because I'd have a ring on my finger all of our fuckin' issues are going to disappear? You're a smart man, Johnny, stop trying to play the role of the fool. It doesn't suit you and it never will.'

You were just as embarrassed as he was. He curses himself while sitting on the train, thinking back to your flushed cheeks and teary eyes. It wasn't only because of the booze that time, it was because of him too.

'I- I'm trying, John, can't you see that?' you croaked, 'I'm trying but I can't be everything you want. I don't wanna get married... at least not yet.'

'Ye don't love me,' he blurted.

You snapped your head up, furrowing your brows as you looked at him with wide eyes. 'Is that serious what you think?' you shakily asked, disbelief etched into your features. 'So what? You think all the fuckin' nights I've spent worried that you're not gonna come home when you're away working were for-'

'All the fuckin' nights you spent with a bottle in your hand too, eh?' he quickly cut you off, retorting in a manner that had left you breathless, draining all the colour out of your face. 'Don't pull that card on me, bonnie, don't you fuckin' dare do it 'cause I worry more about you and your drinkin' habit than I do my own life when I'm out on the field- tell me how you think that's fair!'

You stared at him, your eyes drifting to the empty glass abandoned on the counter. It was unfair for him to pull that card, he was aware enough in the moment to understand it, but he was so utterly devastated that he chose to stand his ground. An apology wouldn't have mean anything even if he had said it.

'If ye loved me... you'd stop goin' to the bottle every time ye have an issue,' he bleakly said, 'but am not even sure if you would pick me over the drink anymore, bonnie.'

'How would me saying yes to you fix any of that?'

He stayed silent.

Reflection allows him to find that he only ever proposed out of love. He was aware of your issues, noting it was never always smooth sailing from either of you, but he supposes he just wanted to have proof that at least once, you would pick him rather than the liquor.

But he was stupid for ever thinking you were more than your champagne problems.

'Getting married would only complicate things between us, John. You know that,' you said after a while of silence, 'and clearly, we don't listen to each other... I'm sorry I embarrassed you today, and I'm sorry I keep causing you to worry- I'm sorry for being such a burden to you but you don't make it easy for me,' you uttered, rubbing your face with your hands, wiping away the tears that fell down your scarlet cheeks.

There was nothing else for him to say to you, and he's ashamed at the very fact that, in the moment you needed him the most, he walked out of that room and left you there crying, alone.

As the train turns on the tracks again, he ponders what would have been different if he had stayed there with you, only, he finds his mind drifting to the words on a page which confirms exactly why he was thinking.

He was only prolonging the inevitable.

As he turns to the final page in his notebook, he finds it difficult to breath as he retrieves the piece of paper he had pushed to the back of it, unfolding it. Pressing his hand against it, he leaves it to sit on top of the page marked with splashes of the drink you had spilled, unable to find the strength as he stares down at the words scrawled on the page.

A crude reminder of what became of his engagement.

'Johnny,

In time, I hope you'll forget about all my problems and find someone who you deserve. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused and I'm sorry for not being ready for you.

Give your mums ring to someone who deserves it and put the special ladies picture in your wallet instead of mine. For the sake of yourself and me.

I love you, Johnny, nearly too much, and while you will see my absence as cruel, know I see it as necessary and that's the issue; we never have seen eye to eye on a lot of things.

We're not ready for each other, I know you think it but you're too scared to say it, so I'll bite the bullet and say it for you. We're not ready for each other, Johnny.

Love shouldn't be a tug-of-war, and I grow tired for you watching as you always try and pull me to you. Besides, I heard your mother after you left the room, she said I was fucked in the head for not agreeing to your proposal and it leaves me wondering what type of person you've made your family believe I am.

I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted, but know that everything I'm doing: leaving, writing this letter, not saying goodbye to you in person, is for you. You always said you hated goodbyes; they were the hardest part of your career, and I can't promise that I wouldn't run back into your arms the second you'd open your mouth and beg me not to go.

But I'm prolonging the inevitable by staying with you.

I'm making you miserable with my problems and that is not what I want you to do. You have a life, and you had a life before we met on that train.

All I ever did was make you worry and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want you to worry about me, I just want you to move on and love and be loved. I'm going to work on myself and I'm going to get better because I know that that is what you want, and in truth, it's what I want too.

I love you and I fear I always will, but I can't have you, and I'm punishing you and myself by staying here.'

He turns his head away from the letter, looking back to the window at the small dots through the foggy water as he utters the last part of the letter under his breath. 'One day, we may meet again, perhaps the stars will align and you'll see me on a nighttime train back to your home town. And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

A breathy laugh escapes him, repeating 'And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

How appalling it would be when you realised that you leaving only resulted in the reversal of roles. At least, he likes to think he would have the strength to refuse you if he's to ever see you again.

When he turns away from the window, relieving himself of the pain of remembering all that has gone wrong in his life, he takes the letter from off of his notepad, folding it along the worn edges, pushing it back in a small slip at the back of the notepad.

Shrugging off his jacket, he put it on the seat beside him with a hard sigh, turning his attention back to the notepad in front of him. The nights long and his journey proceeds to drag his feet and he's unsure if he even wants to be back home or if he should have just stayed in the base until Price needed him next. But it's Christmas and he couldn't have left his family because of his own sorrow about something that happened years ago.

He just misses you more in the holidays, but he supposes that's okay as long as he doesn't let the phantom you left him with ruin everything. So, he picks up the pencil and pursues what he was doing the night you two met, only this time, there's a ghost sitting opposite to him, not the living thing that greeted him many moons ago.

His ignorance to the world around him keeps him from hearing the footsteps storming up the aisle after the train stops at a station. Even when the voice of a woman announcing the last stop enters his ears, he doesn't lift his head. All the noise culminates into a twisting storm, similar to how he imagines the billowing smoke exuding from a chimney on a winter night swirls in the wind. It's deplorable and he grunts as he attempts to chase the flurry of emotions away.

His efforts result in even more tension at the front of his mind as he looks into the eyes of the drawing he's sketching, realising just whose eyes he had depicted in the midst of his worry. Even after all the time has passed, he's impressed by the fact that he still remembers your features so well.

Always so difficult to forget, he supposes his contemplation proves such.

Then he hears it.

The very thing that works to break him free.

A quaint shaky breath.

A shadow covers his bulky frame, light peering from either side of the mass standing on the aisle holding onto the seat opposite him. Lifting his head, his lungs rattle in his chest as he realises the eyes he had been sketching in his notepad are right before him in human form, staring right back at him.

'Johnny?'

────────── ⋆⋅🚂⋅⋆ ──────────

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 27 Your Days are Numbered

(damn I was proud of my last drawing T-T)

NAAAA I'M SO HAPPY GOAT LORD IS BACK >w<

I KNEAD HIM

Check out my gorgeous first youtube video!! (or don't lmao)

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Irratino takes Logico to what he wanted to show him, a new room in the Institute.

IRRATINO: Now around here, the one department you can really count on, is the numerology department. [whEEZE] HAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAA!

He faceplants. Logico walks right over him and sees a large amount of humans with calculators - what the hell are they doing?

LOGICO: What the hell are you doing? PERSON: Shh.

They multiply 367 by 673. It equals 246,991!

LOGICO: …

There’s an apple orchard on the lot outside, with people taking many notes on the many apples. And there’s a small room full of people counting in unison.

IRRATINO: Oh, they’re trying to find the highest number! LOGICO: I hate you. IRRATINO: Come on, I wanna show you the director! LOGICO: I’m pretty sure we’ve met.

They approach Night.

NIGHT: Ah, President. It’s good you came. The director is dead.

Luckily the director was just some human… Logico reunites with Azure, and is startled by the newcomer Supreme Master Cobalt!

LOGICO: How many people did you hire?? IRRATINO: When I was disguised as Mister Shadow, I picked up a few friends from New Aegis! [whispers] They didn’t know I was supposed to be dead!

Wanting to erase that memory, Logico immediately turns to take statements.

COBALT: Based on my visions- NIGHT: Based on the numbers- AZURE: Look at the stars! LOGICO: ENOUGHHHHH

That’s one thing Logico sure didn’t miss - character-relevant dialogue prefixes! But he does somewhat enjoy examining the absurd weapon selection. Azure is chewing on a raw steak.

LOGICO: Are you trying to kill yourself? AZURE: It’s not real, it’s genetically modified soy. If I tried to eat a real steak here, the inspector would kill me!

Logico glances over at Irratino, who laughs. Cobalt is playing around with a little angel doll.

COBALT: I’m not playing, and it’s not a doll. It’s a sculpture of the patron saint of math. LOGICO: It has a tag from a dollar store on it, and you were prancing around while singing. COBALT: [absolutely nightmarish scream]

Logico is blasted backwards and slams into Night, who is maneuvering a hypercube.

LOGICO: Um, what is that? NIGHT: A hypercube. LOGICO: No, what IS it. NIGHT: It’s a hypercube, Logico. I don’t know what you want me to say. IRRATINO: It’s amazing, right? That shouldn’t even be able to exist! LOGICO: …  IRRATINO: I’ll cast some runes to solve the murder.

Logico looks at the runes.

LOGICO: Hm. Okay. It looks like the murderer is… Supreme- NIGHT: Me. I did it. LOGICO: Um, no, actually- NIGHT: It was me. It was all me. Take me away. Take me to prison, where I shall rot. LOGICO: Oh my god, you didn’t d- NIGHT: [clutches onto him] YOU WON’T TAKE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AWAY FROM ME, NOT AGAIN, NOT EVER!!!!

Irratino is disturbed. He has never heard Night scream before! (No one has.)

COBALT: Love of your… what? NIGHT: I love you. COBALT: I’m hundreds of years old.  NIGHT: Age is just a number. LOGICO: We may have to arrest you for different reasons. But ANYWAY, Cobalt is the ACTUAL murderer.  COBALT: This is outrageous! Nobody should be able to invent new numbers except me. And I shouldn’t be held ac’count’able for stopping the count! Fortunately, my great mystic faculties will make me impossible to catch.

He tries running, but sprains his back and collapses immediately.

NIGHT: A new number… it’s sad we will never learn what it might have been. AZURE: Wait, look! 

She brings a slip of paper from the dead guy’s pocket.

AZURE: [gasp!] A googol and twelve!

Night and Irratino crowd around in awe, and Logico couldn’t be more done with this bullshit. But would he rather be suffering in Drakonia?

The end!

As much as I adore writing angst, I dearly missed writing dumb episodes where nothing happens as well <3

Now I'm going to cry to myself because I'll never get to attend a live murdle.

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!