#They watch from above / you always know who they are / their eyes are vacant

[mbohjeezart]

Hermit a Day May: Day 18, Joe Hills, The Puppet, the Puppeteer!

@joehills And here's his full portrait without the text and background:

[chosok-amo]

THAT TIME OF THE YEAR : TOJI FUSHIGURO

spooky season is your two boys’ favorite month out of the year. they will take halloween to another level with their stupid prank and their obnoxious self. (credit)

warning. established relationship, non-sorcerer, megs is three.

october was always a special month in your house, especially with your two favorite boys: your husband and your son. halloween brought out an extra spark in both of them. for toji, it was all about scaring the living daylights out of you at every turn; for your son, it was an endless excuse to indulge in as much candy as his little hands could grab. together, they were the ultimate halloween duo, and they made sure every night was full of fun, frights, and family bonding.

every evening, the three of you would cozy up on the couch, draped in halloween blankets, surrounded by pillows covered in tiny pumpkins and ghosts. the night began with spooky cartoons for megumi, gradually building up to horror movies that made you jump with every scare. it didn’t help that toji took every opportunity to add to the horror, sneaking up on you in the dark or making the house creak in just the right spots to give you chills. megumi, meanwhile, giggled at every one of his father’s pranks, clinging to you in excitement every time the movie reached a scary part.

decorating the house was another thrill entirely. toji insisted on going all out, hanging fake cobwebs on every wall, sticking glow-in-the-dark spiders to the ceiling, and even placing a life-sized skeleton by the front door to spook anyone who dared to visit. megumi helped, eagerly grabbing handfuls of fake bats and pumpkins to scatter around the living room. you let him stick the bat decals on the windows, watching his eyes light up as he carefully placed each one, talking excitedly about his plans to “scare all the monsters” away.

and then there were the costumes. toji, knowing your household’s halloween excitement, had gone above and beyond by sending over matching costumes for all of you. “just a little family fun,” he’d said, though you suspected he was reveling in the idea of seeing you all dressed up. the first box you opened held matching vampire costumes, complete with tiny fangs for megumi and a dramatic cape for toji that he wore with far too much pride. another box had skeleton onesies, which made megumi squeal in excitement, and of course, the classic pumpkin outfits that had you all laughing so hard you were nearly in tears.

it was the perfect blend of spooky, silly, and sweet—your little family creating memories in a halloween wonderland, one costume and candy bar at a time.

stepping out of your bedroom, you were greeted by the stillness of the house, a quiet that was almost too quiet. usually, there was the faint sound of toji’s steady footsteps, or the familiar soft noises from the tv, maybe even megumi’s playful laughter filling the air. but today, the silence seemed to linger, thick and expectant. instinctively, you felt your guard go up a little, knowing that your two favorite troublemakers were probably lying in wait, planning to jump out and startle you at any second. with halloween right around the corner, their pranks had become even more relentless.

smiling to yourself, you made your way down the hallway, keeping your eyes casually peeled for any flicker of movement. as you turned the corner, passing by the living room, something outside caught your attention. you stopped mid-stride, your gaze pulling toward the large window. there, across the street, the once-empty house stood in stark contrast to its quiet surroundings. a moving truck was parked in the driveway, its back open and overflowing with boxes, furniture, and household items. a handful of people moved back and forth, unloading and organizing, their voices carrying faintly through the early morning air.

a small flicker of surprise mixed with curiosity as you watched. the house had been vacant for so long that you'd almost grown used to the sight of its empty driveway and dark windows. seeing life there now, the bustle of activity, felt like an unexpected change—a new piece settling into the familiar puzzle of your neighborhood.

“well,” you murmured to yourself, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, “someone finally moved in.” your voice was soft, almost lost in the quietness of the room, but the words held a certain warmth, a bit of welcome for the unseen neighbors across the street.

you lingered for a moment, watching them go about their work, wondering what they’d be like. would they be friendly? reserved? or maybe they’d have kids who would join megumi in his little neighborhood adventures. the thought made you chuckle, imagining your son roping in yet another person into his halloween antics.

finally, you tore your gaze from the window and continued your path to the kitchen, the need for a warm cup of tea pulling you back into the routine of the morning.

you were in the middle of pouring hot water over your tea leaves, the soothing scent wafting up as you busied yourself with the morning routine. but then, a faint, haunting tune drifted into the kitchen—a melody so unmistakable, it sent a chill up your spine. the michael myers theme. you froze, brows knitting together in confusion, until you looked toward the large window that gave you a view of the front yard.

outside, right at the edge of your property, stood two figures. one towered over six feet tall, their body broad and muscular, while the other was smaller, tiny in comparison. both were dressed in full michael myers costumes, their faces obscured by the eerie, pale masks. the larger figure was seated at a piano, somehow dragged onto the lawn, fingers moving ominously over the keys. meanwhile, the smaller one—who looked eerily like your son—was doing a little dance in front, his moves synchronized to the creepy beat. both were facing the house of your new neighbors, like some twisted ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ display.

your eyes squinted, trying to make sense of the bizarre scene, but the realization hit you like a freight train. it was toji and megumi. a mix of horror and exasperation washed over you as your eyes went wide. you barely took a breath before you muttered, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” and quickly turned off the stove, abandoning your tea.

moving as fast as you could, you made a beeline for the front door, already imagining what kind of impression this little ‘performance’ would make on the unsuspecting newcomers. as you reached the door, you could hear toji’s deep chuckle even from inside, clearly enjoying every second of the prank. it was obvious this was his idea—megumi just his willing accomplice.

bursting out of the door, you hurried across the lawn, ignoring the curious looks from some neighbors peeking out their windows. “toji!” you whisper-shouted, trying not to make too much of a scene but already knowing that was a losing battle.

you glanced down at little megumi, whose enthusiasm was evident despite the mask. his tiny frame, barely reaching toji’s thighs, was bouncing with excitement as he held up a plastic knife—though, much to your horror, he had it sticking through one of the eye holes in his michael myers mask.

“megumi,” you began, struggling to keep a straight face, “you’re absolutely adorable, baby, but for the hundredth time—take the knife out of your eye, please.”

he paused, looking up at you with a glimmer of mischief as he slowly lowered the fake knife. “it’s scarier this way, mom,” he replied, sounding all too serious for a kid his age. you couldn’t help but chuckle at his dedication to the act, but a look over at toji confirmed your suspicion that he was the mastermind behind the “knife-through-the-eye” idea.

toji’s head tilted up slightly, those familiar green eyes glinting mischievously behind the mask. he slowed his playing but didn’t stop, while megumi just turned to give you a small, amused wave before going back to his exaggerated dance moves.

just as you’re about to speak, a voice called out from across the street. you looked up to find two men watching the scene unfold—one tall with stark white hair and the other with long, dark hair, both wearing expressions that looked equal parts amused and bewildered. near them were two kids about megumi’s age: a boy with a shock of pink hair and a girl with short ginger-colored hair. all of them seemed captivated by the bizarre performance happening on your lawn.

your cheeks flushed as you realized they’d been watching the entire time, and you let out a sheepish laugh, raising a hand in an awkward wave. “i promise we’re normal... well, at least 11 months out of the year!” you half-shouted across the street, your voice laced with a mixture of embarrassment and humor.

the white-haired man let out a deep laugh, clearly entertained. “oh, don’t worry, we’re all for a little halloween spirit,” he called back, grinning. the dark-haired man beside him shook his head, though you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he held back a laugh.

the kids, meanwhile, seemed more than intrigued, their eyes sparkling with excitement as they whispered to each other. the boy with pink hair pointed at megumi, who was still brandishing his plastic knife with pride, while the girl watched, already sizing up his costume.

toji didn’t miss a beat as the neighbors began walking over, his fingers still gliding across the keyboard with dramatic flair. his eyes flicked to you briefly, a playful challenge in his gaze, daring you to try and make him stop.

you let out an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes, marching over to him and giving him a firm smack on the back of his head. “enough, toji!” you muttered through clenched teeth, trying to hide the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “the neighbors are coming over, and you’re about two seconds away from terrifying them out of town.”

toji chuckled, continuing to play his ominous tune as he looked up at you. “lighten up, love. it’s all in good halloween spirit,” he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement behind his mask. you couldn’t help but shake your head, trying to resist the urge to laugh at his ridiculous antics.

the neighbors finally approached, the two men offering polite waves as the kids looked on, their expressions a mix of curiosity and delight. they seemed to take the display in stride, treating it as just another quirky neighborhood occurrence.

the two men extended friendly smiles, each one exuding a different type of charm. the tall, white-haired man with bright blue eyes stepped forward first, a grin plastered on his face that seemed as wide as the moon.

“i’m gojo satoru,” he said with a playful glint in his eye, offering his hand. “and this is my husband, geto suguru,” he added, gesturing to the dark-haired man beside him, who greeted you with a warm nod and a more reserved smile.

“we noticed your… uh, halloween spirit,” geto added, his smile deepening as he cast a sidelong glance at toji, who was clearly reveling in the entire scene.

before you could respond, the kids had already gravitated toward megumi, their own curiosity and excitement uncontained. the pink-haired boy waved enthusiastically, introducing himself with a big grin. “i’m yuuji itadori!” he said, his voice bursting with energy, “and this is nobara kugisaki,” he added, nodding toward the red-haired girl beside him, who wore a confident, no-nonsense expression.

megumi, still holding onto his plastic knife on the eye hole of his mask, looked at them through his mask’s eye holes, a spark of excitement in his eyes. he lowered the knife, waving back with a shy but intrigued look.

“i’m megumi,” he said simply, and before you knew it, the three of them were deep in conversation, already planning a halloween adventure that you could only imagine would be both thrilling and chaotic.

“looks like they’re already fast friends,” you chuckled, watching the kids with a fond smile.

smiling, you nodded in return. “nice to meet you both. i’m y/n, and this is my husband, toji,” you said, glancing up at him. toji finally lifted the michael myers mask, pushing it up to reveal his face. his sharp gaze, set jaw, a scar across his lips, and faint smirk had gojo blinking, momentarily taken aback before he broke into a grin.

“you guys don’t mess around, do you?” gojo said, chuckling as he took in toji’s intimidating appearance.

toji shrugged, crossing his arms with a casual ease. “we’re serious about halloween,” he replied, his tone a mix of dry humor and pride. he made his way over to you, slinging an arm around your waist. his touch was always casual but reassuring.

he was so close that you could smell the lingering scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp autumn air. his thumb grazed your hip in a small, intimate gesture that sent a familiar shiver down your spine. his presence was always comforting, yet at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of embarrassment at the spectacle toji was making. you didn’t mind a bit of mischief, but this was a new neighborhood, and first impressions were important.

you cleared your throat softly, glancing back at gojo and geto with a slightly embarrassed smile. “i’m really sorry about these two,” you said, nodding toward toji and megumi, who was now giving nobara a serious demonstration of his fake knife skills. “they get a little… overly excited for halloween. it’s kind of their favorite time of year.”

the two men shared an amused glance before turning back to you, their expressions understanding. “don’t worry,” gojo said. “i totally get it. halloween brings out the craziness in everyone, doesn’t it?” his toothy grin grew wider as he looked over at megumi and nobara, who were now both brandishing their plastic knives like they were swords.

geto shook his head slightly, his lips quirking into a smile. “it’s nice to see such enthusiasm for the holiday. and your husband seems like quite the character as well,” he added with a nod toward toji who’s still standing beside you.

toji simply chuckled in response, his arm still casually wrapped around your waist. he watched as megumi and nobara dueled with their pretend weapons, his expression a mix of pride and amusement. “what can i say? halloween is our time to shine,” toji said, looking at you with that familiar spark in his eye.

gojo chuckled, his grin widening as he watched the scene unfold. “honestly, i respect the dedication. halloween should be a full-production event, don’t you think, suguru?” geto nodded, his smile warm and reassuring. “absolutely. it’s good to see people who go all out. besides, i think it’s rubbing off on the kids—they already seem like best friends.”

you looked back at toji, who gave a slight, unapologetic smirk as he caught your gaze, his thumb brushing lightly over your hip in a way that reminded you exactly why you loved his confidence, even if it did border on outrageous at times. it was moments like these that you could see how much fun he had with megumi, encouraging that playful side, even if it sometimes made for interesting introductions.

“well,” you sighed, turning back to your new neighbors, “at least they’re enthusiastic.”

geto’s eyes sparkled with a warm, inviting smile as he looked at you. “you guys should definitely stop by for trick-or-treating later,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “we might not have all the decorations up just yet, but i promise, we’ve got the best candy.”

his gaze shifted briefly to megumi, who was still showing off his michael myers costume with a serious expression, and geto chuckled softly. “i’m sure yuuji and nobara would love to have some company for the night. we could even make it a little neighborhood halloween kick-off.”

there was a genuine warmth in his voice, a subtle excitement that told you he wasn’t just being polite; he genuinely wanted to get to know your family and share in the halloween spirit. his easy smile and welcoming demeanor made it feel like this might just be the beginning of a new friendship.

you felt your heart warm at geto’s easy kindness, and you found yourself nodding with a smile. “we’d love to,” you replied, glancing at megumi, who looked thrilled at the thought of spending halloween with new friends.

toji, standing beside you with a relaxed grin, let out a chuckle. “oh, we’ll definitely be there,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “can’t let the best candy in the neighborhood go to waste, right?” his arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you close as he continued, “besides, someone has to make sure you two aren’t just bluffing about the candy quality.”

geto laughed at your husband’s teasing comment, a warm chuckle that filled the air with a sense of camaraderie. “we’ll make sure not to disappoint in that department. our house will be a must-visit on halloween night, no doubt about it,” he said, his voice carrying enthusiasm that mirrored yours. the idea of forming new friendships so soon in the neighborhood filled you with a mix of anticipation and comfort, and you were happy to find that your new neighbors seemed to share the same eagerness.

after spending a moment with your new neighbors, you finally stepped back inside with megumi in your arms, his mask now set aside, and toji casually draping his arm around your waist as he walked beside you. the warmth of your home felt like a cozy contrast to the crisp, autumn air outside, and the three of you made your way to the couch, settling in for some downtime together.

you shifted megumi in your lap, playfully poking his little bolted tummy. “you’re such a scary little thing, you know that?” you teased, your voice filled with exaggerated seriousness.

megumi’s reaction was immediate—a burst of giggles as he squirmed, trying to dodge your finger. “no, mama! i’m not scary!” he squealed, his small hands batting at yours as if to defend his tummy.

toji chuckled softly from his spot beside you, one arm still lazily wrapped around you while he watched the two of you with a grin. “oh, i dunno,” he drawled, reaching over to ruffle megumi’s hair. “i think you had all the neighbors spooked. you really pulled off that michael myers act, kiddo.”

megumi looked up at toji with a wide-eyed grin, as if realizing the compliment was as good as a badge of honor. “did i scare you, papa?”

toji raised an eyebrow, pretending to think it over. “hmm... maybe a little. you’re lucky i didn’t run away screaming,” he joked, which only made megumi giggle harder.

you couldn’t help but smile at the two of them, warmth spreading through you as you watched them. with a sigh of contentment, you leaned into toji, letting the comfort of your family’s presence sink in. “guess we’ll have to keep an eye on you, baby,” you said, tickling him one last time. “we can’t have a little monster running around unchecked.”

megumi beamed, resting his head on your shoulder as his laughter finally softened, his small arms wrapping around you. nestled between you and toji, he looked utterly content, his little halloween antics forgotten for now—until the next big scare he was already planning.

you smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from megumi’s face before leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on his chubby cheek. his skin was warm against your lips, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, a soft blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. “are you excited about your new friends, baby?” you asked, your voice gentle and encouraging as you met his gaze.

megumi nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation. “uh-huh!” he said, his voice filled with a mixture of shyness and excitement. his small hands fiddled with the fabric of his halloween costume, unable to contain his emotions.

toji leaned over, ruffling megumi’s hair playfully. “looks like someone’s already won over the neighborhood,” he said, his voice full of pride. he looked at you, a smirk. “who knew our little terror was such a social butterfly?” he teased, his gaze flickering with warmth as he glanced between you and megumi.

you smiled warmly, your heart swelling as you took in the sight of your son’s excited, flushed face. reaching out, you gently brushed your thumb over his chubby cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin as he fidgeted with the fabric of his costume, still caught up in the thrill of meeting new friends.

“so,” you asked softly, your voice tender, “do you like your new friends, sweetie?”

megumi nodded, his little face lighting up as he met your gaze. “uh-huh! they’re really nice, mama. yuuji said he can run super fast, and nobara said she’s gonna show me how to be ‘extra spooky’ for halloween!” he replied, his voice filled with wonder and a touch of admiration for his new friends.

toji chuckled, leaning back with his arm draped around your shoulders, clearly amused by megumi’s excitement. “looks like we’ll have the best little monster squad in the neighborhood,” he added, his voice a mix of pride and warmth. you laughed, pressing another kiss to megumi’s cheek. “then we’ll just have to make sure you’re the spookiest of them all, won’t we?” you said with a grin, watching as his eyes sparkled with anticipation for the halloween fun yet to come.

megumi nodded eagerly, his small face beaming with joy as he looked up at you. his little hands still fidgeted with the fabric of his costume, betraying his excitement.

“mm, i wanna be the scariest,” he said with a determined nod, his words filled with both excitement and a touch of shyness as his gaze flickered between you and toji. toji chuckled, reaching out to ruffle megumi’s hair gently. “oh, i have no doubt you’ll scare the socks off them all, kiddo,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring.

megumi’s enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of joy seeing him so happy. toji’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer, his warmth a comforting presence as you both watched your son’s imagination take off.

megumi squirmed with excitement, his eyes wide with wonder as he continued sharing his plans for halloween. his excitement was palpable, and it was heartwarming to see him so engaged and filled with anticipation for the spooky holiday ahead. toji chimed in with a smile, his voice filled with pride, “we’ll be the scariest family.”

you chuckled warmly at toji’s comment, your eyes sparkling with pride as you looked down at your little trickster, the light dusting of red on his cheeks betraying his emotions.

megumi was clearly brimming with anticipation and excitement, his gaze flickering between you and his father as he imagined all the spooky possibilities that halloween night held. he nodded eagerly, his small hands still fidgeting with the fabric of his costume. “we’re gonna scare everyone!” he declared with a grin, his small voice filled with a mixture of determination and delight.

you watched, a soft smile spreading across your face, as megumi wriggled his way down from your lap, his little hands gripping your knees for balance. his determination was written all over his face, brows furrowed with that serious concentration only kids seem to master, as he landed on his feet and looked up at you with a gleam in his eyes.

“i’m gonna find the best costume!” he declared, his tiny voice filled with such conviction that you couldn’t help but chuckle. then, without waiting for a reply, he started his short trek towards his bedroom, his steps determined but still slightly wobbly in his excitement.

“come on, mama!” he called, pausing just long enough to flash you and toji a grin before continuing his enthusiastic march.

toji chuckled beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he pressed a warm kiss to the side of your head. “looks like he’s on a mission,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of pride and amusement. “he really does look so excited.”

you leaned into him, savoring the closeness as you both watched your little trickster disappear down the hallway. “i know,” you whispered, warmth filling your voice as you took in the happiness and energy he brought to the house.

“he’s going to be the most serious little monster on the block,” you added, a fond smile tugging at your lips. toji let out a soft chuckle, resting his chin atop your head. you laughed lightly, leaning into toji, enjoying the warmth of his embrace as you watched megumi toddle off. he looked so determined, already lost in planning for the best costume to outdo everyone else.

you nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. “he really is,” you agreed to yourself, your voice filled with pride for your little boy.

toji tightened his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. he chuckled softly, his voice affectionate as he teased, “just like his mama.” his words were said with a warmth and familiarity that spoke of the deep bond you shared, not just as a couple, but as parents to this spirited little boy.

as megumi disappeared into his room, you turned to toji with a sigh of contentment. there was a soft, peaceful look in your eyes as you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. the warmth from his embrace seemed to envelop you entirely, making you feel safe and loved.

toji, feeling the shift in your energy, pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his free hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. words weren’t needed at this moment; the silence was filled with understanding and a deep sense of contentment. the two of you sat like that for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence, before toji broke the silence. “he’s getting so big already,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and a hint of bittersweetness. “we won’t have these moments forever.”

you hummed softly, feeling the warmth of his hand on your back and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. there was a comfort in the silence, a quiet exchange of love that didn't need words. but as toji’s voice broke through, his words struck a chord, pulling at your heartstrings in a way that made you realize just how fleeting these moments truly were.

slowly, you lifted your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. “then we’d better go see what our little monster is planning for his grand debut,” you said, a glint of playfulness in your eyes as you nudged his side, feeling the warmth of his arm around you.

toji chuckled warmly, his eyes twinkling with amusement at your playful nudge. “absolutely,” he agreed, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and excitement. he held your gaze for a moment longer, his hand resting on your shoulder, before slowly standing up, pulling you to your feet alongside him. “who knows what kind of mischief our little rascal has planned.”

with a shared smile, the two of you made your way down the hallway towards megumi’s room.

[whatislovevavy]

Sliding Stops & Beating Hearts

Reiner! Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Honeybee)

Summary: Tyler Owens has worked almost his entire life for this moment. And he's so glad he gets to share it with you.

Warnings: Tyler being down bad for his wife, afab!reader, fluff, swearing, smut (18+), oral (m+f), facesitting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

WC: 4.6k (I'm so sorry, but not sorry enough to make it shorter)

AN: Hey girlies :) Apologies for taking so long to post this, I've been very busy and it feels like I have to wait for what feels like some kind of astronomical event for me to be able to write. Tyler Owens is essentially Jake Seresin so yeah I'm writing for him now lol. Reining has always been one of my favorite equestrian sports to watch. Granted, I've never done it nor competed so apologies to any reiners out there if there's inaccuracies with how competitions go lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy :)

None of the pictures featured are mine and were taken off of Pinterest. All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

The competition had been fierce and each ounce of caffeine in your veins from your strenuous, early morning drive from Arkansas to Oklahoma had done nothing to quell your nerves. 

You could feel the sweat emulate from your palms as you watched each rider and horse pair complete their routine with near flawlessness, confidence, professionalism, and near perfect scores on maneuvers. 

Tyler would need to give it his all to bring home the NRHA world championship title for this season. 

You watched with bated breath as the pair before Tyler’s exited through the in-gate, applause and cheers ricocheting off the concrete and aluminum walls of the stadium. The announcer’s voice crackling and echoing through the speakers as the pairs score was displayed on the JumboTron that hung ominously above the center of the arena, threatening to crush Tyler's lifelong dream if a perfect score wasn't achieved. You fiddled with the competition program in your hand, waiting for the announcer to give the go ahead for Tyler Owens and Coppertone Boy, or as he was affectionately called at home, Copper, to enter the arena. 

“Come on, honeybee, I think you're more nervous than I am.” The fingers of your hand stop gingerly massaging into the muscle between Copper’s alert ears, eyes meeting Tyler’s unnervingly calm ones. You sighed, bringing your hand down to softly stroke the stallion’s velvet muzzle, looking back out at the arena that would be vacant for only a few moments more. “It's just the anticipation is all.”

He swallowed, dipping his heels down further against his stirrups, his weight settling on the back of the palomino American Quarter Horse. His thumb running along the smooth leather reins in his moderately calloused hands, his posture straightening. Tipping his hat on his head, eyes drifting from your almost perfect facade of calm collection to the no longer virginal arena footing. 

He gingerly scratched at Copper’s strong, gilded withers and neck concealed by the silken, alabaster strands of his freshly detangled mane, easing any anxiety the 10 year old stallion may have had. 

“Copper will take care of me out there, and I'm coming back, Sweets” his lip quirked into a gentle smirk, letting your anxiety ease a bit. 

Copper gently nudged you with his head, trying to get one last scratch in before entering. Or maybe to try to reassure you. “I know, I-,” you took a breath, licking your lips,” just really want this for you, and we're so close. I can taste it.” 

His eyes glazed a bit, a special kind of warmth spreading in his chest. You had helped him hitch the trailer to pick up Copper from the auction a few townships over back in his early twenties. You were the one who was with him every step of the way, through every high and frustrating low of training him and getting him ready for every competition. You were the one to stay up all night with him when Copper coliced during a muggy spring night a few years back. You were the one who encouraged him to try reining after his bull riding rodeo career came to a halt. You were the one to hide out with him on his family's ranch in Arkansas during the summer thunderstorms in the hayloft as kids and lovesick teenagers. And you were the first person he got to kiss out in the back field after the haying season was done, laying under the cover of Cassiopeia and The Big Dipper with homemade strawberry moonshine. It made the wedding band on a chain around his neck all the more meaningful. The microphone crackled as the announcer cleared his throat, announcing for Tyler to enter the arena. 

“Come on, baby, I need my good luck kiss before I go out there.” His urgent, but sweet, tone made you chuckle.  Stepping on your tippy toes, you met his lips that only seemed to get softer the more you kissed him. As your lips left his, you gave the stallion that gleamed like a new penny under the stadium lights a last, quick rub at his withers and a whispered “take care of him for me.” The stallion nudged his pink and gray muzzle into your side, letting out a puff of breath, seeming to listen and affirm your wish. 

You turned back to the man you had loved since you were a sophmore in highschool. “You'll get something a lot more when you come back.” You said softly with a flirtatious tone, trying to lighten the nerves that seemed to electrify your fingertips. Your eyes told an unspoken “whether you win, or lose.” His eyebrows rise before a smirk settles on his lips. “Looking forward to it darlin,” he winks before turning his attention to the packed arena. He gives the stallion a gentle squeeze of his sides with his calves to get him into a working walk, head low, and relaxed as his metal shoe-clad hooves rhythmically ricocheted off the pavement leading up to the arena as applause and whistles from the crowd marked his entrance like a gladiator entering the Colosseum. You watched him leave your side with bated breath. 

You always envied how he was able to feed off of the crowd instead of cowering under it, even when he was getting tossed around as a professional bull rider in the local rodeo circuit. It was a trait that Tyler and Copper had in common that made them a perfect pair.

You watched each calculated movement he whispered to Copper through his hands, legs, and seat. Each movement done in perfect harmony, from flying lead changes to each heart racing spin and rollback. You practically knew the routine like the back of your hand, softly mouthing the required movements right as Tyler and Copper conducted them with  complete poise and confidence. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flit back and forth from the golden stallion enrapturing the attention of the crowd and the judges scribbling down notes that had the potential to cut like a blade. Tyler had a calm, at-ease aura around him; his hands still with just the right amount of contact on the reins, loose hips and strong legs that wrapped around the barrel of the strong, powerful, and graceful horse below him. Copper’s ears kept at ease, each one flitting back to listen to each whispered task Tyler gave him. His mane and tail swayed beautifully with the rest of his muscular, golden dappled frame; steel horseshoes gleaming under the large overhead lights. You felt your anxiety rise as Tyler only had one maneuver left to accomplish- a sliding stop from a full gallop, the most exhilarating maneuver in reining.

Your breath felt like lead in your lungs as you watched each stride Copper took to complete his routine. With an impressive stall of his hind quarters, Copper planted himself against the arena footing to come to a full stop, his hind legs slightly folding under him as Tyler kept his body steady. The arena went quiet for only a second as Copper found his footing, remaining in a halt. As soon as the judges gave Tyler the go ahead to leave the arena, you jumped up in glee, applauding and whistling, just like the entirety of the arena   as Tyler gave Copper a loose rein, giving his strong neck deligent pats of encouragement and rubbing his withers as he made his way out of the arena at a working walk pace. After all, he had earned it. 

But would it be enough to win?

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as Tyler met your gaze with a heart stopping grin, his handsome dimples on display, timothy grass green eyes shining for you as his chest rose and fell from his exertion, and the sweat evident under his Stetson at his hairline. 

As soon as he cleared the in-gate, he was out of the saddle and embracing you, lips on yours as you giggled against him as he picked you up and spun you around, your fingers splayed over his stubbly cheeks. Copper stood patiently as his reins hit the cement floor. Your fingers resting at the back of his neck, feeling his sweat, natural scent, and the smell of leather and horses caress your senses. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you said, voice thick with tears bubbling beneath your eyes as your hands encased his gently stubbled cheeks, his grin matching your own, voice thick, “Honey, whatever happens, I’m-,” his eyes becoming glassy, “I’m just so glad I’ve been able to do this with you. I love you so goddamn much.” He brought your lips back to his in a sweet, love filled kiss that made your stomach flutter.  The crackle of the microphone breaks you both away from your kiss, his embrace still on your hips. Tyler cranes his neck to look up at the JumboTron. 

Your eyes widening, putting your hands over your mouth and looking up at Tyler’s shock-parted lips as the arena broke into cheers. Tyler swings you around by your hips before bringing you to his lips again. 

A perfect score. 

—

As soon as Tyler rode out on Copper with you by his side during the award ceremony, and your picture was taken with his NRHA Championship trophy and Copper got his red, blue, and yellow tri-colored ribbon, you both were ready to load up Copper and drive all the way back to Arkansas. 

Photographers, interviewers, and cameras followed your little group out of the arena. Tyler and Copper both walked with pride in a way that showed a healthy balance of confidence and natural charisma. Copper not once flinched as cameras flashed as Tyler had him periodically stop for interviewers to ask questions, reins loose in his hand. Copper seemed to almost pose for the camera with his ears forward and moving with momentum whenever the cameras flashed; aware that he had done a good job and was being appreciated. You, on the other hand, preferred to be on the other side of Copper’s strong withers, away from the cameras, gently running your hand along his glistening coat; it took you and Tyler countless hours for it to gleam like gold. 

“Who would you say is someone who has always supported you on the road to winning this NRHA world championship title?”

You felt like you were hiding behind the near two ton animal, peeking over his strong neck to watch Tyler with his tipped up Stetson and near alabaster dress shirt. He turned from the interviewer to you with an easy grin on his face, gently reaching behind him to take your hand from underneath Copper’s neck, bringing you around his large head and into Tyler’s chest, placing a kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks like wildfire as you gave the interviewer a shy toothy smile. 

“I’ve had the undeserved pleasure to have by my side, during this entire journey, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known; my wife.” You felt your throat tighten and tears start to bubble up in your eyes at his gesture, all while trying to subtly hide away into his shoulder as the interviewer seemed to soak up the sweet moment between the new NRHA world champion and his wife. 

“You’ll have to forgive her, my honeybee’s a bit shy.” he chuckled, the interviewer following suit before asking her final questions with you by his side. 

As the last of the interviewers left to talk to the other competitors, you and Tyler led Copper back to the trailer to get him bedded in the trailer for the long way home.

You tried to keep your thoughts pure as you walked through the trucks and trailers with Copper in tow, passing competitors that turned into friends; like Bradley Bradshaw and his oil black quarter horse gelding, Turn and Burn, and Natasha Trace and her sorrel chestnut mare, Rising Phoenix. Both of which had gotten in the top 5 tonight out of 38. 

But Tyler looked too good right now. Too good. And his display of affection in front of the interviewer made your insides warm and jumble inside you. 

His hair peeking out from under his stetson, the color subdued from sweat; his taut jeans around his slim waist; his obnoxiously large belt buckle that glimmered in the overhead lot lights; his flushed, sweat soaked skin; bright, fern green eyes, and the defined line of his jaw to his handsome dimples. 

It didn’t help that you got distracted watching him tend to Copper as you put the tack in the trailer, biting your lip as you watched the thin material of his shirt cling to his back muscles. 

“Honeybee, you alright over there?” You almost needed to shake your head out of your trance, before trying to quickly put the tack away in the closet of the trailer, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on your lewd thoughts. 

As soon as you turned around from putting the tack away, Tyler was at the entryway. Both hands on the edge of the storage space prevented any chance of escape, sluttily leaning his weight on the frame like the scantily-clad men in those romance books Tyler always teased you for reading. He didn’t have anything to complain about though; he reaped the reward of it everytime. 

Your eyes met his mischief filled ones. “You got something on your mind, Honey?” 

You diverted your gaze from his eyes to his Stetson. He noticed, promptly removing it and placing it over his denim-clad pelvis with a teasing smile as he saw your eyes follow his movement. He always loved the dust of pink on your cheeks when he flirted with you. He took a step into the trailer, feeling his intoxicating scent invade your senses. 

You took a step forward, letting your eyes obscenely run over from his sweat-slicked back hair, to the slight crook in his nose, to his plush lips. Leaning into his ear, “I’ll tell you once Copper is in the trailer. Fed and watered.” Tyler almost shivered at the barely decent tone you used. You both were in a public space for Christ’s sake. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You bit your lip, a chuckle vibrating in your chest at his pace towards the patient stallion grazing from his well deserved hay bag as soon the words left your lips.

—

After ensuring all of your belongings were packed away, you went to check on Tyler and Copper. As you turned the corner, Tyler was just finishing up putting the latches on the trailer. “How’s our big guy doing?” You asked, leaning against the side of the trailer. 

He turned to you, “fed, watered, and out like a light. Copper’s going to sleep well on the ride home. Gave him a few extra flakes of hay to keep him occupied.”

“Now,” he took a step closer to you, a smirk painted across his lips, “I wanna hear what was on your mind earlier, pretty girl,” he purred. 

You took a step closer to him with a flirtatious smile blooming on your face, reaching out for his belt loops on his jeans. 

�� 

“Honeybee,” he whimpered, heading hitting back against his truck as you sunk to the dusty ground beneath your knees, scrambling to unbuckle his obnoxiously large belt buckle, and unzipping his denim jeans with a harsh tug. He hissed, “careful, sweets, don't want to damage the goods,” you chuckled before bringing his jeans down to his knees. His breath freezing in his throat as you ran your palms against his defined Adonis belt and abs, scratching at the hair of his happy trail as your smooth palm found its home - wrapped around his thick, pulsing cock in his briefs. Tyler's eyes clenched shut, a hiss leaking from his kiss-swollen lips as you began to pump him in a corkscrew motion. God, he looked so good like this. Letting you take care of him and make him crumble beneath the palms of your hands. 

“Jesus, sweetheart.” His hips stuttered as you gave his oh so sensitive, engorged tip delicate kitten licks before taking him into your mouth, sucking softly. Eyes drifting shut as you savored the subtle musk of your husband and the salty taste of the precum leaking out of his cock. You hummed around his dick as his fingers weaved into your hair, keeping his cock encased in your hot mouth. 

Jesus, the glorious sight in your mind- Tyler’s head and Stetson tipped back, lips agape, cheeks flushed pink with sweat and arousal, dress shirt unbuttoned, strong abdominal and pectoral muscles exposed from years of ranch work, hips jutting out as his jeans and briefs tethered his ankles as you worked his fat cock. 

A sound akin to a mewl left his lips as you bobbed your head along his length, working his cock with your saliva soaked hand. 

“Oh fu- baby, that feels so fucking good.” His graveled voice made you clench your thighs, his eyes opening to see you pumping his cock as you playfully sucked on his balls. Saliva dribbling down your lips to the dirt below, leaving your mark on the event grounds. Your sinful acts hidden in the shadows of your truck and trailer. 

This was definitely the best way to celebrate a world championship win, he thought through a hazy conscience as he failed to find a steady tempo of breath. 

You could feel the tightness of his balls and the steady throbbing of the vein running underneath his thick cock. His fingers tightening in your hair. 

“God-Fuck-” His trail of words were cut off with a deep groan he tried to muffle the best he could.

 His hand kept your mouth around his cock as he shot his load down your welcoming throat, letting you swallow every hot drop he had to give. His body slumping against the truck, catching his breath as you rose up off the dirt, tenderly tucking him back into his jeans, bringing your lips to his. 

After a few moments, Tyler deepened the kiss,  reaching for the backseat door. He broke away from your lips, littering your neck and collarbones with messy, open-mouthed kisses. Your lips would get swollen soon from how hard you were biting them to conceal your mewls. His hands palmed and toyed with your cotton-clad breasts, feeling his calloused fingers slide under your t-shirt to fondle at your steadily peaking nipples. “Baby, we might need to do this half-clothed,” you murmured against his lips. He let his lips leave yours, realizing where you guys were: on the outskirts of the arena grounds. 

“Well, Honeybee, we’ll just have to do it with your pants down then, pretty girl.” He smiled sinfully. His gravelly tone always made you clench your thighs in need, and feel excited and jittery inside; like a new-born foal learning to run. 

He stripped off his dress shirt, leaving him with chest and abs exposed in the shadow of the truck. Before you had the chance to admire his half-bare body, he was unzipping your jeans and pulling them down along with your panties in one fell swoop. He guided your legs out of them before placing his beloved Stetson on your head. The sight of you bare below the waist and his white stetson had his cock twitching again. 

He hopped on the seat, laying down on the leather upholstery. “Come on, honey girl, get up here. I want a taste.” He purred, eyes raking from your face down to the little honey stash between your thighs with a Cheshire-like grin. 

You chuckled, excitement thrumming through your belly like a current of electricity. His hands guided your hips over his twitching dick, over his thick pecs, and right above where he wanted you. Your breath catches in your throat as Tyler brings your hips down with his broad hands, clutching at your soft waist as he starts lapping at your drenched core.  

“Fuck, Ty-” you clutched at his tufts of hair that peaked through your fingers, like the daisies in the hayfields. He toyed with your clit, his stubble scratching deliciously against your sensitive inner thighs. He gently sucked on your clit to pull each sweet moan and gasp from your lips. His thick fingers forming troughs along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, keeping your weeping pussy pinned above his eager mouth. 

“Please.”

He grunted as your hips rocked against him, his grip tightening on your hips, guiding your movements. Your head tipping back as your thoughts failed to construe into something tangible besides broken moans and words. It’s amazing how Tyler’s Stetson has stayed on during your impromptu ride. 

God, the sight he had from below your thighs; black t-shirt riding up to just below your bra, your hands clutching at his hair and your covered breasts, beautiful parted lips, reddened cheeks and his staple atop your head.

You looked divine like this. Hell, you were divine for wanting to marry him in the first place. 

He gave your clit a delicate kiss, just enough to make you whine a little. Littering kisses along your inner thighs, feeling the tender flesh quake above him as you protested him giving attention to places that weren’t where you needed him to be. He licked his lips savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and gently teased two fingers at your entrance making you gasp and whimper at the intrusion.

“Baby, you look so good from down here, so fucking good.”

His graveled voice was marked by a unique breathlessness that times like these brought him. Your hands pushed your t-shirt up and your bra down to toy with your exposed breasts and perky nipples as the Oklahoma evening air pebbled them. Your hazy gaze looking downward at your lover’s tousled hair, flushed cheeks and lust-blown pupils with a characteristic devilish grin on his arousal soaked lips.

“Fuck, baby”

He smiled as he guided his fingers into your welcoming heat, your pretty moans music to his ears. 

His fingers finding the perfect tempo against that little spot inside you that made your toes curl against the upholstery of the car. His free hand holding an iron grip on your hip, keeping you steady.

If you hadn’t felt like you were going to cum before, you were now.  

Tyler could feel your velvet walls constrict around his welcomed digits. A soft yelp leaves your lips as he finds your clit again; toying and sucking at the delicate bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He sucked harder the more you pulled at his hair.

“Tyler, I’m so close, please make me cum baby-please.”

The wanton, sultry tone your voice got in this state made him ache in his jeans and move his fingers that much more eagerly. 

You felt the familiar build up of pleasure in your tummy and the sparks of pleasure traveling from your toes. Tyler watched as you fell apart over him with a wracked moan of his name as his fingers continued to rub that special spot inside you, and as he continued to toy with your poor, abused clit.

He slowed his movements to a halt, letting his fingers leave to hold your hips steady, bringing his lips to languidly kiss and lathe at your cum soaked folds, drawing out any last sparks of pleasure and the sweet, little noises you always made for him. 

Your thighs shook with the aftermath of your orgasm, your body still ringing with small sparks of pleasure and sensitivity, your whimpers pouring out. 

He lathed his last set of kisses to your pussy before sliding your hips down to rest over his throbbing dick, hidden behind a layer of denim. 

Tyler brought both hands to encase your face, bringing your lips to his in a kiss full of teeth and tongue, your mouth going to the prominent vein on the side of his neck, lathing and marking the flesh as your own, spurred on by the deep groans of the man underneath you. He growled, feeling you bite into the skin there. It would surprise him if you didn’t draw blood. 

“I want to ride your thick cock, baby.” you simpered.

“Fuck, you make me so hard, Honeybee.” He growled, feeling you unzip his jeans, pulling out his aching cock and lining him up at your entrance. Gently teasing the tip, running it along your folds, letting it soak up your arousal. You smirked as you listened to the borderline moans that reverberated from his chest. He felt his eyes almost roll back at the feeling of your walls welcoming him in; back home. You watched with lust hazed eyes as his face was consumed with tension; his eyes clenched shut, brow lines rippling the tanned skin of his forehead, his tense jaw and kiss swollen lips. 

He guided your hips, savoring the feeling of you. His hips bucking up into your awaiting pussy as he got more and more invigorated for his release. 

“Fuck, Honey-fuck!” He growled as he felt your walls squeeze him for all he was worth. 

“God, you’re always so good for me, such a good fucking girl” he said as he held your hips tighter, fucking up into you at a faster pace than before. Gasps and moans falling from your lips as he pummeled that sweet, heavenly spot inside you that had you seeing a kaleidoscope of sensations behind your eyes, and your fingers clawing at his pecs and shoulders for stability. Tyler could feel the coil in his stomach tightening as his release was barreling towards him like a train going into a station. His abs tightening, pace unrelenting as he chased his high. He could feel you were close with this new set pace, your lips parted as sweet sounds echoed from your lips. He held on until he felt your walls snap close on him like a vice, your thighs shaking as your high washed over him with a broken moan and tremor. His hips rose, fucking into you one last time before releasing his hot load into your pretty pussy with a deep growl. 

—

He gingerly pulled up your panties, keeping his cum trapped between your folds. He snapped the button of your jeans closed as he languidly made out with you. He changed into a t-shirt that hugged his biceps just right, keeping his jeans on. You both silently changed into your new set of clothes with content, lovesick smiles on your face. You gave him a kiss as he passed you his sweatshirt to wear during the ride home. 

You both settled into the front seat of the truck. By now, most people had gone home, the bright stars above watching over you. He placed his Stetson on the backseat, smirking as he watched you reach out for the cowboy hat, placing it on your head with a cute smile that made him smirk and shake his head. 

He leaned over, placing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, Honeybee.”

“I love you too, Ty.”

You give his thick thigh a squeeze, smiling as he groans into the kiss. He pulled black from the kiss, putting the truck into drive. As soon as his hand is free, he takes your hand in his, making your cheeks warm at the gesture, kissing the back of it as he pulls out of the dirt road onto the interstate towards Arkansas.

Let me know what you guys think :) Be sure to leave a comment and reblog :) My inbox is always open to requests and any thoughts you have <3

@marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981   @a-beaverhausen @withahappyrefrain @hangmans-wingman   @callmemana @joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @entertainmentgirl80

@jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @teacupsandtopgun

@chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath @h-ngm-ns @emma8895eb @djs8891 @novastories @urmom-999 @taytaylala12 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30 @shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @gigisimsonmars @slippinginto-theairwaves

[hunnylagoon]

Take Me to War

PT2 Metaphor

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

Where do I pour my love if you take away my pen and paper?

Premise: You are starting to like your annoyingly loud neighbour more than you want to admit.

PT1 Here!

Warnings: Raunchy humour

The gym was busy on this particular day, I absentmindedly judged others for being at the gym at noon on a Saturday like they should have been doing something more interesting with their time until I realized I was at the gym at noon on a Saturday with no other plans for the rest of the day "And she's hot?" Abby asks me while she effortlessly benches something around 170 and I do nothing more than lean on the wall behind her.  

"She's hot," I answer, scrolling through her feed on Instagram like the weird little stalker I was. I hadn't gone full FBI, just looked her up and possibly watched some of her videos "It's kind of cool that I have an internet celebrity living next to me."

"Define cool," Abby props the bar back onto the saddles of the machine and sits up, taking a chug from her water bottle.

"She is cool," I defend "It's not that weird Minecraft roleplay that your grimy cousins watch, it's just like video games and vlogs, that kind of stuff."

Abby looks back at me, sweat drips from her blonde hairline and rests above her brow "How is that even a career?"

I shrug in response "Sponsorships and donations and shit." 

"Why do people throw so much money at streamers?"

"Parasocial relationships, I wrote an article about it last year which you said you read."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "You were writing a lot of articles, hard to keep up with."

"Define a lot," I mock Abby's words. I glance at a guy in between the rows of gleaming machines, their metallic frames reflecting the obnoxious glow overhead. He had been using the leg press upside down, his neck hunched over into an almost horrifying posture, his shoulders pressing against the top plate. It might've been the most normal thing I've seen in New York.

"So are you going to ask her out?"

I wrinkle my nose, thinking about it "I met her last week, I just don't think I know her that well." Within the past week that I've met her, I've been crawling out to the fire escape every morning just so her drowsy eyes could peer into my vacant skull and in recent months I had given up on dating, like a spider, I devoured my own heart.

"That's kind of the point of dating," She lays back down on the bench press "Getting to know each other."

"I think I'm too busy to date," I tuck my phone into my pocket, crossing my arms while I watch Abby. I wasn't entirely sure that I was too busy to date but I tended to consume myself entirely and make everything far more complicated than it needed to be. I still perform autopsies on conversations I've had years ago, clinging to every word like I need them to survive.

"Why don't you wanna be happy?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows "You're always getting in your own way, is it a tortured poet type of thing?"

My breath hitches in my throat. How I hate when she's right. The last serious relationship I had was in college and even then I had sabotaged myself, I didn't know where it came from other than a nagging feeling that I wasn't deserving of the love that had been offered up to me on a shining silver platter. "I do I'm-

"Just not ready?" Abby cuts me off, finishing my sentence so perfectly as if it had been words on a script for some boring play about a woman who hates her life and won't do anything about it.

"Yeah," I say, my voice is quiet, she's got me in a box here.

"If you're not ready to date, you might as well be friends with her," She puts the bar back onto the saddles but this time, stands up after completing her reps. "You need to get out and it seems like you get along well."

"I guess," I say and Abby raises an eyebrow "No, you're right, I need to dig myself out of the grave I've dug for myself." What added to my overly apathetic mood was the season, I was so sick of February. It felt like winter had forced mold to grow on my bones to way me down onto the dirty city pavement where careless New Yorkers would gladly stomp over my body.

"How's it going with the family?" Abby is writing something down in her notes which I assume is her number of sets and reps.

"Nothing new," I answer.

She peers at me over her phone, digging for a more solid answer "Are you still sending your parents money?"

"Yes-

"Why?" Her arms dropped to her side, her phone still in one hand "You shouldn't have to play caretaker for two people who don't care about you," As true as it was, it didn't hurt any less to hear it out of my best friend's mouth. 

"It's easier said than done, those are my parents," I'm almost overtaken by a delicate drowsiness from the thoughts of leaving behind the one connection I had to my small-town life. My parents were so careless that I would run around barefoot on the road with the neighbour's kids for hours, narrowly dodging cars that flew past us like it had been a game; everything was a game back then, when I came home to my father's drunkenness, I could hide away in the treehouse and read Harry Potter until the screaming came to a stop.

I was bonded to them like I was to the stray cats who raised me. There was no getting rid of them, we ricocheted between hatred and love like the game of catch I never got to play.  

"I'm sorry," She says though I know it is ingenuine "I shouldn't get in between your family."

Abby didn't know them the same way I did. All she knew was the bloodiness of the relationship that I had cried into her arms, she didn't know how kind the wolves were after they tore me apart. The way my father would cheer for me the loudest at my soccer games and how my mother baked for me after a fight, wasn't the apology that I yearned for but the one that was shoved down my throat.

I dug through my brain to search for a way to change the topic "I saw Owen at the market yesterday and he said he wanted you to call him."

"You're fucking kidding."

My deadline had passed with no issue and I was finally blessing myself with a day where I wasn't chained to my desk. I could finally let my poor bloodshot eyes rest and for once I didn't have to drown them in eyedrops.

I was freshly out of the shower when I heard a knock at my door, Margot yelling at me to answer it. I slipped into a matching pyjama set that Abby gave me on my birthday, hurrying as fast as I could to the door. Margot's consistent screaming did nothing to aid this. 

Ellie was the last person I expected to see on the other side of the door but there she was. I couldn't help the smile that cracked onto my face "Am I the one being loud now?"

She grins at me "No-it's just that my chat has been begging for you to come back all week and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do a stream with me?"

I looked down at what I was wearing and suddenly felt like the scrouge, all I was missing was a nightcap and a taper candle. "Can I change first?"

"Go ahead but I think this is one of your best looks."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow "You have poor judgement since you've never seen me in anything other than pyjamas."

"We should probably fix that then."

"I guess we should." I smile. I decided against changing, it wasn't like I was going out, just heading to my friend's apartment that was three feet away.

"Say as much or as little as you want," She opens the door to let me in "I owe you big time," Ellie says this like I don't want excuses to spend time for her. Like I haven't been freezing my ass off every day just to talk to her when she watches the city wake up as she prepares to rest her head. 

Ellie's apartment is more lively than the last time I visited, she's adapted some plants that are already beginning to wilt "Have these been getting any sunlight?" 

She furrows her eyebrows "No? They're fake."

"Ellie," I stifle a laugh "I'm like ninety percent sure that fake plants don't wilt."

"Nuh-uh," She walks toward one just rubs its wilting leaf between her thumb and index, it begins to crumble in her hand and she sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "I guess they are real," Ellie pokes a finger into the bone dry soil and wipes the dirt onto her pants "How much do you know about plants?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess more than you."

 She nods "Sounds about right," Ellie walks over to her sink to fill a Game of Thrones mug with water before circling back to water her plants "Drink up little buddies."

"looks like you need some sunlight too," I watch her attempt to revive the dying plants and 

"Yeah," She keeps hyper-focused on the plants but she cracks a small grin, I could've sworn her smile burnt down the library of Alexandria "I think I'm turning into a vampire."

"The sparkly kind?"

Ellie shakes her head as she stands back up to put the mug on the kitchen island "Like the guy from Sesame Street."

I wrinkle my nose "Yeah, you're looking kind of purple."

"Damn, I was worried you would notice," She smiles again as she opens the door to her office, the purple LED lights are still running but the overhead light is turned on and washes away the colour.

The second I step into the room, Ellie rushes ahead of me and almost jumps to grab the folding chair. She sits herself down and pats her fancy gaming chair for me to sit in it. "Guys, she came!" 

I stare at her, eyes wide, jaw slack. "Ellie."

"What?"

"Do you hear yourself?"

She takes a minute to think about it before nodding her head, I could see the exact moment it clicked "No, I hear it," She addresses the camera "Not like that guys but I don't know what she did with her day, not our business though."

Ellie looks at me like she's waiting for approval of her chosen words. After a moment's reflection, I answer dryly "Thanks." 

"Sorry for taking so long, I had to water some plants," She watches the chat bar scroll by, squinting before she leans back in her chair, hand running through her hair "No, that's not code for sex."

"Could be," I shrug.

"They wanna know what your name is."

"Top secret."

"Okay," She reads some more comments from the chat "Can you tell them what you do for work?"

"I'm a ghostwriter," I say, giving a little thumbs up. I saw myself in the monitor and wanted to throw my hands at myself for being so awkward.

"Spooky," Ellie smiles "She writes about people instead of interacting with them, that's why she's socially inept." She reaches for her soundboard and presses a button, sounding a prerecorded effect of a crowd cheering and laughing.

"She's never had a girl in her apartment, that's why she can't flirt." I counter as she throws her hands up, I can tell she's about to retort with something before I cut her off "So what were you doing before you kidnapped me?"

"Guys, I didn't kidnap her, she willingly walked in here without the use of excessive force and I have had many a girl in this apartment," Ellie tells the chat before clicking something on her screen "So, they send in videos and we have to not laugh, which isn't hard because they aren't very funny." 

"You're not funny either but they watch you," I tease, Ellie fights a smile trying to uphold our image of back and-forth pocking and prodding at one another.

"Laugh three times and you're out."

"Of the apartment?"

"No, you just laugh three times and you lose."

"What do I get if I don't lose?"

"Fuck, I dunno," She furrows her eyebrows, searching the room for something. Her eyes land on a small silver tin, she snatches it up into the palm of her pale hand and sits back down "You get my dill dough."

"I'm sorry!?" My head snaps to look at her "Are you sure you aren't a cam girl?"

"No," She pauses "No, I mean no it's not what you think, yes," Ellie backtracks again "I mean I am sure I'm not a cam girl, not that that I'm not sure I'm not a cam girl, because I'm not," She looks like she's sure of what she said like it made perfect sense "Not a cam girl."

"You're not-not a cam girl?" I ask, pointing out the double negative "So you are a cam girl?"

"No," Ellie runs a hand down her face "Can you guys please tell her that I'm not a cam girl?"

Dcknb4llz:She's a cam girl

Nataliadepressed:I just subbed to her only fans!

Mclovin_fury26:She just wants to show you her dill dough 😕

Yayayalorde:I wish she was a cam girl 

The3nd_isn3ar:Ellie pls stop joking about it and become a cam girl already 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Ewmarryme:hahaha Ellie ur so funny now get serious and make an onlyfans

"Anyways," Ellie ignores the chat as they clearly aren't helping her case "This is my dill dough," She shows me the small tin she picked up, there's a picture of a pickle on the front. Over the translucent lid, it surely enough says 'Dill Dough! pickle scented'. It was just green silly putty with an oddly incredulous name.

"I weirdly want that," I answer.

"If you win, it's yours." She tucks it away into the pocket of her sweatpants "Mods, let's get this moving."

We sit through about fifteen minutes of videos; mainly people getting hurt, occasionally one of some type of animal. Nothing funny enough to make either of us laugh except for one of a man falling through a glass table which gets a little chuckle out of Ellie who denies it. 

Another video began playing, it was Ellie in this exact spot, screaming during a game of Fortnite. It looks like it's from the first time she showed me her odd job choice. In the distance, you can hear a knock on the door and this is when I'm sure it's from the day I had been thinking of. Ellie pulls her headphones off and looks at her camera "Shit, I think that's my hot neighbour again."

I slap a hand over my mouth and turn to see Ellie who's looking disappointed at her chat, shaking her head at the camera. "Whoever sent that is fake as fuck."

"So you think I'm hot?"

"Pfft, no, dude, you're ugly as fuck," Ellie makes an overexaggerated confused face like she has no idea what I'm talking about "I was talking about my other neighbour."

Kaylnncourting:Ellie y r u fumbling so bad???????

Overdam00n:You guys were right for saying she doesn't get 🐱🐱🐱🐱

Sestwouth:bruh she's ruining it for herself

Connerstollit:WHY DID SHE SAY THAT 

Cruel_summer:What is wrong with Ellie? Genuinely

F0gg4t:If El doesn't want her, I do

Aliinnnnnaaaaa:First girl she's ever met and she's ruining it

Randelwthehandle:Ugly as fuck??????? who says that 😭😭

Dcknb4llz:wow nice cover up Ellie

Marie_739:Bro Im gonna start calling the girls I like ugly as fuck

"Mr. Quigley?" I ask to which Ellie nods immediately "You think the eighty-seven-year-old veteran who is missing a foot and has swallowed four of his teeth is hot?"

"Yeah," She says, immediately regretting the hole she was digging herself into "I have a thing for older men."

"I don't think you have a thing for men at all, actually."

Her eyes go wide, Ellie opens her mouth to say something and she leans forward in her chair so fast that she falls out and smacks her head on the desk, folding over and onto the ground. I have the biggest smile on my face as I reach for her soundboard and press the cheering crowd effect.  I'm laughing too hard to offer her help, clutching my stomach and keeling over so my head is out of frame. Ellie gets up, and puts herself back in the folding chair pointing at the camera "Do not clip that."

Almost seconds after she says that a video gets sent in of her smacking her head on the desk in slow motion while I burst out laughing and now I'm cackling even harder. You can even hear her yelp in slow motion and she sounds like the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park "You guys are way funnier than Ellie," I say, addressing whoever was watching the stream. 

Another video pops on the screen right after the last one ends, it's Ellie again. She screams at something on her computer and you can hear me bang on the wall on the other side. Ellie goes quiet immediately going back to her game and muttering "She's so hot guys."

"I think my mods hate me," Ellie shakes her head.

"Thank you mods!" I smile at the camera.

A little clip of Ellie back at her desk pops up, she's wearing a Garfield shirt. This time she isn't playing anything, she just sits in front of the camera with that familiar lopsided smile "Guys, how do I trick my neighbour into going out with me?"

There's another video, it's a longer one with the caption 'Ellie Williams calling her neighbour hot compilation' Ellie's eyes go wide and she clicks off the video immediately, the camera goes to us full screen. "That's enough of that."

I pull my phone out and type in the caption of the unfinished video into YouTube, it comes up right away and I click on it. Ellie clicks around on her computer, unaware of my viewing until she hears her voice, echoing in low quality from my phone. She reaches for my phone but I pull it closer to myself. 

I'm dead set on finishing the video until something on the other side of the door, catches my eye. It rushes past the small crack in the slightly ajar door and instinctively, I drop my phone with a slight jolt "What the fuck is that?"

Ellie takes this opportunity to snatch my phone and place it face down on the desk, out of my reach. "That's just Kitty." She pushes herself out of the folding chair and steps out of the room. She walks back in carrying what looks to be a mound of cotton balls, looking a little closer, I realize it's a rabbit. He looks more fluff than flesh.

"What the fuck," My mouth falls open in awe "Can I hold it?" She places him in my lap "He just walks around your apartment?"

She nods "He's litter trained so he just kinda hangs out." 

I pet him, he's soft as a million feathers, and he looks like a mascot for a paper towel company "You are the only person I know that would name their bunny Kitty."

Ellie tries to wipe off the mass amounts of rabbit fur on her, it seems the more she tries to get it off, the more firmly it refuses to budge. "This is a good time to show you guys this new shirt that Dina ordered for me," Ellie stands up walking off camera. She has a couple of Amazon boxes stacked on her couch, she reaches into one of them and pulls out a T-shirt. Ellie turns towards the wall so her back is facing me, she pulls her hoodie off over her head.

All I can see is the back of her sports bra but I force my eyes to go wide "Guys, Ellie Williams has a tramp stamp that says cum dumpster," I lie and the chat goes wild and I grab my phone off her desk as she turns around in her Five Nights at Freddie's tee with a 'Seriously?' face. I take a picture of her with the flash on "I'll sell this rare image of Ellie for six hundred dollars on eBay."

Ellie walks back over to the desk with a stack of Amazon boxes "Every donation goes toward my tattoo removal," She jokes, digging around in the boxes. "I'm a little over your videos, you bunch of snitches so I think it's about time I finally open these up." 

I look in the boxes too, leaning over slightly, being very careful of Kitty where he sits in my lap. I see something and pull it out to hand to Ellie "You should try this one."

"World's hottest gummy bear," She reads the package "Why is there only one? What if I want another?" Ellie yanks the gummy bear, squishing it between her fingers. It looks like Red-40 personified. 

Melanie_felony:She's setting her up lmao

Dcknb4llz:Nobody say anything pls I rlly wanna see this

Elliewsidechick:YALL SHES TOO WHITE FOR THIS STOP

She eats the gummy bear in one bite. As she begins to chew it, she seems absolutely unfazed and partially confused about why it was labelled 'World's Hottest Gummy Bear' A moment later she begins to cough, balling her hand up into a fist and pounding on her chest. Ellie's little cough quickly turns into a deep wheeze.

Ellie lets out a scream, her face going red as she slams her hand onto her desk with watering eyes. I could see visible sweat on her face as she dry heaved, it only took thirty seconds until she sprinted out of the room.

"Oh my god," I watch her run out of the room while I give Kitty a little pet between his ears, he's so still I almost think he's taxidermy. "Guys, I think we killed her." You can hear her vaguely screaming and gagging from the kitchen "So what did everyone do today?"

Thelastgreatamericandynasty:wrote a fanfic about you and Ellie

Dcknb4llz:I got jumped at waffle house 

"Yikes, sorry to hear that." I suck a breath through my teeth "Tell me what I should know about Ellie." Her name feels so right on my tongue.

Jesse_chang:She's a virgin

D4aughter_:OMG HI JESSE

A_birthday_card:The only s3x she's ever had was in Minecraft

Whathasshegot:She has a crush on you 

Touching_theyouth:She's lactose intolerant 

Dcknb4llz:She sold me ketamine in an ally 

Gusty_queefqueen:She homophonic 

Torxhmydreams2:Pretty sure that’s two words that have the same pronunciation but different meaning

Gusty_queefqueen:Bruh it means she doesn’t like gay people

Heytheredelilah7:She has a boyfriend

When Ellie comes back she's filled her Game of Thrones mug with milk and has a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese. She reads the chat "Can you guys be cool for once?"

"They're cooler than you."

"Very funny," Ellie eats a handful of mozzarella before she digs back in the boxes "What's next?" There's one box huge envelope that looks like it has a slip of cardboard in it. Ellie tears the corner open with her teeth and rips the rest of the top off with her hands. She pulls the content out of it, throwing the envelope over the computer for it to land on the ground. Just as suspected there was cardboard in it, not just a slip but it unfolded into a cardboard cut out of Ellie, she looked to be a younger teenager in it, giving an awkward little peace sign and showing her green braces off with a huge smile.

"Aww, you actually look cute in that."

She disregards me "Chat, interrogate Dina about this and report back."

"Dina?" I ask "Is that your girlfriend?"

"Nah," Ellie props up the cardboard cut-out and places it behind us, right in the middle to watch over us "She's my enemy as of right now."

"What did she do?"

"Send this shit," She eats some more mozzarella, holding the bag out to offer me some, to which I decline. Ellie shrugs it off and eats another handful, washing it down with a long chug of milk and putting it on the desk. She grabs a t-shirt, he eyes go wide and she pushes it against her chest so I can't see. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," I watch a smile spread across her face as she turns the shirt around to show me a graphic of her on it. In the picture, her face is close up to the camera covered in a white powder (presumably flour). "Oh, wow!" I feign shock.

"I know!" She holds it out toward me "It's yours, you deserve it."

"Wow," I draw the word out, taking the shirt from Ellie "This is really great, I was always hoping I would get a shirt of you covered in flour." Sarcasm drips from tone but I accept the gift regardless.

"I know!" Ellie grins brightly "You should put it on now."

"That's fine, I think I'll save it for our date," I tease.

She perks up just the slightest "Ooo, when's that?"

"The second this stream ends."

"On that note," Ellie looks at the camera "Thank you guys for hopping on tonight and thank you to my neighbour who came here without putting up a fuss," Ellie clicks around on the screen a little bit before addressing them again "Alright, go bug Dina now."

With that the stream comes to a close, the blinking light on the camera turns off, and Ellie and I are left alone with ourselves and Kitty.

“So,” Ellie thumps her foot up and down repeatedly like those anxious kids in high school. “Do you maybe wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

“I don’t drink coffee but I’ll pretend to so I have an excuse to hangout with you.”

A smile splits onto Ellie’s face “Phew, I hate coffee I just thought it was an adult way to ask you out.”

A/N: This is super short but I’ll make up for it in the next part, thanks for reading! We got some angst on the way 👀

Perm tag-list: @veeveeisgay @whenlostinthedarkness @gold-dustwomxn @ellslvr

Series tag-list: @diddiqueen @camillecrellin @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @lmaoo-spiderman @camicocom1a @elliessweetheart @melanie-watermelon @lanafresitas

[rainydaymiscellaneous]

I hate to ask again but I had and idea. Also the last one was so cute thank you. If you can can you please write a Kaz Brekker x reader where the reader is in love with this book but no one has read is so they have no one to talk to about it so Kaz reads it and starts a conversation about it with the reader and they get really happy and start ranting about it to him and he’s just happy to sit and listen to them and make comments from time to time

Dude, send me all the requests for our boy Kazzle Dazzle your ideas are so creative!

Book Club (Kaz x reader)

He needed an opening. Just one solid reason to actually talk to you. You had been in the Dregs for years now and Kaz was still struggling to even breathe around you. He had this crush on you that he refused to admit was there. Inej saw it, even dumbass Jesper saw it.

You'd assume that Kaz was mute if it hadn't been for your presence in the Dregs. You had been there for a long time but disappeared on a mission far off for three years. The room above Kaz had been vacant and then suddenly it had life. Kaz had no idea anyone even lived above him until you knocked on his door your first night back and asked him to join you for tea.

There you sat on a nice couch with a cup of chamomile. Kaz was perplexed by who you were and why the fuck you wanted to drink glorified leaves in water.

"Why am I here?" He asked.

"You tell me." You said, sipping from your cup. Kaz furrowed his brow.

"You asked me to have tea with you." He said, watching you with those daggers for eyes.

"You didn't have to say yes." You shrugged.

"I did."

"You did not." "I did." He said. "Okay then, why did you have to accept?" You asked. He sighed, looking at you with his gloved hands gripping his cane.

"Because I needed to know who was suddenly living in the room above me." He said. You rose a brow.

"You could've asked Inej to investigate." You said. He blinked.

"You know Inej?" He asked.

"I've been in the Dregs for three years, of course I know your main lot. Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan and that off-putting convict Mattias." You said.

Kaz was confused. How did you know so much but he was ignorant to you? How did he not know who you were?

"I'm a sharpshooter. I use that-" you pointed to a rifle on the mantle "rifle to kill whoever you want dead." You said.

"Why do I not know you?" Kaz asked.

"I was off in Shu Han for Haskell." You said. "For what?" Kaz asked.

"You do your business, I'll do mine." You said.

He liked that response. It meant you'd keep any secret that slipped through your ears. "I will work for you when you need me. Say the word, I will be there no questions asked unless one of ours is bleeding." You said.

"Why tea?" He asked. "We easily could've done this over something less detestable."

You chuckled. "You've not had the right tea then." You said with that smile.

That fucking smile. From that moment on Kaz was hooked. He couldn't help it. It was hard to not fall in love with someone like you. You were always there when he needed you, apparently you had taken some training on stealth from Inej, leaning to be one with the dark making you even more deadly.

But for the deadly persona that the streets simply knew as "the bullet", you were a gentle person. Kaz often noticed you with stray animals, seeing that kind smile. The one that made Kaz at a loss for words. You'd often make that same smile at Kaz when you'd pass him with a gentle "hi boss."

Sure, technically Per Haskell was the "boss". You however knew damn well Kaz was the brains behind everything. You had become close with the other members of the Dregs, including Inej who called you a sister. She loved being around you. You gave good advice and that was probably why the rest of the group would flock to you.

So there you all were, your head in Jesper's lap as you read. Kaz had noticed your sudden interest in this, everytime he saw you, you had that book in hand now. Wylan looked over at you.

"Care to join the game?" He asked.

"I'm good." You said, turning the page.

"You've been reading that for two weeks now, come up for air." Inej said.

"I need to know if Alistair lives Inej, the prophecy is strongly implying he will die and I don't think Cousland can handle him dying." You muttered, reading.

"None of that made any sense." Nina said.

"It'll make sense if one of you would at least read it." You said.

"We're all too busy. Kaz keeps giving us stupid b&e's.(breaking and entering)" Jesper said.

"Not all of you are busy though. Wylan?" You said.

"Kaz has been training me for lockpicking." Wylan said.

"He take you to the financial district?" You asked, looking up.

"Once or twice." He shrugged.

"Course he did. Best place to practice." You said before going back to your book.

"Alright, who's in?" Jesper asked.

Inej noticed Kaz at the bar, occasionally looking over at you. "I'm out." She said.

Inej made her way to him and he cleared his throat, turning back to his drink. It looked like scotch but the smell... it wasn't scotch it was tea.

"Didn't you say that tea was just leaves in water that is hot?" Inej asked.

"I hadn't drank the right tea." Kaz said, looking at the glass with vacant eyes. Inej recognized the expression. Kaz was at war with himself, as usual.

He never handled his innermost feelings well, especially the ones that left him vulnerable. And what was more vulnerable than love? You were a plague to his mind, always there. When it wasn't your face that he was smiling internally at, it was your laugh. When it wasn't your laugh it was your smile and so on. He wanted so badly to talk to you like he once did over tea but he didn't think it was a good idea.

You were just so perfect in his eyes. So beautiful, so smart. If he tried to converse, he'd make an ass of himself. He needed an opening something fierce. Something to give him a reason to talk to you instead of "hey, your face is anestheticly pleasing to look at, which I do. Frequently. Without you knowing."

"You're staring at your glass mighty hard there." Inej said. Kaz looked up. "You should just talk to her." She said.

"It's not that easy." He muttered.

"I do it all the time." Inej said with an eyeroll.

"Because you are friends. You know her. I am not that lucky." He said.

"You do know her." Inej said.

"Not like that. I know her from afar. Where it's safe." He said, drinking the glass.

"Kaz, she's right there. Just talk to her." Inej said.

You got up, stretching with a yawn. "I'm heading out " You said to Inej.

"Kaz will go with you!" Inej volunteered.

If looks could kill, Inej would've been six feet under at that moment Kaz glared at her.

"Alright..?" You said confused. Kaz sighed looking at Inej and then you before standing up.

He walked out with you, noticing the dark clouds that hung in the sky. "Looks like it might rain" he said.

"Good reading weather." You said.

"You're usually reading nowadays." Kaz said.

"It's a nice escape from things when they get too intense." You shrugged.

"What is it that you're reading now?" He asked.

If you were a dog, your ears would've perked up. "It's amazing- it's about this girl who joins this legendary army and has to rebuild what was-... Sorry." You cleared your throat.

"Why are you apologizing?" He asked.

"Well apparently everyone thinks I talk too much about this book." You said.

"Who said that?"

"Well Nina." He'd kill her

"And Jesper." He'd shoot him with his own guns

"And Inej." Wait what?

"And pretty much anyone who asks me." You finished.

"Wow." Was all Kaz could muster for words.

You shrugged. "I wish they'd just listen to me and read the damn book." You said.

"Why do you think they haven't?" He asked.

"They're all busy. They have their own lives and I have mine. It's nothing personal, I know. But I just wish sometimes I could talk to someone about it and have them actually know what I'm talking about." You said walking.

Kaz then realized this was it. This was his perfect excuse to get closer. "What's the name of the book?" He asked curiously.

"Rise of the Grey Wardens. Why?" You asked.

"I figured I could read it." He shrugged.

Your eyes lit up and Kaz felt intense joy. He made you happy. He actually made you happy. He didn't mean to but he did and my god were you adorable to him when you were beaming. "Then I know where we should go!" You said walking ahead of him.

Instinctively he followed. "Where are we going?" He asked.

You looked back, a breeze blowing your hair in such a beautiful way as you turned to him. "My favorite place in Ketterdam."

He asked no more questions after that, just following you quietly through backstreets. Kaz watched you approach a side door to a building, knocking on it rhythmically. The door open, an older woman smiling at you.

"Weren't you just here a few days ago?" She asked.

"I brought a friend." You said with a smile, stepping back and motioning for Kaz to introduce himself. Kaz couldn't help but feel a little giddy of your use of 'friend'.

"I'm-"

"I know." She said. She didn't say it with disdain though, which shocked him. "You're the reason we're still open. Come on in Mister Brekker."

He didn't know what that meant but accepted the invitation, walking in. "Do you have another copy of 'Rise of the Grey Wardens'?" You asked.

"I do, why did you burn through your other copy?" She asked.

"Mister Brekker wishes to read." You said with a grin. Kaz's eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. Bookshelves lined the walls both on the first and second floor of the building. There must've been thousands of books in front of Kaz.

"Here you are mister Brekker." The woman said.

"Thank you er..."

"Miriam." She said with a nod and a kind smile. She gave off the feeling of a doting grandmother with how fond she seemed of you. "Right! Y/n dear, I made some sugar biscuits if you'd like to try them" she said. You seemed to have found your way upstairs when you responded back with a

"Be right down!"

You returned with a new book in hand and Miriam grinned as Kaz took the book. "I see you've found the sequel." She said. You had the biggest grin.

"I had no clue it was a series." You admitted.

"The second one tends to be slow but it is vital for the third." She said, handing you a cookie.

You smiled, taking it. "Thank you. How much do I owe you?" You asked.

"Nothing. It's on the house." She declared.

"Miriam, if you ever wanted to apply for sainthood, I do believe you to be eligible." You said making her laugh.

"Thank the saints you didn't know me in my youth." She teased making you laugh. Kaz couldn't explain it. Usually smalltalk annoyed him but something about this was nice to him. You and Miriam seemed to have a tight bond.

"We should go, it does look like it'll rain." You said, peaking out a window. Kaz nodded but Miriam held her hand up before handing you and Kaz paper bags.

"For the road." She told the both of you. You gave her a kind smile before walking back to the door. "One moment Mister Brekker." She halted. Kaz turned around as Miriam motioned for him to lean forward for them to whisper. "Keep her safe, will you? There's not many a good person in Ketterdam but she's one of them." She said.

Kaz with possibly the sweetest look of adoration he could muster simply said "I will, Miss Miriam." Before he followed you out. The two of you began your trek back to the Slat. "How long have you known Miriam?" Kaz asked.

"Going on ten years now. Saved her cat from a town fire, she's been grateful since." You said, opening the paperbag and pulling a cookie out. Miriam gave you both cookies. Maybe Miriam was just a village grandma.

"Has any of the others met her?" He asked.

You shook your head. "You'd be the first I've shown to the Archive." You said.

"Why me?" Kaz asked as a crack of thunder sounded off.

"Because you asked me about what I read." You said before walking into the Slat.

Kaz winded up spending a good week reading that book. You were right, it was an amazing story. When he finished, he had that same urge that you did to discuss it.

All of the crows were back in the club, this time Kaz and you both playing a round of poker. Jesper hated this. You were way too good at poker and kept winning, hand after hand. You had a nice stack of chips. Inej seeing your smirk as you leaned back in your chair.

"I win again!" You said.

"Why is this so hard?" Wylan asked.

"Because Y/n is way too good at this." Jesper groaned, smacking his head on the table. Nina sighed.

"I need a drink. A very large one." She said.

"I've got my own little army of chips." You said, stacking them.

"You could rebuild the Cousland estate with your winnings." Kaz said, you looking up slightly shocked. "Course, I could always pull a Howe and, y'know. Knock it down." Kaz added.

You looked bewildered as Inej rose a brow.

"Kay, is it just me, or did none of that make sense?" Jesper asked.

"You just made a reference." You said.

"I did." Kaz nodded.

"You finished it."

"I did."

"And!?"

"You were right. The book is fantastic, I could not put it down." Kaz said.

Inej and Jesper exchanged a look.

"Fuck poker. We need to discuss the book NOW!" You said excitedly.

"Yes! Put me out of my misery!" Jesper said.

Kaz looked at him and then you. "Let's have tea." He suggest. Nina's eyes went wide as she realized what was happening before her, her looking at Inej who had a smile on her face.

"I'm grabbing my coat! Let's go!" You said getting up. Kaz followed you as you practically bounced out the door with excitement.

Nina gaped. "How long has he been in love with her!?" She asked as the door closed.

"Oh a while now, like since she got back." Wylan shrugged.

Jesper and Inej looked at Wylan as he moved your chips.

"You knew?" Inej asked.

"It'd take a blind man not to see."

You ended up back at the Slat, sitting cross legged on your sofa. You two must've discussed the book for hours, Kaz loving every moment of it as he heard you passionately talk about the story.

You sighed with a smile. "It's funny, I didn't think you liked me." You said, looking at your empty tea cup.

Kaz rose a brow. "Why did you think that?" He asked.

"You just seemed so... I dunno. Angry that I returned." You said.

"I wasn't."

"But you seemed it."

"I didn't know who you were. I was on my guard" he said. You rose a brow.

"You're not anymore?" You asked. Kaz bared a gentle expression that made your heart almost explode inside your chest.

"I'm not. You're one of the few I trust. The only I'd trust with my entire being." He said. Kaz didn't have faith in a lot of things. But he had faith in you and it showed. He looked at you. "Do you trust me?" He asked.

You gave him a look of pure adoration. "Of course." You said. You had spent your life reading books about the greatest romances of all time. You'd get lost in those stories of how the man always loved the girl but she didn't realize it until a pivotal moment.

"Kaz... you said you trusted me." You breathed. "Please. Please let my intuition be right." You thought to yourself as Kaz gave you a questioning look. "Do you... love me?"

Your question hung in the air for what felt like the longest minute of your life. Kaz definitely seemed caught way off his guard by the question, his eyes widening the second he realized what was happening.

This entire time he has been hoping for an opening to talk to you. A moment to truly get to know you. Well he got one. And he fell in love with every bit of you. He swallowed hard.

"Forget that I asked, I am so sorr-" "I do." He said.

You blinked. "What?"

"I love you." He said. Your jaw must've hit the floor. You knew how guarded this man was. You heard that any semblance of vulnerability was practically impossible from Kaz and yet here he was. Being the most vulnerable he could be with you.

You looked at him before getting up. He thought his words might've done something bad. Maybe you didn't want his love. Maybe he had misinterpreted everything, maybe he was a fool for thinking there was-

You kneeled in front of him. "Kaz, may... Uhm... May I touch you?" You asked. With hesitation he nodded as your hand gently held his cheek. The touch of humans was deeply unsettling to Kaz. That feeling brought him back to a place he never wanted to be in ever again and yet somehow...

Somehow your gentle touch made him feel safe. If it had been anyone else he'd probably be in the process of murdering the fool who touched him. But it was you. You were like an angel on earth to him.

"When I look at you, do you know what I see?" You asked softly.

"No." He muttered.

"I see someone else who's been through hell and came out on the other side." You held his hands, Kaz looking in your eyes. "We've suffered long enough and we deserve to be happy." You said softly.

Kaz had a momentary loss of control. He kissed you, you leaning into his touch. He pulled away with wide eyes. "I am so sorry-" "shut up and kiss me Brekker."

The next day you were at the crow club reading at the bar next to Inej. Jesper yawned. "It's a boring day. Wish Kaz would give us something to do. By this point I'll take a fucking b&e." He whined.

Kaz, as if he were summoned, walked through the doors of the crow club, sitting on your other side. For once, Inej watched you put your book down as you gave a gentle smile to Kaz. "Hello" you said.

The dead give away that something had changed was the fact that Kaz smiled. He actually smiled back at you. "Hello." He said softly.

Inej and Jesper swapped shocked looks. "Y/n, do you mind helping me with this? It's a rifle mod and I wanna make sure I've got the measurements right." Wylan asked. You looked over.

"Alright." You said walking off.

Jesper and Inej looked at Kaz who now had a drink in his hand. "What the hell happened last night!?" Jesper asked.

"Nothing important." Kaz shrugged.

"We just had tea."

[kykyonthemoon]

Bittersweet

A girl. Two moons. Revolving.

── .✦ Xavier x MC (Reader) x Rafayel

── .✦ Tags: high school AU, love triangle, open ending with a bit sadness, light angst, female reader, no y/n, inspired by music

── .�� Word count: 1k4

── .✦ Ky Ky's notes: This fic was inspired by the song Bittersweet (WONWOO X MINGYU ft. Lee Hi).

Requested anonymously.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

"I'm leaving."

The girl's voice echoed in the wind on the vacant hill. The sky above was filled with innumerable stars. Raising her hands high, she was trying to hold them back for herself. This sky. This place. This friendship.

The two boys stood close to her yet a step apart, exchanged short glances before returning their focus to her.

"I've decided to study abroad."

That was all. She called them both to their regular meeting place, and the three of them raced up the hill. That place held the memories of all three.

Back in high school, they used to sprint up the hill after school to watch the sunset. She alone, and two moons. Ones who chased and one who ran. It had been more than three years since.

"Xavier. Here you go.

The girl handed out a bottle of filtered water to Xavier. He accepted it, his other hand carrying a clean towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

"Thank you."

She grinned. At that time, a group of other female students walked by, covertly looking at Xavier and then giggling at each other.

"Look how famous our class president is." She said with a bit of teasing. "You excel at studies and know how to play sports. How many love letters have you received since the start of the year?"

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Xavier responded. He stared at the girl in front of him, who was smiling and teasing him. She was as bright as if all the warm sunshine in the world was gathered in her smile.

They were classmates. She sat at the desk in front of Xavier. He had always been watching her from behind, in secret.

"Xavier, help me with this homework!"

"Can Xavier help me with my class duty today?"

"Wait for me to come home with you!"

She was usually loud, bouncing around in front of his eyes. When did Xavier realize he liked her that much? Perhaps it was late that afternoon, after the school day had ended, yet she was still sitting in her seat.

Xavier just took a long nap. He had dreams about a certain world, when he could practice swordsmanship with her in the blue flower fields, and even travel among the stars. When he awoke, the whole class had departed, leaving her the sole one reading a book. Her little physique obscured the sunset light from the window for him.

"Is it already that late?"

Xavier rubbed his eyes. She turned and grinned. "Yes. Seeing you sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Sorry… "Why didn't you go home first?"

She tilted her head. The aroma of flowers and grass filled the classroom as the breeze swept in.

"If I go back first, you would most likely wake up feeling lonely, as if the entire world has abandoned you. Isn't that true?"

Her cheeks faintly blushed the color of sunset. Xavier could only gaze at her in silence for a long time. If possible, was he allowed to touch her?

"I don't want Xavier to feel abandoned." She rose up and put the book in her bag. "Come home with me."

Their houses were in the same direction. After becoming friends, the two frequently headed home together. There was also a snack shop on the road that she adored. She always lingered there for a bit before going home, arms full of sweets like a toddler.

"For you." She poured chocolate wrapped in yellow paper into Xavier's palms. They resembled moons, stars, and even spherical planets.

"If you like, I'll try making chocolate for you." He replied, but the girl erupted into laughter.

"I appreciate your kindness, but you should stay away from all the kitchens. Last time I came to your house, we almost burned it down.”

Xavier rubbed his head. She grasped his arm and enthusiastically remarked: 

"It's okay! Next time,  I will make cakes and bring them to you!” 

A small amount of warmth remained on Xavier's arm, making him feel fluttery inside. The road stretched straight and long. He prayed it would never stop so he could always be with her.

Rafayel transferred from another school in the second semester of that year and became a classmate seated next to her. Because he was a newcomer, he greatly appreciated her friendliness and enthusiasm. She toured him around the school and the surrounding area, where she frequently socialized with friends. With her companionship, he no longer felt scared or lonely in his fresh surroundings.

Rafayel and she joined the art club together. Her artwork was not exceptional, so she frequently sought him for help. Weekend painting sessions made Rafayel the happiest since he could witness her confusion, her attentiveness, and sometimes, her wrath while drawing. He simply smirked at moments like that. When she found out, she became enraged and "accidentally" used her brush to create a line on his cheek.

"Hey, my face is not your canvas!"

"Rafayel, please concentrate on sketching. Don't speak and disturb the entire group!" She leaned over and whispered to him. Rafayel grimaced and wiped the paint from his cheek, but it simply smeared further. She laughed.

"Let me clean it for you."

She took out a tissue and dabbed it on his face. His deep pink and blue-ish eyes seemed to be drawn to her.

Despite the fact that he only recently moved here, Rafayel immediately became well-known at school for his drawing and singing abilities. But in his eyes, there was only one girl he wished to be with.

After the art group activities, it began to rain. Rafayel spotted her standing alone on the porch, gazing up at the overcast sky. Her palm extended out to collect the new drops of water that fell from above. He approached her and asked:

“Didn't you bring an umbrella?” 

She shook her head. 

“Me neither.” Rafayel replied, his hand reaching into his bag, pushing the umbrella deep to the bottom. 

“Then we have to stand here a little longer.” She shrugged. And he smiled. Standing next to her, no matter how long it took, he would not mind.

A moment later, the rain ceased. The sun began to rise again. She turned to Rafayel and said:

"We can go home now."

"It's still raining lightly." Rafayel extended one hand out over the porch.

"Nah, it's okay." She responded. Then she dashed out, grabbed Rafayel's hand, and pulled him away. "This light rain won't make you sick!"

Her laughs were crisp, mixed with the sound of the raindrops. Warm sunshine pierced the transparent curtain of water. Rafayel called out: 

"Wait for me!"

At that moment, when the two linked hands and played together in the rain before rushing towards the rainbow, perhaps Rafayel had captured the most beautiful thing this world had to offer.

Two moons revolved around her world.

Because of her, Xavier and Rafayel became friends. They regularly strolled together after school to the nearby hill. The place witnessed many moments of happiness between the three, watched their friendship bloom, and nourished the two boys' quiet affection for her. There were times when either Xavier or Rafayel wanted to confess their feelings to her but could not dare. The relationship between them was so beautiful that it could not be exchanged for anything else.

Both Xavier and Rafayel understood how much the other adored her. This made their situation much more complicated. Aside from being each other's rivals, they both treasured their friendship. As a result, each of them was waiting for someone to speak first, so that the story between the three would have a clear ending. Nobody expected that the person who put an end to it would be her.

After she left the hill, the two guys remained standing next to each other. For a very long time. The girl they loved was leaving, and when she returned, nothing would be the same again. 

Rafayel turned to face Xavier and gently nudged his arm. 

“Let's go home.”

"Yeah. Let's." Xavier responded. They had long ago resolved in their hearts that their affections for her should remain concealed forever. That was the best for all three of them.

Xavier and Rafayel strolled merrily down the hill, grasping one other's shoulders. The wind blew. Sunset slipped away. Each of them had their own concerns, which they could only be able to convey in the future.

-The end- 

[scythesms]

The sound of innocent bickering from the two youngest Ambroise children echoed throughout the overgrown yard, amusing the attentive ears of Edmund, who maintained a watchful eye over the playful children. Cecily sat beside her father and observed him in thoughtful silence with a gaze both curious and contemplative. 

Though she’d never been one to shy away from expression, Cecily often found her thoughts speaking louder than her words. She possessed a meticulous nature, in which she preferred carefully weaving her words into coherent thoughts before they were vocalized—a trait notably distinct from her unrestrained siblings. Eugene, driven by an impulsive desire to articulate every mean thought, seemed driven by a need to release his critical opinions from his mind as swiftly as they entered. Josiah, on the other hand, remained indifferent to how others perceived him, prioritizing his own understanding above all else—an attribute that irked those around him, particularly his reluctance to repeat or rephrase. Once spoken, his words stood no chance of being altered or corrected—something Elaine had picked up on. “Think before you speak, Elaine,” Cecily said at least twice a day in response to improper sentences like, “When I’m old, I’ll do a bakery and plant pies” and unreasonable questions that follow such as, “Why can’t I plant pies?”.

Similar to improper conversational etiquette, Cecily held a very low tolerance for stuttering and mumbling. It was like chalk grating a pristine slate to her ears. At her young age, she knew she preferred momentary silence in thought as opposed to stutters from faltering lips and vacant minds. And so she sat, dedicating time to piece her thoughts and curiosities together into a narrative that reflected her intentions precisely.

“Father,” she began, “may I ask you something?”

Edmund, attuned to the gravity of her tone, turned his complete attention to his daughter. Carefully, he said, “You can ask me anything.”

"I was thinking about your lady friend," she confessed. "How did you come to know her?"

Though he had anticipated this very question—wondering which one of his eldest children would broach the subject first—he resented it just as much. There’d been a time early on in his reconnection with Imogene where he had considered sitting his children down, offering them insight into her presence in his life, and disclosing his entire history with her. Yet, he had balked at the notion, second guessing the necessity of such a conversation. If she were merely a friend and there were no further intentions, then perhaps there was no need for an "explanation"... or so he had attempted to convince himself.

“I knew her when I was a young boy… just before meeting your mother. Imogene was… a part of my past.” 

He chose his words carefully. Cecily appreciated that, but it wasn’t enough. She pressed, “Did you love her? Imogene?”

Edmund’s shoulders sagged as he released a sigh before admitting honestly, “Yes, I did.”

He always thought discussing his past with Imogene to his children would stump him, and he’d be a sputtering lying fool. Yet, in that moment, he felt no such indulgence. The admission flowed with an unexpected ease—almost relieving.

A thoughtful pause lingered between them before Cecily ventured further, her voice barely above a whisper, "Did you love her more than my mother?"

He stared ahead. “No.” His response was swift and concrete. “Rosalyn—your mother… holds a place in my heart no one can surpass.”

Cecily was relentless. “Do you still love Imogene?”

“No.” It sounded so simple. 

“Could you love her again?”

He returned his attention to his daughter—her wide eyes void of resentment or detest. “Cecily–”

“I don’t think Mother would be upset with you for loving her again. She would want you to be happy.”

Exhaling softly, Edmund carefully watched Cecily—a reflection of her mother in both demeanor and insight. “I am happy,” he expressed while looking at her side profile, her gaze now fixed ahead. “I’m happy. You four make me happy.”

She shrugged. “You could be happier.”

Cecily had no intention of shoving her father into the arms of any woman, but she wasn’t blind. She’d observed their interactions keenly—a bit foolish if she were to admit. She simply couldn’t imagine someone making her stutter and blush the way her father and Imogene did when in each other's presence. She knew she needed to make it clear to her father that if he decided not to pursue a relationship with the woman, it’d be his sole decision and not one influenced by herself and her siblings… (Addressing Eugene's bitterness would be a concern for another time, should it arise).

While she lacked deep perception of her mother, her memories painted a portrait of a woman akin to an angel. Cecily couldn’t imagine her mother being resentful of her father for seeking love after years spent in mourning.

Edmund, who prided himself on believing he possessed a more intimate understanding of Rosalyn than perhaps anyone else in the world, acknowledged that his daughter's insights held truth in more ways than one.

previous ➺ next

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wherever You Are

Sequel to Come Out, Come Out

Warnings: noncon and violent elements. Warnings are not exhaustive. Please curate your reading accordingly.

Summary: Steve comes home.

As always, please, please, please, send me your thoughts and feedback, horny and otherwise! Love you all so much 💗

A sudden vertigo overcomes you, sweeping you out of your static sleep. You blink away the shroud of drowsiness and greet the man above you with a vacant stare. Your breath hitches as you turn fully onto your back to face Steve.

“We doing this again?” He stands straight and crosses his thick arms over his bulging chest, “the hiding?”

“Sorry, Captain,” you push yourself up, bending your legs in front of you as you keep your heels on the blanket below you, half of it trailing behind you under the bed.

“I don’t like you sleeping under there. You know that.”

“I do, sir, but…” You bat your lashes and pout. You can’t tell him who you are truly hiding from. “I don’t like sleeping alone in the bed.”

He tilts his head and the stony edge leaves his jaw. He nods and bends over you, gripping you around your sides as he lifts you to your feet. He steadies you before him before he lets you go, fingertips brushing up your nightgown.

There’s a cut above his cheek and smear of dry blood down his stubbled throat that trails onto his dark collar. There’s a rent in the fabric across his chest, another deep along his torso, that one reddened and tattered. He cradles your chin as you eyes drift down to his wounds and he forces you to look at him.

“Starshine, I’m alright,” he assures you as his thumb caresses your cheek, “go get the kit.”

“Yes, Captain,” you touch his hand gently, angling your head up as he leans in. You give him a kiss, breathing in the scent of blood and sweat. You part and give a meek smile before you spin on your heel.

You flit off to find the silver chest stored under the bathroom counter. You hear him just through the doorway as he starts to strip away his layers. The clink of buckles and rustle of fabric underlines the silence. 

As you return to the bedroom, he sits on the bench of your vanity. The one he proudly reminds you he built himself. He still wears his grimy boots and stained pants, the dark blue fabric dusted with some unknown soot.

He sighs as he pushes his head back and stretches his neck. He winces as you see how it tugs at the shallow slice along his abdomen. His firm muscles draw taut and his broad chest rises and falls. Along his left peck, a purpled welt stretches up to his shoulder but the skin remains unbroken. 

He sets his head straight and watches your approach. You lay out the kit and flip the top open. You flick away the last of your fatigue with a flutter of your eyelashes. You take out the alcohol first and set to cleaning the cut along his stomach first.

“It’s going to sting,” you warn, just as you do every time, even though you know he barely feels it. 

“Worth it,” he purrs as he brushes your hip, welcoming you closer as you set to work.

When you finish with the bloody slice, placing a bandage neatly over it, you move on to his hands. You only just notice his split knuckles. He gives you each in turn, letting you clean them and wrap a few fingers. 

You finish with a dab of witch hazel over his bruises. He watches you intently. You’re overly aware of his attention as his hands wander along the silky fabric of your nightgown. As you tidy up, he lifts the hem and leans around to get a glimpse of your ass. He gives a tiny spank before he sits back, resting his elbows on the edge of your vanity as he looks you up and down.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing his legs wide.

“Captain,” you eke out as you close up the kit and dump the peel wrappers and cotton balls in the small bin beside the vanity.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, starshine,” he says, “as much for myself as you, you know?”

“I know, Captain,” you face him again.

He nods curtly, wordless order. You walk around his knee and stand before him, just in the vee of his legs. He pats his thigh, his eyes slipping down to the gesture and back up again. You sit obediently on his leg as he brings an arm forward, setting his hand against the small of your back.

“You missed me,” he slides his other elbow off the vanity and sits straight, reaching to your hand and dragging it up over your lap.

“Yes, Captain.”

He lifts your hand and places it against his jaw, guiding it along the thick trim of his beard. He leans into your touch and lets you go reluctantly. You keep your fingers moving, petting him as he hums in delight.

“Give Captain a kiss,” his voice grinds like gravel.

You lean in and press your lips to his. It’s easier now. Before, everything you did was so mechanical but you know better now. It only makes him mad when he sees your reluctance.

His tongue pokes out, gliding along your lips. You let him in, angling your head as he invades your mouth. His hand creeps up your back and he braces the back of your head. He locks you in a hungry kiss, snarling as if he might devour you whole.

When he pulls away, you’re breathless and dizzy. His eyes are dark pits you could fall into. His hand falls to the back of your neck as his other dances along the edge of your nightgown. He gives a small tug as his eyes drift down your body.

“Stand up,” he orders.

You stand.

He leads you without a word. Turning you to face him and knocking apart your feet with his boot. He draws you closer until you stand over his leg. He slips his hands beneath your nightgown, raising it above your pelvis as he frames your hips. He forces you down to straddle his thick thigh, a small gasp escaping you as you wince. You’re still tender…

“I missed you, baby girl,” he lets a hand fall down to your ass, the other keeping a firm hold on your hip, “I want to feel how much you missed me.”

He rocks you once. Pull your pelvis forward then urging it back. The friction of your cunt on his thigh sparks a thrill that ripples down your thighs. You nearly squeal as the sensation reminds you of the rawness nestled between your legs. You repeat the motion. Mimic how he moved you. You tilt against his thigh, another babble trickling from your lips.

You trail your other hand up his arm, watching how the tendons in his arm react, bicep rounding as you grasp his shoulder.

His hand clamps around your hips as the other brushes down to knead the tender flesh of your thigh. You let out a willowy breath as he leans in and hovers his lips before yours. You kiss him, heeding another mute order. You have to know how to read his body as much as his words.

You roll your hips, grinding against him as your fingers graze along his beard. You push your hand back to twine into the tails of his hair. His need melts into you as the pressure blooms beneath you. You squeak and moan, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

You ride him without restraint. The bench creaks below his weight and yours. He groans into your mouth as your tongues meet in desperation. Your legs quiver and burn as you chase your release. It’s close yet so far away. 

Gasp and pull your mouth from his, puffing wildly as lifts his chin and lets out a gritty growl. You dip your head down and kiss his neck, nipping at him as you clutch the strands of his hair and dig your nails into the firm muscles of his shoulder.

“That’s it, I can almost feel it, baby girl, hmm, you gonna cum for your captain?”

“Mmhmm,” you purr as you ply frantic pecks along his throat, “yes… cap… tain.”

You rut spastically as the swell of fire roars through you. You quake as the slickness between your leg smears along your cunt and onto his pant leg. Your pleasure spills over as it spreads to the creases of your thighs.

You slow, little by little, shame coursing anew in your veins as your orgasm recedes. You still and lift your head, wavering just slightly as you look Steve in the eyes. You drag your hand down to his chest.

“You came, didn’t you, starshine?” He asks with a taunting smirk.

“Yes, Captain, I did,” you answer and turn your face down in embarrassment.

His fingertips tickle along your thigh and up to your ass. He feels along your nightgown, almost curiously and follows the curve of your chest up to the base of the strap. He glides the thin string down your shoulder, then the other. 

He pulls down the top of your nightie and fondles your chest with his large hand. Your nipple react at once and goosebumps rise across your skin. You tremble and look down to watch him grope you.

“You’re… sensitive.”

“Captain,” you breathe cluelessly.

“Were you a good girl?”

“Good?”

“You didn’t touch yourself, did you?” He pinches your nipple and you yelp.

“No, Captain, never,” you whimper.

“No?” He tweaks the other and you squeeze his arm, “so why are you so… tender?”

“Captain?” Your eyes round, “I swear, I didn’t–”

“Hmmm,” his hum undercuts your protest and he clucks and he smirks, “Buck did say you were a good girl. Maybe he was a bad boy, huh?”

You gape at him. He’s mocking you. He knows why. He knows everything. You look up to the corner where the lens is. He sees it all.

“He won’t have to be bad if you don’t hide from him,” he bounces your tit in his hand, “you know he likes to play games.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And you know I don’t like it when you make me look bad,” he flicks your nipple with his fingernail and you yelp as you cover it with your hand, “when you act like you have no discipline.”

“I didn’t– I was scared, Steve– Captain,” you panic and pull your hand away from your chest to press to his, “please, Captain, I was only afraid.”

He growls as his throat bobs. Thoughts storm in his eyes as they bore into you. He grasps the bunched fabric of your nightgown and rips it all the way to your waist.

“You will behave this time,” he sneers, “won’t you, starshine?”

“Yes, Captain.” This time?

“Go put something pretty on,” he grips your hips and slides you down his thigh, “he’ll be here soon.”

You don’t argue. You stand and let the nightgown fall to your feet. His eyes rove up and down and he gives a noise of approval.

“Or maybe, you should stay like that, baby girl,” he taunts, “you’ve never look more delicious than you do right now.”

[hannahssimblr]

Fridays end, as they always do, as the life drawing class filters out of the room, and I scrub charcoal from my hands with the icy water in the classroom sink. I don’t know how I do it, get smudges on my fingers, my hands, the sleeves of my sweatshirt, but invariably I do. I use an old paintbrush left lying on the ledge to scrub my fingernails, too. They’re always filthy. I think I am inherently messier than everyone else, somehow, despite my best intentions to be something else. 

“Und dein Gesicht.” The tutor, Gunther, says casually as he saunters from the room, shattering the illusion I had of having cleaned myself off. My face, too? How did it get on my face? The silver tap reflects a smudge above my eyebrow. I bring a handful of water to wash it away, and the coldness stings my skin. I shiver as it trails down my neck and under my collar. Cold. I’m always cold these days, even as January has limped into February and, along with the new year snow, my delusions that spring is just waiting to burst through the frozen soil, have melted.

My face, still damp, feels like it might freeze solid as I trudge across campus to the lecture halls. This is part of my Friday routine, too: Visiting the lecture hall. Not because I have an actual lecture. My art history class is on Wednesday. Astrid has it on Friday afternoon, finishing at half four, and I like to be there to meet her. My phone reads 16:40, the screen is bright in the fading light and the mist, grey, cloud hanging low over the brick pavers.

I make myself known with a knock on the door. It’s ajar, the room vacant of all students but Astrid, and she stands by a desk, her white blonde hair covering her face as she murmurs in German still too sophisticated for me to understand. 

It’s Steffen who she is speaking to. Her art history lecturer. A rumpled, mousy-haired man with a leather satchel always slung across his body. He has an incessant need to discuss the minutiae of Astrid’s academic essays with her after class far more often than he does any of his other students. He wants her alone, and it sends a shiver up my spine. His lack of concern about being creepy is alarming. I could go around to everyone on campus and describe him as some lecherous old weirdo hunting women half his age. He would be ostracised, ridiculed for it, but it’s like the thought hasn’t crossed his mind, like he’s lacking some basic element of male shame.

I don’t like it. It freaks me out. I hate the way he holds her hostage after hours like this, and his habit of looking at her like she’s not flesh and blood, but some sort of otherworldly, celestial thing for him to rake his eyes over as he pleases. He enjoys her too much.  

“Hello,” I say with all the obnoxiousness I can muster, and they both look up. Perhaps I am projecting onto Steffen, this notion I’ve bamboozled him, pissed him off by interrupting his time with my girlfriend, while he innocently helps her with her essay on female painters of the 16th century, but I swear he gives me a look, and I give one in return. He’s so weedy. I wonder if he knows that if the rules of university were the same as the primitive, hierarchical rules of secondary school, I would have snapped him in half already. Look at him, and his stupid glasses and his stupid leather bag. 

“Danke, Steffen,” Astrid says, and scoops her books from his desk. I keep my eyes on him as she walks away, to make sure he’s not watching her do it, and I keep them on him until she has slipped out of the room ahead of me. I’ve never felt more like a territorial dog. 

“Good chat?” I say, my intentions of sounds casual coming out weird instead, while Astrid strolls along next to me, examining the paintings hung along the walls of the hallway. 

“Oh, yes, it was fine. We talked about Marietta Robusti, mostly. Steffan was showing me paintings of bowls of peaches and things.”

“Peaches?”

“Yeah, she painted peaches proficiently.”

“Right. You were just talking about peaches. He didn’t, like, say anything else to you, did he?”

“Not really. Why?”

She pulls on her coat as we exit to the courtyard and brace against the gust of icy wind. “Because of what I was saying before, about being careful around that guy. I think he wants more from you than discussion about bowls of peaches, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, I thought about that. You’re could be right.”

“I’m right?”

“Yes, I think he has a certain way of looking at me when we’re talking.”

“Oh,” I pause, having expected pushback. “Well, yeah, I think so too, and I think you should be careful about being alone with him.”

“Jude!” she cries, “He’s my tutor. I can’t stay away from him, exactly.”

“Yeah, but if he wants to drag you up every class to talk to you alone, then maybe you should pretend to be too busy. At least then you won’t be uncomfortable-”

“I’m not uncomfortable. He was saying interesting things about Marietta Robusti.”

“Marietta Robusti,” I echo, forlorn, and I hold the door to the café where we have our Friday afternoon coffee. “Maybe he should email you about Marietta Robusti and her famous peaches, huh? Has he heard of Gmail?”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t worry so much. It’s okay. He’s my tutor, and if he wants to speak to me about my assignments, then it is fine. If he wants to fuck me, I’ll say no. It’s like you think he will coerce me. Like he will lock the door of the classroom and trap me inside.”

“Yes, that’s what I was picturing. That he’d throw a big sack over you like a cartoon villain and run away with you slung over his shoulder.”

“Why do you say things like that? As if he has a sack waiting under his desk with which to steal women.”

I laugh at her unintentional comedy, and we reach the top of the queue. “Könnte ich bitte einen Latte, einen Americano und ein Stück von diesem Kuchen haben?”

The barista nods. 

“I don’t want any cake today. I’m not hungry,” Astrid says. As we shrug out of our coats and hang them across the back of our chairs, I nod, “I’ll have it all to myself, then.”

I reach across the table for her hand, and stroke my thumb across the sharp peaks and valleys of her knuckles. 

“Later, I think we should go to a play I’ve been interested in seeing,” she says. I pull a face, and she frowns. “What?”

“I hate plays.”

“That’s ridiculous. You cannot hate an entire art form.”

“I do. I just don’t like the way they talk and move their faces. It makes me cringe, and I find them unwatchable.”

“They need to talk and move their faces to say the lines.”

“We can’t go to a play, anyway. My friend Jen is coming.”

“Oh, is that today?” our order arrives, and she dunks her spoon through the foam of her latte to destroy the steamed milk heart on top. “I forgot it was happening.”

“Yeah, I’m leaving to collect her from the station in, like, half an hour.”

“That’s fine.”

“Are you still up for dinner at mine?”

“Oh, yes, we planned that too, didn’t we?” She exhales slowly. “Yes, I suppose. Though you live so much further from here than I do. Wouldn’t it be easier if we ate at my apartment?”

“What, like you’ll cook?”

“No, you can still cook, but at mine. Wouldn’t it be more comfortable?”

I take a contemplative bite of chocolate cake. Astrid’s apartment is smaller, but it has the unique benefit of not smelling like tobacco, and a heating system that works with some semblance of reliability. Still, we had a specific plan. Now I’ll have to tell Jonas.

“If that’s what you want,” I say with reluctance. “I suppose your place is a good bit nicer than mine.”

“I think Jen would like it.”

Jen wouldn’t care, but I nod in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. It’ll be nice for her to go straight to a nice warm apartment, rather than, like… mine.”

“So true.” She steals a crumb of cake that crumbles onto my plate. “And I want to be in a good mood when I meet her. I feel I will be a little tired after travelling to yours.”

“Mm, good thinking.”

Astrid reaches for my fork, and I relinquish it. I watch as she digs wholeheartedly into the remains of my chocolate cake, then finally, in defeat, I slide the plate to her and let her finish the whole thing.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[superblysubpar]

We'll Call It Love masterlist | It Had To Be You masterlist

the song: Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall // It Had To Be You playlist

warnings: this story is a part of the series We’ll Call It Love, and much of it would be spoiled if you read this first. It’s linked above, and I hope you love it! | series warnings pertain | mentions of drugs | "illusions" to smut

3k words

Steve always thought he’d meet the love of his life, his soul mate, at a bar. 

Which sounds kind of lame now maybe? It’s just that the movies make it feel like this magical moment - you know, the couple sees each other, the music swells, the lights change - it’s undeniable. 

But that’s not happening for Steve Harrington it seems, definitely not tonight. 

Maybe not ever. 

So here he is, just breaking up with another girl in another random Chicago bar. 

His thumb pulls at the damp paper label, his brows furrowed over hazel eyes girls tend to like to look into deeply from time to time - or so he’s been told. 

“It’s just not working.”

The words taste more bitter than the beer on his tongue because for Steve, that’s quite the opposite of how he feels a relationship should be described. Your relationship shouldn’t feel like a job. It should be easy. It should feel right. It should just work for lack of a better term. 

When there’s no response from the other side of the table he finally glances up from the shredded label to find her typing on her phone, reaching for her wine glass and nodding. 

“Brenda?”

The blonde finally lifts her eyes from the device, smiling under vacant eyes. 

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Steve sighs deeply. He rubs at his temple as he nods. 

“Yeah, yeah I did. I don’t…I don’t think we should…do this anymore?”

Silence. 

She’s typing on her phone again. 

“Brenda?” He blinks at her incredulously before leaning across the table, closer, as he lowers his voice, “Brenda, I’m breaking up with you.”

She snaps her gum, slides her phone into her purse and starts to slide out of the booth. 

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Listen, I didn’t even know we were dating? We haven’t even slept together and I didn’t think we were, like, an inclusive thing, you know?”

“You mean exclusive?” 

She’s already walking out the door. As Steve watches her go with a disbelieving stare, he sees one of the TVs suspended over the bar has the Cubs game on now. 

Well at least tonight isn’t a total bust. 

“Hey man, ‘nother beer?” The bartender who brought him his first one asks from where he’s collecting empty dishes at a nearby table. 

“Um,” Steve runs a hand through his hair, squinting at the tabletop before he sighs. “Sure, thanks.”

The bartender leaves and Steve rests his chin on his fist, watching the game but not really seeing it. 

He’s not really sure what he’s doing anymore. Is it all just normal? To be this hopeless, to be this unhappy with life, to be this lonely. There has to be someone out there for him right? 

His phone buzzes loudly on the table, stealing him from his spiral only for the dread he was barely allowing himself to dip into, swallow him whole and drown him. 

The contact ‘Dad’ displays with no photo for what feels like forever until it finally stops and the screen goes dark. 

Steve is still staring down at it when a large basket of breadsticks slides under his nose and a cold beer right behind it. 

He glances up and the bartender is taking his empty bottle, smiling in a sort of laid back way that makes Steve envious of his clearly relaxed state and demeanor. 

“On the house. You look pretty down about that blonde.”

“Oh,” Steve sits up, clearing his throat. He feels the warmth under his cheeks as he shakes his head, “No, um, she’s…yeah, I’m not missing her. Just lost in thought I guess. Thank you…” Steve trails off, looking for a name tag.

“Argyle, man,” the bartender slaps his hand out and grabs Steve’s. 

Steve points to the ceiling, smiling. “Like the name of the bar?”

“One and the same my dude. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Steve keeps his eyes on the game until he can’t resist the scent of butter and cheese and he grabs one of the breadsticks. He practically moans when he takes the first bite, and his eyes flutter open when he hears a laugh float across the quiet room. 

He swallows around the way too hot to have taken that big of a bite of bread as he sees you. You’re the only girl at the bar, head thrown back in a laugh he swears sounds like a favorite song as Argyle pours more red wine in your glass. There’s pizza in your hand and you’re gesturing to the baseball game. 

He might already be in love with you. 

And that’s before he watches you devour more than one piece of the pizza you’re eating alone and watching the baseball game like you actually care about it. 

Steve clicks his phone unlocked, ignoring the text from his father, and types one to Robin instead. 

Steve: Do you believe in soul mates?

It takes less than a minute for her to respond. 

Robin: Steve, I’m sorry, but I cannot do this. Brenda is NOT your soul mate Steve: we just broke up Robin: oh thank god Robin: I mean, I am so sorry, what can I do? Ice cream? Steve: no, listen… Steve: there’s this girl here Robin: no Steve: I haven’t even told you the best part Robin: let me guess, you think you love her already? Steve: if you’re gonna be a brat about it, I will not tell you that she’s watching the Cubs game right now Robin: wow? Steve: Robs, she’s ACTUALLY watching it Robin: Yeah, and? Do you even know her name yet, Dingus? Have you spoken to her? Dude, I love you, but you can’t keep doing this Steve: what’s a good pick up line?

Steve takes a swig of his beer and chokes around it when Robin responds.

Robin: I might not be a pro player, but when it comes to you, I won't stop until I’ve reached all the bases Steve: absolutely not Robin: I think I glove you Robin: my dugout, or yours? Robin: I’m an umpire. Can I have your number so I can make the call? Steve: I hate you Robin: why don’t you just go with “Hi.” idiot Robin: also, why are there SO many baseball pick up lines on google? And what do they mean? Wtf is a pinch hitter?

Steve rolls his eyes at his screen, locking it closed as he slides out of the booth. He approaches the bar slowly, deciding that Robin is right, he should take it slow, he always does this. 

And maybe he’ll go with the umpire line. 

But when he’s right behind your shoulder, so close he can smell your perfume that makes him want to fall inside the bottle, he sees your pizza. 

And it has fucking olives on it. 

“Shit.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he clearly did, and when you turn to face him, he sort of forgets how to breathe. 

You’re clearly taking him in just like he is you, and when he sees your mouth drop open a little as your eyes meet each other, he feels like someone is playing a prank on him. 

Because the bar lights dim and the lyrics of As Time Goes By plays loudly. 

And Steve knows, logically, that this is all because it’s the time of night where bars dim their lights and that the song is from the other TV playing Casablanca. He knows this. 

And yet…

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Steve kisses your temple as he leans around you and grabs a breadstick on the bar despite your protest. He groans around the bread as you turn to smile at him. 

“I swear, Argyle puts drugs in these.” 

He sighs, pushing more into his mouth as he blinks at you, nodding his agreement. Steve’s eyes roam over the little black dress you have on, stopping appreciatively on the lace neckline that dips nicely and not so innocently. His fist comes up over his mouth, clearing his throat around the bite he shoves into his cheek so he can talk. 

“You look nice.”

“What, this old thing?” You spin on the stool, shrugging your shoulders with a smile. 

“Did you have something going on at work today?” He asks, brows furrowing and at first you think he’s joking, but then he cocks his head, ripping at more of the breadstick.

“Um, no, I-”

“Hey,” Steve waves for Argyle’s attention before he turns to you, apologetic, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, do you care if we get the pizza to go? I’m beat from today, and I just need to get into something that isn’t this tie and eat that pizza and pass out.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You smile, sure it’s not quite meeting your eyes, but Steve doesn’t notice because he’s already relaying the message to Argyle who looks at you curiously, then Steve, then you again before nodding. 

“Sure, man, I’ll box it up right now, it just got out of the oven.”

He walks away and Steve looks at you curiously, “That was weird, right?”

Except it wasn’t, because Argyle and you must see all the couples literally making out over their pizza, or snuggled up on the same side of booths and pressing their noses into cheeks and whispering sweet nothings into ears. Argyle and you must know that today is Valentine’s Day and Steve…doesn’t?

You quickly hop off the stool, grab your thick winter coat and shrug it on, pretending not to notice, “No? It’s busy, maybe he’s just overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Steve trails off, looking around until he lands back on you buttoning your coat, then down at your feet when he smiles. “Hey, you’re wearing the heels I bought you.”

A hum leaves your pursed lips as you roll your eyes. “Well, they’re really nice and they’re not doing anyone any good hanging out in my closet collecting dust on their red soles.”

Steve leans in and kisses you, quickly and subtly before he whispers, “It’s okay to admit you like the fancy things I buy you…speaking of…” He grabs his wallet from his back pocket.

He hands you his debit card, before he nods outside, “I’m gonna go run and pull the car up so you don’t have to walk in those all the way to where I finally found parking.”

“Steve, I can-” He’s already waving it off and kissing your cheek, disappearing out the door he barely just walked through. 

You slump against the bar and pull out your phone, looking around at the packed place with a sour feeling in your stomach. 

Normally, you hate this day. It’s overpriced consumerism at its finest. It's a sickening zoo of PDA everywhere you look, and places like here that normally are your peaceful, quiet spots, are packed. 

But you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were sort of looking forward to the day this year. Because, in all honesty, you’ve never really had someone you’ve wanted to celebrate with or someone who cared to do so until now.

Until Steve. 

Which is what leads you to pull out your phone, open a text to Robin, decide absolutely not because she’d just text him and then he’d feel awful and instead you call Eddie who answers on the first ring.

“What.”

You go to bite at your lower lip at the sound of his curt greeting and think better of it, what with the lipstick you put on for tonight and all. 

“Are you busy?”

Eddie sighs, dramatically, and you hear the distinct sound of a can crushing. “Yeah, I’m fucking the love of my life after we just had a candle lit dinner for two.”

As you look at the window, waiting to see Steve’s car, your eyes roll. Argyle hands you the pizza box with a smile and your voice lowers.

“Steve’s a…has he…does he like Valentine’s Day?”

Eddie snorts as he slurps a sip of a fresh beer into the receiver, “What kind of question is that. Of course Steve likes Valentine’s Day. It’s his shit. One year he took a girl out to like this whole big, fancy dinner and ice skating. Presents, flowers, the whole thing. He even gets Robin flowers and a card every year. He’s always been like that. Got everyone in middle school like the really nice candy and cards. Superheroes and name brand shit.”

“Oh.”

There’s silence on the other end for what feels like forever and you hear his sharp inhale as the car pulls up. 

“I gotta go,” you start to hang up but then think better of it and hiss into the phone, “Don’t say anything to him or Robin or Nancy or I will kill you.”

“But-” You click off the phone before he can say another word and head out the door where Steve is already jogging around the front of his car and opening your door for you. 

The glaring reality of your situation hits you as Steve closes the door.

Steve didn’t forget Valentine’s Day, he just doesn’t want to celebrate it with you. 

You try to shake off the mood, to smile and nod as he talks the whole way to his apartment about the new job, because you are really proud of him and you love hearing how excited he is for this new work he’s doing. And really, isn’t being alone with him, eating pizza, in comfy clothes, a perfect night with him because anything you do with him is perfect? 

It’s just hard to shake the fact that it’s a known fact he’s gone above and beyond for everyone else on this holiday, but not for you. 

Steve grows quiet as you walk inside the apartment building, thumb swiping over your knuckles back and forth gently until you untangle your fingers so he can unlock his door. 

The heels are kicked off and your coat hung as Steve slides the pizza onto the island, turning towards his bar. “I got that wine you really liked, do you want a glass of that with it, or…” he trails off waiting for you to respond.

You nod and head towards his room, but his arm snakes around your waist, tugging you to a stop so you can see his eyes when he ducks his head to catch your gaze. Steve speaks softly, worried, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you smile and he frowns and you kiss the corner of his lips, “Sorry, I just had a long day too, I guess. Lady things. Heels hurting, whatever-”

“The heels hurt?” He looks genuinely concerned, and goes to reach for his phone, “I’ll get you a different size, they shouldn’t hurt-”

“No, no, no, I meant like…” you kiss him again, feeling something in your chest ache. 

Steve is wonderful, wanting to buy you new shoes because your feet hurt and here you are sulking because what? He didn’t get you overpriced bad chocolates? 

He kisses you back, hand cupping your jaw until you’re sighing and pulling away. 

“The shoes don’t hurt my feet. I don’t know why I said that. They’re perfect and the wine sounds great. I’m gonna change quick, okay?”

He nods, but he’s still frowning as you turn into his bedroom. You literally shake out your arms as you enter his closet, like you’re trying to rid your body of the bratty feeling as you roll your head from side to side, the tense feeling in your neck making you feel nauseous and guilty. 

You pad over to the tall dresser, pulling at the top drawer that’s slowly becoming yours as your phone rings, loudly, in the other room. 

“Steve, can you grab that? It’s in my coat pocket. It’s probably just Eddie, I hung up on him earlier…” you trail off as you remember what else is in the coat pocket and you race back out to the kitchen, sweats and one of Steve’s shirts in your hands. 

Your tights covered feet skid to a stop in his kitchen at the sight of what Steve holds in his hand. 

His tie is gone, white dress shirt partially unbuttoned to reveal the white tank top underneath with a small glimpse of his chest hair peeking out the top of it. His hair is sticking every which way, like he ran both hands through it several times in less than the minute you’ve been a part. 

And in his fingers dangles a gold chain, his gold chain, with a little ‘S’ hanging from it.

“Steve, I-”

He looks up at you and his cheeks are flushed pink and his eyes look a little glassy and he clears his throat as he holds it up higher. The ‘S’ spins with the movement, catching the light and sparkling as his voice breaks a little when he asks, “What’s this?”

Your eyes close as you groan and drop the items. The heels of your palms into your eyes as you shake your head. The words tumble out of you, unable to be contained any longer.  

“It’s stupid. I’m sorry. I just…I thought…I figured you’re a guy who, like, would eat this holiday shit up, and I don’t know, your chain just…I don’t know. I stole it and I brought it to a jeweler and got the ‘S’ for it and I know it’s technically a gift for me, but I just thought you’d like it if I wore it but it’s fine, I can return it or we can just…I don’t know, I-”

“Hey,” he interrupts softly, now standing just in front of you. He tugs on your wrist, pulling your hand from your face before his fingers tuck under your jaw so you have to look at him. “You got me this for Valentine’s Day?” 

The words of the holiday must make your face aching to be nonchalant twitch or shift or something because Steve leans down and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I didn’t forget. I just assumed you were very much not the kind of girl who would eat this holiday shit up,” he laughs at the parrot of your words as your lips twitch. “I thought you’d hate the fancy dinners and the flowers and chocolate, and just want today to be…normal?”

Your shoulders shrug as you step closer, letting your hands tug at his shirt collar. “I do…normally.”

Steve’s nose traces up yours and back down as he hums, lips ghosting over yours as he speaks, “Yeah? What changed?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment Harrington?” You whisper, heart stuttering in your chest as his lips catch your bottom one and linger, his breath exhaling against your skin warm as he laughs. 

“I wouldn’t complain if I got one,” his lips skim up your jaw, kissing just below your ear before he asks, “Can I put it on you?”

Something inside of your stomach flutters as you nod and spin for him. Steve’s nose follows your ear, down your neck as his hands reach around with the necklace. The cold metal hits your skin, your toes curl and legs press together as his fingertips skate across your collarbones with the ends of the chain, until they’re clasping it closed. 

You spin slowly, bodies refusing to stop touching each other as Steve swallows loudly and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. His eyes remain on the necklace as you tilt your head back to look up at him. 

Steve’s hand reaches up, fingertips gently brushing down the chain until they’re on the ‘S’ where he pauses, his adams apple bobbing as the apartment grows warmer from the heat of his stare. 

He leans forward, and before you can even naturally follow, he tugs, lightly, on the ‘S’, making your brain buzz and something spark up your spine as the distance between you closes. 

Steve makes a sort of choked noise from the back of his throat, pupils blown wide when he finally looks into your eyes. 

Your lips hover over his mouth, whispering around their smirk, “Pizza’s getting cold.”

Steve groans as you slip out of his arms, spinning towards the food only to be caught around the waist by his arms. He practically drags you to his bedroom, growling, “Fuck the pizza,” around your laughter. 

You’re not sure what you were hoping for, really, with the gift, for your first Valentine’s day together. 

But watching Steve Harrington’s eyes practically roll back in his head with you grinding on top of him, his hands pressed to the mattress with fingers entangled in yours, as the chain and little gold ‘S’ hits his chin is pretty fucking great. 

Oh, and him coming with no warning when you kiss the pair of freckles on his neck and whisper, “Happy Valentine’s Day baby” was pretty cool too.  

[leezlelatch]

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week. 

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document. 

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them. 

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration. 

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold. 

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little. 

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye. 

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored. 

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated. 

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story. 

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner. 

Fuck it. 

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat. 

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs. 

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns. 

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?” 

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.” 

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.” 

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night. 

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon. 

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off. 

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection. 

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation. 

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare. 

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant. 

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure. 

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality. 

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now. 

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.” 

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face. 

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.” 

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom. 

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.” 

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair. 

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one. 

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face. 

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out. 

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.” 

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly. 

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring. 

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then. 

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in. 

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks. 

“Are you preaching?” 

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs. 

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk. 

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.” 

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea. 

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question. 

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?” 

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles. 

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add. 

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin. 

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation. 

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye. 

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful. 

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.” 

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?” 

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly. 

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile. 

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies. 

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.” 

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.” 

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.” 

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?” 

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be. 

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door. 

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true. 

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner. 

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at. 

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.” 

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth. 

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly. 

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?” 

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you. 

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.” 

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table. 

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair. 

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?” 

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?” 

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little. 

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.” 

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?” 

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff. 

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair. 

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?” 

“Victor,” you answer immediately. 

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.” 

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature. 

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke. 

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?” 

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks. 

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features. 

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes. 

“Do you like me?” He asks softly. 

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra. 

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?” 

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.” 

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?” 

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles. 

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his. 

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go. 

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.” 

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up. 

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry. 

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?” 

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.” 

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?” 

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful. 

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly. 

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.” 

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.” 

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own. 

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush. 

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised. 

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.” 

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest. 

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks. 

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone. 

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.” 

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world. 

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.” 

“I already told you that-” 

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.” 

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze. 

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone. 

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises. 

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily. 

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully. 

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy. 

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter. 

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?” 

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

[aboutchigiri]

001. calpico + a hint of weed | curaçao nights

cw: cursing, mentions of fwb/hookup dynamics, suggestive joke, kys/kms jokes & ofc usage/discussion of marijuana use 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

wc: 570

you happily trekked outside, your bag hiked up along your shoulder as you leaned against the door waiting for chigiri to trudge out of the club, pushing through countless crowds of people.

"good fucking luck to megs and yoichi because i swear i just saw two back to back bachelorette parties walk in." he sighed before walking in stride with you, moving towards the tattoo shop.

"so, did you finally decide? because i think i'm convinced we should get the star and cloud combo." you spoke, pushing your phone in his face.

"i'm getting the cloud but you get the star." he said definitively, handing the phone back.

"ok but don't put yours in a weird place. put it somewhere normal." you rushed, pushing into the store while the small bell jingles and alerts nagi that someones entered the shop.

the store's atmosphere was calm and slightly cluttered, it kinda brought peace to you and the smell reminiscent of something you knew of all too well. you walked further into the store before seeing the front desk, vacant. nothing but the desk, a small couch and table set out in front of you. you scanned around for any sign of life other than the distant buzzing and light melody of a song that you had grown to love.

"is this shit closed?" chigiri wondered, his head swiveling around for some bit of information but before you can reply, a melodious voice rang out.

"can i help you guys?" he's leaned up against the doorway that seemingly led to specific, set-apart studios. the boy in the doorway sent your mind down a long, winding road of memories before you came back to reality.

you knew those steely gray eyes that were almost always low and bloodshot, covered by white hair that fell just right above his eye. it could only belong to one person. a person that you had grown apart from, yet you felt immediately drawn too.

"nagi?" you asked, ignoring his initial question. his eyes parted slightly larger than normal before falling to their low state.

"shit, y/n?" he asks, before taking in your appearance fully. platinum eyes rake your entire body before his tongue darts out to wet his lips. chigiri's eyes widen when he realizes who he is, everyone standing around in shock.

"nagi, what are you doi-" reo appears, glancing over nagi's outstretched hands.

"oh shitt, y/n? chigiri?" he speaks, pushing past them.

"no wayy, you guys work here?" chigiri starts, he smiles knowingly at you before returning his attention to the two men in front of him.

"own it." nagi throws in, moving out of the doorway and closer to the two of you. his gloves pulled off and discarded in the trash can near the desk.

"perfect. wanna hook an old friend up?" you ask, phone pulled up to the tattoos that you and chigiri decided on. reo looked slightly nervous, almost poised and ready to apologize on nagi's behalf.

"i'd love too, you know i would. but, i only take appointments and i've already got some girl back there that i'm working on." he sighs, clicking his tongue slightly as his eyes scan your body knowingly.

"well, whenever i find out how to make one. i expect a friends discount." you winked playfully, the tension that used to fill up space between the pair of you, gone with time. you smiled softly, watching his lazy grin flood his face.

✎ yn and nagi hooked up for almost a year until they graduated and stopped talking completely.

✎ aside from the hooking up, y/n and nagi were SUCHHH good friends. like they actively hung out and chatted casually.

✎ chigiri is an instigator and proud.

✎ bachira has a list of all the guys you've ever hooked up with. nagi is number 1. kunigami is 3 and oliver is 2.

✎ nagi fully left his client in his studio alone to talk to you and chigiri.

✎ rin came up with the nickname nikki for niko as a combination of his first and last name and it has stuck for years. it's canon in this fic because i said so RAHHH

✎ isagi and bachira's house is named macho dojo casa after ken from the barbie movie but they were both too high to rmr what it was actually called.

taglist [open: send asks] ~ @fishii28 @xionri @hy1pnos

(if ur name is in purple, i was unable to tag you! check ur settings and send me a message)

[hernakedmuse]

Punk!Bimbo Reader Headcanons Part I

She moved to Hawkins from Queens in her Freshman year

When she arrived everyone was mean to her, she showed up with chopped off cropped hair styled a little Betty Boop, a Sex Pistols t-shirt that had her thrown in the principal's office, and maroon doc martens all beat up.

Girls would hit her in the locker room and call her derogatory names and guys would call her a slut especially because of her well endowed breasts and punk appearance.

One day, Horror!Bimbo is in the girl's bathroom skipping class to have a smoke, she's fixing her lipstick when she smells smoke, sees the bathroom window open and hears crying.

She opens the stall of the handicapped one to see Punk!Bimbo sitting on the toilet, just sitting, with headphones on, tears messing up her mascara, clutching a cigarette with chipped red nails in a cute, ripped Iggy Pop shirt, a small jeans shorts, ripped fishnet stockings, and docs, oversized army jacket around her elbows and a cool homemeade nose piercing.

She liked this girl and eyed her cadillac red lipstick, she wants it. "You're crying, is the song very sad?"

Punk!Bimbo was ready to cuss out and fight the bitch who interrupted her when she saw it was the Whore of Hawkins High, that was what they called her but Punk!Bimbo thought it was misogynist and ridiculous, and who gave a fuck what anyone did with their own life, God forbid! Oh how she hates the midwest.

The girl had a vacant yet kind look in her eye and looked unbothered and intrigued, so Punky answered. "No, it's angry, it's um--Black Flag, Rise Above by Black Flag."

Horror!Bimbo took out her own cigarette, wrapping her black cherry lips around her own and lit up with her lavender colored lighter. To Punky she looked like a stripper rendition of a corpse bride and she LOVED it, who was she? Truly? "Can I listen? You can listen to my tape, it's uh- *giggles* Nina Hagen--"

"I love Nina Hagen!" Punky exclaimed interrupting the gore whore.

Horror!Bimbo sat on Punky's lap with ease and took her head phones while giving hers to Punky. "They steal my panties and tell everyone I give blow jobs for 50 cents-- one time the principal tried to look up my skirt, I asked him why he was looking up there and I got suspended and a rumor of me fucking him went around, now his wife gives me dirty looks at my dad's grocery store." Her wispy, ghost-like voice explained which horrified Punky, how could anyone treat someone like that? Especially someone so sweet. "They call me a slut and a dyke, I don't care about that though those aren't insults to me, but it's the hitting you know? They like to fuck with me and- I'm so tired, I'm not sad I'm tired, fucking tired and something's gotta change."

Horror!Bimbo blew a smoke ring. "So hit back, bash them in the head for once, you're gonna get in trouble anyway. Bash their brains in watch the blood run." She giggled like a maniac.

Punky laughed. "You're crazy."

"I know!" She moaned "Please try and tell the mental hospitals I've been applying at that!'

They've been best friends ever since.

Punky decided to follow in Moth's footsteps and played up the bimbo look. Cut her hair in a blunt, China bob, dressing revealing like California's Angelyne and spin some Debbie Harry into her look which was absolutely lethal with her va va voom body, her overdeveloped hips and tits, makeup always vampy, clothing rockabilly.

She really started fighting back when her mom's boyfriend tried to molest her in her sleep one night, she put a cigarette out in his eye. Her mom kicked her out, this was junior year, and Horror!Bimbo took her in for a month until her mom begged her back and told her she was right that Rodney was no good.

She blamed Punky though for looking so easy, Punky bit back her feminist rant and let bygones be bygones with her mother but when school came, when Carol tried to grab her by the hair because her boyfriend wanted her to blow him, she took Carol by the hair and slammed her head against the locker and pushed her to the ground and kicked her in the stomach with her thrift store, leopard print stilettos, she beat the ever living shit out of Carol as she let out bloodcurdling screams in the hall, she never forgot when Carol tried to set her up to get gangraped at a party and never forgot when Steve Harrington saved her that night.

Carol had to be taken to the hospital, she had two broken ribs, one missing tooth, a broken nose, broken arm, and a concussion from Punky's rage alone.

Nobody messed with her again.

She started an apprenticeship at the only beauty parlor in town and sings lead for a punk band started by community college students from the next town over, they call the band Hellcat, which was a nickname Punky earned.

The Beauty Parlor is a couple doors down from Family Videos

A certain big haired employee was enamored with the vixen in the tight pin up clothing and the vampy bob who swayed her hips down the street to her job. He'd bring her food sometimes from Benny's, give her his employee discount when she came in for videos, sometimes just pay for it himself.

"Let me know when you wanna book an appointment with me Stevie" She'd tell him with a smirk on her cadillac red lips, a wink, and a saucy little hip sway. She was like Elizabeth Taylor, Vikki Dugan, and Elvira wrapped in one, she was a centerfold come to life, he'd do anything for her, let her do anything to him.

If only she knew after that terrible night at the party, he would follow her home every night after that to make sure she got home safe.

Her silent protector.

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Four

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 430 ~ Amelia

Gunshots echoed through the canopy. Birds cried out overhead, fleeing their nests. The sound of wings in desperate flight as they tried to escape an inevitable death. And I'd never particularly enjoyed it, to see their little bodies hit the ground and have to pluck their feathers and gut them like they'd never been living, breathing creatures of the earth we shared.

But I could no longer walk into a grocery store and pick one up all nice and neatly packaged. Plucked and skinned ready to be chopped or diced. I had to watch the life fade from their eyes.

"I think I got one." Jake said, lowering the rifle from his cheek bone. "I'm getting good at this."

He was a good shot. You couldn't deny him the satisfaction he took with each kill. Never more than birds or squirrels. Anything more would have been outside your realms as a hunter. You'd never been allowed to shoot anything bigger.

"Make sure it's a clean kill." You always said it, like there was a way to absolve yourself of having to take a life.

He was starting to grow a little line of hair above his lip and on the underside of his chin. I suspected he wasn't capable of garnishing his face with anything more, but it was starting to change the shape of his face. He looked a little more rugged. Like a man who had seen some things he dared not speak of. A man who had known suffering but could still smile despite it all.

"You don't have to do this anymore." He sighed, flinging his kill over his shoulder. "I can see how uncomfortable it makes you."

He would have done anything to give me comfort. He was gentle and kind and whimsical. He didn't belong on his own, he was a pack creature. He needed validation and love, but more than that he needed somewhere to belong.

"You want me to stay home and tend the house while you go out hunting? Like a tv wife?" I jested, balking at the sight of the dead bird he carried.

"Why not?" He shrugged with sincerity. "And then I can come home after a long day and kick my boots off and say honey, I'm home!"

It had never crossed my mind that Jake would take over some of the duties I'd been doing all by myself. That he would want to carry some of the burden of our survival. I'd hoped, perhaps, that he might integrate himself as somebody I could exist alongside of without too much of a struggle.

But in truth, I was falling in love with him.

"If only the apocalypse had been of the zombie variety." I said, rolling my eyes. "You'd have had all the opportunities in the world to shoot things."

I started back towards the cabin, following the muddy path back up from where we'd found ourselves down near the lake. All the birds liked to congregate near the water. To hunt game it was the best spot in the woods. A steep incline that was always an inconvenience on the way back up awaited us, and I was eager to get back inside before the light began to fade.

"The dead are still here, aren't they?" He mused, staying close behind but far enough away that the corpse on his shoulder didn't unnerve me too much. "Isn't that what you said? There's still time."

I couldn't help but giggle at his intimation. But I was still haunted by those vacant eyes on the slab. Telling me everything I needed to know without speaking a damn word.

"I think if the dead had any plans to rise they would have done it a long time ago." I replied, "And besides, we don't need another thing roaming around out there."

We heard them at night. Howling. All the dogs that had once been docile pets in the towns and cities, wild and free like their ancestors now. Those who had survived, at least. Those that had adapted. I pitied their struggle the most. Where once they'd known nothing but love, there was only the hunt to kill instinct.

And as I watched Jake take his prized kill home to eat, I did wonder how he had managed to retain all his softness.

Day 431 ~ Amelia

He didn't sleep in that bunk anymore. It had gone unslept in ever since the rain had stopped. Every night he'd asked me if I wanted him to go back to his room and every night I'd made a promise to myself that just one more wouldn't hurt.

And every single one of those promises felt as if I was making them to a faceless and nameless deity that held my life's destiny in their hands. Who was I making that promise to? Why did it matter? Would it be so terribly wrong to continue enjoying Jakes body next to mine?

I was never really certain who's voice it was speaking to me when I told myself that it was wrong to need him. That same voice screaming at me now telling me it was wrong to want him.

How could I not fall in love with him? He took his time with me. Spending hours whispering questions into my ear. Sweeping his hands over my body, asking me if I liked the way he touched me. If I needed him to do anything differently. Altering his pressure and speed to my preference. Reducing me to a quivering wreck without ever asking for anything in return.

Once I knew that it was inevitable, I couldn't stop the temptation anymore. Satisfying each other with our hands and our tongues, never stepping over the threshold of penetration. It was a risk I simply wasn't prepared to make.

"Amelia?"

I snapped my head up over the shelf of cereal that was slowly decaying away. Jake was standing on the other side, stuffing detergent and fabric softener into his back pack.

"Sorry, I was miles away."

He smiled at me.

The store was shrouded in darkness, daylight coming in from the entrance at the other side. The fresh food had long since perished or been eaten by scavenging dogs and what was left was either long past usable or too heavy for me to load into my Grandpa's truck.

"I said I need to head over to home depot." He repeated, "Gonna fix that door on the chicken coop."

The incessant rapping of it blowing in the wind had kept him awake. He was adamant that he could fix it, despite confessing to having little to no experience with joinery. Something else that really didn't seem to matter. He would try, regardless.

"I've got a few things I need to do before we head back." I replied, hoping he wouldn't venture into it any further.

Supply runs had always been something I'd endured more than enjoyed. There was something about built up areas that just soaked me in a fear that reminded me I was alone. And sometimes, I'd been afraid that perhaps there was a chance that I wasn't. Watching Jake grab things off the shelves and hum to himself as he scanned the ever dwindling aisles, I felt a sense of calm.

"Oh yeah, like what?" He questioned, cocking his head to the side as we met at the end of the cereal boxes.

"Meds supplies." I replied, pleased at the speed in which I'd come up with something that wasn't entirely a lie. "Used a lot of stock on you when you first got here."

His hunting rifle was tucked away under his pack straps. His hair tied back into a low bun, a serious darkness beneath his eyes where he hadn't slept making his gaze appear more sinister as he pulled me in.

"Meet you back at the truck in thirty minutes?" He whispered, sliding palms down the curve of my spine as he kissed the edge of my jaw.

"Thirty minutes." I agreed, letting him have a taste of a kiss before we went in separate directions.

The Roanoke planned parenthood was only a short walk from the depot, but far enough away that I knew he wouldn't find cause to follow me there. It was eerily void of life, as I'd expected. But I still had to step over the weather worn and ripped remains of pro-life flags that were strewn across the open entrance.

The irony was not lost upon me. How none of it mattered anymore and yet there I was, after the world had ended, responsible for ensuring I didn't get knocked up. I laughed a little, at the ridiculousness of it. Trying to keep my footsteps light as they echoed down empty clinic corridors.

It was far too close a reminder of those first days in the hospital. The shadows of others still lingering in the ether. But not anymore. The only thing that echoed was me and my choice not to bring life into a world that had purged itself of it.

Like everywhere else, it was dark. The windowless corridors winding down towards examination and consultation rooms that were equally void of natural light. It wasn't difficult to find where they kept the IUD's and implants, once I'd stumbled on the only cupboard that was locked.

I'd have to do it myself. Make the incision and implant the device into my flesh. It wasn't something they'd taught in medical school. Performing minor surgery on yourself in the event of the eradication of mankind. Yet, there I was. Scalpel in hand and a reluctance to watch as I made the incision. Blood dripped down my arm. Pain tore through me. I clenched my eyes shut as I clicked it into place beneath my skin.

I held my breath. Sent curses reverberating off the clinic walls. A massacre in my hand as I held the shaking blade up in disbelief that I had done it. I didn't even know if it would work. Everything had a use-by date. Even the medication I knew would one day become useless.

As I wrapped my arm up, careful not to apply too much pressure, I let my mind wander into a future that was so uncertain I didn't want to picture it. I could see a faceless child sitting on the porch steps, a sweet voice calling out to me in a dream like echo. But it wasn't my name they were calling, it was Mommy...

I shuddered. The dread spilling down my spine like a portent. I wouldn't. I couldn't. No child deserved to grow up alone. The fantasy that I could have spent my life never knowing how Jake felt inside me becoming a real possibility as I checked my watch.

Five minutes to get back to the truck before he would panic.

I was uninspired. Feeling the gravity of my choice and my blood. He would sit there with his cock in his hand. Hard and fierce. And I would know pain for this pleasure. The sacrifice entirely mine. For him? I would have cut myself a thousand times. Uninspired, but only because I hurt.

I felt the rush of adrenaline spike as I returned to the daylight. Kicking those flags to the side as I exited. No doubt in my mind that if by some terrible mistake we brought a child into this world it would be loved and cherished. But only by us. And that wasn't enough.

He was waiting by the truck as I approached. One knee bent against the wheel arch, eyes roving around in search of me.

"Sorry." I yelled across the empty street. "Got a little delayed."

There was palpable relief in his face as I greeted him, throwing my pack in the back along with whatever he'd thrown in there. I could see wood and tools and various other things we potentially didn't need, but he'd taken anyway.

"I realised something." He said, taking the liberty of moving my hair aside, making me pay attention to the seriousness of his tone.

I'd often wondered where he got this air of confidence from. It was as if there had never been any doubt in his mind of how he felt. How certain he was that I would never hurt him. I wanted to bottle it up and drink it.

"What?" I replied, letting him covet me.

"I missed you." He murmured, fingertips planing down my throat. "We haven't been apart, not really. I was walking through home depot and I was struck by this feeling that you should've been with me."

I could see the wistfulness in his deep brown eyes. He was picturing us sauntering through home depot together, talking about all the things we wanted to do to improve our home. Discussing measurements and which grain of wood would look best. Maybe he was imagining it before the world ended. Maybe there were other people doing the exact same thing and the exact same time in his little daydream.

I envied him of that dream. I wanted so badly to imagine the sweetness of it. But all I could feel was the throbbing ache in my arm.

"You're somewhere else." He mused, pulling me back as he realised I wasn't responding. "What's the matter?"

His hands came about my arms, trying to embrace me. I flinched, causing all the faraway beauty in his eyes to fade. Now there was only concern.

"Are you hurt?" He fussed.

"No, no. Nothing like that." I protested, shrugging out of his embrace so that I could lower my coat sleeve.

He could see the blood pooling beneath the bandage. I hadn't been careful enough with myself. But he seemed to understand. He traced a fingertip against the blood, looking to me to see if it hurt.

"I never would have asked this of you." He said stoically. "I'd have taken responsibility."

There was no doubt in my mind that he would have. The sweet gentleness of his discourse as he kissed me in the crisp late winter air was enough. Streams of breath converging as his mouth opened to welcome my tongue. The incessant throbbing that took home in my core beating a song that told me I had done the right thing. This was my choice. Regardless.

"We can't bring a child into this, Jake." I shook my head, steadying his mouth as it continued against mine with a hand to his cheek. "You understand that, don't you?"

He paused. As if the thought hadn't crossed his mind deeply enough to plague him. Such was the privilege of a man.

"I'd have been satisfied." He countered, "Haven't you been satisfied these last few weeks?"

To what end could we had rolled around in those sheets until we'd have become irrevocably connected? He was sweet to say it. But I'd seen enough of humanity to know their wants and needs.

"Jake..." I said matter-of-factly. "It's just a little cut. It will heal. It just means we don't have to be so careful now. Don't you want that?"

He closed his eyes slowly. Exhaling. As if the thought alone was a sinful repose of a dream that would be something he could truly have. I liked the way he thought about it. Making a low, gravelly sound as he pulled my coat my back up over my shoulders.

"If I ever wanted anything, it's that." He replied, pressing his lips to my forehead as he bundled me up and into the truck. "Now let's get home so that I can fuck you senseless."

I was about to explain about the seven days grace period for it to start working, but my eye was caught by movement down the street. I peeked over the edge of the passenger side door as I climbed in, taking note of the creatures that appeared at the intersection.

"Jake, look!" I whispered.

He was searching for the keys in his many pockets. Distracted. I grabbed his chin and forced his head up, causing him to still even his breathing.

Creeping steadily through the urban decay, they noticed us as we noticed them. A mountain lion mother and her cub. My heart was pounding in my chest. Round, black eyes met mine in a solemn gaze across the concrete keeping us apart. She understood that I meant her no harm. And she, in return, began to pad away from us in mutual respect for whatever life had been left behind.

"Get a lot of mountain lions around here?"

His voice was small. Riddled with fear. His hand reaching for the rifle on the back of his pack. I put my hand on his to steady him.

"No." I replied calmly, "Not for hundreds of years. Hunting grounds must be changing. She means us no harm."

The little cub took a curious look at us. Their whiskers snuffling into the air, no doubt catching our scent before following it's mother.

"For a world that doesn't seem to want life, it sure as fuck seems to have given precedence to other life forms." Jake huffed, "We're the only species who can control the outcome of sex."

"But for how long?" I sighed, "Life finds a way."

Maybe the portent was in this. As I watched the mother and cub disappear behind the building opposite, I was gripped with a sense that in reality I had no control whatsoever. Everything we were doing right now to prevent life was futile. Maybe it wasn't humanity that had been eradicated. Maybe it was just the humanity that we'd become.

Day 439 ~ Jake

The days were growing warmer and longer. I could feel the pull of spring in the trees. My lungs felt much fuller, now that I could draw breath without too much trouble.

The ground was drying up, it felt like the birds were starting to chirp in the morning more sweetly. What had been sleeping was starting to awaken. And it felt like I was, too.

Amelia was the sort of woman I didn't know that I needed. The sort of woman who craved to be taken care of but would ruthlessly abandon all requests for help. She didn't need me, I knew that I was surplus to requirements when she reluctantly allowed me to start hunting and chopping wood without her interference.

But I was under no illusion that she wanted me. She stood on the porch steps with a steaming cup, diligently watching me with the axe in my hand. Chopping wood was something I knew, something I'd always done. Something she hadn't needed to show me.

"Enjoying the show?" I teased, rounding off another harsh blow as the log beneath my strike split in two on the block.

She continued to sip on her drink, leaning against the rail. Wearing a t-shirt that I'd picked up during a supply run, grateful to be out of the clothes she'd given me to wear. Wrapped in an oversized cardigan and nothing covering her legs, she looked like she'd only just rolled out of bed.

"You're putting on quite the performance." She giggled, sending my pulse into disarray.

It had been hours since I'd touched her. I knew it would be something I'd have to endure, knowing I was days away from being able to slide inside her and know what she felt like wrapped around my cock. I'd tortured myself with it. Ticking off mental hours as I'd laid in bed at her side.

I shook my head, strands of my hair falling out from the bun I'd lazily sculpted to keep it out of my face as I chopped. The heat of the exertion making me sweat beneath my flannel shirt.

"Are you just going to stand there and watch?" I asked, fighting the urge to stick my axe in the block and go over to her.

"Yes." She replied stubbornly.

I placed another log in the block. Rounding off to a resounding blow that caused the two halves to shoot off either side of the axe. I always felt more powerful when that happened, as if the singular blow was strong enough that I didn't need to pull it out and round off again to complete the split. It felt all the more satisfying knowing that she had seen it.

"Hmmm, you like to watch huh?" I threw the two halves into the pile I'd already made, throwing her an amused smile too.

Last night she'd been like putty in my hands. Her body stiff as I worked my way around her clit, her eyes closed and her moans stifled as I talked her through it. Telling her she was soft and warm, growing hard against her hip as she revelled in the way I spoke to her. The hemisphere of her lower body completely saturated, beholden to my whim.

I told her she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. That her pussy felt so good against my hand. Trailing a breeze of a touch over her swollen bud, making her buck upwards for a harder friction. I liked the way she begged me for more. Her little whimpering voice so submissive, so sweetly veiled in the question she wouldn't dare to ask for outside the realms of sex.

Weeks of foreplay building up to this.

"You know, it'll be warm enough to chop wood without your shirt on soon." She raised a playful eyebrow, mischief in her voice.

I stuck my axe in the block and wiped my brow with the back of my hand. Releasing a few more buttons until my chest met the cool air.

"You're nothing but a fan, aren't you? I'm really sorry to tell you that I don't fuck my fans." I shrugged, watching her wrap the cardigan around her waist as she appraised me.

"That is a shame." She replied sarcastically. "Because here I was coming to tell you that the seven days were up."

The blood flow to my cock immediate piqued. I could feel it begin to stir, throbbing at the underside and tip as it slowly grew.

She lost all her joviality as she stared at me. Her blue eyes striking me, as they always did, like she could see straight through me into the parts of me I couldn't hide.

"What are you waiting for?" I dared to ask, the two of us locked in a strange stand off.

She let the cardigan open. I could see her chest rising and falling, her breath deep and shallow. She let it fall to the ground. With violent intent she tore down the steps, pulling off the t-shirt over her head. Messing up her hair, ragged breaths escaping me as I found myself struggling to breathe once more.

I stepped away from the chopping block. Buttons flying open as I ripped my shirt off. My fingers not doing as I willed them as I tried to pull my belt buckle apart. The anticipation was making every nerve ending numb, like I couldn't formulate a string of thoughts that made any sense. Not even the ones required to pull my belt off.

She took it from me. Yanking it from my failing hands. Pulling my body into hers with it, striking a match I knew would never extinguish. She unclasped the buckle with ease. There was no difficulty for her, no stumble in her step as she pulled everything down in a desperate attempt to take what she wanted.

There was nothing more beautiful than her desire. It was far more dark than who she was in the cold light of day. And I was drawn to the darkness, I always had been. The fathomless prose of her eyes as she wasted no time in dragging our bodies to the ground.

I could smell the earth. The moss and the fern. The wood and the soil. I could feel it at my back, solid and soft all at the same time. And her above me, like the Goddess that she was. All knotted hair and freckles as she straddled over my erection.

There would be time enough for gentleness. Time enough to savour it. What had been building for all those nights which came before demanded to be slaked. She didn't even waste the time that it would take to rip her thong off, slipping the fabric at her crotch to the side in haste.

"Fuck..." She hissed, a symphony of unadulterated songs there in her voice as she sank onto my grateful cock.

I couldn't stop myself from digging my fingers into her hips. Guiding her up and down in blissful rhythm. She felt like a tight little ribbon had wrapped itself around me from base to tip, coveting my shaft in smooth silken wetness that threatened to unravel far sooner than I'd have liked.

It was the combination of how she felt inside and the look on her face that would ruin me. The way her tits bounced as she moved, the way she softly cursed at the way I rutted upwards to hit deeper. My own words reeling out like poetry of filth.

"You feel so good, fuck... stretching me so good Jakey...I swear..."

Who was this girl? This woman? All those soft mumbles as I'd edged her to oblivion with other parts of my body had stepped aside for this demon who worshipped my cock. The altar set, her devotion of it unrepentant.

She had bled for this. She'd cut for this. She would have it and that fact alone made me feel as if I wanted to cum inside her right there as I stared up at her pained expressions. Brow furrowed and lips parted, panting wildly as her breasts rubbed against my chest as she leaned into a kiss that was dominated by tongue and arousal.

"You like how my cock feels?" I breathed, clutching her ass in both palms, letting my finger tips reach around for where I could feel myself sliding in and out of her.

She bit down on her lower lip, nodding passionately as I parted her ass cheeks and manipulated a single fingertip towards her sweet spot. She gasped. An evil little smirk taking place of the shock once I began massaging, any hope of romance dashed.

"It's everything...everything..." She sang, bittersweet because no matter how many times I would fuck her this would always be the first time.

It wasn't how I'd imagined it. I'd been the hero of that day dream. The one who had taken her, pleased her and pounded her into the mattress for as long as it took to make her cum on my eager cock. I'd been the one to instigate it, guide her into an orgasm that would've lifted the lid on her immortal soul. This was not that. This was real. Gritty. Down in the mud and with a ferocity that was all hers.

"That's it, my beautiful girl, take it..."

This wasn't about me, although I felt as if my cock had never known such a welcome as she clenched around me. This was about her. Whatever she wanted from me, she had earned. She deserved. I took her thrusts and shot my own into the rhythm, holding her ass as I pounded upwards. Her corresponding moans a clear signal that she wanted it like that.

"Fuck me harder, Jake...I'm almost there..."

I could feel that ribbon start to fray at the edges. My resolve fading. The tingle that shot up my shaft like the resurrection of a feeling I'd not had in so long I'd almost forgotten it.

"You gonna cum all pretty for me?" I asked, seeing the flush in her cheeks and the desperation to finish in her eyes. "Such a fucking beautiful pussy, give it up to me...It's mine."

My claim had her screaming a siren call that disrupted the nesting birds. She arched her back and let me see those tremendous breasts and the heaving of her stomach against her ribs as she released. The trees rumbled as the birds took flight, and so did her orgasm. Mine flowing out through the tip of my cock, spurting inside her as I tried to hold it together. To let her have her moment.

Because that was all it was. A moment. Not hours of love making. Hours of brutal fucking. Just a moment that she had taken, and I had given freely. And it wasn't until we were done that I'd known quite how much I'd been pining for a sweet little pussy like hers to let me in. How much I'd disregarded how much I needed it.

It was like I wasn't in survival mode anymore. I was thriving.

Day 469 ~ Amelia

We passed the wreckage where I'd found him on our route towards the road. It felt like part of the forest now, vines and shrubs growing around it. Reclaiming it. Sometimes I regarded it and wondered what might have happened if our paths had never crossed.

And other times I paid it no attention at all. Passing it like I would any other tree. For some reason, on this particular day, Jake had felt the need to stop.

"Do you ever think about it?" He asked poignantly, running his hand over the smoked frame of what was once his car.

"Sometimes." I replied, letting him figure out whatever it was that was hanging on. "But I try not to. We found each other, didn't we?"

I was obsessed with him. The way he looked, the way he felt. The way he tasted after drinking wine and the way he smelled after a shower. The shape of his lips and the way his mouth pockets moved as he spoke. Even the dark circles that were ever present beneath his eyes were a reason to love him.

"It scares the fuck out of me to think I could have driven right past you and never known."

I took his hand away and put it in mine. Entwining our fingers.

"You can't think like that. There's a thousand what if's and none of them stand against what we've got." I comforted him, "If we truly are the only ones left, how lucky that it was you and I that were left behind."

He coiled those big hands around my waist.

"You always know what to say when I get like this." He crooned softly into my ear, "Why don't you let me be the big strong man you need for a while?"

Day light would fade in a few hours. I liked it when he needed to feel dominant, I relished in it. But the walk we needed to take was another hour south.

"I would, but you know I have a surprise for you." I sighed, letting him rail a hand down the curve of my breasts. "So you'll have to save all that big strong manliness for later."

He grunted into my neck and placed a solitary kiss there.

"I love you, my sweet Amelia."

He'd said before in his sleep. But never in waking hours. I tried to keep my heart from soaring. But he noticed the way I held my breath at the sound of those words. Taken aback by them, almost. Unexpected. And yet soulfully beautiful, here in this tiny little moment where he needed something to hold on to.

"And I love you, my darling Jake." I whispered back, "Now, come on. There's something I want to show you."

.

.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289

[m1d-45]

(what about me?)

summary: even gods get lonely, it just takes them a bit longer than most. but when it hits, it hurts, and hard.

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: major spoilers for mondstat archon quest, mentions of wine, little guy is sad and alone about it :(

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< masterlist >

starsnatch cliff is empty more times than it isn’t.

it was a common destination for couples, the silence a welcome break from the bustle of the city of freedom. the stars up above were unblocked, bright, the full rotation of constellations visible by just tilting one’s head to the sky. two majors, twin sets of stars, the three minors orbiting, staring down, watching. the same form, night after night, a bard in green driving away the aspiring couples often enough they learnt to stop trying. a body is there, physically occupying the space, but with how little is being done, the cliff still feels empty. the stars watch, seeing all, as the same body comes and sits, as the same eyes turn to the sky, vacant with memory.

venti didn’t know which constellations were in rotation—he did, that was a lie, he knew every single one and their owners—nor how long they’d be up—liar, liar, liar—but he watched the sky anyway, spinning a cecelia in his hand. the stem was worn, some of the juice clinging to his fingers, but he didn’t set it down. to the left, to the right, the six petals twisting outside of his field of view.

the god of freedom found himself coming back to the same cliff every night, sometimes leaving the angels share earlier to get there quicker. he walked, picking a cecelia as he did, and sat in the same spot at the peak of the cliff.

was he truly free, he wondered, if the stars kept calling him back?

(he knew he was. it was his choice to return, his choice to stay until the sun rose, to take naps in the afternoon to make up for the sleep before coming back, back, back, night after day after night)

the galaxy streaking its way across the sky, blue and purple and greens mixing and blurring, broken only by the bright shine of stars. planets, all locked in their own orbit, worlds he’d never be able to see, all within his sight yet all out of his grasp.

his eyes fell on a star at random.

who lived there, he wondered? what was beyond the atmosphere he knew? how far was the next planet? was there even intelligent life? surely, there must be—you wouldn’t create only one planet with life on it, right? you’d create many races, aliens he couldn’t imagine, all created to thrive on their world and serve under you.

(were they treating you better? had you exited your resting world already, and found another planet to keep you occupied? was teyvat not enough for you? you… you’d tell them if they weren’t doing enough, right? you’d say? you wouldn’t just leave them in the dark, right?)

he wondered how far away you’d gone. he remembered you—of course he did, your visage was engraved in his mind, miles deep and never to erode—and your last moments on teyvat, how you’d promised the archons that you would return soon. that you wouldn’t be far.

of course, ‘far’ was relative. and what was time to a god? how long was ‘soon’ for you? how long would it be until he could be blessed with your presence again? the little of your aura that bled through your vessels wasn’t enough- it wasn’t, and he was horribly selfish for thinking so, but it wasn’t. not when he’d been able to lay his eyes upon your true form, not when he’d felt your skin beneath his as he led you through mondstat for the first time. the small glimpse of you that seeped into the air around your vessels may be enough to rest weary souls, but for a god?

you were the shining light of teyvat, always everywhere. traveling from nation to nation, occasionally visiting off-world but never for long, never, he never had to go without you for more than a year or two at a time, he never had to feel erosion start to sap at his life-

the stars grew blurry, and venti hastily wiped the tears away, continuing to search the sky.

he knew he was eroding. every god was. memories, resilience, patience, all of it fading. mortals (part of his mind flinched, but he was right, he was mortal, he could die) weren’t meant for the power of the divine, the gnoses grating against the walls of their soul. it was never a problem before, not when they had you, you to temper the flame of creation, you to brush your hand over a wayward god and breathe life back into their heart, you with your endless compassion, to accept what felt like overwhelming and discard it as trivial.

barbatos was eroding without you. every god was. the ley lines were acting up, the abyss growing stronger, the eons without your presence turning teyvat into a hollow husk. and yet, the pathetic little he discarded from your vessels had begun to heal it anyway.

why did you use vessels? you had to know it was easier to descend yourself, right? to let flowers bloom in your wake and the breeze brush grass from your clothes, to tuck ei’s hair behind her ear and let empathy back into her mind. your vessels did a lot, but they could not manage all- murata, focalors, the tsaritsa and her wretched fatui- you could fix it all, all with a blink and a smile, a gentle hand across the earth to sew it at the seams.

he was being idealistic. he knew he was. and yet, he could not help but to wish—wish, he wanted to laugh at the irony—that your return ‘soon’ would be within his lifetime.

he wanted to see you again. he wanted the scars across his soul to heal, for his empty, cracked cup to be filled with you. he wanted to go back to how it was, when ei could smile freely and the tsaritsa wasn’t so cold, when the wind blew softly, carrying the sound of laughter. time only turned one way, yet he wanted to reverse it, to force the universe in rewind, to when his greatest worry was which song to play you at lunch. he wanted to bring a bottle of dandelion wine and watch as morax insisted upon osmanthus, as rukkhadevata rolled her eyes with a smile and suggested how about tea instead, it’s barely noon.

he was selfish. every god was, to an extent, but he…

as venti looked up at the stars, he couldn’t help but pray that one of them was you.

[strwbrrybxn]

cw & tw: pet loss under the cut bc i've been reading loving reaper by jenny jinya on webtoons and it has inspired this.

neighbor!nanami who's concerned when you disappear for two weeks after your little date.

neighbor!nanami who thought maybe the kiss goodnight had scared you away.

neighbor!nanami thinks you might be ghosting him, but why would you when you live next door?

neighbor!nanami doesn't see you on the balcony, nor do you come to answer the door when he knocks.

neighbor!nanami notices the lack of bark from the other side of the wall; the laughter and the "stop it, kai" no more faintly filling his living room.

neighbor!nanami who hasn't seen you leave your apartment, or even hear you through the paper thin walls.

neighbor!nanami who, after two weeks, hears the quiet click of the door as he steps out into the hall.

you're standing there, gripping a small urn in your hands and a collar between your fingers. your eyes are vacant, staring off at the blank space on the door.

neighbor!nanami decides not to bother you, watching you open the door and step inside. he'll let you come to him when you're ready.

neighbor!nanami is startled awake at 2am by his phone ringing and answers without looking.

"I was asleep, Goj—"

"sorry. I-I'll call you ba—"

he doesn't give you a moment to hang up, speaking your name quietly. he hears the rustling of leaves in the background, the trees dancing with the wind outside. he takes it you're on your balcony.

neighbor!nanami doesn't waste time climbing out of bed and onto the balcony.

neighbor!nanami sees you sitting under the moonlight, holding the same urn from earlier and the collar sitting on the outdoor glass table.

neighbor!nanami climbs over the little wall that split your balconies, taking a seat in the chair beside you.

"he was pretty old, you know," you whisper, eyes on the trees above you. "but he was a great dog, a great friend." you sigh, the tears in your eyes and a soft smile on your face as you tilt your head back down to look at neighbor!nanami, who doesn't speak.

he met kai a few times; when he would wag his tail and bark as nanami would take back the emptied bentos. the gray hairs around his eyes always made the shepherd look elderly, but he was much more lively in his old age.

"kai always loved this one path we would take, near a lake," you say after a moment, taking the time to wipe those tears away. "would you like to come with me to spread some of his ashes?"

nanami nods after a moment because he realizes...

he isn't just your neighbor anymore. he had slowly become your person.