candidlykirstenart

[redlegumes]

Eddie Month week four: Corroded Coffin

@eddiemonth

The Prompts (each page uses all of that day's prompts)

Oct 22nd: First concert | Triumph of King Freak - Rob Zombie | Eager

Oct 23rd: Mixtape | Nothing Else Matters - Metallica | Earnest

Oct 24th: Drama | His Kiss the Riot - Anaïs Mitchell | Magnetic

Oct 25th: Songwriting | Snuff - Slipknot | Melancholy

Oct 26th: Corroded Coffin | I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P. | Hopeful

Y'all don't even know- I've been working on the prompts since Eddie Month was announced but with kink/ink tober and the holiday exchange and the big bang and my regular WIPs - these were always gonna be late ╥﹏╥

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[tojisun]

clueless konig :(( he borrows your clothes for the night and genuinely gets confused when they don’t fit him.

you blink up at him when he mentions this. “you’re a big man, kon. no way you’re fitting in my clothes.”

“oh,” he gruffs, looking down at himself.

you can’t help but trail your gaze along him too, biting your bottom lip at the image he makes as he wears a pink shirt that you got from a bachelorette party which has ‘BABY GIRL’ printed on it. it is tight on him, stretching along his chest and clinging to his stomach, showing off the outline of his abs – well, the upper portion of it, anyways because the lower portion is available for easy viewing, given how your shirt ended up only reaching just an inch above his bellybutton.

you trail your eyes lower, letting go of your bottom lip for a breathless, “ah,” as you follow the lines of his scars and tattoos, before reaching the top of his happy trail. you almost whimper when it disappears underneath his boxers.

that’s another thing: the pants that you lent him don’t fit at all so there he is, on his goddamn boxers, in your room.

“with how much you insist on borrowing my clothes, i thought, at least, that you have something of a similar size.”

konig’s words break you from your thoughts and you startle, whipping to look back at him, your heart seemingly pumping directly in your ear.

konig just looks at you with wide eyes, honest curiosity lining his body – big, perfect, delectable body – and you realize that your little crush did not catch on.

good. that’s good.

you shrug with a strained chuckle, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “your shirts look comfier, that’s all.”

he nods in understanding. “i’ll give you more then.”

you try not to die even when your heart lurches itself to your throat.

“okay,” you croak out, smiling at him, your jaw just clenched more than usual. “thanks!”

konig hums before plopping down on your bed, a quiet sigh making his mask flutter.

ugh. what a cutie.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. santa’s little helper.

about. dressing up as slutty santa warrants some unwanted attention, luckily, sukuna is there to play santa’s grumpy little helper. merry christmas.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, meet cute, reader gets harassed/cat-called, reader is wearing a dress, modern!sukuna, fem!reader. it’s still christmas somewhere - enjoy !! (1K).

you meet modern bf!sukuna at a train station on christmas eve.

all your friends have gone home with guys that they fancied from the club, all the ubers in the area are either booked out or have sky high prices just to get you thirty minutes away not to mention the fact that it’s ice cold and your stupid mean girls themed santa outfit keeps riding up.

if you huff hard enough a cloud of smoke appears in place of your breath — like that of a mighty dragon, accumulating in the night air. it entertains you for all but a moment and doesn’t waste enough time for your train to come faster.

it’s not due for another thirteen minutes.

in that time you watch gangs of girls, groups of guys and just about anybody come and go from the station. your platform isn’t packed but it’s not too empty to the point where you feel unsafe.

“hey pretty girl.” ugh. as if your night couldn’t get any worse, a dingy looking stranger appears from nowhere — breathing down your neck, nastily drinking you in as if you’re a free shot at a bar. like you’re easy.

waving your hand away, you focus your gaze on the platform across the track and pray that someone notices your predicament. “no thank you.”

“oh come on gorgeous, give a guy a chance!” they press, crossing all of your boundaries to be in your space. even as you try to walk away, you can still feel the ghost of their sleazy words against the bare and exposed parts of your skin.. “where are you going all dressed like that, with no one to admire you?”

on instinct, you pull down your skirts as if to hide yourself from greedy eyes — storming down the platform. “none of your business!”

“hey now, little miss santa! don’t you wanna know? i’ve got a sleigh you can ride!”

“not interested! i’m all good.”

“why? you got a boyfriend?”

“yeah, i do.” you lie smoothly.

“then where is he?” the stranger mocks and closes in on you — you look around pathetically, waiting for some good passer-by to come and help you.

a heavy hand land’s on the stranger’s shoulder — making them jump in shock. you watch as the hand squeezes down, almost tight enough to break bone. “right here,” says a gravelly, husky voice that instantly fills you with warmth and relief. stepping aside, your hero reveals himself — tall with rippling muscles and spiralling black tattoos, lazy blood red eyes and a snarl that reveals sharp fangs and canines. all topped off my tufts of soft pink hair, which don’t do anything to dim his threatening aura. “you got a problem?”

“n-no! sorry man, i didn’t—“

“fuck off, will ya?” your hero spits out venomously and the stranger nods — practically disappearing into thin air after that. your shoulders sag and tensions dissipate from your body. “you okay…miss?”

tentatively, you give the pink-haired man your name — you owe him that much after he’d more or less saved your skin. “all good, thanks to you…”

“sukuna.” he doesn’t look at you, instead pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lighting one with a flicker of a flame. it’s like he feels you watching him in dismay, and laughs as he takes a drag. it’s kind of sexy, you’ll admit — the way he throws his head back let’s you see the thick lines of black ink extending down his neck. “ticket office is closed and security is shit here. small station. no one’s watching me smoke.”

“right…thanks, sukuna.”

he finally turns to you, deep and blood red eyes drinking you in — almost scrutinising you. you squirm under his gaze, heat prickling at the back of your neck and providing some protection from the cold. “where were you off too?”

“christmas party with some friends.”

“where are they now?”

“sucking face somewhere, and no, they didn’t offer me an Uber before they left.”

sukuna taps the ash from his cigarette and it falls away in the icy breeze. “shit night.”

wringing your fingers, you shrug a little bit. “i guess it could have been worse. so thank you for helping out,” you hum appreciatively. “all i have to do now is wait for this stupid train.”

a beat of silence passes between you both, only broken by your chattering teeth and sukuna’s occasional sniff between puffs of smoke. you hate smokers, but you don’t ask him to stop. not after he’d helped you and is willing to be your human shield until your train comes. anyone else would have left by now.

“i can give you a ride home, if you want?”

you frown… was he, trying to make a move on you?

“if you have a car why are you at a train station.”

sukuna smirks slowly, dropping his cig to the floor and crushing it under his sneaker. you don’t remind him that there’s a law against smoking on the platform. “i’m waiting for my little brother to get home from a trip with his friends. we don’t live too far from here and i offered to pick him up from the station.” he shrugs.

you blink up at him with wide eyes. you’d never imagine a man that looks and carries himself like he does to care so deeply for someone else. you suppose you’re judging a book by his cover.

you’re dressed like slutty santa, so you honestly have no right to do so.

“what’s your brother’s name?”

“yuuji. it’s just us, no parents. that’s why i’m picking him up.” sukuna turns to you, running a hand through his messy pink undercut. “look, i promise i’m not some creep. y’just look cold and i’m not about to let some girl get fucked over by weirdos at this time of night. i won’t touch you, but you can sit in the back with yuuji if it makes you feel better. people usually prefer his stupid face over mine anyways.” he mumbles that last part to himself, but is pleasantly surprised by the cute flutter of laughter that escapes you. “what’s s’funny?”

with a hand resting on your bare stomach, you try to contain yourself. “is it the tattoos or the fact that you have resting bitch face?”

“both.” sukuna sniggers in response, shoving his cold hands deep into his pockets. “so, you takin’ up the offer or what?”

“yeah, thank you…sukuna,” you smile, subtly sliding up beside him for warmth on the chilly platform. “i’d like to meet yuuji for myself, see which brother i prefer.”

“oh fuck you.”

“maybe some other time.”

and even though he’s sure that you’re joking, sukuna detects a glint of honestly in your sparkling eyes as the train finally approaches — it’s yellowing light from inside the carriage only illuminating that spark. you turn your head, trying to spot yuuji while he ponders your words.

sukuna is definitely going to ask for your number after he drops you home. he’ll have to thank that brat of a baby brother yuuji for the opportunity next — without him begging for sukuna to come get him, this would have never happened.

you would have never met.

it’d be a great christmas story to tell the grandkids too. so he’d really have to thank yuuji, even though sukuna would never hear the end of it.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[narryffdreaming]

lia and harry's story (one)

summary: harry is a bartender and lia lives right across the street. rating: +18 || warnings: mental health (anxiety) and smut (here and there) || word count: 14,7k

some scenes are different. some scenes are still the same. but here they are again.

“Rohan isn’t working tonight.”

The toneless, husky voice echoed in the dim lights, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat as she whipped her head to her left.

Harry walked past her and towards the sink, too occupied carrying a box under one of his arms. When he stopped, he turned his back to where she was and placed the item on the laminated counter, then put his free hand into his pocket and pulled a utility knife, not wasting any other second before using it to tore the cardboard in half. 

Lia’s belly fluttered. 

White t-shirt, black pants. Sleeves short enough for her to admire the multiple tattoos covering his arms, and fabric tight enough for her to follow the movements of the muscles on his back as he pulled a few napkins and straws out of the box. 

She only needed a second for things to click inside her, and for her to remember why she decided to go to The Wandering Triplet in the first place. 

Harry’s unkempt dark brown hair curled on top of his head and also a little bit to the sides, but it seemed shorter on the back. He had clearly gotten a haircut since last week, when she last saw him at the bar, and even though Lia couldn’t see his face, she already knew that it suited him. 

She knew that he looked good. 

Really good.

No, she knew that he looked great. 

Unfairly and painfully handsome. 

Like a dream. 

Like he always did. 

Lia sighed. 

Harry grabbed the box with one hand and turned around, briefly glancing at her. He didn’t say nor did a thing, seemingly completely unamused by her presence as he looked forward and headed back towards the black curtain. 

And that’s exactly when it hit her: she still hadn’t said anything to him.

Nothing.

Not even a word.

Oh my God.

A flush of heat creeped up through the back of Lia’s neck, and her belly turned into knots. 

She shifted on her feet, straightening up and pulling her elbows closer to her body as she watched him disappear behind the thick black fabric.

Rohan isn’t working tonight. 

Rohan isn’t working tonight. 

Rohan isn’t working tonight.

Lia frowned. 

Why did he even… Ugh. 

Of course Rohan wasn’t working that night. It wasn’t something hard to figure out—she had been to The Wandering Triplet more than enough times to realize that on Wednesday Rohan always started his shift later at night, meaning that Harry always opened the bar by himself. 

Besides, why did he have to start a conversation with her like that? Why couldn’t he just have said something simple like… Hello? 

She pulled the loose sleeves of her cardigan and covered her fingers, then crossed her arms against her stomach and scanned the three shelves at the back wall. Honestly, entertaining any useless thoughts was better than overthinking Harry’s actions. She didn’t have the strength inside her to try and understand his dislike for her. Not anymore. She had already given up on that a long time ago. All she wanted was to get something to drink, get comfortable on a table, and daydream a little before going back home and dealing with all the very real consequences of that pathetic and useless day. 

Lia shook her head. 

Ugh.

White rum… White rum… Where’s the white rum? 

Since she’d walked into The Wandering Triplet for the first time, Lia had stared at those shelves long enough to realize they had a system to place everything. The one at the bottom was filled with different types of glasses, all upside-down, while the other two above were used to perfectly organize rows of many different types of alcohol.

When it came to the bottles, the still unopened ones and also the most expensive brands were at the top, while the most commonly used were in the middle, closer to their reach. From left to right, they were also careful, matching not only by type, but also organizing by brands and colors.

Another sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders. She knew she’d agreed with her psychiatrist that she’d wait until her body got used to the new medication, but she could’ve really used a drink that day. Not just any drink, but a mojito—it was her favorite, and Harry always made the best one.

“Ok, then. What can I get you?”

Lia jumped slightly, batting her eyelashes and shifting her arms on the counter.

Harry stood next to her, cleaning the already-clean-bar. 

She recognized his white t-shirt as one of her favorites. The design, mixing palm trees and searchlights with shades of blue and green, reminded her of one summer she’d spent in Los Angeles with her family, and the faded orange words around it made her think of an old record store. 

Harry always looked cool with that t-shirt, especially when he matched it with those black wide-legged pants he was wearing right then. He looked like someone who could be in a band, like someone who could hold a guitar in front of a crowd and make people faint at the sight.

Not a popstar or rockstar, though. Nuh-uh. He was too snappy for that. 

If Harry were a musician, he would probably be part of an indie band. Or one of those groups people never heard of until they randomly shuffled through a rainy and foggy playlist on Spotify. 

And he’d definitely be the moody and mysterious bass player, bothered only by doing his own sound and ignoring all the screaming girls at his feet. 

Bass guitar player. Yes. That would be for sure—he had great hands, and they looked perfect for the four-stringed instrument.

Harry wiped the surface forcefully, then tightened his long fingers around the light-brown towel and threw the item over his shoulder. As he held it there with one hand, he finally faced her, grasping the edge of the counter with his other hand and stretching his arm. 

Leaf, intense, green eyes stared into her boring brown ones, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat. 

He was so pretty. 

So, so pretty. 

And to daydream and imagine things was fun, but Harry wasn’t in any indie band, nor even a musician. He was simply the sulky, pretentious bartender who worked across the street from her apartment. And the guy who she had the biggest and most stupid crush on.

Harry cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows, and flinched his chin down.

Damn.

Lia shifted on her feet. 

“It’s—I—I mean…” She shook her head and cleared her throat, too. “Sorry. Just water, I think? I—Yes. Water. Please.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned around, scoffing quietly as he walked to the shelves. “Of course.”

Lia furrowed her brows and held her breath, watching him take his time while he put some distance between them. As if having to get her a simple glass of water was the most boring thing he could do. Or maybe the most annoying thing he could do. Or maybe the most tiring thing he could do. 

His reaction felt out of place, but she couldn’t be surprised, could she? After all, she was used to his awful mood, and she’d gotten really good at pretending it didn’t bother her—to the point where she almost believed it herself. 

In fact, to be honest, had it been any other day, she probably wouldn’t have even minded his behavior. She would’ve probably just accepted it and added it to the countless humiliating moments she’d lived so far. 

But it was the last thing she needed on that particular Wednesday evening, when everything had already turned out so shitty that she was both mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Lia exhaled through her nose and clenched her jaw. 

In less than eight hours, three people had already treated her with disdain and condescension, and four had made her feel inferior and weak. All she had done was to work on herself and try to step out of her comfort zone, like she promised Dr. Reisman she would do, and all she had gotten in return was… Nothing. 

So shame on her for needing some distraction, right? Shame on her for thinking that silently watching her crush from far away would help her forget about her stressful and dreadful day. Shame on her for believing that she would be able to feel at least slightly better after spending five minutes at the bar. 

A glass full of water emerged in front of her, and Lia blinked.

“There you go, princess.” Harry smiled, as blatantly sarcastic and careless as he could be, then turned around and walked back to the sink. 

Lia glared at him, tightening her hands into fists and letting her body be consumed by her heavy breathing. 

She hated when he looked at her like that. And she hated when he made her feel like a child. Harry almost never talked to her, but when he did, he seemed to always find a way to make her feel mocked or challenged to say something. Challenged to be different. Challenged to speak up. Challenged to react quicker. 

And Lia hated it. 

She truly hated it, because she wasn’t good with words. At all. And she was well aware of that. She was getting treatment because of that, for fucks sake! 

So she didn’t need anyone pointing out the obvious for her. And she didn’t need anyone making her feel even worse for not being able to actually get better. Or for constantly messing things up even though she desperately tried not to. 

Why… 

Why did it have to be so hard for her? 

And why did it have to be so hard all the damn time?

Why couldn’t she get things right? At least once in her life? 

And why on earth did she insist on nurturing that fruitless crush, anyway? 

Huh?

Why did she care about someone who didn’t know her at all? Someone who had never even tried to get to know her? 

Huh?

And also, why couldn’t Harry just let her be?

Why did he have to treat her that way?

What had she even done to him, huh? 

What had she done, besides moving across the street and being a regular customer at the bar? 

Huh? 

Huh?!!

Lia grabbed the glass in front of her and took a sip of water. Then another one, and another one. Desperately gulping down three quarters of it before putting it down on the counter again.

Harry was unbelievable.

Unbelievable!

The judgment behind every action and every word was completely unnecessary. 

So what if she was drinking water? Huh? Why did it matter? What difference did it make? She could drink whatever she wanted to, right? 

And why—why—calling her princess? What was the point? What did he even mean by that? 

Huh?

Huh?!?!

“Ok, look,” Harry said, standing in front of her with a frown on his face and arms crossed on his chest, “are you just going to stand there all night? Because I told you Rohan isn’t—”

“Oh my goodness!” Lia laughed, uncrossing her arms and taking a step back from the counter. “This is… I… You… I’m just… Ugh!”

She shook her head and looked down. Reaching for her bag, she watched her own movements as she put her hand inside it and rummaged through her things.

“I’ll go, okay? I’ll go,” she said, fishing around for her wallet. “But you know what, Harry? Considering I’ve been around here for almost a year now, and that so far you’ve never even cared to… I don’t know… At least know my name, you don’t need to try so hard to be an asshole to me all the time, y’know?” She found some cash laying around, then grabbed the notes firmly between her fingers and slammed them on the counter. “You’ve already earned the title.”

She turned around and gritted her teeth, feeling the heat reverberating through her skin as she mumbled, “Asshole.”

And then, she walked away, finally removing herself from the unneeded interaction and not even once daring to look back at his face. 

For the next three weeks, Lia didn’t go to the bar. 

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t intentional. She was busy, and life was happening. She went back to her parents house for a weekend, enjoyed the quietness of hometown, worked some extra hours, had dinner with her friends, took some alone time for herself, and then… Well, and then she also didn’t make any effort to go.

Because why would she, anyway?

“Excuse me.”

Someone shoved her, causing Lia to stumble on her feet and snap out of her mind. She looked to her side, apologizing for standing in the way while shuffling on her feet to keep her balance. 

Nobody seemed to care about her presence, though. Nor to have the slight idea of how much wondering it took before showing up again. Or to know that the last time she’d been there she’d called a bartender out for not knowing her name—and that she might’ve used the word asshole, too. 

Lia let her hair fall on her face and sighed. 

Things inside The Wandering Triplet were… Different.

Really different. 

For starters, it was way more packed than usual, more crowded than what she ever expected it to be. People stood everywhere, talking and laughing even louder than any other time. And she wasn’t sure the place had at least once smelled that much like beer and perfume. 

On top of that, two guys seemed to be playing live music, something she had definitely never seen there before. Just like a lot of the faces surrounding her right then and there.

She swallowed, then rubbed her neck. 

It was hard not to notice the way her body heat had risen. Or how her entire outfit suddenly seemed like a bad call—because, honestly, how was she supposed to not sweat under that black turtleneck? Or under the tight fabric of her jeans? Even her feet were burning up, buried in those damn leather boots.

And it wasn’t like Lia was incapable of dressing according to the situation. It was just that, well, how was she even supposed to imagine that the place would ever be so crowded?

Especially on a Monday night! 

C’mon!

Monday nights were always their quietest nights. So much so that they didn’t even require two bartenders working at the same time. 

And Lia knew that. It was exactly the whole reason why she had chosen to go back on that particular night: because Monday nights were Harry’s nights off. 

Or, well, at least they used to be Harry’s nights off.

Shit.

There was absolutely no way Rohan would be able to handle that chaos all by himself, right? 

So… 

Oh God. 

She was going to see him… Wasn’t she?

The whole therapy session, with all the planning and thinking about how she could go back there without actually having to face him, had been a complete waste of time. Right?

It had been for nothing. 

And a complete failure. 

Right? 

Right?!

Her stomach fluttered, then shot a soft tingling to her chest.

Shit.

She didn’t want to see him, though. Of course she didn’t. Not after she’d humiliated herself. 

So… She should’ve turned around and gone back home, right? Try it again on a different night, maybe. Or just find a different bar. 

Right?

Lia sighed, heavier this time. 

She couldn’t run away, though. The whole point of going to the bar again was to challenge her own thoughts and beliefs, so she couldn’t give up now. She had to try. 

Right?

Oh God.

Sliding her tongue through her lips, Lia put her hair behind her ears and focused on her destination, then squeezed her way in to make it to the counter and order herself a drink—just as she promised Dr. Reisman she would do. 

To navigate her body through so many strangers wasn’t an easy task, that’s for sure, but she eventually managed to push herself all the way across the room. Once she found herself closer to the counter, a man walked backwards, holding three beers between his hands. 

Lia turned sideways, giving him more room to walk without dropping anything. It also turned out to be the perfect opportunity for her to place one hand on the edge of the wooden bar, hold herself, and step onto the new empty space.

After that, everything felt mostly like a blur. 

Rohan was there, but he wasn’t alone. There was also a girl helping him out. A girl she hadn’t seen there before. Short, blonde hair. Long legs and arms. Tattoos on her shoulder and piercing on her nose. She handed him empty glasses and chatted excitedly, while he grabbed each with a smile and put them all back on the bottom shelf.

And then a tattooed arm abruptly flashed in front of her, and Lia lurched back. Barely catching the color of the towel being yanked in circles right next to her.

Someone yelled an order, another person called someone’s name, and another one shouted an ‘excuse me’ a couple of steps to her side. Pop acoustic covers were still playing in the back and someone dropped a couple of spoons behind the bar. 

Everything was happening at the same time. Right where she was. And yet all she could pay attention to was Harry’s figure coming to a stop in front of her.

Harry blinked once, then turned his head slightly to the side, shouting the words without removing his sea-green eyes from her. “Rohan! Lia is here!”

And just like that, Harry turned around and walked away.

And she was all by herself all over again.

Lia frowned. 

What…

Did he… 

Had Harry just called her name?

Lia is here. 

Lia is here.

That’s what he’d said, right?

Lia is here.

Her stomach fluttered.

Considering how the last thing she had said to him—besides calling him an asshole, of course—was that he didn’t know her name, that couldn’t be a coincidence… Right?

Right?!

“Lia, heyyy!" 

She lowered her gaze to the counter and furrowed her brows.

How the hell had Harry been able to do that? To disconcert her in a matter of two seconds?

Four words. That was it. That was all it had taken.

All because he had said her name.

After three weeks of not seeing him.

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Rohan stood in front of her with worried eyes and puzzled face, and Lia blinked. 

It took her a moment to realize she was still frozen in place, but she finally shook her head and looked up.

“Uh, yeah… I… Yes. Oh my God. Sorry. Yes.” She chuckled and waved her hand. “I just... Long day today. Sorry.”

Rohan nodded and smiled, too. “Gotcha. No worries! It’s nice to see you again! You look taller today.”

“Oh.” Lia leaned back and looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes inside her high heel leather boots. “Must be the shoes.” She shrugged. “Don’t wear them often.”

“You should. You look nice! So, what can I get ya? Let’s cheer you up after a long day, huh?”

Lia sighed, then cleared her throat.

Rohan’s energy was always loud. His brown eyes always sparkled with joy, and every time he smiled his entire face lit up. It definitely made it really easy to talk to him, mostly because he never gave her too much time to speak and be awkward. He moved forward, simply worrying about doing his job and constantly making sure everyone was having a good time. 

“Actually,” she said, “I don’t... I don’t know what I want. Maybe a cocktail, please? Nothing strong, though. I just… Yeah… I haven’t been drinking for a while, so... I think I’d rather be careful? You know? Sorry.”

Rohan tilted his head and grinned at her, watching her for a brief moment before he shook his head and chuckled.  

A flush creeped across Lia’s cheeks, and she bit the inside of her bottom lip.

“Of course!” He nodded, watching her as he took a step back and winked at her. “One minute, yeah?”

Rohan turned around and walked away, and Lia let the air out through her nose. 

Always the same thing. She just had to find a way to embarrass herself, didn’t she? 

Dropping her shoulders and peeking at her sides, she found Harry standing by the other end of the counter, chatting with the new bartender while they mixed a couple of drinks. 

He hadn’t changed much—or at all. The hair had probably been trimmed and he had clearly shaved at some point just to let his facial hair grow again, because his scruff looked just the same as three weeks ago. 

Even his t-shirt seemed to be the same one—until Lia noticed it actually had different writing and design. 

Her belly fluttered, just like it always did when she looked at him. And then, when she couldn’t decide if the fluttering was a good or bad feeling, her chest always tightened as well. 

It tightened with a mix of amazement, delight, frustration, and sadness. All at once. 

Because no matter how oblivious Harry was to it, he was the whole reason Lia had slowly become a regular at the bar. 

Sure, a great therapy session had led her to challenge herself and get a drink by herself. And then, that spur of the moment decision had taken her to the bar across the street—the only one that was open that night. 

But walking into the bar and meeting someone who would make her insides blaze wasn’t on her plans. And even considering challenging herself for a second time just a few days later definitely wouldn’t have happened if, that exact same night, she hadn’t met him.

Eleven months had gone by since that night, and yet Lia still winced every time she recalled it. 

Harry had taken her order, but hadn’t even smiled politely when doing so. He also hadn’t looked at least one bit excited about making the mojito she’d asked for (which later Lia thought tasted delicious, anyway). 

Even after that, no matter how many times she had stepped into the bar, he never even flinched when looking at her. Never. 

It was as if she didn’t even exist to him. 

So Lia had a crush on him, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Harry had never hidden his lack of interest in getting to know her, so she knew he wasn’t into her. And she was fine with that. Really. 

She was fine with it. And she was more than used to it by now. Even if— 

“That’s Sage.”

Lia turned her head and straightened her back, only then noticing she’d been openly staring at the interaction between the two bartenders. 

“She just started, so Harry’s going over our signature drinks with her,” Rohan added, shrugging and smiling. “I know it can be hard to believe, but he’s pretty patient. A great guy once you get past the frown on his face.”

Lia smiled. She actually didn’t find that hard to believe at all, but she didn’t want Rohan to know how she really felt about his co-worker, or how much she had watched all along, so she didn’t share the thought with him. 

Instead, she glanced at the cocktail glass he’d placed on the counter and asked, “A martini?”

“Right!” Rohan slapped his open hand on the counter, as if bringing himself back to the conversation. “Apple martini, to be precise. Or, as some would say, appletini.”

Lia chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve had one of these before.”

“Hope you enjoy it, then.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you, Rohan.”

He curled his lips into another bright and cheerful smile. “My pleasure. If you don’t like it, next one’s on me, yeah? So lemme know.”

“Okay.” Lia smiled and nodded, wrapping her fingers around the glass and pushing her weight off the counter. “I will.”

— — — — — 

Sitting by herself, Lia took the last sip of her melted apple martini just as the two young boys finished playing another pop song from their acoustic set. 

People clapped next to her, and she left the glass on the table to do the same, tilting her head and smiling at how cute and shy the pair looked on the stage. Despite the obvious age difference, they somehow reminded her of her students when they had to perform for the first time in front of an audience, which was probably why she kept feeling the need to pay attention to them and reassure them with her eyes—a way to let them know how well they were doing up there.

They thanked politely and introduced the next song, and Lia rested her chin on the palm of her hand, paying attention to the first few chords of a song she couldn’t recognize. 

Truthfully speaking, Lia was proud of herself. Even though the place was way more crowded than she was comfortable with, and even though she’d thought about leaving multiple times, she survived the thirty minutes she’d promised herself she would try to stay. 

So she knew she had already made some good progress, and that she could now go home without feeling guilty. 

She hadn’t failed. Not that night, at least.

As a gift to herself, she allowed her eyes to wander around the bar, trying to get a glimpse of Harry before she officially left. 

She found him behind the counter, of course, all focused while chatting with his two coworkers. He listened to whatever Rohan was saying, nodding along while pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. But then, something in the story caused him to widen his eyes and drop his hand to Sage’s shoulder, holding the shock on his face firmly for a moment before he finally threw his head back and laughed. Loudly. Bringing his free hand to his chest while his entire body seemed to shake. 

Lia’s belly fluttered, and she was pretty sure both of her lungs had stopped working. 

He was just so… Attractive. 

So hypnotizing. It was like she couldn’t take her eyes away from him.

And she knew how silly she was for it. For wanting him that bad. 

She knew it. But she couldn’t help it. 

She just couldn’t. 

A group of people approached the counter, and Rohan automatically got back into work mode, walking towards them. Harry and Sage were left behind, then, but they quickly seemed to engage into more conversation. Happy, interesting conversation. 

Jealousy sparked in her chest, but Lia still watched him with nothing but fascination. She watched the way he crossed his arms on his chest, and also the way he kept raising one of his hands to gesture whenever he talked to Sage. 

Lia is here. 

His words echoed inside her mind, and Lia knew, right then and there, that later at night she’d be in bed and think about the way he’d said her name. Over and over again.

She’d think about the way he treated the new girl, and she’d dream about him treating her like that, too. 

She knew it, because she’d been there before. Because after that first night at the bar, watching Harry became like a hobby to her. And because in the eleven months she’d been there, even though it hadn’t been that often, there had been a time when Lia used to see him with a woman at the bar. A girlfriend, perhaps. Someone who was obviously older than him, but just as tall, and had shoulder-length, perfectly straight, dark auburn hair. Someone who’d always seemed too elegant and sophisticated for The Wandering Triplet, and yet had never looked out of place. Effortlessly delicate and powerful at the same time. Someone who carried herself in a way that screamed confidence, as if she’d never known what it was like to feel insecure about herself. 

During those nights, when that woman used to be at the bar, Lia always stood a little bit afar, not wanting to be disrespectful to them, but still allowing herself to catch some glimpses of a completely different version of him. 

A more natural, vulnerable version. Where Harry would laugh so loud he would drop his head back, or peck her lips multiple times, and even caress her cheek in between customers. Where he would whisper in her ear, make her smile, and stare deeply into her eyes when she did all the talking. Where he would also walk her out of the bar holding her hand, or hug her waist when guiding them to his car. 

It was obvious to Lia — and probably to anyone who looked at them, to be honest — how much they appreciated each other’s company, and how much he cared for her. It was also very clear how much Harry enjoyed the affection. How much he enjoyed being touched and taken care of. 

And embarrassingly as it was, more than once Lia had woken up highly aware of dreaming about him. Recalling false, vivid memories of her replacing that woman, and of Harry touching and kissing her, instead.  

Lia shifted on her seat, withdrawing her chin from her hand and rolling her shoulders. Hoping to push those thoughts away, but also praying people never find out they even existed in the first place. 

Focusing her sight on them again, Lia caught Rohan walking back to Harry and Sage. He stood with his back turned to her, and the other two resumed their attention on whatever he had to say. 

She watched a little bit more, just to enjoy those couple minutes before she left. Music played in the background, and people chatted jazzily all around her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, though. She just couldn’t. 

So handsome.

Harry lifted one hand, pulling his short hair back and out of the way, and then crossed his arms again. He listened to Rohan, and to everything he had to say. He focused, nodded, and offered his own comments from time to time. Giving his co-worker all his attention, solely and purely. 

Until he drifted his sight to the side and met her stare. 

Lia held her breath and gulped down, freezing as his eyes settled inside hers. 

Oh God.

Her heart palpitated. And her breathing sped up. 

It was hard to be one hundred percent sure of what was happening when he was so far away, but it was also hard to have any doubts when he was so intense that she could feel him all through her body. And when he didn’t seem to make any attempt to avoid her gaze. Or move. Or look away. 

Oh my God. Oh my God. 

Oh my God!

A heavy and empty feeling spread in her stomach, and Lia looked away. 

What the hell was even happening?

What was she supposed to do?

Why was he looking at her?

Was he actually looking at her?

She glanced back at him, and their eyes instantly met again. 

He was still watching her. 

Lia closed her hands into fists, then forced herself to breathe. Deeply. Heavily. 

Harry lifted his eyebrows and tilted his chin down. 

It was an expression she’d seen before, and that it was enough to make every single one of her muscles quiver. 

She darted her eyes back to her empty drink and blinked. 

What the hell? 

To have him staring back at her felt even worse than him saying her name or her calling him an asshole. It was like breaking the fourth wall. It was like acknowledging her existence. And Lia didn’t know what to do with that.

She rummaged for something, but it was as if her thoughts weren’t there anymore. As if her brain stopped functioning and she went completely blank.

And just like that, before she could give herself a pep talk and calm herself down, Lia had already pushed her chair away from the table and ran to the door. Stepping outside and away from the bar. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

Or at least that was what one of Lia’s teachers always used to say. And also what crossed her mind on Friday night, when she walked into The Wandering Triplet followed by Jillie and Molly.

“Ohhh, I like this place,” Molly said, coming to a stop right behind the other two. 

“Yeah!” Jillie nodded, then linked her arm with Lia’s. “I can see why you like it here. Feels kinda cozy. Intimate.”

Lia’s mouth twitched with a smile, and she took one hand up to put her hair behind her ear. 

Dr. Reisman was so right about it. 

Going through life without opening up and sharing things wasn’t working for her. Not anymore. And yeah, it sucked that she had needed a push from her therapist and the assignment of a new task to do it, but at least she’d told them about it. 

At least she wasn’t keeping it all to herself anymore. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Lia offered, looking around and taking the place in. 

It didn’t feel too crowded this time, not yet at least. On her left side, most tables were occupied, and an older man was performing on the same tiny stage the two boys were playing the other night—his low, raspy voice blending with the soft chatting and laughing of customers. 

To her right, though, only a few people stood near the counter, giving her the perfect view of the three bartenders working behind it. 

Lia cleared her throat and diverted her eyes back to the stage.

“I guess it’s usually like this,” she added, ignoring the fact that her belly was suddenly turning upside down. “But it also depends on how crowded the other two bars are.”

“Hmm… Well,” Jillie said, turning her head to look at them, “should we get a table, then?”

Lia nodded and stepped forward. 

“Sure—” 

“Wait!” Molly placed her hands on Lia’s hips, forcing her to stay in place. “Let’s get a drink first.”

“A—Already? You sure? Now? Right now?"

“Yes.” Molly smirked. “Right now. C’mon. Wanna see that bartender of yours up close.”

“Oh God…”

Lia chuckled, mostly because she didn’t know what to say. Or do. 

Of course they wanted to see him, though. After all, it was the whole reason why they were there that night. 

At first the excitement and curiosity had happened through texts, when Lia got the courage to tell them about Harry. Their reaction had been instant, and it’d brought so much joy to her body that Lia ended up spending way more time on her phone than she should have. 

Despite letting them know it was only a crush, and that he didn’t really care about her, they both entertained the subject, asking details about the way he looked or how she’d met him. It was easy to get carried away with them, because they didn’t make it seem that deep, treating the topic lightly. Treating it as a joke. 

They also didn’t make her feel guilty or out of her mind for being attracted to him. And when she explained to them how she worried about being inappropriate for fantasizing about him, they both shared their own stories of moments when they’d fancied someone they probably shouldn’t have, and even of things they’d done with people that they probably shouldn’t have. 

It brought some sense of imperfection to her, and of humanity, and it made her breathe better. So before ending the conversation, when they asked to meet him, Lia didn’t want to say no and go back to her lonely and quiet bubble, so she agreed with them. 

And that’s how they ended up there. 

On Friday night. At the bar. 

“Oh, yes! I wanna see him, too!” Jillie let go of Lia’s arm and turned around. “C’mon.”

The idea of her gorgeous, tall, cheerful friend reaching the bar first and alone was enough to get a reaction out of her. 

“Okay, okay!” Lia looked at the floor and closed her hands into fists, then stepped forward and led the way. 

She had no idea what would come out of that night, but she knew it didn’t make sense for her to run away or avoid the situation—not even if it made her stomach swirl and turn. After all, telling her best friends about Harry and The Wandering Triplet had felt like a bold move, but also like a step she needed to take. 

And one she hadn’t regretted so far. 

"Heeyyy!” Rohan’s cheerful voice greeted as soon as Lia reached the counter, and she immediately glanced up. He approached them with a grin and open arms, easily leaving his co-workers behind. “Look who’s here!”

Lia curled her mouth into a closed-lip smile and cleared her throat. 

“H—Hi…”

“You good? It’s nice to see you! You almost never show up on Fridays.”

“Oh…” She chuckled softly, placing her hands inside the pockets of her jacket and shrugging. “I just… Yeah. I’m with my friends tonight, so… I wanted to show them around? I guess…”

“Of course!” Rohan widened his eyes, but his smile never faltered. He shifted his sight to the other girls and stood up straighter, then stretched his arm and offered his hand for them to shake. “How rude of me. Hello there, I’m Rohan.”

“Molly.”

“Jillie, hi.”

“Welcome to The Wandering Triplet, yeah? Hope you enjoy it. Any friend of Lia is more than welcome here.”

Lia shifted on her feet, then caught a glimpse of Harry moving towards the shelves. 

She hadn’t seen him again, but the intensity of his eyes was still engraved inside her mind. It had induced the most vivid dreams for the last couple of nights, and it brought a fluttery to her belly every time she thought about him. 

And she really didn’t know what to think about it, or if she even should think so much about it, but it was nice to see him again. It really was. 

He looked good, as usual, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could see enough to know he was already frowning. Also as usual. 

For a change, though, Harry was wearing a black t-shirt. Black t-shirt, black wide legged pants, and black shoes. 

Black, black, black. 

Lia sighed. She wished he could be the one taking their orders and chatting with them. Him, instead of Rohan. At least once. 

Jillie elbowed her side, and Lia shook her head. Clearing her throat, she looked from Rohan, to Jillie, to Molly. 

They were all watching her.

She forced a chuckle out of her mouth and faced Jillie again. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jillie shrugged. “Rohan was just saying how you’re one of their favorite regulars. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Lia laughed—or tried to laugh—and shook her head again. Vehemently, this time. Almost desperately. “I don’t… No… Yeah, no… I don’t think I am.”

“Of course you are,” Rohan said, drawing all the attention back to him. “I mean, I know you’re my favorite customer, at least.”

Rohan winked, and Lia’s brain froze. Her stomach rolled before heaviness settled in, and her senses seemed to catch every detail around her: her friends coughing next to her, Sage patting Rohan’s shoulder as she walked past him, and Harry snorting and shaking his head behind him. 

Heat creeped up through her neck, face, and ears. And all she wanted was to get away from there. To be swallowed by the ground. To vanish from air. 

“Oookay…” Molly laughed, throwing her arm around Lia’s shoulder and pulling her close. “So what about getting your favorite customer and her friends two mojitos and a beer, huh?”

— — — — — 

“Your little shit!” Jillie hissed, sending her a glare and a laugh from across the table. “You’ve been hiding all this from us? I can’t believe you!”

Next to Lia, Molly laughed and shook her head. “Me neither.”

“And this Rohan guy? Oh my God! Lia! He’s so into you! What the hell?!”

“Yeah. How come you didn’t tell us about him?”

Lia shrugged. 

Rohan had always been nice, and maybe he had said a few things here and there that had made her blush before, but he had never been so straightforward with the flirting. 

Besides, she didn’t care about Rohan, so she never thought about mentioning him. Why would she? 

The girls  talked and laughed about her apparently “secret life”, but there was nothing Lia could think to say to them, so she listened. 

And as she listened, she hid her face behind the rim of the glass in her hands, then took the first sip of her mojito.

Mint and rum went down her throat, and she pursed her lips. 

It was good, but it wasn’t as good as Harry’s.

She twisted her neck and tried to catch a glimpse of the bar, but there were too many people in between. 

Her shoulders dropped, and she sighed. 

Was there even a way for her to interact with him again? 

Should she walk in early on a Wednesday evening again?

What if Sage was there, too?

Would he take the opportunity to ignore her, like he normally did?

Ugh! 

See?!

Harry was the one she wanted to talk about, not Rohan.

Why was Rohan the topic of conversation?

Lia faced the table and cleared her throat. 

Both Jillie and Molly looked at her, and she shifted on her seat. 

“Uh… So… What did you think of Harry?”

Eyeing one girl, then the other, Lia sipped her mojito again. 

Jillie shrugged.

“I was so focused on Rohan that I didn’t even pay attention to Harry, to be honest.” She stretched her neck, lifting her head towards the bar’s direction.

“I think… Damn he’s hot,” Molly admitted. 

Lia’s lips curled up. “Yeah? You think?”

“Oh yes.” Molly nodded. “The tattoos, the clothes, the hair... And not shaving but also not actually having a beard? Pft. The guy definitely knows what he’s doing.”

Lia’s smile turned into a grin. 

She had always been so afraid of her friends (and people in general) judging her, or making her feel embarrassed, that she never allowed herself to just share and enjoy things with others. And in that moment, sitting with them at the bar and gossiping about Harry, as ridiculous as she knew it would sound, she felt less alone.

Damn! She just couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Reisman all about it. She would be happy to know that Lia was finally considering her words to be correct: living outside of her tiny safe bubble could, in fact, be so good for her.

— — — — — 

A couple of hours later, Molly and Jillie hugged Lia goodnight and shared an Uber back to their homes. 

Lia stood near the bouncer and watched the car drive off, meanwhile tried to find her keys inside of her bag. 

She really needed to bring something smaller for those kinds of situations, especially considering she was only across the street from her own apartment. 

Why did she even need that much stuff?

She had never stopped to journal in the middle of a drink. And she had never done her nails outside her home. And she had never needed— 

“So she has friends, after all.”

Lia jerked her head to one side, and then to the other. It took her a moment to see him, standing alone in the darkness of the tiny alley next to the bar.

Harry was leaning on his right shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed on top of his chest and his head slightly tilted to the side. 

He smirked, and Lia’s chest tightened.

“You thought I didn’t have friends?” she blurted out, her tone softer and lower than she had intended to.

Harry shrugged, and his shoulders went up and down theatrically — dragging his crossed arms along with him while his lips curved down. 

Lia blinked and looked at the floor. 

She was convinced Harry didn’t care about her. A fact that implied he didn’t think about her, nor make assumptions about her.

Thinking again, though, she knew that wasn’t the truth. 

Because Harry made assumptions about her. For instance, he constantly assumed she went to the bar to see Rohan. He also tended to scoff and roll his eyes at her, as if she was too predictable. 

He didn’t know her, but he acted as if he did.

But... What kind of person he thought she was, then? What kind of person didn’t have any friends?

Did he actually think that low of her?

She was aware of how hard it was for her to be social, to feel comfortable around people, but she had never thought she could be perceived as someone who wasn’t capable of having any friends.

Did that even make sense?

Why did his comment make her feel so… Sad about herself? 

So... Lonely? 

So insufficient. 

So out of place.

Damn.

What was she even feeling? 

Her chest ached, and her throat felt sore, but she couldn’t point out exactly what any of that meant… How would she be able to control her emotions, if she couldn’t tell what emotions she was dealing with in the first place?

“Oh c’mon…” Harry scoffed, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, Lia could hear his eyes rolling in his voice. “I was just saying. Don’t be a baby about it.”

He sounded annoyed. 

Or maybe disappointed. 

Or maybe bored.

Lia looked up and to the left. She focused on the bouncer sitting on the stool and took a deep breath in. Watching him scroll through his phone without a single care about their interaction. 

Or maybe pretending not to have a single care about it.

Maybe he was internally laughing about the whole thing. Ready to pat Harry’s back and agree with him. Ready to admit he had no idea why Lia kept showing up over and over again. 

Another deep breath in, and Lia looked at the ground, finding her own feet.

Her boots were dirty with beer. She needed to clean them up as soon as she got home. She also needed to wash her hair, because she could definitely smell cigarettes. Were people smoking inside? Was that even allowed?

“See!”

Lia jumped. And looked up again. 

Harry snorted and turned to the side, leaning his back completely against the wall and shoving his hands inside of his pants’ pockets. Shaking his head, he murmured, “I knew talking to you was useless.”

Lia’s heart shrunk. 

Harry looked defeated. And maybe he really was, because apparently he had finally noticed how boring it was to have an actual conversation with her.

God, he made her feel so, so small.

“You—” Lia closed her eyes. She needed to speak, or she would regret it the next morning. She batted her eyes open and took a couple of steps forward, stopping only when she was in front of him. Closing her hands into fists, she breathed in, and then breathed out. “You need to… Stop.”

“Stop?”

���Yes. Stop! Stop acting like you know a thing about me, because you don’t, okay? If you… If you don’t want to know me then… Then fine. Just don’t. But stop… Just stop being such an asshole to me.”

He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms on his chest. 

“Stop calling me an asshole.”

“Then stop being one!”

For a second, it seemed as if Harry’s lips twitched upwards, attempting to smile. 

But then he licked his lips, and shrugged. 

“How am I being an asshole? We don’t even talk.”

“Well… We… You… We clearly don’t, but…” She sighed and looked at the end of the alley, searching for a safe place to put her eyes and crossing her arms under her chest before she poured her honesty into him. “But when we do, you make sure to point out only the things I hate the most about myself, and that sucks.”

There was silence. A lot of silence. And if she hadn’t heard him sigh, or if she couldn’t see him through the corner of her eyes, she would’ve thought he had left.

Breathe in, Lia. 

Breathe out. 

“I know I am awkward, okay? And I know I am not fun to talk to. I know it takes me some time to answer, and I know people don’t want to be friends with me. I know all that. Trust me, I know. I know, and I hate that I am this way. But you… You have no idea how hard I try anyway. How hard I keep trying to step out of my comfort zone and just… Be different. Be better. So there’s no need to make fun of me, okay? Just let me be and I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Lia—”

“Don’t. Please. Just… I already hate myself for telling you all this. God… I—I haven’t told these things to anyone besides my therapist. And caring so much about it is another thing that I hate about myself. I know it’s stupid, I know I am old enough and shouldn’t care. I wish I didn’t but… It’s just… Anyway, I don’t need you being mean or making fun of me about it, okay? Finally talking to someone about this it’s... It was supposed to be good for me. It was supposed to… I don’t know… It was supposed to feel good and not... Not like this.”

“Listen—”

“No. Let’s just… Leave it like this, okay? Forget about it. It’s not like you ever cared about me anyway.”

There was a reason why Lia spent most of the time inside her head: it was better than facing the reality of her life. 

And for the last twelve months or so, her mind had created a very nice and safe bubble for her to distract herself with. A bubble where she lived happily and unbothered. Where she didn’t embarrass herself. And where she didn’t mess things up. 

Her bubble was hers and only hers, but she wasn’t alone in it. Of course she wasn’t. 

Since she’d met him at the bar, and even though he had no idea about it, Harry had been there as well. 

Lia liked to look at him, she liked to wonder about him, and she liked to fantasize about him. Because Harry was hot. And sexy as hell. And because although she wasn’t into the “dark and mysterious” vibe, she couldn’t deny that Harry made her insides come to live.

He really did. 

In her dreams, Lia was sure he was everything she always secretly wanted but never had. Especially in bed.

He looked like the type of man who wasn’t nice, because he didn’t give a damn about being nice. He looked like the type of man who didn’t get attached, who was just after having a good time. Who would sleep with her, send her home, and roll his eyes at her the next time he saw her around.

He looked like the kind of man who could have any woman, at any time, without even having to try.

And Lia had always wondered how it would be like to have sex with someone like that, but she always knew it was a dangerous path to actually walk through. So when he brushed her off, or rolled his eyes at her, or didn’t even acknowledge she was there, she fed her fantasy up. But she wouldn’t be that into him if she didn’t know that’s all it was—a fantasy.

A fantasy that kept her company in her nice and safe bubble. That distracted her. That allowed her to stay by herself without losing her mind. 

And a fantasy that ended up nowhere to be seen, because the bubble in which she had been happily living and nurturing all those dreams about him had burst right in front of her. And even though she’d been stupid in the past, there was absolutely no way she was ever going to allow herself to even think about something happening between them again. Nuh-uh. 

Not at all. 

Not anytime soon. 

Not ever again. 

Only hours had gone by, but Lia was already all over the place. 

She hadn’t slept at all, too busy crying and catching up her breath. 

She didn’t think it was fair that Harry had been the one who she’d opened up to, especially because it didn’t feel like opening up to someone. It felt like begging for him not to be mean at her because she was too insecure about herself. It felt like not being strong enough to just let it go. It felt like not being confident enough to act like a woman next to him. It felt weak. It felt sad. It felt awful.

Lia had never been so vulnerable to someone. Not besides Dr. Reisman, at least. So at that moment, when it finally happened — when she finally let it all out — all she had wanted and needed was a hug. And she couldn’t ask him that. 

Of course she couldn’t.

So she had to go back to her place and go through all of it all by herself. All alone. Just like she didn’t want to be. 

Damn. Her brain hurt from so much thinking. From all the embarrassment, all the judgment, all the regret. 

She was spiraling, all over again. And because of a man, all over again. 

Another man. 

Again. 

No. No, no, no. She couldn’t go through all that again. She really couldn’t. She needed to do something. She needed to handle the situation. She had to stop it before she ended up losing herself again. 

And she was going to do it the only way she knew how—creating a new, nice, and safe bubble for herself. A bubble that could be her only world for a couple of days. 

Or for as long as it took until she felt brave enough to step out of it again.

One day. 

Two days. 

Three.

Four. 

Five. 

Six. 

A week. 

And another one.

“They are all delicious.” Lia crossed her arms on the counter and smiled. “But yeah, Snickers was definitely my favorite one so far.”

“Really?” Cece smiled. The wrinkles around her face doubled, and her hand shook slightly as she handed Lia the card reader. “Thank you, dear. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Hmmm… I don’t think so.” She waited for the confirmation that the payment went through, then added, “But I’ll definitely be here on Friday.”

“Good. I’ll have a slice of your favorite ready for you then. On the house.”

Lia’s smile got wider, and she was filled by this sudden need of giving that sweet lady the biggest and warmest hug. 

She couldn’t believe how long it had taken her to discover CC Tearoom, especially since it was right around the corner from her place. Cece’s hands truly turned ingredients into magic. So far, there hadn’t been a flavor that hadn’t made Lia close her eyes and hum to herself. This time, it was the Roasted Strawberries & Cream Cheesecake that had sent her over the moon, but on Monday it had been the slice of Chocolate-Peanut Butter, and the week before three other different ones.

So yeah, she should’ve been there and incorporated it into her routine a lot earlier.

Coffee and pies were so much better than mojitos, anyway. 

Besides, she obviously felt way more comfortable sitting on the corner of a welcoming and homelike coffee shop than surrounded by loud and drunk people. And the way Cece and the other baristas treated her? Wow. It only highlighted how stupid she had been going to that bar, pinning over a guy that gave her nothing but coldness and rudeness all the time. 

The mere thought of him brought a weird feeling to her belly, and Lia tried her best to push his presence out of her mind. She was getting better at it. Faster. Which was good, because it meant she suddenly wouldn’t even remember about him anymore, right?

She stepped into the summer night breeze and crossed her arms under her chest. Another day had practically gone by. Another Wednesday. Meaning it was almost the end of the week, and then a new one would start. And she would get to repeat everything all over again. 

Wake up, go to work, go home, clean up or go out for a coffee (and a slice of cheesecake), get ready for the next day, and go to bed. From Monday to Monday. With an exception here and there — like grocery shopping and doing laundry on the weekends instead of going to work, and also going downstairs and visiting Mrs. Jones for some knitting or a few rounds of card games. 

The latest activity had happened for the first time only last Saturday afternoon, but Lia was keen on the idea of making it a habit. Mrs. and Ms. Jones had been living on the second floor of her building for years. They were known by most neighbors as the couple who was always bickering, but could never stay away from each other. And despite Ms. Jones’ explicit complaints about everything and everyone, everybody seemed to like them a lot—probably because no-one took his grumpiness very seriously. 

She turned around the corner and looked down at her feet. Her hair blew across her eyes, blocking her view of the black sneakers her parents had given her last Christmas. They were kind of loose on her feet, but at least she wasn’t wearing those white shoes anymore. Or any other color, for that matter. At least she’d gone back to her black neutral low-key outfits. 

Taking one hand up, she pulled her hair over her shoulders, then tucked some strands behind her ear. 

She focused on the way her legs carried her back to her building, tracing the well-known path her steps absently followed everyday. 

There was nothing like a safe, quiet, and laid-back routine, was it?

No, there wasn’t.

It was all she needed. 

All she had wanted.

To be okay.

And she had finally achieved it, hadn’t she?

“Lia!”

Out of nowhere, the voice hit her like thunder. Her body staggered for a moment, and the sound lingered inside her. 

It was Harry, wasn’t it? 

Calling her name?

Her heart raced, and a flush of adrenaline tingled through her body. 

No. Of course not. 

How could it be? 

Why would it be?

“Lia, hey!”

Shit. 

Another thunder, and another shock to speed up her heart. Except this time she didn’t stop moving — she walked even faster. 

She was afraid to be right, she didn’t want to be right, but deep down she had no doubts. She knew it was him. 

She also hoped it would be.

“Wait!”

He sounded louder, and Lia knew that when thunder got louder, it meant lighting was getting closer. 

Her heart pounded inside of her chest, and a low buzz rang in her ears.

She closed her hand into a fist, tightening her fingers around her keys. Maybe she could get away with pretending she didn’t hear him. Maybe, if she just walked fast enough, she would reach the door and get inside before he called again. Maybe she could run up the front steps. There were only six of them... Or were they seven? It didn’t matter. Once she got inside her building, she would be fine. 

“Lia, please! Hey!”

Just get the key and open the door, Lia. C’mon… C’mon! That’s it! Now, just get inside. Go, go, go!

With shaking hands, she pushed the front door of her building and took a step inside. 

“Lia, c’mon! Just, please—Hey, stop!”

Harry’s hand banged against the door, and his heavy breathing echoed between the four walls of the tiny lobby.

Lia turned on her feet with a gasp, finding Harry with his mouth open and one arm stretched out, leaning his weight on the still open door while catching his breath.

Not fast enough, Lia. Not fast enough. 

“I just—Fucking hell…” Harry breathed out, chest going up and down densely. He looked down and shook his head, then faced her again. “We need… We need to talk."

Lia crossed her arms and stepped backwards. She pulled her eyebrows together as she looked at him and took her very own version of shaky breaths. 

Exact eighteen days had gone by since she’d last seen him. She knew it, because she’d been counting them — as embarrassing and ridiculous as it sounded. 

She had been counting them because she was determined to make the number get higher and higher. 

So, so determined. So careful, and so mindful of everything. 

That’s why she walked her own street with her head down — to avoid even getting a glimpse of him walking in or out of the bar. She lived as if the place didn’t exist anymore. As if she’d never stepped in there. As if she didn’t even care about what the place could be past the door. 

She hadn’t counted on the possibility of Harry running after her, though. 

After all, why would he? 

Why did he? 

He was there, flesh and bone, in the lobby of her building. Trying to talk to her. To her.

And just like any other time before, Harry looked just… Stunning. 

Absolutely and unfairly stunning. 

Wearing all black, just like the last time she’d seen him. Just like when she’d snapped at him and made a fool of herself. When he’d made her realize she needed to take a step back from him.

A tingle spread on her stomach. 

She swallowed down, then tightened the grip of her crossed arms. 

Under the black fabric of her plain t-shirt, Harry’s body seemed thick with muscle. His arms looked too big for those short sleeves, something she’d already noticed and thought about before. Something she usually enjoyed paying attention to. 

Breathe in, breathe out, Lia. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

Her stomach tingled again, except this time it heated all over her body.

His strong, imposing figure had always sparked inside her a flush of craving for him. It had been the reason for so many of her not-so-innocent dreams, and the encouragement for so many of her hidden fantasies. She couldn’t recall a time in her life when she had desired a man like that, and it saddened her to think there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Please?” Harry insisted, sliding his hand down through the thick wood, but still holding the door open. 

Great. She had forgotten to speak. Again.

Lia blinked. And swallowed. “W–why?”

Her voice was shaking just as much as her hands had been seconds before, but she couldn’t allow herself to think too much about that. She didn’t even care, to be honest. All she wanted to know and all she cared about was why. 

Why was Harry there? 

Why did Harry want to talk to her? 

Why couldn’t she just forget about it? 

Why couldn’t she just move on? 

Why couldn’t she just be different? 

Why couldn’t her life be different? 

Why couldn’t things be different? 

Why couldn’t they be easier?

Why?

Why?! 

Why?!

“Because you deserve an apology.”

Lia blinked again. Once, and then a couple more times. 

His words not only didn’t answer most of her questions, but also created a bunch of new ones. 

What was he even doing? 

Was he being serious? 

Or was it all just a joke to him?

“I just—I don’t—” She drew her eyebrows closer and closer, until her forehead creased and wrinkled.

"Look,” Harry said, pausing only to take a deep breath in and pull his hair back. “I know I don’t deserve it, and I get that you don’t want to listen… But I just need a minute, that’s all. Just give me a minute and I’ll be out of your way. I promise. Please.”

Lia bit the insides of her bottom lip. 

Generally speaking, Lia didn’t think she would’ve been able to say no to him, because she honestly didn’t want to say no to him. Still, any doubts that could’ve dared to cross her mind and make her second guess her decision disappeared as she looked at him—as she truly looked at him.

Because everything about Harry looked just the same as always, but somehow he looked completely different from any other time before.

Maybe it was because she’d never seen him in such a casual context—after all, they had never met or talked to each other in any circumstance that didn’t involve the bar. 

Shit. 

Would she even be able to hold a real conversation with him? 

A sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders.

It wasn’t even about that, was it? That is, what felt different. It wasn’t about the context or the place. Right? It was something else… Something about the way he looked at her, perhaps… Something about the way he seemed to carry softness and worry in his stare. Two things she hadn’t seen on him before. Not aiming towards her, at least.  

“Okay.” Her voice was soft, and it took her by surprise — she definitely hadn’t planned on speaking up.  

And apparently it took Harry by surprise, too, because he widened his eyes and asked, “Okay?” 

Lia swallowed, and nodded once. 

“Really?” he insisted. 

“Yes… Okay.”

“Ok,” he repeated, mimicking her previous nod. He stared inside her eyes for a moment, then glanced down to the floor. It was hard to tell what was crossing his mind as he silently shuffled on his feet, or when he took his free hand up and pulled his hair back. “Right. Yeah, ok. Let’s talk, then.”

Lia pressed her lips together and waited for him to speak up first, mostly because she couldn’t think of one single thing to say to him. 

Harry, on the other hand, stood there with furrowed brows and puzzled eyes, as if he was going through his own personal battle inside his own mind. 

Until, eventually, he shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Sorry.” He stepped forward, and as he walked inside, he let the door go and looked over his shoulder, watching until it fully closed behind him. 

There was a pause, in which he took the time to face her again and shove his hands inside of his pockets. 

And then, serious and determined, Harry spoke again. “To be completely honest, I didn’t think this through. I’ve just been thinking a lot about what happened, so I wanted to apologize to you. Because I’m really sorry for the other night. And also… Well, for everything else.”

“You don’t have to,” Lia said, and she hated how she sounded way more fragile and unsure than she wanted to. “Apologize, I mean. It’s fine.”

Harry squinted, and his forehead wrinkled. 

“Of course I do. Everything you said the other night was—”

“Please.” She shook her head and looked away from him, tightening her arms around herself. “I—I don’t…”

Her mouth was incredibly dry, and there was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that was getting hard to ignore. It was heavy, and it hurt. 

She closed her hands into fists, then dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from getting lost inside her mind. She focused on the mailboxes on the wall to her left, looking for her name that had been printed and attached under the number of her apartment so many months ago. 

“I don’t want to talk about what I said. Like, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Harry sighed. 

“Lia…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just forget about everything.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

The front door opened, and Lia turned her head to the new movement. 

“I said I don’t care,” Mr. Jones’ said, his unmistakable voice reaching her ears before she could even see him. He walked in with a frown, but stopped to hold the door open for his wife. “Told you I don’t like the boy.”

Harry looked at his feet and took a step to the side, getting away from the entrance.

“You never like them, Walter,” Mrs. Jones replied with her sweet and shaky voice, walking slowly right behind him. “You’re being worse than—Oh.”

As soon as the woman met Lia’s eyes, she curled her lips into a sweet, wrinkled and excited smile. 

“Good night, sweetheart! Didn’t see you there!”

“How?” the man muttered, closing the door while his wife walked a few more tiny steps forward. “They’re standing right in the way!”

Mrs. Jones kept smiling and rolled her eyes, waving her quivering hand in the air. 

“Forgive my husband. He finds pleasure in being rude. And grumpy."

Lia forced a polite chuckle out of her mouth, aware that the few hours she’d spent with them over the weekend had been enough to reveal how behind the grumpiness there was a very funny and very caring man. 

“‘M just telling the truth,” Mr. Jones muttered again. “Are they or are they not in the way?”

“Of course they aren’t, Walter.” Mrs. Jones dragged her feet through the lobby, right towards Lia and Harry’s direction. “There’s more than enough space for all of us to stand here.”

“But I don’t want to stand here, Mora. I want to go upstairs.”

“You can go ahead if you want. I still need to check the mail.”

Lia stepped backwards, giving the elder lady more room to cross between them and get to the mailboxes. 

Mr. Jones grunted at the same time Harry sighed, and Lia pressed her lips together to hold herself back from laughing—or even smiling. 

“I finished the scarf we started the other day,” Mrs. Jones said. “You should drop by for some coffee and see the result.”

Lia nodded. “Of course. This weekend, maybe?”

“Sounds good, dear. Do you like apple pie?” 

“Sure.”

“I’ll make some, then.”

Mrs. Jones was sweet, she truly was. But as much as Lia didn’t want to admit, they were the worst neighbors that could’ve shown up at the lobby and interrupted them. Because she knew how unhurriedly they lived their lives, and she knew how long it could take them to finally go upstairs. 

Besides, she didn’t think they were even aware they had interrupted something, so she also didn’t think they were aware that their presence was holding a conversation back. 

Mrs. Jones hummed to herself while finally going through the same mailbox she opened everyday, and Harry cleared his throat. 

When Lia looked at him, she found his eyes already watching her. He stood with his hands still inside of his pockets, but the previous softness on his face had been replaced by a clenched jaw and lips pressed together into a line. 

“I think I should go back,” he said.

“Oh. O-okay.”

“Yeah. This isn’t—” 

“Walter, look!” Mrs. Jones blurted out. “We got another grocery coupon!”

Harry shut his mouth, rolled his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Those sales are garbage,” Mr. Jones mumbled, standing near the stairs. 

“Of course they aren’t,” the woman scoffed. “We get some very nice meals out of them.”

She opened the magazine, eying the content on the first two pages. 

“Let’s see what we find today,” she added. “Maybe they’ve got some apples. For my apple pie.”

“Ugh. I wanna go upstairs, Mora…”

Harry rolled his shoulders and faced Lia again, instantly locking his green eyes with hers. 

He looked frustrated, or maybe annoyed, and somehow she understood the feeling. Because she was frustrated, too—she didn’t want Harry to leave yet, and she more than definitely didn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend a few more minutes with him, or to listen to what else he could have to say. 

So whilst he had been interrupted, she had been denied the opportunity to be around him. And all she could think about was how much she wanted for him to stay around. How much she wanted to keep listening to him, and how much she wanted for him to keep talking to her.  

Lia’s fingers twitched, and her heartbeat sped up. 

She loosened up the grip of her fists, opening and closing her hands a few times. Then, still stuck inside of his green eyes, she took a deep breath in through her nose, licked her lips and voiced quietly, “We can… I mean… Do you want to go upstairs? We can talk there… Y’know, if you want to.”

Harry widened his eyes. 

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah. But it’s fine if you have to go. I just… I mean…” 

“Upstairs sounds great.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

Lia nodded, too. 

She didn’t give herself time to think about what her words could imply. 

She couldn’t allow herself to think about what Harry being inside her apartment would mean, because if she did, she would send him away. 

And after everything she’d been through, there was absolutely no way Lia would ever forgive herself if she just sent him away.

— — — — — 

The walk upstairs was awfully silent, but Lia didn’t know what she could say to him. She wasn’t good at small talk, and she didn’t want to be the one to bring up their previous conversation. So she distracted herself by fidgeting with her keys, cursing when she dropped them, and blushing when Harry picked them up for her. 

“Shit.” 

“Here.” 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Those were the only words they spoke, then everything went silent again. 

Breathless and with a pounding heart, Lia couldn’t tell if it was from walking too many flights of stairs or from the fact that she was about to take Harry inside of her apartment. 

The moment she didn’t give herself to think before inviting him, hit her between the first and second floor, and it was only downhill from then on.

What was wrong with her?

What was she even thinking?! 

Well, actually she wasn’t thinking. Of course. That had been the whole point, right? She didn’t think, because if she did, she wouldn’t have invited him. She knew she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t! Because she shouldn’t have!

How could she be so freaking stupid? 

It’s just… She didn’t even know him! And in the few and short interactions they’d shared in the past several months, he had been nothing but rude and unfairly mean to her. 

So, yeah, that was such, such a terrible idea!

She’d just spent days—weeks—deeply regretting sharing her insecurities with him. Pondering about how it was time to finally move on and forget about that crush. And yet there she was again: about to let Harry burst another one of her tiny bubbles. About to open up the front door of her tiny apartment and let him in; then turn on the lights and allow him to see the insides of her safest and most personal space.

So, so stupid!

Lia reached the landing before the last set of steps and exhaled slowly, letting the air out of her mouth as if she could also release all the tension out of her body. 

They were almost there. 

It was getting real. It was about to happen. 

And she’d have to deal with the situation. 

There was no going back anymore. 

Or, well… 

Maybe there was, but… 

Did she really want to go back?

No. Of course she didn’t. 

She lifted her arm and pointed her keys ahead, aiming at the second door. 

“We’re—” Her voice faltered, and heat spread through her cheeks. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “We’re here.” 

She walked forward, then focused on putting the key in the lock without trembling. Once she succeeded, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, then reached for the switch and turned the light on. 

“Sorry for the mess,” she said, hanging her keys on the wall. 

Lia wasn’t a messy person, but she hadn’t bothered with cleaning up her apartment in the last two days. 

In her defense, though, she wasn’t expecting any guests. Wednesday or not, people never showed up at her place out of nowhere. She didn’t invite anyone she didn’t feel comfortable with, and those who visited knew her well enough to always give her a heads up.

Two things Harry hadn’t done. 

He seemed an exception to absolutely everything in her life so far. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. He kept his distance, but still stood close enough for her to feel his presence behind her. “You should see my place.”

There was a playful scoff at the end of his sentence, and Lia knew he was only being polite by insinuating how messier his own place was, but still, the prospect of visiting Harry’s home made her insides twinkle.

She had absolutely no idea where he lived, or who he lived with—was it a house? An apartment? Did he live with his family? Did he have any roommates? Did he live by himself? Did he have any pets? 

Did he have a girlfriend?

Harry had never given Lia the chance for her to ask anything about his life. He had never given her the chance to get to know him. 

If he had, Lia liked to believe she would’ve been brave enough to ask him everything she always wanted to know about him—about his family, his hobbies, his childhood, and even about his dreams. 

He had an accent, so was she correct by assuming he was British? Was his family from there, too? Why did he leave the UK? Did he have any siblings, or was he an only child? Did he see them often? If not, did he miss them?

“It’s really nice here,” Harry said. 

“Um… Yeah.” Lia shrugged. “It’s a good place to live, I guess.”

Up on the fourth floor, her rented apartment wasn’t big, nor fancy. To be honest, she’d always found everything about the place normal and simple, which felt more than enough for her. The space was limited, but it had never felt cramped. A living room and an open-concept kitchen, with only a counter setting the limits between them, and then a tiny hallway that led to the bedroom and the bathroom. 

And that was it. That was all she had to offer.

“You should… I mean,” Lia said, walking further into the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, and all that…”

She walked past the coffee table and the messy remains of her laziness from the night before. After the dark gray counter, she rubbed both hands against her jeans, then turned another light on. Just at the same time, the front door clicked, and she jumped around.

Harry stood awkwardly by the dark wood, his hands hidden inside of his pockets, just like before.

“Sorry.” She leaned her side against the end of the counter. “I’m not… I’m not used to having people over, so… I’m not good at this.”

Harry shrugged, curling his lips up just slightly. “I think you’re doing great.”

Lia snorted and looked down at her feet, then crossed her arms under her chest. “Sure.”

“Look, about the—”

“Who’s at the bar?” She blurted out. “Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Uh, yeah… I should, but Sagey is there. She’s covering for me.”

Lia nodded.

“Right.”

Sagey.

The way the nickname for his coworker rolled so easily out of his tongue made her want to crawl into his arms. It screamed affection, and trust, and for a moment she envied the fact that someone could so easily be part of his life.

She closed her eyes for a second, then looked over her shoulder and back to the kitchen.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. Actually—”

“Tea?” 

“I—”

“You’re British, right?” She faced him again. “Do you really drink tea or is that just a myth?”

Harry tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips, watching her. And then, after a moment, he just dropped his head down and chuckled. 

The joyful, beautiful, and yet discreet sound that came out of his mouth was unexpected, and it once again made Lia’s heartbeat get faster and louder. 

“I am British, yeah,” Harry finally said, then looked up at her. The remains of a smile still dancing through his lips. “But I’m good, thank you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Maybe some other time, though?”

The chances of her and Harry ever meeting at her apartment again didn’t seem likely, let alone for them to have a coffee or tea together. But she wouldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, she nodded, and looked down at her feet. “Sure. Another time.”

“Good. Now, do you have any other questions, drinks to offer, or…”

Lia widened her eyes and darted her sight back to him.

She had been rambling a lot, hadn’t she? Not letting him talk and interrupting with awkward and stupid questions and… Shit.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head and straightening up her body. That had been so rude of her! “Really, I… I didn’t mean to keep interrupting you. Sorry.”

“C’mon, it’s fine,” Harry said, taking a step forward and closer to the couch. “I’m just teasing you.”

“It’s just... I’m—I’m nervous, I think? I mean, usually when I’m nervous I just shut up? So I don’t… I don’t really know why I can’t stop talking right now,  but... Maybe... I don’t know. I guess… I guess this is a different kind of ’nervous’? I mean… I don’t… Yeah. I—I don’t know. Sorry. Shit. I’ll just shut up now. Sorry.”

She chuckled, but quickly regretted it, letting the sound fade in the silent air around them. It felt awkward, as if she was forcing the fun out of her body. And maybe she truly was, because she didn’t feel like laughing—she just thought it would be polite to do so. That it would be better if she looked happy, instead of insecure. Or nervous. Or sad. 

“Lia, I don’t…” Harry looked down, took a deep breath in, and shook his head. When he met her eyes again, his tone—along with his actions—was clearly softer, careful. Almost afraid. “Look, I’m the only one who should be apologizing here. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? And I am sorry Lia, I really am. Those things you said the other night were—"

“It’s okay.” Lia shook her head and stepped towards the couch. “Like I said, I really don’t want to talk about any of the things I said.”

She grabbed the blanket she’d left there the night before, wrapping it as best as she could and holding it onto her chest. 

“But I—”

“Those were very personal things for me to share okay? And I just— Please… I mean… I can’t—I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Ok. Yes. Of course. I shouldn’t… I don’t want to force you to talk about it. I just need to make sure you know how sorry I am for making you feel that way. Because I really am.”

Shit. 

She turned around, dropping the cozy and warm fabric on the armchair. 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, c’mon. I was out of line and shouldn’t have treated you like that.” 

Lia sighed. 

What did he want her to say? 

Yes, he’d hurt her, but she was trying to move on. So relieving the whole situation wouldn’t help her. 

Besides, it wasn’t Harry’s fault if she didn’t know how to talk or interact with people. 

“Lia…” he called. 

She dropped her arms to her sides, then turned to face him once again. 

She really didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Can you please let it go? It’s just… I shouldn’t have said anything. And I’m really embarrassed about the whole thing.”

He hid his hands inside his pockets and shrugged.

“I’m embarrassed, too. Acted like a proper… What was it? Oh right, like an asshole.” 

Lia’s mouth curled up into a smile, and she bit her bottom lip to hold it back.

Despite the embarrassment, a part of her felt proud of herself for calling him out that night. Both nights. Standing up to people was really hard for her. She almost never cursed out loud, nor disrespected people in any way, so calling Harry an asshole—more than once—had felt like crossing a bridge.

Still, it didn’t mean she thought it was a nice thing to do. Or that he couldn’t have found it offensive.

“Sorry… For calling you an asshole.”

Harry curled one side of his mouth up. “I totally deserved it.”

There was a playful tone in his voice, but the way he was suddenly looking at her made it impossible for Lia to react.

Dark green irises fixed on her, they drifted all over her face. 

Even standing on opposite sides of the living room, Harry focused on her in a way he hadn’t focused before. Giving her all of his attention. As if he was studying her every detail. Or as if he had never seen her before. Or as if he was mapping every left and right to remember a path he’d trail later in time. 

To be honest, it would be difficult for Lia to explain, but something about his stare made her stomach flutter. It caused a flush of shyness to spread from her shoulders to her neck, and all over her face. 

At the same time, though, his gaze comforted her. It made her feel like he was trying his best to be gentle to her. It made her feel like he was being honest with her. Like he somehow cared for her.

“Shit,” Harry murmured, breaking the moment and looking down to his pants. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, staring at the screen as it flashed between his fingers. “It’s Sagey.”

Oh. 

He sighed, yet didn’t make any effort to act on it. 

“I should go back.” 

Lia cleared her throat, then crossed her arms under her chest. 

“Right. Of course.”

“I wouldn’t, but…”

“You have to work.”

“Yeah.”

Time froze as they silently looked at each other. 

It felt exciting, even though at moments it took everything inside her not to run away from the intensity of his gaze. 

“Sagey is still getting used to everything,” he suddenly added. “And I know she can handle it, but I don’t wanna leave her by herself for too long. Can be kind of hectic sometimes.” 

Lia shrugged, pulling her lips into the most genuine smile she could find inside her. “You don’t need to explain yourself.” 

“I know, yeah. I just…”

Harry looked down, and Lia tilted her head to the side.

What, Harry? 

You just... What?!

He sighed.

“You believe I’m sorry, right?”

Lia didn’t have to force a smile after his words—it came out naturally as she nodded.

“I do, yes.”

“Ok. Good.” He looked over his shoulder, towards the door. “I’ll get going, then.”

“Right. Let me open the door for you.” Lia walked around the coffee table, as fast and as far away from him as she could.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind the fact that she wasn’t going to walk him downstairs—she didn’t think she would be able to handle any more awkward conversations with him.

Harry followed her lead, taking a few steps closer to the door before he cleared his throat. 

“You should come by tonight… If you’re free, of course.”

As she opened the door, Lia furrowed her brows. She stepped aside, then faced him again. 

Harry chuckled, shrugging lightly and walking outside. 

“To the bar, I mean. Feel like I owe you a drink.” 

Oh… 

Lia rested her temple against the frame, half-smiling at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yeah, I do. For being rude to you.”

“Harry, stop. I—”

“Look,” he said, raising both hands in the air and showing his palms to her, “all I’m offering you is a free drink. That’s all, ok? No pressure.”

There was no way she was going to walk into the bar that night, or any other any time soon. But he didn’t need to know that, so Lia bit back a smile, and nodded.

“Okay. Sure. Thank you, then.”

“Ok.” Harry smiled. “Great. Then… I guess I’ll… Well…” 

“Yes?”

“Bye, Lia.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“Have a good night.”

Lia chuckled. “Thanks. You too.” 

“See you soon.”

“See you.” 

“Bye.”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

“Actually…” 

He ran back up, and Lia laughed.

“Oh my God.”

“Sorry.” He smiled. “I was just wondering, and you can say no if you want, of course, but… Would it be okay for me to ask your phone number?”

(TWO)

[crestapex]

“Simon!! I made some fo-“

Simon:

I just saw this piece of art by @temeyes. And just like the infamous Grug once said, “I have an idea!” Like, you don’t even know how quick I was to write this.💀 (I’d also like to imagine this as the aftermath after of my other post regarding big boy Simon.) (It also gets slightly, like the smallest amount ever, suggestive towards the end.)

Summary; SFW/SS—(0.9K Words): Simon is quick to disappear after a big dinner, so you set out on the search for him. Seriously, you live in a one story apartment, so how do you even manage to lose a man his size?

You cross your arms, humming to yourself as you steadily tap your foot on the living room’s hardwood flooring. Your eyes continue to scan everything, from the couch to behind the couch, again and again. You could’ve sworn Simon was right here, in this very flat, all but a few minutes ago—though it feels like you’ve been searching for that man for hours. It’s not like you heard the front door open and close, and it’s not like you heard the back door leading to the balcony open and close either. So where in the bloody hell could he be?

You huff in frustration, your arms dropping to your sides. And so you’re back on the move, trudging off down the narrow hallway. Maybe you should check in the office? Or maybe he would magically appear in the bedroom, probably having decided to nap the rest of the afternoon away? Or maybe you should try calling his name?… Wait, didn’t you already do all that?…

Ugh. And all you wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch a movie with him. Perhaps spend the rest of the night indulging in some sweets you had just waiting to be eaten. Yet, here you are, searching for this beast of a man. Like a needle in a haystack, strangely enough. And true to the whole ‘Ghost’ persona, you supposed.

You brought your fingers up to the bridge of your nose as you passed the kitchen for the second time in a row. You closed your eyes, only for a split second to take a deep breath in. “Okay, Simon. Riley. Where the hell are you-”

Thud!

And another breath—well, gasp would be more like it—out as your foot proceeded to collide with something so firm, yet so soft.

Your hands went up quicker than the speed of light, one firmly planting itself on the wall and the other grasping for dear life onto the doorway. The doorway of the bathroom you would soon learn. The one fucking place you forgot to check.

But the sounds of hard thudding from your hands being slammed against the thick walls was also accompanied by a fairly familiar sound. The sound of a low growl, a grunt and some deep, incomprehensible mumbles. You would’ve assumed you accidentally hit a bear if you weren’t familiar with those sounds, honestly. Well, he may not be a bear, but he was nearly the size of one. So, close enough?

“Jesus Christ, Simon!” You shouted, moving your head downwards to finally come face to face with your ghostly lover. You steadied your stance, lifting your hands up and off the wall. You could only watch as he slightly curled up from the rather heavy hit he just took to his poor gut, but just for a second. Whoops. “…Seriously? This is where you’ve been?”

Simon groaned, obviously not being too happy with his little snooze being so aggressively interrupted. “Bloody hell, love. Are ‘ya tryin’ to mess up another rib?” Despite his obvious annoyance, you couldn’t help but be a little amused, especially with seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

There the beastly man lies, his shirt up to his chest, leaving just the very lower half of his pecks exposed. His large body planted firmly on the bathroom tiles, with any skin and flesh below the lower half of his stomach jutting out from the bathroom doorway. The vast majority of his belly rested firmly on the tiles, most definitely relishing in the refreshing coolness emitting from the bathroom floor. His muscular arms stay splayed out above his shoulders and head, his chin resting lazily on his tattooed forearm. And his eyes firmly held shut. Wow, what an absolute sight to behold.

Okay, so maybe you couldn’t help but feel slightly bad. Even though he was the one in the way and almost messed you up.

“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt your hibernation, but I just had a question for you.” You crossed your arms and raised a brow, a smile beginning to form on your face. You couldn’t help but snort and snicker, “You look like a walrus, by the way,” you threw in, still taking in the sight of a truly comfortable Simon in his natural habitat.

“Hm?” He hummed, moving his head to the side to rest on his forearm. Opening one eye just enough to where he could see you. Your eyes crinkled at the sight, as no matter how relaxed he looked, there would always be a hint of that signature Simon Riley grumpiness permanently etched on his brows.

You put your hands on your hips, continuing to look down at your beloved, “Anyways, I was just going to ask if you wanted to move to somewhere more comfortable, like the couch, and watch a movie with me.” You began to kneel down to his level, resting an arm on your thigh and bringing the other to rest on the side of Simon’s tummy, giving him a few light pats, “There’s also dessert waiting if you think you can fit anything else in there.” You just couldn’t stop yourself from lightly chuckling as you began to soothingly run your nails down his side.

A deep, chesty rumble was soon emitted from Simon in response, the sound of pure satisfaction you’ve come to learn. You watched with a raised brow as he began to leisurely flip himself over and onto his back. He then brought his arms down from above his head, one hand moving to rest on his chest and the other placing itself firmly on your thigh.

“Mm’. Dessert, yeah?… Is it you?” He lowly chuckled, licking the very edge of his lips as his eyes narrowed with anticipation. His large hand beginning to gently caress the area. Cheeky bastard.

[forever-rogue]

Hi darling 🥰 I love, absolutely love the way you write Eddie and I have an idea for a fic! Maybe reader is Eddie's best friend forever (she has the same style, taste in music, also plays D&D, has tattoos, colorful hair) she is also in love with Eddie, but for some reason she thinks Eddie is attracted to cheerleaders and would never pay attention to her sooo she gets quiet and closed off, she's hurt and sad, she feels not enough but our dear boy finally gets the truth out of her and shows her his love, that she's the only one who really matters to him 🥹 If you are ok with it they have romantic sex but no pressure! Love ya!

AN | Friends to lovers! Fools in love! Requited pining 🥺🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He had a pretty smile. A really fuckin’ pretty smile. 

It had been one of the first things you’d noticed about him when you met him as an awkward pre-teen. Now it was one of your favorite things about him. Among everything else, but you know, that wasn’t important. Sure, you were in love with Eddie Munson, also known as your best friend, but that was beside the point. Well…maybe it was the whole point. 

But none of that mattered. Because while you were in love with your dorky, funny, and hot best friend, nothing was ever going to change. While you were like him in so many ways, and people always presumed the two of you were dating (to which Eddie liked to remind people that you were platonic with a capital p), you were absolutely not his type. God, it's brutal out here.

No, his type was soft, ultra feminine, pastel pretty girls, bonus points if they were cheerleaders. If you had to sum it down to a singular person, Chrissy Cunningham fit the bill. And, honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. Not only was she pretty, smart, and funny, she was also kind. She’d never had so much as a singular rude thing to say and that made you want to hate her even more. Eddie was infatuated with her and all you were was his best friend. And it fucking sucked.

No matter how hard you tried to get over him, by hooking up with other people, trying to expand your interests to include other people, and even - for just a horrible moment - you’d tried to change yourself to be more his type, it never worked. Your thoughts, feelings - your heart - always went back to him. 

Eventually you’d had enough and decided that it was time to make a change. Even though you knew it would break your heart, you decided that this was the only way you’d ever get over him.

You had to create a divide, to set a distance and boundaries between the two of you. It was going to hurt at first, but that would pass, hopefully, one day and perhaps you’d both be better.

That was the plan in your head anyway…too bad life decided not to play by your little plan.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey sweetheart,” ugh. Your heart cracked at the sound of the sweet pet name he’d always called you. Normally you liked it…normally when you weren’t trying to avoid him. He slid into the seat next to you, elbow on the table as he rested his chin in his hand. You could feel him staring at you before he reached over and delicately twisted a lock of your hair around his pinky, “new color. I like purple, it looks pretty.”

“T-thanks,” you swallowed thickly before staring down at your tray, your appetite slowly disappearing, “did you need something?”

“Umm duh,” he teased, “it’s Friday night, aka movie night, and I am making sure you remember since you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Which I won’t take personally, unless it continues on.”

“Oh,” you hadn’t forgotten movie night. It had been a tradition for the last five years, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face a night alone with him. You drummed your fingers along the table, “I-I can’t tonight. Sorry, Eddie, I…forgot.”

“You forgot movie night?” his entire face fell and as you shrugged your shoulders and nodded slightly, “but we always…have movie night. How-”

“Look, I’m sorry,” you allowed yourself one little look at the boy before feeling your heart drop. You’d never seen such a sad look on his face before. You grabbed your bag before standing up, “I just forgot, I’m sorry. I…I’ll see you around.”

You were off and out of the cafeteria before he could say anything. You left him sitting there, staring after you with a heartbroken expression. You’d never forgotten, you’d never turned him down before. Not until today anyway.

Eddie decided that he wouldn’t think too much of it. It was only the first time and maybe you really did have something else pressing to do. He wasn’t going to freak out yet; he was sure things would be back to normal order shortly.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Except Eddie was wrong. Very wrong.

Not only you had feigned that you’d forgotten movie night, you soon seemed to forget every plan and usual things done with Eddie. Whenever you saw him, you ducked around a corner or walked the other, or hid in the girls’ bathroom. You never answered the phone when he called your house, and never appeared to be home when he stopped by - which he knew was a lie. 

You’d gone from being thick as thieves to slowly drifting apart, and Eddie was scared that he was going to lose you forever. Maybe it was dramatic, but he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it….he’d even wager to say it wasn’t worth living. Call him dramatic, which you only did, but he wasn’t just going to accept you walking out of his life without some sort of answer. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was another afternoon of suffering through the mundane classes at Hawkins High. At least lunch afforded you some to go outside, to breathe and get some fresh air. You were sitting at a small table by yourself, sketchbook open and pencil in hand, but yourself found yourself lacking inspiration. It wasn’t until you looked up and stared off into the distance that you noticed Eddie. A small sigh escaped your lips as you watched him stalk off into his secluded little spot behind the school…with Chrissy in tow. 

The two of them were laughing about something, and that just served to make your blood boil. Why would Eddie even need you when he had pretty, perfect little Chrissy at his beck and call? He wouldn’t….he wouldn’t need you anymore. 

You slammed the sketchbook shut, but not before looking down at what you had mindlessly created. Of course. It was a quick sketch of Eddie, something you’d done a million times before, but today it just served to make the bile rise in your throat. 

This was harder than you ever dreamed it would be. You missed him…you really fucking missed him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You almost jumped when the chair across from you was pulled out. It was a quiet afternoon in the library, and you’d been the only one working in there…until now. You looked up and frowned when you realized it was Eddie. He gave you a small smile before slipping into the seat, “hey.”

“I’m studying,” you pointed to your books as if it wasn’t obvious enough, “do you mind?”

“Are you coming to Hellfire tonight?” you’d skipped out on the last couple of meetings, feeding one of the younger boys some excuse as to why you weren’t able to make it. It seemed to placate them well enough, but Eddie wasn’t buying it. You sighed lightly before shaking your head.

“I can’t,” you lied, “I’ve got this big test I’m studying for, I just don’t have the time.”

“Funny,” he mused thoughtfully, “that’s exactly what you told Dustin last time.”

“I have multiple classes and different tests,” you hissed, “besides, they’re AP classes, which require more work than the same basic pre-calc class you’re taking for the third time.”

And oh. That was a shitty low blow and you both knew it. You hated how it sounded as soon the words left your mouth. You didn’t mean any of it - you were just angry and wanted him to leave you alone and figured that might work. But Eddie, steadfast and sweet Eddie, wasn’t moved. 

“This will be the third meeting in a row you’ve missed,” he whispered, “you know the rules - three missed meetings and you’re out. And rules are rules, even when it’s you.”

“Fine,” you grabbed your books and shoved them into your book bag, “kick me out then, that’s fine. I’ll live.”

Okay, there was absolutely something going on that you weren’t letting on about. Eddie knew you better than that; you’d never just miss Hellfire for no reason and just not care about being kicked out. That was absolutely not you.

“Wait -”

“No,” you hissed through gritted teeth and stalked out of the library. But Eddie wasn’t made. If anything, he was more determined to figure out what was going on. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late but you weren’t sleeping just yet. You couldn’t - your mind was way too loud and incessant for that. Truthfully you hadn't slept well in weeks, but you’d adapted to living under a cloud of tiredness. 

It was the loud tapping at your window that snapped you wide away as you looked up from where your head bent down and stared at a textbook. You had no clue what the noise was, and wondered if you should ignore the sound. But then it came again and you knew that it wouldn’t stop until you examined what was going on. 

“You open the window, or I’ll do it myself,” the voice from outside reached your ears and you quickly pulled the curtains back. There was Eddie Munson, perched on the roof outside your window, ready to open the window himself.

“Eddie,” you decided to take mercy on him and opened it so he could come inside. He landed without any grace on your floor, almost tripped over his own feet, “it’s past midnight! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you,” he insisted and you sighed as you sat down on your bed, shaking your head at him. He dropped to his knees in front of you and reached for your hand, which you just pulled away, “what is going on, sweetheart? And don’t lie to me and say it’s nothing. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, and we both know it. I just want to know what I did, so I can fix it, I want to make things better. Please, let me fix it.”

“Eddie,” tears had already pearled up and run down your cheeks. Of course he wanted to make things better, he was still willing to try despite how terrible you’d been to him, “I-I don’t think you can fix it.”

“You don’t know that,” he insisted meekly, “you just have to tell me what it is.”

“It’s you,” you breathed and watched as his face turned into a look of confusion, “you’re the problem. And there’s no way to fix this, not anymore.”

“I’m the problem?” he looked so taken aback, so hurt. He had no clue what he could have done to hurt you or upset you, at least not knowingly. He’d never hurt you; he’d take the pain and brunt a million times over before letting you get hurt, “what do you mean? W-what did I do?”

You wiped at your cheeks with the back of your hand and shook your head before exhaling shakily. You’d already made a fool out of yourself, might as well get it all out there in the open, “I’m in love with you.”

A heavy, thick silence fell over the two of you as he watched you closely and you just sniffled and looked anywhere but at him. He spoke up when he couldn't stand it anymore, “what’s so bad about that?”

“Eddie,” you turned back to him and noticed he had the softest and most gentle of smiles on his face. That just confused you more, “I can’t be your best friend and be so in love with you and watch you fawn over girls and date them and eventually…forget about me.”

“Wait, I’m confused…what do you mean other girls?” 

“Pretty girls, the ones that you like, like Chrissy,” you shrugged and tried to act like your heart wasn’t completely broken, “I saw you with her.”

“I don’t…I don’t like Chrissy,” he confessed as your brows knitted in confusion, “she’s nice and I was with her, to sell her some stuff for a party, and another time for some advice.”

“Everyone likes her…” you shrugged lightly, “you can tell me the truth, that you’re into her and all those other pretty cheerleaders. Besides, what advice could you possibly get from her? It’s fine if you’re into her, Eddie, it just…I don’t think I can be your friend and have to see you with her all the time. Maybe that’s really selfish, but it’s true.”

“Stop, please - just listen to me for a moment. I was asking her about you,” he professed and you looked to find his eyes searching you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times and Eddie took advantage to brush a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “because you’d been avoiding me and acting like you hate me. I was asking her what I could do to get you to talk to me again.”

“Oh…a-and what did she say?”

“She told me to be honest with you,” it was his turn to breathe shakily, his eyes soft but nervous, “to get it all out there and tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes snapped to his, positive you hadn’t heard him correctly. There was no way that he said what you had been so desperately wanting to hear for years. This had to be you trying to manifest your dream into reality. He laughed nervously when you didn’t say anything, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What did you say?” your voice was so soft and small as you looked at him nervously, “Eddie?”

“I said I was in love with you,” he plopped onto the floor, sitting in front of you as he waited for you to say something - anything.

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” he promised, “of course I do. I’d never lie to you. I…I thought you knew, I thought it was so obvious. And then when you started pushing me away, I got scared. I thought I was going to lose you forever.”

You slid off the bed and flopped onto the floor so you were sitting across from him, your leg resting against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before leaning in to him, “I thought I was going to lose you forever too.”

He exhaled through his nose sharply, making a small sound of amusement before looking at you intensely, “so…where does that leave us? If you still don’t want anything to do with me, I can leave. Whatever you’d want, I respect.”

Your silence almost killed him as you seemed to be mulling over something. Every moment seemed to take an eternity as he waited for you to speak. He was braced and ready to leave, figuring you really were done with him.

But then, suddenly and surprising the both of you, you leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t even a proper kiss, more of a brush of lips, saccharine and shy. You sat back down, your entire face and body flushing with warmth as you looked at him nervously. You found the biggest and most lovesick smile on his face as his bambi eyes softened. 

He reached for you, his hands settling on your waist before he pulled you into his lap. You gasped in surprise at the suddenness of his action, finding yourself face to face with him. He settled a hand on your face, tenderly brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, sighing softly as the feel of his soft palm and calloused fingertips. 

He leaned in and you couldn't help but wonder what was coming next. Was he going to kiss you and then call it a day? Was he just going to leave? Was he-

Eddie quickly answered your question by kissing you, his hand going from your cheek to tenderly cup your neck. You leaned into his touch and let him take the lead. He didn't stop kissing you until you were dizzied and drunk off his touch. You imagined this so many times, and so many ways, but nothing compared to the real thing.

"I love you," he gently cradled your face in his hands and it felt like he was looking into the depths of your being, into your soul. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and blinked back your tears, “I mean it, sweetheart. It’s always been you. And I’m sorry that I ever did anything to make you like it wasn’t you.”

“It’s been you too,” you whispered softly, causing his cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink, “always you, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he sighed softly before kissing you again, “I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that, sweetheart. You’ve been my dream girl since we met, you know.”

“That’s a strong way of putting it…” you wanted to hide your warm face, but he wouldn’t let you. He shook his head softly, clearly disagreeing with you.

“But it’s true,” he insisted softly, “can I kiss you again?”

“I don’t ever want you to stop,” you confessed sweetly, causing his heart to practically melt, “I want everything with you, Eddie.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” you promised, taking advantage of his momentary shock to kiss him again. You could feel him smiling against your lips before he kissed along your jaw and down your neck, biting at the delicate skin to leave behind a haze of pretty lavender bruises. You already felt like you’d died and gone to heaven, “Eddie.”

“Can I make love to you?”

“Yes,” you pulled back to your lips and kissed him gently, “please.”

[itsmrshamilton]

Kiss it better | LH44

A/n: I've been on a break, but I had this idea, so i thought I'd pop in, post it, then disappear again.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

"Ugh, I can't breathe. I think I'm dying." He moaned.

You rolled your eyes and carried on folding and packing the clothes you'd brought into the bedroom. It was a chilly Sunday morning with grey clouds covering the sky. You wanted to get the chores done quickly so you could make yourself a cup of tea and sit down to work.

Usually, Lewis would be up doing laundry as he enjoyed ironing, but today, he was still in bed moaning and groaning about a stuffy nose he's had since Friday.

"Lewis, I love you, but you've been sick for two days already. Why are you still moaning about this?" You sighed to yourself.

"Because I'm dying! Im suffocating right before your very eyes! You're watching your husband die!" He exaggerated. You could hear him rolling about dramatically in the bed behind you. This grown man.

You packed away the last pair of socks before turning to him with your hands on your hips. He grinned sheepishly at you from his position on the bed. Tattooed arms and legs sprawled out. On his bedside table were piles of cups, bottles of cough syrups, and nose spray bottles. Enough to treat more than one sick person.

"What is with grown men and acting so dramatic about the flu? You're so close to overdosing on cough meds." You pointed out.

"Overdosing? I'm healing myself. I'm doing the best I can to play doctor to myself because my beautiful wife doesn't want to help me." You watched as his lips folded softly into a pout. The dramatics.

"Your beautiful wife spent all night making you tea and clearing your tissues." You reminded him and sat on the bed beside him. His hands immediately went to your waist and pulled you on top of him. You squealed. "Lewis!"

"I just need cuddles to make me feel better. And kisses." He whispered. You propped yourself up on your forearms so you could look down at him. Despite the dark eyebags, red nose, and uncombed hair, he was still the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. He pouted even harder at your hesitation, and you lifted an eyebrow in mock sternness. "Please."

"You're going to get me sick." You sighed but relented and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"And here," he pointed to his forehead. "Headache"

You pressed a kiss there, too.

"And here." His eyes. "Here too." His cheeks.

"It definitely hurts here." His chin.

You were giggling at this stage. How ridiculous this man was.

"Oh and here. This place really needs a few kisses to make sure it feels better." He puckered his lips and closed his eyes in anticipation.

You laughed at him but proceeded to lean forward and plant multiple kisses on his lips. You were definitely going to be sick after this. His arms tightened around your waist.

"Ah, see! I feel better already!" He rolled you over so he was on top.

"I can tell!" You exclaimed as he started pressing kisses to your neck. "You look well enough to get up and help me with chores." You squirmed in his hold

He immediately deflated and sighed into the crook of your neck. You giggled softly and placed your hands on either side of his head to pull him up to you.

"One last kiss to make you feel better?"

"Yes, please." He murmured before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You pulled away and pushed his shoulders to get him off you. He groaned in protest.

"Let's go, old man. I've still got the kitchen to do, and then we can cuddle on the couch." You stood up and left the bedroom.

"Can we cuddle naked to make me feel better?" He called out.

"Lewis!"

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Thanks for reading. Be sure to interact before you leave.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

and then, it got better ft. choso kamo!

this the 03 part to my continued series! you can check the 01, 02 parts first, if you haven't already! this is very long but i'm pretty happy with it lol.

set-up: your academic rival friend (???) and you have been fooling around for the past two months. but maybe the feelings have built enough to come spilling out? (note: the characters haven't had penetrative sex before the events of this part, they've done other stuff!)

warnings: PORN WITH PLOT!! nsfw includes fingering, penetration, dirty talk, overstimulation, degradation and praise (what a heavenly combo), blowjob, in public (i wrote everything because... idk what to tell you. i wanted a grand finale to the story.)

"choso fuuck—" you forced open your eyes, just to see grey, cemented, soulless walls of the basement parking over the steering wheel.

you were perched on his lap, facing the other cars lined up neatly. your top hiked up to expose your barely bra-clad tits and your skirt had been hastily shoved up so that he could work against your cunt with ease. you were sure your panties were somewhere on the carpeted floor but you didn't care.

or more like you couldn't.

not with the way his fingers moved in and out of you. not with the way his somewhat strained breaths fluttered over your exposed neck. his hard-on dug against the curve of your ass as his knees kept your legs wide-apart.

"oh my god" your voice hitched up as you felt a familiar tension brewing in the pit of your stomach. you closed your eyes again, chewing on your bottom lip, "fuck fuck fUCK, ugh chos-"

"you're gettin' too loud." his palm flattened against your mouth, trapping the breathless moans between his hands and the vicinity of his car. as his fingers pistoled in and out of you at a practiced rate, your back arched and your voice trembled against his skin. you dug your head deeper into his chest as the hand on your mouth finally slid down to your clit. his fingers rubbed over your puffy nub and you melted into him, "ch-osoo ngh~ fuck fuck fuck."

"come on, almost there." he cooed in your ear, going faster with the movement of his slender fingers. his digits brushed past your soft spot the same second as he pressed down on your clit. and you came undone.

your body trembled and shook. and his palms softly ran over your thighs, soothing you. once you caught your breath, his hands pulled your tshirt downwards to cover your chest. choso then pressed a chaste kiss to your sweaty forehead, "good girl. wasn't so hard was it?"

you groaned, turning your face around to tuck it against his chest. the embarrassment of letting him fuck you in his car, a few minutes before you were to go see your friends crept up your throat. and you groaned again.

"what?" when he laughed, and the vibrations set your body alight. you looked up at him and his face was flushed too. a red blush was resident behind his tattooed nose and cheeks. beads of sweat lingered on his hairline and trailed downwards his jaw and neck, disappearing behind the collar of his tshirt.

your breath was strained, legs shook. your bottom lip hurt from the amount of time you had bitten down on it to quieten yourself down. your back was so sweaty and the car was impossibly hot.

"you're such an ass." you managed to say once you had caught your breath. climbing off of him, you made your way to sit down on the passenger seat.

"am i?" he replied back innocently. his eyes followed your figure as you made yourself comfortable against the leather seats.

"yes, you are." your fingers reached upwards and brought the sun visor down. you peered at your own reflection in the small mirror and mumbled, "we have to literally go see our friends in ten minutes."

"i know. but you were the one who started the teasing, not me. anyways, think we can squeeze in another round before—"

"—choso." you warned, "i asked you to drive us to the mall. didn't ask you to park your car in the parking lot and do that."

"you weren't complaining two minutes ago."

you glared at his simple answers, "i have to redo my make-up now."

"huh? why?" his tone was somewhere between confused and appalled. as if you were ruining his creation.

"why?" you met your own eyes in the mirror. your lip gloss was smudged, spread messily around your lips. your base had gotten ruined due to the sweat. you sighed before looking back at him, "do you not see my face?"

"yeah, so pretty." he shrugged, bending down to pick up your discarded undergarment. instead of handing it back to you, he mindlessly shoved the fabric into the pocket of his jeans.

"pervert." you crossed your arms over your chest haughtily. then sighed, "do you want them all to find out that we're fucking? even yuuji and sukuna are meeting up with us today."

"sukuna canceled."

when you sat before him, unimpressed, the raven-haired shut his mouth and nodded. both of you knew that when you both finally left the basement to go to up, you'd find your friends. your friends cause choso practically hung out with nobody except his brothers (mostly yuuji, 'cause sukuna was a brat busy doing whatever evil shit that delinquents do).

the hangout was nobara's idea.

once she was done teasing you immensely over the fact that choso texted you (and you had texted back), she proposed the idea that you should all hangout. nothing huge. just you and your friends (yuuta, maki, nobara) and choso. but then nobara asked choso to invite someone and he invited yuuji and sukuna. and then yuuji invited some other sulky boy named megumi (who was apparently gojo sensei's son).

so what was a chill bowling session between four friends turned into this huge get-together.

you wouldn't be surprised if gojo sensei showed up to drop off his son and stayed there with you guys. he was weird like that. sometimes, you wondered if he had no friends.

eitherways, nobody knew you and choso were fucking around (atleast, not so regularly). you chose not to tell your friends cause you knew how obsessed nobara gets whenever somebody's love life is involved. so, for all your friends knew, you and choso were just talking. definitely not finger-fucking in his car five minutes before you both showed face.

"so, well." choso cleared his throat, "fix your face. then you can go on before me, i'll join you guys like five-ten minutes later?"

you nodded, half-looking at his raging boner. then, you pulled out the pack of make-up wipes from your purse.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"you look so cute!" nobara grinned as you walked upto her. everyone else was here (except choso and sukuna).

"you too." you laughed when she struck a pose and said thankyou. maki rolled her eyes at the redhead's actions and yuuta was too busy checking his phone. probably waiting for rika to respond. they both got into a fight over something or the other.

"you're megumi right?" you looked over the sulky boy. he seemed a bit out of place but yuuji stuck by his side. it's as if the pink-haired boy's overtly welcoming aura was to combat megumi's black-hole of emo-ness. you smiled at the two boys, "nice to meet you both."

"i'm surprised gojo sensei isn't here." nobara sighed, "almost thought he'd stay back after dropping you, 'gumi."

"trust me, it was very hard to convince him to just go home." the sullen boy admitted casually, "but he's a good reminder that i should make some friends unless i wanna be like him at 30."

"how long till choso is here?" maki asked, looking straight at you.

consciously you pulled your hands to the back of your neck, "don't know—"

"—i'll call and ask." the pink-haired jock spoke up, excusing himself to dial his brother.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you groaned as the bowling ball swerved sideways and fell into the gutter. pulling your eyes at the screen above, you saw a 0 register next to your name.

"this game is so stupid." you huffed as maki got ready for her turn. yuuji nodded his head solemnly, "i agree right?! it's like it makes no sense."

"it makes sense itadori. you just have terrible hand-eye coordination." megumi bit back lazily, "which is weird, cause you're the goddamn quarterback."

"hey, haven't you heard?" yuuji— the boy who had managed to hit three bowling pins in the past two rounds— pouted. "you can either be good at bowling or sex."

choso cleared his throat as he picked up the ball for his turn. he was second in lead with maki closely trailing behind and yuuta before him. nobara's lips curled upwards mercilessly after hearing yuuji's hypothesis, "does that mean choso sucks in bed?"

maybe you were imagining it, but you felt as if all eyes were you. thankfully, yuuta snapped everyone out of it by loudly declaring that it was his turn.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

the game was over.

yuuta won, maki came in second and megumi third. choso (who was leading at first, and somehow stop performing as well after yuuji's statement) was fourth. yuuji was last.

you all had decided to get some lunch. so, you had come to this mexican restaurant. your phone dinged as you shoved a complementary nacho chip in your mouth. you picked up the phone just to see a text from choso: meet me in front of the bathroom.

you quickly shut off your phone, paranoid that somebody would see. then you excused yourself. trotting outside of the restaurant, you passed by multiple stores before you took a sharp right turn and went into the hallway that led to the bathrooms. you stood there confused for a second before a hand whisked you into a tight closet. your eyes widened and you suppressed a yelp as your eyes got used to the dark and you saw choso peering at you, handsome as ever.

"what—" but his lips were on your neck, kissing down softly. you leaned into his chaste kisses, "choso~ do-don't leave marks, somebody will see."

he hummed against your throat, licking where he kissed you. your hands wrapped in his hair and you softly played with the strands and he licked downwards to your collarbone.

he called out your name, "you gotta pay me back."

you hummed in confusion but he turned you around so that his back was against the wall. he silently plead and you slowly bent down. your knees rested over the cool marble floor as you teased his hard dick over the pants.

he groaned out your name, "don't tease. we don't have forever."

"oops" you have him a teasing smile and undid the button and zipper of his jeans. you pulled the pants down his hard-on was in front of you. taking the dick in your hand, you gently slapped it over your lips.

but choso was having none of your games. his fingers weaved between your hair and he pushed your face forward so as to bully his dick past your lips. his hands guided your face inwards, forcing you to take as much as you could in one go.

your eyes clouded over and you felt familiar wetness pooling in your core. the whole ordeal made your gut twist in excitement. the way he was fucking your face, using you as his favourite toy. the way his voice hitched up before it fell into a low rumble. the way you could hear people pass you by, going to the washroom at the end of the hallway. all if it made the sticky liquid pool up in your core and trail downwards to your thigh.

you fingers found your clit and you rubbed the bundle of nerves as he bobbed your face up and down. you moved you fingers with the pace of his hips against your face. and you hummed helplessly around his cock when your body became sensitive to your own touches.

"such a slut." he whispered, looking down at you with mock amusement, "look at you. getting off of the fact that i'm fucking your pretty face."

your pussy clenched around nothing and you shivered. he took the response of your body to go faster. to drag your mouth over his throbbing cock faster and faster till you could feel it twitching in your mouth.

"ch—choso" you mumbled over his dick and he threw his head back. "yeah, angel. like that. keep moaning 'round my fucking dick."

"n-ngh ugh~" your hips bucked to your own touches. the fleeting, soft touches of your finger on your clit made you moan louder around him.

without warning, you felt his dick twitch and a salty liquid coated your mouth. you swallowed down, as you had many times over and looked up at him. he guided your face back and you let go of his cock with a pop. you mewled as he pushed his thumb in your mouth. "are you gonna cum?"

you nodded and he gave you a sadistic smile, "slut. go on, cum for me."

it was too much.

you closed you eyes and focused on his thumb in your mouth. your tongue lapped over his finger and you shivered as your lower half writhed. your fingers playing against your cunt even as you gushed and clenched around nothing.

"fuck it." he whispered. and before you knew what was happening, he dragged you up and pinned you face-first to the wall. your ass jutted out towards him and he pulled your leg back to get easier access to your soaking pussy.

swiping his finger against you slick, he whispered in your ear, "i'm sorry. i wanted to fuck you nice and proper. but, i can't wait."

"you get me right? let me fuck you, please." he took the slick-coated finger and shoved it into your mouth, making you hum around your own sweet nectar. meanwhile, his hands guided his fat dick to tease you at the entrance. you mewled as he pushed the mushroom tip into your impatient hole and then brought it out, choosing to nudge your swollen clit instead.

his hot breath fanned over your throat, "you'd let me fuck you, right baby?"

you nodded feverishly, still sucking on his digits.

"good girl." he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another. then another. as he slowly pushed his dick inside your pulsing hole. his cock filled you out inch by inch and he kept pressing kisses as to make-up for any discomfort. soon, he was fully sheathed inside of you. he whispered again, "i'm gonna fuck you raw. god. look at the way- fuck." he breathed hard, "look at the way you're sucking off my cock."

he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pulled your jaw back so that you could look at him. "do you want me to fuck you?"

you moaned and nodded as he punctuated the sentence with a harsh roll of his hip against yours.

"words." he growled, growing impatient.

"plea-please choso." your eyes glossed over as you stared into his dark ones, "fuck me hard."

silently, his fingers travelled down your jaw and rested on your throat. he squeezed down and your pussy clamped over his dick in response. he groaned and started moving. you were so wet that his dick could move in and out of your pussy as if he had fucked you enough times till he could perfectly fit you.

his veiny walls dragged against yours and your eyes rolled back. your overstimulated pussy fluttered and clamped down around his dick. and when he guided one of your hands over your own clit, you cried out in pleasure.

he traced your clit using your own soft fingers. you mewled and slumped forward, against the wall. but he stayed relentless. his hips moved front and back, dragging his dick in and out of you. his fingers forced yours to keep rubbing tight circles around your pulsating clit. one particular thrust and he rubbed his tip against your soft spot.

you almost went blind.

"choso choso cho— fuck fuck, my god—" you huffed, eyes screwed shut, fingers forced to play with your sensitive nub. your hips backed into his and he pressed his hand down tighter against your throat.

"—fucking god. you. you're driving me insane." he grunted, snapping his hips against yours even more forcefully, "god, i cannot wait to fucking fill you up. fuck you again 'n 'gain till you lose your mind. i'm gonna bend you over in that classroom and fuck you till the whole uni knows you're mine."

he pulled your hair harshly and you yelped, "want that, you want that, right baby?"

you nodded again and he pressed his other hand over yours, pressing down harshly on your clit, "good. my fucking slut. getting fucked in public. what else do you want?"

"y-you" you babbled mindlessly as the pleasure took over your body.

he pulled your hair again, "other than me?"

"no-nothing else~ fuck." your pussy clenched around him and your thighs shook as an orgasm took you under.

"nothing else?" he grunted, "good." the grunt turned into a soft moan, helpless and weak as your pussy kept fluttering against him. he slightly slumped against you, his thrusts growing sloppy, "i'm gonna cum—"

"—inside." you babbled, "'m on the pill."

"fuck—" the warm load filled you up as soon as you uttered the permission. his shallow thrusts slowed down till he stopped completely. he rested his forehead against your back. his breath was strained and your entire body was hot.

slowly, he pulled out and moaned softly as he saw his cum seep out of your still fluttering hole. he gently turned you around, wrapping his arms around your body. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "you're too pretty."

"—choso." you shoved your face into his clothed chest. and you were sure the makeup residue will be visible against the black tee. he pulled pants up, zipping them. then he sorted out your disheveled clothes.

"hey," he whispered once he was done, unsure of his voice. when you looked up at him, he leaned down. taking your jaw softly in his hands, he pressed his lips to yours. you brought your hands to his cheek, holding him as you kissed him back. when you both separated, you both were out of breath.

"i'm sorry." he mumbled, guilt dancing in his gaze, "i should have asked you out on a proper date and—"

but you kissed him again. softly. as light as a feather. you smiled up at him, "this was perfect."

he sighed, looking away from you, "no it wasn't. i-i just fucked you in a supply closet for our first time."

"well, this entire thing started because i wanted to fuck your brains out and get ahead of you in class." you winced at the situation, "so, i think it is a fair first time given our circumstances."

"wait," his eyes widened, "for real? you actually came to fuck me to—"

"— to come first in class, yeah." you sighed, "nobara's idea. she thought i could fuck you dumb. or something."

"ofcourse she thought so." he laughed. "why did you think that would work? i've wanted to fuck you since we took that first class together. if anything, i was relieved when it happened."

you looked up at him, surprised, "what?"

you replied easily, somewhat confused by your question, "didn't i tell you the first time you sucked my dick? that i've wanted this for so long?"

"i thought that was just dirty talking!"

"huh??" he blinked, "no. i actually have wanted to do this. like for a long, long time."

"why didn't you ask me out then!? i've wanted this for a long time too."

"well... i mean" he bit the inside of his cheek, "like... i dunno? i thought you'd notice me if i came first in all the exams all the time."

you looked up at him in disbelief, "you decided to study your ass off to come first just cause you wanted me to notice you? and eventually, fuck you?"

he shrugged, "it worked, didn't it? took us two years, but it worked."

well, he was right. good luck to you and your weird boyfriend friend <3

(ofc your friends teased you and choso relentlessly once you went back to the restaurant. yuuji couldn't meet his older brother's eyes and you are pretty sure megumi vowed to never make any new friends cause you guys were so weird. but hey, atleast it was a pretty good fuck session.)

a/n: this concludes my choso series!! would you guys wanna see such short story thingies for other characters (i have one written out for yuuji already lol). thankyou so much for reading this!! hope you enjoyed, as always <3 if you have any ideas for other characters, please do send in a request! tagging (so many people lol): @fawngizzl @tobios-posts @enesitamor @seaweed-empire @little-art-addiction @milkysuck @somejojofanlol @liiiacke @kamoslut @rkiveinmarvel

[kasagia]

Bring me a dream pt. 1

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/general Kirigan x fem! sun summoner! reader Summary: Everyone has their soulmate—someone they are meant for. This was due to Sankta Maradaia, who decided to connect two souls destined for each other during their sleep to show them their other half, Sankta also sent them a tattoo of their loved one name, so that souls thirsting for each other can finally be united. Aleksander never had even one, short dream about his soulmate. Just a tattoo that has taunted him for ages. The Darkling believes this is his punishment for creating the fold, another privilege of being condemned. To never know his soulmate. But one day, a dream about a sun summoner comes to him. Someone equal to him. Someone meant for him. And he promises himself to find you at all costs. Not just because of your powers. Nonsense from me: This is an request from @morrigan-crowmwell I hope you like it! 💙🖤 P.S. I know it took me soooo looong again and I'm so sorry. I'm trying to fight my writer's block. 😅 I used a quote from Taylor Swift's Blank Space. Inspired by the song Mr. Sandman - SYML Wairning(s): mentions of blood, abuse, fighting, violence Word count: 6,7k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @morrigan-crowmwell ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

I've been waiting a long time to meet you in my dreams…

"My soulmate is great! I've seen her fight with a REAL sword! Can you imagine that, guys?! My father still teaches me on that wooden. Ugh! I envy her so much."

"Mine swims faster than either of you! Of course, he's not as good as me, but I've seen him shoot a bow. What I'd give to join him on a hunt!"

"And you, sahdow-boy? You sit more quietly than usual, don't be shy! Show off what she or he is like."

Aleksander tensed up, feeling the other boys' eyes on him. The young shadow summoner felt a blush of shame appear on his face. He hated such conversations. He already couldn't fit in with a group of other kids, and he was constantly reminded that he was different. Weirdo. Proteus.

"I… I haven't dreamed of her yet. But I know her name!" he tried to reply in a tone of voice that mimicked their enthusiasm. He couldn't show them that he was weak. That the fact that he had never seen his soulmate before hurt him. That he was a changeling again.

"My father also started dreaming about my mother late. Maybe she just wasn't born yet?" his only friend put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He thanked the saints for Ivan. He was a light in his darkness for now. And heartrender wasn't talking about his shadows at all...

"Did you hear, guys?! Shadow-boy will be dating a baby!"

Aleksander was furious. He felt anger rise up in him as the other children laughed at his soulmate. Without knowing when, he summoned his shadows and plunged the clearing into darkness, stopping the laughter of the other children.

"Hey, take it easy, shadow-weirdo! We're just kidding!"

"The freak, as usual, can't control himself."

Voices came out of the darkness, and the footsteps of children receding were all Aleksander could hear before he was alone with his shadows again.

Even Ivan's hand disappeared from his shoulder as shadows blanketed the area.

He was utterly alone. And he hated it.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling.

18 birthday. Your big day.

You adjusted the necklace your grandmother had given you around your neck, proudly displaying the amulet with your birthstone. Your mother's earrings hang proudly from your ears. Nostalgia is starting to get to you. You so wish she were here.

"I've lived in this world for so long that, for ages, I've felt that time moves infuriatingly slowly. But ever since you came into the world, I've felt it slip through my fingers. You've grown up so fast... you look like your mother." the woman sighs as she stands behind you in the mirror and looks at you tenderly, fixing your braid.

"I wish a madraya was here." you say sad. Grandma puts a hand on your shoulder and turns you around to look her in the eye.

"She is here, my sun. In our hearts and memories. As long as you can picture her before your eyes, she will always be with you. Watching you from heaven." you both stand in silence, remembering your recently deceased mother.

"I have something for you." the woman speaks as she pulls a beautiful gold bracelet engraved with your family symbol from her sleeve.

"Oh, grandma, you didn't have to… it's beautiful."

"And practical. Materialnik made it specially for me. Thanks to this, no one will see THAT on your wrist."

"Why should I hide it?" you ask, confused, when she helps you fasten the bracelet on your wrist where was your soulmate's name on it.

"I want you to be careful."

"Careful of what?"

"Powerful men." she replies seriously, stroking your cheek tenderly. "There is nothing worse in the world than the greed of men. Than their excessive ambition. We are the sun summoners, honey. You are my blood, my pride, and my only solace in this world. The love of men is fatal. You don't need it, and trust me, you don't want it. Promise me for your dead mother and my daughter..." your grandmother grabbed your wrist, turning it so you both could see that the black ink, that showed up this morning, disappeared. Aleksander Morozova. "Do not seek him. Avoid him. Treat him like the plague. Do not repeat the fate of your poor mother. I couldn't stand losing you because of another man's lust for power."

"I promise you, babushka. I will not share my mother's fate." you promise with tears in your eyes. Your mother trusted the wrong person... you were not going to repeat her fate.

"And you will always wear a bracelet and necklace from me?"

"Yes. I promise." you solemnly promise, while looking into her eyes. You two were one of a kind. Summoners of the sun. Long-lived. Powerful. You have to stick together if you want to survive in this cruel for Grishas world. "Can I go now and enjoy the summer solstice festival?"

"Yes. Have fun, sunshine. And return home no more than two hours after dark!" she screams after you as you run to get some freedom... to forget who you are for a while.

"That boy keeps staring at you!" your friend shouts through the crowd of people having fun and nods her head at the boy by the fire.

You glanced at the side she indicated. She is right. A handsome brunette with dark eyes looks straight at you. He looks away when he sees you noticing him and pretends to be talking to the boy next to him. You roll your eyes at your friend's behaviour and continue drinking your beer.

"And what do you think I'm supposed to do about it?"

"Go and have fun!" she says, offended that you don't know. "I've known you since you came here. You haven't had a single boyfriend, you're shooing all the suitors away. You're 18. Go and flirt with him, or I'll take care of this handsome one."

You are laughing at her words. You look at the boy again, and you can't deny that you feel a strange pull… a bond that wants you to come to him. But you don't listen to it.

"So take him. I'm going home," you say as night falls completely. The flame of the torch and bonfire is the only source of light.

"Really? Will you waste an opportunity like this?" you just laugh with a shrug at her words and make your way to the path through the woods leading to your house, pushing your way through the crowd of people.

You leave the clearing where the festival is taking place and enter the forest. You sigh with relief to be alone, away from people's voices. You walk confidently into the darkness without being afraid of it as you watch the stars above you.

You are walking down a familiar path when suddenly you hear the crunch of leaves and branches behind you. You turn slowly with your hand close to the hidden dagger at your hip.

You see in front of you the same boy who was staring at you by the fire. You watch him warily, waiting for his move.

He takes one slow step towards you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. Without knowing why, you stare spellbound into his eyes again, unable to utter a word. It's only when he crosses halfway between you that common sense returns to you and you raise a dagger in his direction.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you." he says, stopping and staring at the blade glistening in the moonlight. "Of course, only if you don't hurt me either."

"Why are you following me?" you ask without lowering your weapon, still holding it as a warning between you two.

He frowns, looking from the dagger to you. "I have no bad intentions. I saw you going this way and this forest… is not the safest place."

"I know. Nowhere is safe." you reply coldly, eyeing him carefully. "Which doesn't answer my question. Why did you follow me in here?"

"I wanted to make sure you made it through safely." you snort, amused, not for a moment believing the stranger's concern for you. He stays where he is, not moving for a moment, undaunted by your reaction. If anything, curiosity only grows in his eyes. "You haven't experienced much kindness from others, have you?"

"I'm not going to answer a stranger's question like that. You do not know anything about me."

"I can see you're too distrustful, and if the lack of trembling in your dagger hand tells me something, it is that you've threatened someone more than once."

"That's right… shouldn't you run as far away from me as possible, then?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you watch his impassive reaction…but you certainly didn't expect him to raise the corners of his… pretty mouth in response.

"I'd rather walk you out and make sure you're okay... or anyone who dares stand in your way." you bite your lip, holding back a smile so you don't react to his teasing.

"I doubt you'd be able to do anything."

"I'm tougher than you think." he says, answering your challenge with a mischievous smirk. The sparkles in his dark eyes shine in the moonlight… and you involuntarily agree with your friend. He was handsome… and dangerous.

"I don't need a man to play my prince on a white horse. I can be my own knight."

"Well, if you want my opinion…" you cut him off before he could finish.

"No, thank you. I have my own." he laughs at your words, shaking his head in amusement as he licks his lips.

He stares at you intensely, and you know that if you were anyone else, you would have pounced on him by the campfire. But you were a sun summoner. You couldn't trust someone like that. Even if you wanted to...

"Very well then... but, I'd feel better walking you through the woods at least. May I?" he asks, extending his hand towards you. "Or are you too afraid that you will enjoy my company?"

You snort, placing your hand in the crook of his arm. You could have let him. Clearly, he has had no ill intentions so far. You glare at him defiantly as you see a spark of amusement in his eyes and a wild smile on his lips.

"What?" you ask dryly.

"Nothing. I just thought you couldn't look prettier… you seem to glow even more when you prove people wrong."

"I'm too smart to be seduced by you." you warn him, looking at him carefully as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You feel your cheeks blush slightly.

"Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to you?" he asks, whispering, staring into your eyes.

You're drowning in the moment. His smell, the depth of his dark eyes… and without knowing why, the feeling is… actually the opposite of what you felt when others tried to flirt with you.

"Careful... you've stared into my eyes for too long to say you don't care." he says, sparks of malice appearing in his eyes. You snort and are about to respond to his taunt when his expression suddenly cools and he pulls you into his chest.

You're about to yell at him and attack him when suddenly an arrow flies right over where you used to stand. You recognise its distinctive arrowhead. "Drüskelle." you whisper.

You don't waste time. You back away from him and grab your daggers. You can't show the world what power you wield, so you limit yourself to melee combat. You're also not sure if your companion is Grisha.

You kill the first of them, and next to you, you hear the sounds of your companion's fight. He's doing fine. You deal with most of the Drüskelle pretty quickly when suddenly one of them comes up behind you. Before you can engage, your companion pulls you back to his chest. You see nothing. He makes sure of it when you hear Drüskelle's desperate cry from behind you, who wanted to kill you as well as the others who managed to stay alive. Suddenly it's quiet again... but it's darker around you than before.

You gently pull away from him as he releases his strong grip on your hair. You look around, seeing Drüskelle's bodies as if they were… cut.

"I… how?" you ask, dumbfounded, not believing what you see. You turn your gaze back to him. "Are you a Grisha? Heartrender maybe?"

"It's... a little more complicated." he says, looking down at your hands and bloody daggers.

"I'm guessing you're not a Grisha, then?"

"It's a little more complicated." you say, repeating his words. He looks up and stares into your eyes again. Without knowing why, you both giggle. "I... thank you. I wouldn't handle them all alone."

"No problem." He says, still staring at you. Without knowing why, you lean towards him.

You swallow, smelling his scent again, involuntarily remembering the warmth and safety his arms gave you. You shouldn't feel that way about a stranger. And yet...

"I… I should probably go now."

"Me too." he whispers back, but you're both too hypnotised to move. Not thinking much about the bodies around you or the blood on your clothes.

For some strange reason, the eyes of the other and this closeness seem much more interesting to you both than the world around you.

He leans towards you too. A short distance separates you as you both stare at each other in silent anticipation and excitement. However, that moment is effectively cut short as you hear another movement around you.

You both draw your daggers and aim at where you heard the movement. There is a woman behind you. Her dark eyes are remarkably similar to those of your companion. You are surprised to see how his irises have already been etched into your memory.

"You find yourself a friend?" the woman asks him mockingly, staring at the two of you.

"I'm going, mother." he says, obviously waiting for her to leave. But she stands there, watching you curiously. He sighs in annoyance and turns to you. "See you soon." he whispers, placing his dagger in your hand.

You shiver at the skin of his hand on yours as unimaginable power rushes through you. But that's not what keeps you staring at him speechless… and you think you both know it as he gives you a wistful, longing look before turning away.

You can only stay there and stare at the receding silhouettes of the two of them. Then you are all alone again. You turn around and continue on your way home. With a small smile, you tighten your hand around the black dagger.

You were coming home to your grandmother. It was winter, and it was getting harder and harder to drive through the snow from town to your house. But someone had to do the shopping.

As you walked, you heard the sounds of a struggle. Interested, you veered off the path to the house and walked slowly through the snow, trying not to alert anyone to your presence.

You froze as you saw a group of teenagers fighting the same boy who gave you the dagger and helped kill Drüskelle.

The rational part of you told you to get out of there and not deal with this stranger. And you almost did, but then you saw one of the girls stab him in the back and shove him into the ice hole.

You threw the wicker basket with your groceries in the snow and ran towards them. You used your light and stunned them all into unconsciousness. Not enough to kill them, but enough to make their heads hurt for days and some of them lose their eyesight.

With your light, you melted the ice in the river and pulled the mysterious boy out of it by his shoulders.

You held him close as he coughed, spitting water into the snow. You only let him go when he's back to normal.

"Do you attract trouble, or do you just like getting into it?" you ask him with a laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere. You take off his soaked coat and cover him with one of yours.

"Both, I'm guessing." he says, still shivering. You don't know if it's from the cold or from the attack.

"Get up. We need to keep you warm." you speak and help him stand on two legs.

If he notices the bodies of his unconscious tormentors, he decides not to say anything or ask how you did it. You pick up the basket you dropped earlier and guide both of you to your house.

Surprisingly, he doesn't protest when you enter the house, and luckily for you, your grandmother hasn't come back yet.

"Stay here for a while. I'll go get some dry clothes for you." I speak as I disappear into the other room for a moment.

"How did you overpower them?" you hear his question. You swallow and try to think of an answer as you walk back to the main room.

"It's... complicated." you reply, handing him the clothes. "You can go there and change. I'll put some water on for tea."

He nods and takes the clothes from you. He wants to say something, but instead he sighs and goes to the next room.

You place the kettle over the hearth and wait for the water to boil for tea for the two of you.

"Do you often save people from trouble?" he asks jokingly as he joins you. You smile when you see that he's feeling a little better. He still has a red nose, though. And you're pretty sure if you took his hand, he'd be icy.

"Selected only. Feel honoured." you snort, amused. His laugh makes you shiver. A strange warmth begins to spread from your chest.

"I am." he replies, looking deep into your eyes. He leans closer to you, examining you intently, searching for any reaction from me that would indicate that you are uncomfortable with him.

He finds nothing.

So he leans in a little more. Your noses brush against each other as he waits, giving you the option to either kiss him or pull away from him.

You feel your heart beating fast... you know that if he was a heartrender he would have leaned forward and kissed you a long time ago. You also know you should back off, he was a stranger, a man, you shouldn't trust him.

But after the look he gives you and a glance at his enticing pink lips, you lean forward and press your lips uncertainly to his.

His cold lips warmed up.

You close your eyes as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer with one hand on your waist and the other in your hair. You sigh, feeling how wonderful it feels, how proper it is to kiss him even though you don't even know his name. What's undeniable, however, is how great you feel around him.

But you feel something else… like an unimaginable amount of power flows into you with his touch. How your light calls for release. And for a moment, you feel like you're going to lose control if you keep kissing him.

Fortunately, before you stupidly reveal your powers, you pull away from each other, startled by the sound of a whistling kettle.

You both laugh, resting your foreheads against each other. You eventually pull away from him, take the kettle off the hearth, and shift your gaze to it. He's warmer from your kiss than from the fire.

You shift your gaze towards him. And experimentally, you take his hands in yours. You feel the surge of power buzzing through your veins again. Your gaze returns from his warming hands in yours to his irises, and you get lost in his dark eyes again.

"You... are the amplifier." you whisper as you look at him. "That's why they wanted to kill you... they wanted your bones."

He swallows, moves his gaze from your eyes to your joined hands. He doesn't take them out of your warm embrace as he nods, trembling without looking at your face.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asks, realizing full well that you must be Grisha to sense his ability.

The very idea that you, the only person who has shown him any kindness (not knowing him at all) will suddenly want to hurt him after what happened between you two a moment ago makes him sick.

But Aleksander has been through it more than once. Last an hour ago. Despite everything, he still holds a strong grip on your hands, trembling unconsciously.

Your response is to pull him close to you in a tender embrace.

"You're safe." you say simply, and from the way he holds his breath before burying his head in your neck after a few seconds of complete shock, you know that you must be the first person in a very long time to show him such affection.

And you're realizing that you don't need to know his name to know that it's good to hold him in your arms.

And Aleksander feels warm for the first time in a long time. He feels like he's holding the sun. But the most striking thought for him is that he is no longer alone...

"Is that all, General?" Ivan's question pulled Aleksander out of his thoughts. He stopped stroking the tattoo with his soulmate's name hidden under his kefta and glanced at the heartrender.

"Yes, you can go." he sighs, shifting in his chair and rubbing his eyes with his hand.

Ivan looks like he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last moment and leaves the war room, closing the door softly behind him.

Aleksander sighed, staring at the map in front of him. The king was going to bring down Ravka. Only his Grishas were able to hold Ravka's borders. He shuddered, thinking of all the good soldiers the Fjerdans, Drüskelle and others had taken from him. He felt powerless. And if he knew anything in his centuries-old life, it was that he hated that feeling.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his watch on the wall. It was long after midnight. He sighed as he got up from his chair and walked towards his bedroom. He won't help his army if he's barely conscious. He took off his kefta and pushed the books to one side of the bed. He lay down in the free space and fell asleep as soon as his head rested on the pillow.

Something was different… otherwise, Aleksander could sense it the moment his dream began.

There was a strange feeling in his bones; his heart was beating much faster, excited, as if it couldn't wait for what was about to happen.

He was alone again in the deep black shadows. He took a step, and suddenly the shadows parted. He looked up and gasped as he saw a figure in a black-golden kefta in the distance.

He'd had that dream many times before… especially when he was a little boy. That he was irretrievably lost in the darkness.

He had never met anyone in the depths of his shadows before. He took another hesitant step towards the mysterious figure, not taking his eyes off it, afraid that it would disappear at any moment.

But it's not.

A figure in a gold-black kefta stood with its back to him.

Aleksander is afraid. He's afraid that it's just another trick of his mind, that as soon as he utters the name that has haunted him both asleep and awake for hundreds of years, you'll disappear, leaving him utterly alone in the darkness of his shadows again.

But Aleksander had been patient enough for a long time... maybe he could finally give in to what he most wanted, what he missed most, what he craved for like a foolish boy.

He came over to you. Hesitantly and slowly. As if he could spook you at any moment. He raised his hand, but instead of touching your arm, he met air as you took a step away from him and slowly turned to face him.

He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for you to pull down your gold-black hood to reveal your face to him. He watched in fascination as golden threads of light slowly began to flow from your hands.

He had been accustomed to the darkness for centuries. But he couldn't take his eyes off you as your threads of light slowly grew stronger. He watched in utter awe as your light changed from gold to pure white after dispelling the shadows around you two.

His eyes widened as your hood fell back to reveal your familiar, beautiful face. He sighed, letting out a long-held, shaky breath.

And when you took his hand, which he still held out to you, and ran your thumb over his palm? He completely lost himself in your irises, feeling your light grow stronger through its amplifying powers, enclosing the two of you in a silver and gold orb.

But before he gets a chance to reach out to you and caress your cheek tenderly, to feel again that warmth he always felt from you and which turned out to be your light, you suddenly disappear. And with you, your warm light.

His cold shadows enveloped him again…

He wakes up and finds himself in his bed, in his chambers. But for the first time in a long time, instead of being disappointed that he didn't dream of his soul mate this time, he's relieved. And happiness. Excitement. And something he's clung to so desperately all these centuries, much to his mother's taunt... he feels hope.

He doesn't know what has changed. Why suddenly did the saints decide to reveal your face to him after you had met so many centuries ago? For a moment, the bitter thought crosses his mind that he could have had you by his side much sooner. That together you could carry the weight of eternity... but he shakes his head.

He had a chance to implement all his plans now... and to meet his soulmate, whom he had missed for so many centuries. All he had to do was track you down.

And he's not going to lose.

"I'll find you... moya solnishko." he whispers to himself, fondly stroking the tattoo on his wrist. "And when I do, I'll make sure you'll never hide from me again." he promises, placing his lips on the tattoo on his wrist.

He would do anything to finally have someone to call his own…

"I was hoping to find you here." Aleksander turns around in surprise when he sees you standing behind him.

"How did you know?" he asks, putting the book back on the shelf. You see the title out of the corner of your eye.

The Lives of Saints

"I know many things." you say, leaning against the shelf. "But honestly? I didn't take you for someone who prays to saints. Or maybe your ego and ambition are so big that you want to become one of them?" you say teasingly, smirking at him. He rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you out of the library. You let him lead the two of you into the woods.

"You must have wanted something if you took your precious time to find me." he starts when you both walk a familiar path. This is where your strange "friendship" began, if you could call those stolen moments, kisses, and nights between you two like that… how poetic that it will end here as well.

"I am leaving." you speak briefly without looking at him.

You feel him tense up. It was probably not the answer he ever expected. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him swallow.

He clears his throat, trying to look composed. However, his dark eyes, as always, reveal his true feelings to you. You wonder if you're the only one who can read him like that. "Why?" he whispers.

"Apparently my warning was… not strong enough. One of the people who tried to kill you complained to my grandmother. I have to leave."

"I can talk to her…"

"No!" you cut him off quickly, letting go of his hand and standing in front of him. The last thing you need is his intercession with your grandmother. "I know you mean well, but it's the final decision."

"I see." he says coldly, looking away from you. "Is there anything else you wanted?"

"Yes." you say, pulling his dagger out of your sleeve, handing it to him. "I wanted to give it back to you."

"It's a gift. I'm not in the habit of taking back what I've given someone." he snorts, offended, at which you giggle, amused. He turns his gaze back to you, raising an eyebrow.

"I knew you'd say something like that. That's why…" you pull out a second, identical dagger to the one he gave you. The only difference is that the dagger's handle is decorated with a sun… an eclipsed sun. "I did it." you say, handing it to him.

He takes the dagger from you and examines the engraving. "Why it?" he asks curiously. "Why the eclipsed sun?" his gaze is burning, inquisitive. You know there's no turning back now. You take a step back, his dark irises following your every move.

You shrug. "Guess, shadow summoner."

He stares at you in shock. A thought… a ridiculous and beautiful thought crosses his mind. He knows there's no point in chasing after you. You'll run away from him anyway. But he can't help but scream after your receding silhouette. "What's your name?!"

You're smiling. But you don't turn around to look at him one last time, to steal one last look at his dark, piercing eyes, to get one more moment... Instead, you scream over your shoulder: "Call me sunshine!"

You disappear from his sight. Deep down, you know you'll meet again… But you weren't going to share your mother's fate… even for such mesmerising, dark eyes as his.

After hundreds of years, you've become accustomed to dreamless sleep.

It was your conscious choice. A promise to grandma, mother, and you. You didn't pray to the saints to bring you a dream about your soulmate. You didn't want him... even though his name on your wrist, hidden by your grandmother's bracelet, had tormented you for hundreds of years.

That's why, when your first dream started, you knew it was something bad. You knew your grandmother's necklace had somehow fallen off your neck. And so, you were dreaming. You dreamed about him... and he probably dreamed about you.

You galloped on a horse. It was early morning. The clearing where you galloped was shrouded in mist. The cool wind hit your skin, and your cloak billowed behind you as you tried to lose the black rider following you.

People usually run to their soulmates. They wanted to meet them at all costs. Not you. But the saints have never been merciful to you… maybe because you never prayed to any of them.

Or have they stopped letting you prolong the inevitable.

That's why the black rider soon caught up with you. He rode by your side for a moment, then shot forward. You knew he was trying to block your way, so you sped up and managed to catch up with him for a moment. You rode side by side for a while, but you didn't dare look and atface.

But your wishes no longer mattered.

He sped up ahead of you and stepped sideways, causing your horse to stop and stand on two legs. You held on tight to keep from falling. It wasn't until your horse had calmed down and stood on all four hooves that you loosened your grip on the reins.

"Moya solnishka..." his whisper made you shiver. You lifted your head and looked into those familiar, damned dark eyes that were the cause of all your troubles.

You sat still as he rode his horse closer to yours so he could touch your cheek with his hand. His thumb caressed your skin gently. "I've been waiting a long time for you."

You shivered, hypnotised, as you watched him lean closer to you. A familiar warmth spread through your body as you felt him amplify your powers. But his lips were too close for you to notice anything else than him; his touch and dark eyes, which were looking only at you...

You wake up suddenly. Your hand goes to your neck. Panicked, you discover that your grandmother's necklace is not there… you must have lost it in a fold.

"Fuck." you whisper, running your hand through your hair. The only defence against dreaming about your soul mate is gone. And now he knew who you really were... just as your fears were confirmed.

He was your soulmate. General Kirigan, Darkling, Black Heretic, the boy who was your first kiss hundreds of years ago…

The monster who created the fold…

And as it turned out… Aleksander Morozova.

You look around the room, realizing you're in a tent. And the red keftats of bustling healers confirm your worst fears.

During your journey through the fold, the ship was attacked by volcra. And you, obviously not wanting to die or let other people die, decided to use your power. You've done it hundreds of times before. Only much more discreetly… and you've never fainted from using so much of your power.

Your grandmother must be cursing you from the grave. She warned you a thousand times not to go near Ravka or the fold… and even after her death, you didn't listen to her. Now you have to sneak out of here somehow before word about the sun summoner spreads around the world. Hundreds of years of hiding will be wasted just because you weren't careful enough…

He was excited. He couldn't stand still.

His soulmate, his sun summoner, the solution to all his problems, his little sunshine was here.

He had been waiting for this moment for centuries. He had imagined it thousands of times. However, he never thought that his soulmate would be brought to him by his heartrender after they captured her after rescuing a ship full of people from the fold.

He dismisses everyone from the tent. Only he and she remain.

"It's been a long time, solnishko." he speaks softly. He is prepared for her silence and gives her a moment to process the situation. But he hoped to see a little more enthusiasm from her...

So he takes the time to look at her. On noting all the changes he might notice in her… her cool, indifferent look in those eyes that captivated him so much is one of the worst changes.

He clears his throat. You are still silent. You still ignore him. And Aleksander can't stand it.

"I had an interesting dream recently…" he begins, but you don't pick up on it. You don't really take your eyes off the floor… he's starting to get annoyed.

"You won't look at me?" he asks, waiting for your reaction. However, he finds nothing. Just a blank stare at the symbol he has chosen over the course of several hundred years. Eclipsed sun.

"You won't even comment on that? What a pity. I've always liked your sharp tongue." he says, taking a step towards you. You watched him carefully. He's a little triumphant to see that he's managed to catch your eye. Saints… he missed those damn eyes. "The cat stole your tongue? Or did they finally cut your tongue out for your insolence?"

"I thought you liked my sharp tongue." you snort sarcastically, avoiding his gaze as you realize he won't come any closer.

"She can talk!" he says, clapping his hands. "I was afraid something had happened to you, sunshine." you flinch at his words.

"Don't call me like that." you growl angrily, turning your stern gaze on him.

"You told me to call you that yourself. Don't you remember?"

"And now I take away your right to do so, Black Heretic. Or maybe you prefer a Starless Saint? I think I remember that you wanted to become one; what a pity people didn't even try to remember your name." you taunt him, and for a moment you see that he is offended, even hurt by your words, but his eyes quickly become blank, unmoved by your words.

As if he had heard them hundreds of times before and gotten used to them…

"I don't remember you being so… hostile to me before. What has changed?" he asks instead, watching you carefully and looking for answers in your eyes. But after all these years, you too know how to hide your emotions behind a stony mask of cold indifference.

"Maybe you didn't know me at all?" the question hangs between you for a while. You see for a moment that he hesitates with his answer, but his indecision is quickly replaced by a mocking, derisive smirk.

"When I heard about the mysterious Grisha, who can summon light and was stupid enough to throw herself into battle against hundreds of volcra, I immediately thought of you. And guess what…"

"At least one of the two of us should be concerned about Grishas' welfare. Why am I not surprised it's me and only me?" you see him clench his fists in rage when you insinuate that he's selfish, that he doesn't care about his people.

"Or maybe you don't know me at all?"

"I know men like you."

"There are no men like me. There are no others like us. And there will never be. I thought you had enough time to accept and understand it." he says bitterly, staring at you, disappointed. "Anyway, I have to go through the formalities. Your sleeve, please."

You stand still, too stubborn and angry to cooperate with him. He snorts, expecting your reaction, and takes two steps over the distance between you. You lift your head slightly, giving him a defiant look. He just gives you that irritating, confident smirk and grabs your hand gently, rolling up your sleeve himself. His dark eyes never leave yours. Even when his ring pierces the skin of your forearm.

You're so intent on each other that there might as well not have been that beam of light between you that shot the moment he made a small cut on your arm. It's just you and him. And from the unreadable smirk on his face, you might as well expect anything.

If you used to do it easily, now you can't read his eyes anymore. A skill he had to acquire over time. Hiding true emotions.

You both have changed. Each in its own way. He was no longer the nameless boy you met. And you weren't the mystery girl he used to know. He became the darkness he so often summoned... and you became the light you were meant to carry. If you once had anything in common, now you are completely strangers. Time heals wounds... or deepens them, but it always and undeniably changes people.

But neither of you could deny the connection between you. Even after all this time and even after what happened. It was a bound that was pulling you both towards each other…

"You and I are going to change the world, Y/N." you shivered hearing your real name for the first time come out of his mouth as lightly as if he had always called you that. Like he's always known you by that name deep in his heart.

Even if you didn't agree with him, you have to admit that he was right...

It's gonna be forver or it's gonna go down in flames...

[the-iceni-bitch]

Nobody Does It Like My Daddy

Relationship: Ari Levinson x Jake Jensen (bear and cubby) Ransom Drysdale x female!reader (ninja and puppy) implications of the quadrouple (NLLYL AU)

Words: ~1.5k

Summary: Father’s Day with the Jensen-Levinsons.

Warnings: explicit language, brief explicit sexual content (salad tossing, mention of blowjobs, m/m sex), a ridiculous amount of fluff, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE QUADROUPLE!!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: Happiest of Father’s Day to you my lovely readers from perhaps my favorite DILFs.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on my fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Jake grumbled when he felt Ari kiss his neck, screwing his eyes closed against the morning sun that was filling their bedroom.

“Too early.” He huffed when his husband chuckled into his shoulder, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow to try to force himself back to sleep. “It’s Sunday, the triplets took forever to go down last night, let me sleep.”

“I just can’t, cub.” Ari purred and crawled so his body was stretched over Jake’s, kissing his shoulders and starting to move down his spine while he kept making pleasant noises. “Besides, it’s not just Sunday, it’s Father’s Day. And I’ve gotta show some appreciation for my favorite father.”

“Fine.” Jake let his eyes droop when Ari nuzzled into the small of his back, snorting when he kissed that damn tattoo like he always did before he nipped at his ass and slid under the covers. “But I’m gonna sleep while you eat me out.”

“Grumpy boy.” Ari started rubbing Jake’s ass cheeks before spreading them apart, kissing his little pink hole gently a few times until he heard Jake whine. “Just as long as Daddy gets a good blowjob from you once you’re awake. I’m sure we have plenty of time before the kids…”

“No!” As soon as Ari said something one of the babies stirred on the monitor and the sound of running feet filled the house, making Jake snarl at his husband even as he started licking his asshole. “You just had to say it.”

Ari didn’t have a chance to respond before their door was flung open by Isaac and Eli who were shouting “happy Father’s Day” at the top of their lungs. Jake tried to turn over but couldn’t with his bear holding down the lower half of his body, and said bear had to flatten himself out as much as possible so their children couldn’t see where he was and what he was doing.

“Where’s Pop?” Jake was bright red when Eli asked him that, fighting the urge to punch the lump in the sheets when he felt Ari chuckling against his hip. “We’re making you breakfast!”

Jake’s concern about his wild sons operating cooking appliances disappeared when Ransom walked into the room, though he did get even more red when the man smirked as he took in the extra lumpy blankets.

“You little dudes go wash your hands, c’mon. Give your dad a chance to wake up.” Ransom leaned against the door frame and grinned wickedly after the twins ran out of the room. “Morning Jake. Morning Ari.”

“Morning pretty boy.” Ari beamed at the man after flinging the blankets off his head, ignoring his husband’s scolding glare as he kept kissing his perky ass. “Where’s gorgeous?”

“Feeding the dumplings.” Ransom nodded to the monitor so they could see you sitting in the nursery and holding one of the babies close to your breast. “How long do you two need to finish up here?”

“Fifteen minutes?” Ari hushed Jake and smacked his ass when he tried to turn over again. “I guess I can wait to get my dick sucked until tonight.”

“Aww, the sacrifices you make for your kids.” Ransom sniffed the air and swore under his breath before turning and running down the hall. “Rach! That had better be toast I smell burning! I said no using the stove without me!”

“Oh god… Jesus!” Jake’s concern about what their children were getting up to disappeared when Ari buried his face between his cheeks again, arching his back and moaning while his tongue swirled around his tight pink hole. “Ugh, that feels so good.”

“I know, baby.” Ari purred as he gave one of Jake’s cheeks a gentle bite. “Now hush and let me enjoy my fifteen minute meal.”

Jake’s legs were a little wobbly by the time they made it downstairs twenty minutes later, a huge grin on his face when he saw the smorgasbord the kids had laid out for them.

“Wow, pancakes and waffles and French toast, you guys went all out.” Jake sighed when Ari kissed his temple when they walked into the dining room, his heart melting at the kids all covered in flour as they ran to hug their dads. “You guys are the best kids ever, I’ve gotta kiss all of you.”

“Oh no, dad!” The twins tried to wriggle away when Jake kissed the tops of their heads, escaping when he embraced Rachel only to be scooped up by Ari in a bear hug. “Pop!”

“It’s Father’s Day, you have to accept all of our affection, it’s the rule!” Ari laughed when they kept squirming until he let go of them, giving Rachel her own hug and smiling at Ransom when he came in holding Micah on his hip. “Hey bubba! Can you say ‘happy Father’s Day’?”

“Happy day!” Micah squealed when Ari scooped him out of Ransom’s arms and kissed his chubby cheeks, grabbing onto his beard and pulling playfully. “Happy day, papa!”

“Aw, what about me?” Jake beamed when Micah screamed for him to have a happy day as well, kissing his forehead while Ari strapped him into the high chair while he sat next to Rachel and helped her pile some pancakes onto her plate as Ransom tried to wrangle the twins. “Thank you for this, Ran. Did you guys thank your uncle?”

All of the kids said thank you as loud as they could before starting to stuff their faces, shouting again with their mouths full to say hello to you when you walked into the room somehow holding all three babies at once until Ari stood up to help you.

“Happy Father’s Day, boys!” You handed Caleb to Ari and Shiloh to Jake before sitting down with Naomi in your lap, shaking your head when your husband just let the twins climb all over him. “All three dumplings are fed and very happy. I think we have some presents for you to open.”

“Presents?” Jake laughed when the three older kids all ran to go get the gifts with a chorus of happy yells, the dogs running after them when they charged back into the room with their gifts. “Look at these, did you guys wrap them yourselves?”

Their affirmative answers were obvious from the haphazard folds in the wrapping paper and excessive tape, but they were the most beautiful presents either of them had ever seen. They got homemade cookies with paw prints in them from ‘the pets’ and gave exuberant thanks for them after you whispered that they were sanitary and safe for consumption in Ari’s ear. Ari cooed over the beard grooming kit and hiking guides, and Jake had to kiss the kids all over again when he got his book of dad jokes and a t-shirt that said ‘Dad Jokes, That’s How Eye-Roll’. And they both started crying when the giant photo board was revealed, much to the kids’ embarrassment.

“Okay, let’s all go clean up the dishes so we can go on a hike!” Ransom kissed the top of your head as he stood up, sighing when he got a look at the twins sprinting towards the kitchen with handfuls of silverware. “Little dudes, no running with the cutlery, c’mon!”

“Did you guys like your presents?” You bounced Naomi on your lap while she babbled happily, smiling at Jake and Ari when they nodded and reaching out to let Micah hold on to your finger when he pouted at you. “Well, you deserve them. You are the best dads.”

“We couldn’t do a lot of it without you and Ran, honey.” Ari cradled Caleb against his chest while he snored softly, leaning forward and kissing your cheek while watching Jake kiss Shiloh out of the corner of his eye. “Especially with these three. Do you need to pump at all?”

“No, I did last night and they emptied me out when I got here.” Naomi squealed and flailed her arms and you couldn’t help but smile. “Speaking of me and Ran, I have something to tell you that I need you to keep secret.”

“Oh yeah?” Jake grinned when Shiloh tried to snatch his glasses off before blowing a raspberry against her stomach while she kicked her chubby little legs. “Is this a good secret or a bad secret?”

“It’s a very good secret.” You lowered your voice when you heard Ransom bellow from the kitchen as one of the kids sprayed him with water. “We made the mutual decision that I wasn’t going to go back on my birth control but we didn’t really think about the fact that I’m not exclusively breastfeeding and well… I was late. And I took a test and…”

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

Hey, Amee!! I hope you’re doing well <3

If by any chance you’re up to it, could you please write a fic about Heist Mark being super jealous of Yancy because he and Y/N clearly seem to be into each other?? I LOVE your art and writings and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head <3 (Obviously no pressure, though!)

I'm so happy to hear you enjoy my work, thank you🥺💖 and thank you for your request! it got me out of a terrible writer's block. on that note, sorry this took quite some time, I've been in a bit of a funk of on and off general creative block, and unable to finish any writing at all for even longer. this was a pretty fun challenge! I myself view Yancy platonically so I wasn't quite sure where to go with this initially, and I had to fight every urge to just make this heist mark x y/n dfsjsjsv. that said, it did end up being more heist mark-centric than maybe you intended? in which case, I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself😔 yancy is there but very briefly haha

Don't you tell me that you never even thought, 'maybe we could run'

2,603 words | Read on AO3

‘We're all gonna be rehearsing tomorrow so youse best get some sleep.’

You nod as you close the gate to yours and Mark's shared cell, stifling a yawn.

‘Goodnight, Yancy.’

You hold each other's gaze for a moment, before he turns and heads off, a tattooed hand over the back of his neck and a sweet smile still on his face. You watch as he disappears into the outer hallway and a guard appears to lock up your cell for the evening.

Your long-time accomplice and friend stands at the edge of your vision, arms folded.

‘Having fun with your new boyfriend, buddy?’ he asks, sounding unimpressed and slightly strained.

‘Oh, shush, Mark,’ you chide, but your stomach flips at the notion.

‘Yeah… Well, while you were busy playing Broadway,’ he glances to either side of the cell outside and continues in a lowered voice, ‘I've been hard at work hatching our escape. And I'm telling you, it's foolproof.’

‘Uh huh. As foolproof as your other three failed plans? I really don't wanna get thrown in solitary again.’

‘Please, that was one time! — and I don't see you bothering to come up with any ideas. Even though you pretty much got us into this mess.’

That accusation ticks you off, but you're quick to retaliate.

‘Are you seriously still hung up on that? How is this my fault? You couldn't fly a helicopter, why would you assume I can? You shouldn't have even presented it as an option!’

Your exclamation earns you a couple looks from other inmates slowly filing into their cells for the night.

‘Nevermind that now,’ Mark says, infuriatingly placatingly, ‘do you wanna hear the plan or not?’

The thread of uncertainty that you've been avoiding coils tight in your chest and you pause, wondering how to bring up what's been nagging at you for days.

‘Um, so, I've been thinking. What if… what if we don't try to escape?’

‘Ha ha. Funny joke, pal.’

‘I'm serious, Mark. We could just… stay here and wait out our sentence, if we play it safe we might even get our time reduced on good behaviour. We could be gone in like a decade. Or a few years! Maybe. Probably. Maybe.’ Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He scoffs, as if the idea isn't even worth considering.

‘There is no way you're genuinely telling me to just wait it out. Maybe you haven't noticed since you've been in la-la land lately, but we're not on vacation, we're in prison,’ Mark spouts, voice growing thick with agitation. ‘What was supposed to be the heist of a lifetime, would've set us up for decades to come, is still on the line! And we're on a bit of a time crunch here — I don't trust that warden guy one bit with the Box, or in general,’ he sneers. ‘I mean what kind of name is Murder-Slaughter? Ugh, do we even know for sure if he still has it?’

‘Yancy mentioned seeing it in his office the last time he was there, which was earlier today, so yeah, probably.’

‘Ugh, there you go again about Yancy. It's always Yancy this, Yancy that, blah blah blah, Yancy!’

‘Wh– I was just answering your question!’

‘Y'know what? I'm sick and tired of being the only one taking this seriously while you act like it's all a big party.’

He places a hand on his hip, the other poking a finger towards you as he speaks. It would be comical, if he wasn't acting like a jerk.

‘What's up with you?’

‘What's up with me? What's up with you? You seriously wanna stay in this— this shithole, ‘cause of what? Some pretty face you've known for all of like, less than two weeks??’

‘Oh my God, Mark, it's not that terrible, and Yancy is actually my friend, he's been nothing but welcoming and kind since we got here, and—’

‘Oh, did you forget that he tried to beat you up when you first met? Real interesting, how you let that little detail slip.’

‘We just got off on the wrong foot, he's really—’

It's then that you see it — something in the slight hunch in his gait, the furrow of his brow, his pursed lips and tense jaw — and you wonder why you hadn't noticed before. It's not just anger and frustration, it's something bitter and personal.

‘Mark… are you jealous?’

Bingo. His eyes only widen a sliver, for a fraction of a second, but you're so used to reading him that even the most imperceptible of reactions on his usually very expressive face have become familiar to you.

‘Psh. I'm not jealous.’

‘You so are jealous! Oh my god, you're super duper jealous,’ you say with a grin, revelling in this new information.

‘Shut up, why would I be jealous?’ he protests, trying to sound nonchalant. But it's too late. You've already seen through it.

‘Is that what this is about?’ you say with a laugh. ‘You just want my attention back or something?’

He stares blankly for a moment.

‘Are you serious right now? You actually think the only reason I'm mad is because some random dude just waltzes in and starts acting all buddy buddy with you and you fall head-over-heels,’ he jeers with his hands either side of his face, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. ‘Hook, line and sinker.’

‘Mark—’

‘I mean, never mind your partner, right? You know, your best friend who you've known and worked with for years? Who cares what he thinks?!’

‘Mark, I—’

‘In fact, he can get punched through a wall for all you care! You won't even bat an eye, as long as there's a random spontaneous musical number immediately afterwards, it's all in good fun!’

‘Ok, that's not fair,’ you push back. ‘Of course I was worried! But I was also surrounded by violent criminals at the time, we've been over this!’

‘Oh, so they're “violent criminals” now? But they're simply “hurt, misunderstood souls” when it suits you?!’ he shoots back, making air quotes to emphasise his point.

‘They're people, Mark! They're allowed to be… multi-faceted!’

‘Lights out, everybody,’ comes a guard's voice, ringing through the hallway as it suddenly becomes dark, save for the glow of dim lamplight emanating from one or two of the other cells.

‘Whatever, let's just get some sleep,’ Mark grumbles under his breath.

‘You always do this!’ you whisper harshly, but inadvertently let the volume slip back into your voice as you feel your blood boil. ‘You try to cut things off and act like the “bigger person” just to get out of an argument that, newsflash, YOU'RE LOSING.’

‘Oh, whatever, what-f*cking-ever!’

‘You're being so damn overdramatic, Mark! It's not like I'm trying to break up our team.’

‘Yeah, well– well maybe we should!’

You don't know why it jolts you like a gunshot when he says it, but it does. His words, the force and resentment behind them, pierce you to your core. It stops any quick-fire response you had at the ready in its tracks.

Regret immediately flashes across his face, but he quickly attempts to cover it with a steely, hardened gaze. ‘Clearly, we want different things. So maybe it's for the best.’

‘Hey!’ one of the guards calls out from across the hall. ‘Lights out means quiet, you two. Don't make us separate you into different cells.’

With a frustrated huff, you reluctantly traipse off to bed, yours being the lower half of the bunk while Mark settles above you.

It really is a rather decent bed. The mattress is nothing special, but comfortable, and the soft blanket is accompanied by an oddly luxurious, fluffy pillow. Definitely above what you'd expect is probably average prison standards. Frankly, you don't know what Mark's problem is with this place. It's honestly not half bad. As far as you expect jails go, it surely could be a lot worse.

You lay back and let your breathing even out, trying your best to allow some of the bubbling anger to die down. Eventually, you hear the guards leave.

Time passes, it could be minutes or hours; it's not like the passage of time has felt right at all to you since that last heist.

It's silent, save for the sound of your breaths and Mark's above you. You're still upset with him, but the sound of him breathing nearby has always been oddly comforting. The two of you have had plenty of close calls as a pair — even times when you had to patch each other up after jobs that went particularly badly. If you got injured on a heist, you couldn't simply call an ambulance or show up at a hospital in an emergency and risk having your whole operation blown. That was simply the nature of your line of work.

At the worst of times, as long as you could hear those steady, even breaths, you could tell yourself he would pull through, and things would be fine.

You idly watch the mattress above you, letting the rhythm of your friend's breathing become a gentle white noise, and think.

You think about that heist and the Box. Ancient, coveted, mysterious. Sitting atop its perch in the museum vault, in all its glory and allure, practically asking to be stolen. The gleam of the gem encrusted in its surface. You wonder if the prize held within would be worth all of this, if you managed to get it back.

You think about Yancy, a little rough and a little troubled and not seeing much point in trying to kick old habits; but fun and soft and sensitive and full of remorse. You think about the feeling of your hand in his when you practise a routine with him, how his whole face lights up when he's excited or falls when he's sad or pensive. You think about how he has made this penitentiary into a home, and these inmates into a family.

You think about Mark. Silly, stupid, steadfast Mark, snarky and thoughtful and loyal. Who isn't actually as dumb as he lets on. Who is resourceful and quick-thinking when a plan needs to be formed. Who makes bad puns and trusts you whole-heartedly, and who always lets you decide which course of action to take, no matter how much he disagrees, simply due to his unwavering faith in you. Mark, your co-worker, your friend, your partner in crime. Who is maybe a little enamoured with you, despite you trying to ignore it. Who you half-heartedly agreed to go on a date with, not having it in you to turn him down, nor prepared for the guilt that would be eating away at you now.

You think about one of the first things he told you when you landed yourselves at Happy Trails: About how he doesn't belong here, but maybe you do. What if he were to leave and you were to stay? The thought breaks your heart a little.

Then, a whisper from above into the quiet, gently interrupting your thoughts.

‘Hey, you still awake?’

‘...Yeah.’

You hear his voice, soft-spoken, but clear enough that you can hear the sincerity laced into it.

‘I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up.’

‘Yeah, I'm sorry too,’ you reply, matching his volume.

‘And I didn't mean it,’ he says, and you think you hear the slightest tremble in the statement, almost as if he's fighting tears, and for a second you wish you could see his face, ‘what I said before, about uh, splitting up. I know I joke about that kind of thing all the time, and not coming back for you… But you know I don't really mean it, right?’

You've certainly had your doubts in the past, but those moments seem so far away now; footnotes in a slowly unfolding tale, stepping stones on the journey the pair of you have taken together as you worked your way from theft to theft to get to this point. As much as you'd butt heads over the years, you could always count on each other and you always stuck together.

‘Right?’

‘Yeah, I know…’

‘...And, alright, your lack of interest in breaking out aside, maybe I am kinda jealous.’

‘Ha! I knew it.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He sighs. ‘It's just… it took us a while to be like we are now and yet, you're suddenly so close to him when it hasn't even been that long, it just doesn't feel fair. I dunno, it's stupid.’

‘Nah, I get it. I'm sorry if I made you feel left behind.

‘And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel pressured into something you're actually just not all that into.’

You feel a bit of tension leave your chest as a small smile appears on your face. ‘I appreciate that.’

In some ways you're grateful for the small bed separating you and preventing you from being face to face. You think it makes this easier for both of you.

‘I don't want to lose you, y'know? I mean, we're supposed to be partners. Ride or die, remember?’

‘Oh, Mark… You know I still trust you with my life…’ You pause, considering your words. ‘For the first time in ages, things feel a little more complicated than just being about us.’

A beat, then you hear him inhale, and he says your name, foregoing any of his usual nicknames.

‘...Are you… happy here? Does he make you happy?’

‘There's things I miss about freedom, sure, but it's not so bad here. And let's face it, our crimes were probably gonna catch up to us eventually, one way or another, right? And Yancy…’ You let out the smallest huff of laughter, smiling to yourself once again. ‘You're right, it hasn't been very long… There's just something about him, I guess. I know he might be a little much at times but I enjoy being around him, and he honestly seems like he wants to make up for things he's done in the past by being here. Maybe nothing will come of this but even so, in a weird way, he kind of makes me want to do better?’

Mark breathes a good-natured huff of laughter as well, and the two of you take a moment to muse on the irony of that sentiment.

‘I just– I can't handle being stuck here,’ he finally says. ‘But you're right, nothing I've tried so far has worked, anyway.’

‘Y'know… Yancy knows all the ins and outs of this place. He could probably help us if we wanted it.’

‘Do you want it?’

Do you want to leave or stay? The real question beneath it all.

You're quiet again, and it feels as if every possibility is laid out before you, only obscured.

‘I don't know,’ you say eventually. ‘I need more time to think. I just don't want you to think I'm making a choice between you or him, there's so many other things I need to consider. That we need to consider.’

‘That's fair… Just don't take too long, ok? Not like we can pause or rewind time, haha.’

‘Right… In the meantime, could you at least try to get along with Yancy and the others? You might like them if you give them a chance.’

‘... Fine, I'll try,’ he acquiesces.

You raise a hand to your mouth to cover a yawn. A far more comfortable silence falls over the room, and you start to feel sleep overtake you.

‘... Hey, Mark?’

‘Yeah?’

‘We're still partners.’

If nothing else, you hope this will reassure him.

‘...Ok. Sweet dreams, partner.’

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (3) - But It Was a Trick and the Clock Struck 12

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 6,673

Opening of Chatper 3 Under the Cut! 🖤

Ofelia tosses and turns beside the fire in the bedroll she’d found, trying to adjust her body to the feeling of sleeping on the ground. Oh, what she’d give for a cot of some kind instead. Sleep isn’t something that usually comes easy anyway, her nights are usually prone to recurrent nightmares... Still, as tired as she is, it remains out of reach.

Astarion never returned for the stew, and he’d only come back a little while ago. She’d watched him cross the camp in the darkness, moving quietly as he stalked towards the bedroll next to hers. She’d pretended she was asleep, peeking out of a tiny gap in her lashes to see him hover beside her for a moment, red irises ablaze in the light of the fire. He’d looked predatory, like how a lion would whilst stalking its prey, but the look disappeared in an instant and he’d gone to lay down in his bedroll.

She rewinds to the beginning of the day when they first encountered each other. He’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure, but she can’t really complain when she's just as willing and able to exchange blows. He’s pretty, there’s certainly that. The milk-white of his skin would put porcelain to shame. Tall, sharp, perfect hair… ugh. He’s probably the prettiest person she’s ever seen, or one of them if the others hadn’t also been so weirdly attractive. Even Lae’zel with her tiny little nose… and bossy attitude...

I may have issues. She sighs and rolls over, feeling stupid.

She can’t help but wonder about Astarion’s eyes- she’s never seen a color like that bar contacts- which she’d sported once upon a time when she used to go out and do something worth getting dressed up for. She trails off, thinking about her old friends… there were a couple, both just as partial to black clothes and dark make-up as her. Oh, what fun they used to have- tripping over their platforms, getting piercings and tattoos. She sighs again, her heart twisting as she glares up at the stars.

[v7lgar]

are we dating, are we fucking? | soon on ao3

“Fucking answer me.”

Evan always gets mad when he doesn’t get an answer from him. Barty fists sheets until his knuckles turn white and turn his head over his shoulder to look at Evan.

His blond hair is messy, Barty did that before bending over to get fucked hard. He holds Barty’s hips with his big hands and Barty enjoys watching his veiny hands over his ass and his huge cock keeps disappearing into his hole. Evan has tattoos all over him, on his broad shoulders, his torso and his arms. He looks huge next to Barty, or on Barty.

The view makes his mouth water and he swallows. He looks at the blonde under his eyelashes with his mouth parted and moans.

“You know better than I do—ugh fuck!” Evan’s thrusts become rapid as soon as he opens his mouth, “Faster— don’t stop—“

He can’t even finish any sentence, he keeps looking back, watching Evan fucking him without a breath. His hole is slick being overly oiled, because he likes it when it's too slick and wet. He likes it when Evan’s cock slides into his tight walls so smooth, it feels like he gets fed with it. He loves it when the sounds of skin slapping skin become unbearable. He likes it when it’s filthy and too much. But it’s never really too much to him, he wants everything and anything.

my next wip so hereeee you go

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Under the mistletoe (modern!Osferth x reader)

synopsis: Your friends are tired of watching you and Osferth dance around each other, so they push you to do something about all that tension.

warnings: fluff, afab reader

word count: 1.3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged in the `kissing booth AU´, for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Ugh why did we wait this long to redecorate?" You whine as you stretch to pull some tinsel of one of the busts in the waiting area of the tattoo and piercing studio. "It's the end of January. Whose idea was it to decorate this much in the first place anyway?" All four of your coworkers give you a look, their eyebrows all different levels of raised. Low laughter follows through the studio and you raise your hands in defeat. "You know we only waited so you would have to help." Sithric whispers in your ear teasingly as he pushes past you to get to a box that was already half filled. "Next time I have an idea like that keep me from it, please. I'm begging you." You reply with a smile. In truth you enjoyed these tasks almost as much as you did working in the studio. There was laughter and music at all times and the customers were great as well. Even if you joined much later than the others, who had helped Uthred build the studio basically from the ground up, they immediately welcomed you and took you into their little family. Bending down to pick up a full box to take it to storage, you feel a cough bubble up your lungs. Immediately Osferth is by your side to take the carton off your hands. "Here, let me take that from you." He says in that usual, kinda quiet and husky voice of his.

"Thank you." You rasp in return. As he actually takes the carton though your hands touch accidentally, making both your faces heat up and the box nearly fall as you look away from each other. Over the antics neither of you notice the other three men rolling their eyes and sharing a look that signified the start of their mission. Too long they had to watch Osferth and you dance around each other. They were tired of the shy glances and flushed faces and whining about how perfect the other was only to never act on the feelings that were harbored and cared for like a delicate flower.

Despite your complaints the five of you make quick progress. However, with the last full box disappearing, so do three out of five people in the studio. Even more suspicious is that the person you are left with, is Osferth. Not that you would complain about that, not considering the multiple times you had, it simply seems like just the thing your friends would do to nudge you two closer together. Oh and how right you were with that thought. The two of you look through all the rooms to find nothing out of the ordinary aside from your friends obvious missing. At least until you lean in the frame of the door leading outside. A cigarette in hand as you brainstorm what could have happened, when said doorframe gives the answer. Above your heads hangs one last decoration element. A fucking mistletoe. As if on command both Osferth's and your face heat up and you get physically unable to look at each other. "I... We don't have to do this if you don't want to..." He offers in a quiet, uncertain tone. "Yeah, I just wanted to say the same." You give an awkward giggle. "On the other hand it is a tradition, right?"

"And no one would want that kind of bad luck we would conjure by not doing it. I mean..." Osferth adds on.

"Yeah, no, that would definitely be unwanted." You shake your head enthusiastically.

There is a pause for a moment, where Osferth watches your lips wrap around the cigarette bud, to suck in the nicotine, closely. Just like your eyes rest on his to witness the borderline sinful way he tugs the lower lip between his teeth. Then as if on cue both of your eyes shoot up to lock in an intense gaze. A gaze that leaves no questions about what is about to happen. He has you under his spell by those blue eyes, that make you feel like you are about to drown in them. You barely dare to lean to the side to stump out your cigarette in the ashtray, in fear of breaking the moment.

"So..." The beginning of the sentence dies in your throat just as quickly as it began leaving it.

Neither of you has to say anything more either, as through it all you hadn't even realised, that the two of you had started moving closer subconsciously.

You take that last step that separates the two of you towards him and rest your hands on his shirt. The warmth of his skin gets transported even through the soft fabric of the ugly Christmas sweater to your fingertips, warming them nicely against the chilly wind blowing around you. Your eyelids flutter and only seconds before his lips finally brush against yours for the first time they close entirely. The kiss is much like you. A shy connection, that only lasts a second before being pulled away from. Yet it ignites a fire in you and so you give Osferth barely a second before you go in for a second kiss. One that is not so gentle and shy. Despite his surprise, his hands pull you closer by the waist while simultaneously pushing you up against the large glass window. Both of you grasp at each other to keep as close as possible. Drunk on the way your lips pressed against and devoured each other. Every oh so little feeling and missed chance to kiss ever since you first laid eyes on each other flows into the vehement and quite honestly desperate embrace. Unprompted Osferth opens his mouth a bit further, so you take the chance to let your tongue dart out, to lick over his lower lip and into it. Instantly it is met by his own tongue. The way it dances with yours and explores you like no one before, like he wanted to know and memorize every deepest part of you, makes a swarm of butterflies soar up and run riot. You pull each other impossibly close, there is no need for air between you or inside of your lungs. No world around you. No feeling of time. It is all replaced by the electric feeling of him. You are unsure if it is minutes or mere seconds until you get broken up by someone clearing their throat loudly behind you. For all you know it felt like hours. All the more dismayed is your expression when you turn around to see who has interrupted the two of you in the best moment of your life so far.

"At first it was cute, but can you seriously get a room? Some of us want to have a smoke without watching you basically eat each other." Finan commented dryly.

"You can hardly blame us. In the end this was your plan, wasn't it?" You shoot back in a half defensive half chuckling tone. "Yeah, yeah. Just blame us, it's alright. I just hope you know we'd do it again any day if it meant ending that horrible, horrible tension between you two love birds." Your friend answers with an unapologetic glimmer in his dark brown eyes. Behind you Osferth slips his hand inside yours to intertwine your fingers. The beat your heart skips at the touch reminds you of what you were doing just a minute ago, what you desperately wanted to get back to. You give his hand a short squeeze and then lead him towards one of the rooms in the back. "You know what? Remind me to thank y'all for it later, but now you'll have to excuse me. Osferth and I were kind of in the middle of something." You turn around to see where you are walking. The last sound you can hear from Finan is a low groan, as Sithric who seemingly just joined him asked what was happening. Then the door locks and you two are finally alone again. A fact that you use without hesitation, to crash your lips against each other in a hungry kiss once more. One thing was sure, it was definitely one of the first for many more to come.

[naranjapetrificada]

Apparently I'm actually doing the damn thing, so here's a barely edited teensy little preview of the tropey gentlebeard longfic (my very first longfic!) that has completely ambushed me. I somehow wrote 2000 words of it on Friday, and even more unlikely I seem to have written another 2000 since.

If I've done my job right it shouldn't reveal which trope I picked, because I don't plan to reveal that until I'm actually posting it on ao3. Anyway, enjoy some gossipy Lucius and bitchy, flustered Stede:

It was such a shocking allegation that Stede was finally shaken out of his stupor. "Oh god no, nothing like that," he said, "Edward was a perfect gentleman. Maybe I just think that private things should stay private?" Stede's theatrical instincts told him to punctuate this statement by straightening his waistcoat with an affronted sniff, which he did with aplomb.

Lucius relaxed his body language again but he raised his eyebrows impatiently. If he thought he could break Stede with an uncomfortable silence, the two or them would be here for a very long time. The boy broke first.

"Well?? Ugh, fine! But can you at least settle a debate for me?" He crossed his arms and affected a casual lean against the wall before dropping his voice low again. "How far around does that snake tattoo go?"

Stede had gotten to take a good look at the snake's path before breakfast, while Ed was still getting ready for the day. The tattoo was long, winding itself over Ed's right shoulder and down his back, disappearing into the left leg of his trousers near his hip. Stede couldn't definitively answer the question, but his mouth suddenly felt very dry with the same curiosity.

After a suspiciously long beat Stede decided to retreat back into the safety of the performance he was supposed to be giving. He went for knowing and superior, lifting his nose in the air before looking Lucius down and up. "Wouldn't you like to know," was all he said, turning on his heel to walk away with intention, not at all sure where his feet were going to take him.

(I will cling to this non-canonical version of Ed's tattoo with my dying breath because I find it so incredibly hot)