#denim jacket potatoes

[bettyfrommars]

Ring of Fire

a biker Steve au

Part 1 || I went down, and the flames went higher

18+ONLY || afab!Reader, eventual smut, alcohol consumption, allusions to dirty deeds, smoking, allusions to sex with someone other than reader (not cheating), allusions to violence/fighting, bloody knuckles, eventual breaking & entering, biker!Eddie, biker!Hopper, reader and Steve are in their early 30's. Please read warning for each part.

masterlist playlist

Summary || You haven't set eyes on Steve Harrington since the 8th grade, but you have no problem recognizing him almost 20 years later when he steps back into your life. A lot has changed in Hawkeye, the town you grew up in, but a lot has stayed the same.

word count: 5k

A/N || This is my version of Hawkins, a town called Hawkeye, and it is a desert town surrounded by tumbleweeds, agriculture, and junkyards. Even though Steve is a biker and a mechanic, I try to maintain his "essence". I plan for this to be a shorter series, like 3 or 4 parts, but those are always famous last words from this lyin', cheatin' mouth. This is a niche fic, and for the ten people who will appreciate it, I love you.

The bell on the door dinged to let you know you had a customer, but you didn’t look up right away, you were too busy trying to figure out why your till was a few bucks short for the day.  Donna would not be happy.  Heavy foot falls made it to the counter and then the person in question cleared his throat.

“Ten on pump 2 and a pack of reds, please,” the voice was deep and scratchy, like he was recovering from a sore throat.

You closed the cash register and glanced up for the first time.

The sight made you inhale a sharp breath and hold it.  The man had on a thick motorcycle jacket zipped up halfway over a white tee, atop blue jeans that were a dark denim wash, faded over time, with a tattered hole in one knee.  There were tattoos scattered over his flesh, peeking from his collar, and down his hands.  Letters on his knuckles spelled something that you couldn't quite make out, and he had a luscious mop of maple syrup hair on his head that looked like it had once been gelled into place but lost the fight hours ago.  He raked a big hand through it slowly, pausing halfway through the movement, and tucked his chin to pin you with an anticipatory stare. 

The last person you every expected to see again was Steve Harrington.

He pushed his wayfarer sunglasses up to reveal hazel eyes that were just as sad as they were electric. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his top lip, he repeated himself.  “Pump 2?”

You gave a flustered wave of your hand.  “Yes, of course,” turning to pull a soft pack from the wall behind you.  “Matches?”

He shook his head, and then, “just a sec,” before sauntering over to the aisle on the other side of the potato chips.  

Tossing a back of Magnum condoms on the counter next to his smokes, he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and said a polite, “those too, please.” The wallet was as worn as his jeans and connected by a chain to one of his belt loops.  

The cash register made loud click-clack noises as you punched in the numbers and gave him the total.  You weren’t expecting to see the wad of bills that fanned, but then he handed you what you needed.

“You new here?” He asked as you passed him his change, rolling a piece of bright green gum from the inside of his cheek to start chewing it again.

You stumbled over the question.  “New to this store or Hawkeye?”

A smirk lifted up one side of his mouth.  “Both, I guess?”

He was well aware that you were new to the corner gas n’ sip because he’d been a regular customer for years, and he definitely would have remembered you. 

Definitely.

Yet, something about you felt very familiar. 

“I grew up here,” your delivery was dry.  

Steve tilted his head back to assess you down the bridge of his nose and frowned like he didn’t believe you.  You noticed that his hands were rough and stained with evidence that he did some vocation of hard labor for a living.   

You decided to humor him with a clue.  “I left Hawkeye right before my freshman year.  My hair was different back then, and my mom drove a big, white Buick LeSabre—-”

With an unblinking stare, he blurted your name, repeating it a few times in disbelief as the memory seized him. 

There you were, the one who’d haunted his middle school dreams.  The first notable crush he ever had, standing a few feet in front of him 

“Shitttt,” he continued, scooping his purchases up in one hand, huffing out a breath.  He searched your face, and you watched the light in his eyes intensify. “You were a year older than me, right?  I remember you were always so bossy on the playground.”

You sealed your lips over a chuckle.  “Well, someone had to keep you and Eddie from dismantling the playground equipment to sell to the salvage yard.”

Steve chomped down on his lip in a smile, his hip finding the edge of the counter, trying to get closer to you.  “Copper,” he corrected with a one-eyed squint.  “We wanted to dismantle the lampposts.  Copper wiring could earn a pretty penny back then.”

“You’re still good with your hands I see,” gesturing to his calloused digits, the moons of his cuticles stained from motor oil, knuckles slashed with white scarring.

He flexed his right hand into a fist and then opened it again, deliberate and slow, watching you as he did so.  “I do all right.”

He was leaning over the counter at that point, elbow resting next to the cash register,  hip jutting out behind him, holding his mouth as if he were about to say something—-

“...and then, do you know what Ned said to me? Nothing, that’s what. Three days and I barely get two words out of him.  Before you go, there are two crates that need to be put away in the back—-”

56 year old Donna, your boss, approached the front desk from the back room, buzzing with conversation.  She stopped short when she saw Steve there, and tucked some silver, permed hair behind her ear.  

“Oh, hey Steven,” she greeted.  

“Donna,” he gave a twitch of a smile, standing to full height again, slipping his wallet into his back pocket.  “I was just catching up with an old friend.”

Donna had on bright pink lipstick and heart-shaped, baby blue clip-on earrings.  “You know Steve?”

“You could say that,” you stared at him as you said it.  “I’ve tried to put it behind me.“

Steve ran his tongue over the ridge of his teeth at that, and you could see that the left incisor was gold.  

Donna crowded in behind you, trying to get to the styrofoam container with her food inside that was on a stool just below the rack of caffeine pills.  It was leftover burger and fries from the diner across the street and the smell had been making your mouth water.  

“How’s Eddie?” Donna asked, and it was obvious she was talking to Steve. “Haven’t seen him drop by here in a while.”

Steve pulled his sunglasses out of his nest of hair and slid them back down to his nose before giving you one final look.  You backed up against the cigarette display to watch him go.

“He’s been busy,” Steve gnawed his gum, addressing your boss.  “Business at the garage has picked up since the only other mechanic in town split.  I work there part time when I’m not—” he swallowed back whatever he was initially about to say.  “---when I’m not doing other things.”

Donna shoved the corner of her sesame seed bun burger in her mouth, chewed it and kept talking.  “I saw Robin yesterday.  Her and Ratchet back together?”

In the past few days of your employment, you were learning that Donna was a pillar of gossip in the community, and she wasn’t afraid to ask the tough questions.  

Steve scratched the stubble on his chin, possibly contemplating how much he should share.  “I think they have an understanding,” he chimed diplomatically, stealing another glance in your direction. 

“Say hi to Wayne for me,” Donna added as Steve pushed his way out the mostly glass door.  He waved over his shoulder in response, nodding that he would.  

You shimmied further along behind the counter, pretending to organize the pens, so that you could follow where Steve was going, see what he was driving.  

To your surprise, he pumped gas into a hulking, coal black motorcycle with ape-hanger handlebars and blue ghost flames on the tank.  You were staring with your mouth slightly agape when Donna’s voice broke your concentration.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, cheek of food again.  “That boy is adorable, but he’s bad news.”

“Why?” The question was out of your mouth before you were cognitively aware of it.   

She thumbed ketchup from the corner of her mouth.  “You ever heard of the Coffin Kings?” 

Your gaze flicked to the side, catching Steve as he kicked a leg over to straddle the bike.  “I don’t think—it doesn’t ring a bell.”

You were lying; of course you’d heard of the Coffin Kings.  How could you forget the horde of long-haired bikers who cruised through town when you were a kid, a few of them stopping by to pick Eddie and Steve up from school on occasion.  Eddie’s uncle Wayne was one of the original members, and most of the teachers kept their manners around the boys for that reason alone.  Sure, Steve got detention for carving his initials into one of the school desks, but little did you know that it was only because he knew you would be in there too.  

Steve revved the bike to life until it was growling, idling in place with his back to you while he strapped his bare bones helmet on.  

“How do you know him?” Donna asked, not afraid to be pushy. 

“Well, I—” you thought about the specifics of that question.  “I don’t know him at all anymore, really.  We were just kids. It’s been a long time.”

“You want my advice?” Donna wiped her mouth with a tissue from a nearby Kleenex box.  

You didn’t, but you knew you couldn’t stop her from giving it to you.

“If you’re looking for a bad boy type, his friend Eddie is a much better catch.  Runs his own business, works hard, stays out of trouble.  Steve? Well, let’s say Stevie is just—-”

You turned to her as Steve hit the main road and shot into the distance.  “He’s what?”

You waited while she rolled her lips together, wetting them thoughtfully, turning her gaze to the ceiling.

“He’s a nice kid, but he’s trouble,” she sighed.  “He’s not the type you’d want to get serious with, if you know what I mean.”

Coincidentally, you did know what that meant.  You were a bit of a connoisseur when it came to trouble; not only could you sniff it out, but it flocked to you like seagulls on a parking lot french fry.  

But what Donna didn’t know was that you were no angel.

You scoffed at her suggestion.  “I’m not looking for a relationship any time soon.  I plan to stay single for a while.”

Donna dumped the rest of her dinner in the trash under the cash register.  “In that case, you and Steve have more in common than I thought.”

—-----

Steve had the rest of the evening off, he should’ve gone straight home to have a beer in his boxers in front of the TV and try to pass out early. He’d been slinging wrenches at Munson’s Garage that day, a double shift to help Eddie out, and his hand was throbbing so hard he had to take it off the throttle and shake it out. 

But also, who was he kidding?  He hadn’t slept more than a few hours that whole week. He needed a distraction, he needed people, he needed to forget his gut-wrenching loneliness for a while.  

He revved the throttle, shooting himself faster along the empty highway, passing nothing but flat alfalfa fields and the odd farmhouse every mile or so.  The low, desert hills rolled like sleeping giants on the horizon as dusk descended.

The Blue Light Tavern was housed in a brick building built in the 40’s, located between the truck stop and the Rosebud Motel, about a mile or so from the center of town.  The only way anyone passing by would even know it was a tavern was due to the neon Pabst and Jameson signs in the two tiny front windows.  There were already two motorcycles out front when Steve pulled up, and he found a spot at the end.  

The bartender that night was Angie, and she greeted him by name when he strolled in.  He asked for a beer, picked some songs on the jukebox, and started a game of pool with a fellow MC member, cigarettes bobbing from their lips as they played.  

That's when you walked in. 

He took a drink from his pint glass, pausing it there, watching you scan the room before making your way quietly to one of the stools at the far end of the bar, on the corner, closest to the door, as if you might have to make a run for it.  You were in the same clothes you’d had on at the gas n’ sip, but now you wore a zip-up black hoodie, hugging it around your ribs as if you were cold.  

The guy Steve was playing pool with was known as Big Jim around Hawkeye. Head of hair slicked back with generous sideburns down to his jaw, and a white scar making a thin indentation from the corner of his mouth to his ear.  He wore a long sleeve red and black flannel under his Coffin Kings kutte with the name Hopper patched on one side.     

Hopper said something to Steve and he appeared to ignore him, but finally blinked a few times.  “What did you say?”

Hopper held his pool cue across his lap as he sat on one of the tall swivel chairs against the wall, long legs braced wide.  “It’s your move, Romeo,” he drawled, plucking his smoke from the ashtray to take a drag. .

Steve suddenly got very confused, frowning when he turned to his friend.  How could Hop know he was interested in you? 

Hop gestured to the green felt under the Budweiser chandelier with his chin, exhaling, framing his lips to make an “O” with the smoke.  “Your turn, pipsqueak.”

“Right,” Steve huffed, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall.  

—--------

You waited outside, staring up at the Pabst neon that was missing the “b”, trying to work up the nerve to go in.  The Blue Light Tavern had been around so long, you remembered it from the rare occasions when your dad met up with his buddies, back when it was called The Hideaway.  Before the accident, back when you were a kid and considered Hawkeye your home.  

You were officially a resident once more, but you weren’t sure if you’d feel at home anywhere ever.  You weren’t sure if you’d ever feel safe again.  You weren’t sure you’d ever feel again.

When you finally opened the door, smoke billowed out, and the low-lit, grimey ambiance felt like a familiar friend.  You weren’t in the mood to drink, necessarily, you just didn’t want to sit at your apartment alone.  There weren’t many public places open in Hawkeye after 9, so you’d just been walking around aimlessly for the past hour.  Your tiny rental above the Gas n’ Sip was empty but for a mattress, two kitchen chairs, and five or six boxes you still needed to unpack. It all felt too dismal and overwhelming to tackle after your first full day at your new job.  

“What’ll it be darlin’?” The brunette bartender asked, using a white rag to wipe down the bar in front of you.  There was ice melting in a tumbler, a few used toothpicks, and a sticky ring on the woodgrain.  She scooped it all out of the way and then stared at you with a hand on her ample hips.

You were flustered and said the first thing that came to mind.  “Can you make a gin and tonic?”

“I think I can handle that,” she winked, moving out of the way to grab a glass.  You could hear the billiard balls clacking together over the music of Bringin' on the Heartache by Def Leppard , but there was a jukebox and a length of partition in the way, so you couldn’t see who was at the table. Including you, there were only a handful of customers that night; one surly man with a long gray beard at the bar, a couple at a table looking up at the mounted Zenith TV on the wall playing a muted episode of the Twilight Zone, and another two were throwing darts at a well worn target.  

Angie placed a white cocktail napkin before setting your drink down.  “Someone bought you this,” she had tiny veins of red around the cracks of her bare lips, as if she’d been wearing lipstick earlier.

“Someone?” Disbelief came first, and then it made you paranoid.  The last thing you wanted was to get hit on by—-

“It was him,” Angie gestured down the end of the bar to where Steve caught your eye and bucked his chin at you.  

The universe really did have a sense of humor.

—-----

A few minutes later, once he finished his game and let Hopper win just to move things along, he sauntered over to put his booted foot up on the bottom rung of the stool next to you. His white tee had a V-neck, exposing a tuft of chest hair.  “Are you following me?”

You swished your drink with a red stir stick, and then sucked it clean.  “I won’t let this freebie go to my head, Harrington.  I bet you buy drinks for all the new women in town.”

He gripped a fresh cigarette between pursed lips and lit the end, looking up at you from under his furrowed, James Dean brow.  “Yeah, but you’re not new.”

“Shhh it’s a secret,” you snipped two fingers in the air like a pair of scissors and he grinned at that, offering his pack of reds for you to take one. One of his ears was pierced, and a small silver hoop curved there.  

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t,” you answered flatly, leaning over so that he could light the end for you with his plastic blue Bic, inhaling so that your cheeks hollowed.  

“You want to read my palm again?”

“Again?” You exhaled smoke to the side.

Steve straddled the stool and got comfortable with his elbows on the bar.  “You read my palm once when we were kids,” he straightened his arm, locking his elbow, so that his palm was open in front of you.  “I think you said my love life would be troubled, but I’d live a long life.  And then you made some crack about how I’d let the right one get away.”

You huffed a laugh and chomped onto your bottom lip to keep from smiling too big, staring at his strong fingers as they wiggled in front of you, veins popping strong in his forearm. 

“I can’t believe you remember that.” Tilting your head to the side, you took another sip of your drink, cringing a little at the strength of the alcohol; it was a glass of gin with a splash of tonic.  But maybe Angie’s heavy hand was a blessing that night.  

The gold in his tooth flashed like lightning in a storm. “I remember everything,” his voice was soft and deep, and you had to look away before he turned you into a brainless, lovesick zombie from his vampiric-strength powers of persuasion. 

Clearing your throat, you squirmed a bit under the weight of his stare.  “My palmistry days are behind me. I’m out of practice.”

He slid his hand back, but slowly, hoping you might want to touch it or grab it or—-

“But I am curious—”

Fingers flexed flat again as an invitation.

“---what does it say on your knuckles?”

“Oh these?” He made two fists and twisted them to read it himself as if he wasn’t sure, and then put both palms flat and slid them back in your direction, fingers splayed.  

Murmuring aloud as you spelled it out, you realized that the right knuckles spelled LOVE and the left ones said PAIN in thick, capital lettering.  

“My turn,” he pulled back his shoulders, taking another drag, squinting, before resting his cigarette butt back in the ashtray.

“Your turn for what?”

“Questions. What is that key around your neck for?”

You slapped a hand over the metal piece dangling from a chain, not realizing it had escaped the confines of your shirt collar, fingering it thoughtfully as you thought about what type of story you should make up.  

You could tell him the truth, but you weren’t sure you were emotionally equipped to answer any further questions.  You made a fist around the key and started massaging it with your thumb, when another hulking biker with a thick mustache cupped a meaty hand onto Steve’s shoulder.

“Bones just paged, we gotta meet them at the junkyard,” the big man shifted his kind, blue eyes to you, blinking with a nod of his head to acknowledge your presence, and offer his silent apologies all at once.  

Steve stood without argument, clearly duty bound, but his attention remained on you. He motioned Hopper ahead, and then he idled there, internally stumbling over his words.

“Any chance you’ll be here again tomorrow night?” He flicked the spark on his lighter a few times as he spoke out of nervous habit.

You tucked the metal key into your shirt.  “I work the late shift at the gas station tomorrow.” 

His mood seemed to lift slightly at knowing where you would be.  

“Taz,” Hopper hummed from the door where he braced it open with his broad back, offering a blast of fresh air to the nicotine saturated walls. Taz was Steve’s nickname in the club, but that was just one more thing you had yet to learn about him. He adjusted the collar of his leather jacket, gave your bicep a tender squeeze as he went by, and leaned down to whisper, “it’s good to see you,” at the shell of your ear, giving you goosebumps.  

Once he was gone, the tavern suddenly felt emptier, the sound of George Thorogood singing about drinking alone pounding much louder as you stared down at the glass in your hand.  

You finished your drink and then you made the trek back home, hugging yourself against the crisp night breeze, wondering how you would occupy your time for the next couple hours before you found sleep.

—------

The roar of their two engines cut through the dry June night like a knife, affording no illumination but their headlights and the moon.  Steve had replaced his leather jacket with his own MC leather that said TAZ on the front from one of his saddlebags, bare flesh of his arms exposed to show the scattering of tattoos there as he gripped the handlebars.  Both riders wore clear safety glasses to protect their eyes from the wind and the kamikazee bugs.  

Snipes Junkyard loomed menacingly in the expanse of desert, shrouded in cobalt night.  Heaps of twisted metal wreckage, smashed cars all piled on top of each other, and a high fence made of corrugated metal with curls of razor wire along the top ridge.  

There was a group of bikes parked out front when they arrived and two of the Coffin Kings Prospects, Riot and Krebs, guarded the gate to the place.  

Both new arrivals put their helmets on the end of their handlebars and tucked their safety glasses into their front pocket as they approached.

“What are we walking into?” Hopper asked, and Riot was already shaking his head in answer.

“The underground tunnels were breached,” he said, tucking a strand of curly black hair behind his ear.  “Crater isn’t happy.”

Crater was a Hawkeye native who got his nickname because of the chicken pock scars that covered his cheeks and jaw. He was also President of one of the other MC’s in town called the Skull Crushers.

When tensions were high among the gangs, there was always a good chance someone would pull a gun or start punching, so Steve and Hopper shared a weary look, bracing themselves before entering.

—------

Just as you were about to step up onto your block, you caught sight of someone coming out of the mini mart that you lived above.  A side door led up a flight of narrow stairs, and the top room was all yours; it was the size of a tin can, but it was shelter and you were grateful.  

Through the soft glow of the front window, you saw Donna’s husband Ned behind the counter with his half-moon reading spectacles on and a novel open in front of him.  Which reminded  you to make sure you brought some material to entertain you on your shift the next night.  

Somewhere not too far off in the distance, a group of coyotes yipped their excited whines.

The person who’d just come out paused on the sidewalk to light a smoke, and you sank around the corner of the building to watch the guy in the jeans, leather, and thick boots stroll over to put some gas in the tank of his Harley. Bulkier than the one Steve rode, this one was glossy obsidian with chrome pipes and a sissy bar in back, as if he usually had a rider with him.  His hair was unruly, long and dark, and once you caught a glimpse of his profile from the dim beam above the pumps, you knew right away that it was Eddie Munson.  

You thought about getting his attention to say hello, but then realized that your social battery was tapped for the day.  The cigarette dangled from his mouth when he took off, and you waited until he was down the street before darting to the stairs of your apartment.

—-----

A few hours later, Steve’s left hand with the PAIN held a black payphone receiver to his ear while the other hand rolled the numbers on the rotary dial.  His knuckles were freshly spit and bleeding, since one of the Skull Crushers had come at him during a misunderstanding at the meet earlier, and he was forced to lay the guy out.  He felt wired, like rest had somehow become his enemy, something he ran from as it tracked him ruthlessly.  

A woman who went by the name Lorelei picked up on the second ring.  

“It’s me,” he coughed and tasted that familiar copper tang. “It’s Steve.  Are you busy?”

It was almost 4 in the morning, but Steve had been a regular customer for a few months and, also, she didn’t mind his company.  He wasn’t like her other customers; he didn’t want the typical things from her.  

His hand haphazardly bandaged with a red handkerchief; he hugged it to his chest when he knocked at the door of room 8 at the Rosebud Motel.  When it opened, Lorelei stood there with a silk, periwinkle kimono wrapped snug around her curves, and motioned him in. There were two lamps on in the room, both of their shades draped with floral scarves, and a candle burned on the nightstand, smelling of essential oils, bergamot and lavender.   She didn’t live at the Rosebud, but she did stay a few nights in a row there when she was working.  

Steve's relationship history thus far had been a blur of endless disconnect, a series of hit and runs that left his heart empty and his eyes vacant.  It was easy for a guy in a motorcycle club to get laid; their parties were always crawling with eager pussy.  But after a certain age, that wasn’t what he craved anymore. He often worried that the parental dynamic he’d witnessed growing up, or lack thereof, had fucked him up to the point that he would never be able to have a normal relationship with a girl he liked.  

A while ago he’d given up on love, figured that he was broken. But he still had urges, and making them transactional helped him to disengage further.  

“What are you in the mood for?” Lorelei hooked a finger into his belt loop and pulled him closer, searching his face.  “Same as last time, hmm?”

Steve lowered his head, internal exhaustion making him dizzy.  He held her arm, thumbing the delicate material of her robe.  “Not tonight,” he swallowed thickly.  “Just the stuff that…comes after.”

Nodding that she understood, she cupped his chin so he would look at her. “Will three hours be enough?” One look at him told her what he needed was 24 at the least, but three was all she had to give.

Over the years, Steve had come to realize that his insomnia was somehow cured when he could sleep next to someone.  To roll over and have them there, to hold them.  Alone, his mind raced, and nightmares plagued the inside of his eyelids. With Lorelei, they mostly slept side by side, and the weight and familiarity of her was somehow enough to calm his nervous system down to a reasonable level.

“Come,” she sat him on the edge of the bed and knelt to unlace his boots.  He wrestled to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, ready to pluck some bills out, but she put her hand up to stop him.

“After, okay? I trust you,” she whispered, tugging off the first boot by the heel, rubbing the ball of his foot a little before moving to the next shoe.  

Steve’s head bobbed on his neck, and then he rolled it back to center, eyes heavy.   

He always refused to undress fully, and Lorelei suspected it had something to do with how vulnerable it made him feel, but she never asked questions.  He scooted up to find the pillow with his head, and by the time she crawled in next to him and put her hand on his thigh, he was out.  

-------

Thank you to my darling readers who love biker Steve!

[mamaestapa]

fluffy christmas morning with yoshi opening presents and watching movies ???

A Christmas Story|| Andrei Iosivas x reader

•pairing: Andrei Iosvias x reader

•summary: Spending a sweet Christmas morning with Yoshi

•warnings: none, just fluff

“Alright pretty girl,” Andrei said as he plopped down on the couch beside you, smiling as he looked at the matching pajama bottoms you wore, “you ready for your gifts?”

“Of course I am,” you said happily as you beamed at your fiancée, “are you?”

“Always.”

He leaned in and pecked your puckered lips, your nose scrunching up when he pulled away from you and smiled sweetly. Christmas morning with Andrei was always so special. You’ve been together for four years now, each year spending Christmas or Christmas Eve with each other’s families. However this year was different. You and Andrei got engaged in June, bought your own place in Cincinnati just a few miles from Paycor stadium in September, and now you were spending your first Christmas by yourselves in your own home.

The two of you were so excited to get to spend the holidays by yourselves this year now that you’re engaged.

You and Andrei took turns opening your presents from eachother, both of you being extremely grateful for all of the thought that was put into every gift. You had gotten Andrei a new pair of bose headphones, a chain with the number 80 on it, and his favorite cologne. Andrei got you a custom Bengals denim jacket that said “Mrs. Iosivas” on the back, a new kate spade hand bag, a black pair of Jimmy Choo pumps, and your favorite perfume.

After opening each gift, the two of you took turns taking pictures of the other holding up their gifts.

When Andrei opened the jewelry box that held his diamond 80 chain you swore you’ve never seen him smile that big before. He held up the necklace and grinned widely as you took a picture of him.

“Baby,” he gasped, looking at you with a smile, “I love this!” You chuckled softly at your fiancee. You loved how Andrei’s face lit up like he was a kid again each year on Christmas.

Andrei leaned in and gave you a sweet kiss. You hummed contently as he pulled away. “I can’t wait to wear this on game days. Thank you baby.”

“Of course,” you smiled, “I’m glad you love it.”

After opening your gifts and thanking each other many times, you cleaned up the wrapping paper as Andrei took the breakfast casserole you had prepared the night before, out of the oven. He scooped two large spoonfuls onto the plates in front of him, one for him and one for you. Andrei topped off your coffee cups before bringing the plates of breakfast back out to the living room.

“For you,” he said softly as he handed you one of the plates. You thanked Andrei sweetly as he sat down next you. “This looks delicious.”

You took a bite of the casserole, letting out a soft moan as the mixture of egg, bacon, potatoes, and cheese hit your tastebuds. “It’s very good babe,” you praised Andrei, who just chuckled as you continued, “who knew you could play football and cook.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit,” he poked your thigh with the back of his fork, “you helped me too.”

The two of you laughed as you went back to enjoying each other’s company and the delicious breakfast. As you ate your food and sipped on your coffee, Andrei turned on your favorite movie that played all day Christmas day—A Christmas Story. After finishing your breakfast you cuddled into Andrei’s side and laughed along with him as the two of you watched the classic Christmas movie.

Andrei stroked your arm softly as he placed a gentle kiss to your temple, “Merry Christmas beautiful.” You hummed softly as you snuggled further into your fiancé’s touch, “Merry Christmas Yoshi, I love you.”

“I love you more Mrs. Yoshi.” He teased, making you grin widely. He was such a tease, and you loved it. You brought your hand up to his chest, letting it rest there as you spent the rest of the morning on the couch watching your favorite Christmas movies.

Your first Christmas morning with Andrei in your new home was definitely a success.



hi loves!

my first ever blurb about yoshi! i hope you all liked it. i thought it was a cute idea🤍 i’m sorry i wasn’t able to get this out yesterday (or earlier today), i just got so busy on vacation lol.

i hope you all had a wonderful christmas. as always, thank you for reading and supporting me and my work! i love you all🫂🤍

[bkaulitzz]

𝐖𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 .01

more like this on my wattpad @/b_kaulitzz

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info/cw: fem x dom!bill, CHEATING, choking and chocking, p in v, oral, dubcon…, mask kink in a way, you are dressed up as SIDNEY PRESCOTT

synopsis: you get a little hot and bothered from hearing some drama about tom

pt 2 at bottom!! if u cant see it, refresh

more under cut :)

I pulled my dark-wash, denim jacket over the purple shirt I had, feeling every thread count as it slipped over my forearms. My feet stood on the cold wooded floor of my room. I stared into the vertical mirror that leaned against the wall, fixing my natural hair. I flinched, watching a figure step behind me, slithering his arms around my waist as he stared into the mirror with his Ghost Face mask. "Tom! God. You fucking scared me, " I looked up over my shoulder at him, getting a low chuckle in response. "Take it off."

"Slow down...we didn't even party yet, " Tom muffled, reaching up for the bottom of his mask with his gloved hand, and pulling it up over his head.

"Shut up, " I rolled my eyes and snickered, fixing my eyeliner as Tom watched. He placed his chin on my shoulder, admiring me as I fixed my eyeliner. "Tom..."

"Hm?" He tilted his head, his black cloak draped over his body. It was no different from his regular wear anyway.

"I don't know...I'm kinda disappointed in this year's costume, " I sighed, leaning back into him, and moving my arms over his arms.

"How come? I think you look good, " He smirked and planted kisses in the crook of my neck. I tilted my head, giving him more access. "I mean...you look good in everything anyways."

"Thanks...but I just felt like we didn't even try, " I frowned. He clasped his fingers with mine, resting his chin on my shoulder again.

"At least, you're not like Bill. He stole my whole costume and made his girlfriend dress as Tatum, " He groaned, caressing the sides of my thumbs with his. I looked back over at him again, kissing his cheekbone.

"I guess so...you're the better Ghost Face anyway, " I smirked and he turned his head toward me. He pecked my lips, grinning against them.

"Of course I am. I'm the original, " He hummed, pulling away, keeping one hand interlocked with mine. "We should go though, it's starting soon, " He pecked my forehead, pulling me in by my waist. "I'll go start the car, " He smirked, pulling the mask down over his face. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms.

"Alright...don't run into a wall, " I said. He nodded with a thumbs up, turning around to make it to the door. I turned back to the mirror, fixing the black skinny jeans I had on. I raised an eyebrow, hearing a thud followed by a groan. I looked back, snickering and Tom held his forehead.

"Who closed the fucking door?"

***

I scowled, looking down at the potato crumbs that I had just stepped on. The smell of beer filling my nose as 'Monster Mash' could be heard from the living room. The sound of faint ping pong balls could be heard from far, doinking against a surface. I clasped my fingers into Tom's as they rested on my waist, looking around. I pursed my lips, squinting my eyes as I looked through the crowds of people. Some were on their staircase, others were just scattered around. I sighed beginning to walk into the crowd.

"You see him, yet?" Tom muffled into my ear, a little loud to be heard over the music. The fabric of his mask tickled my neck. I hummed and made my way into the living room, my black boots stepping onto what used to be white carpet that was now a beige. I cringed at the feeling of sliding past people with small 'excuse me's.' I gasped, seeing a Ghost Face nearby.

"Did you hear that...and...caught herpes?!"

"Yea, they got leaked on insta too, " I heard faintly as I pushed pass people. I felt the music pound in my chest as I was closer to the speaker. Bill stood by a leather couch, his hands on his girlfriend's hip. His head turned towards us as we stepped closer. He snickered, turning to his side before lifting his mask over his head. Revealing his black and white dreads.

"Are you still mad at me?" He smirked as he looked at Tom. I gave Bill's girlfriend a small wave and smile, feeling Tom's hands leave my waist. He stood beside me, crossing his arms in a petty way. I rolled my eyes before turning my attention back to Bill.

"Fucking obviously, you stole my costume, " Tom gripped the bottom of his mask, pulling it over his head. Bill rolled his eyes, making duck lips as he tilted his head.

"I wear it better, " Bill shrugged, bringing his hands down to clasp them, resting them on his thighs.

"No, you don't. I obviously look better, I wore it first anyway, " Tom blew raspberries as they spoke loudly over the music. I took a seat on the armrest of the black leather couch, resting my head on the wall it leaned against.

"Just because you're first, doesn't mean anything. Like how you were born first, it doesn't mean you're better, " Bill blew raspberries back, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend's waist. He turned to her with a smile, lifting her chin with a hooked pointer finger. "I'm the better Ghost Face anyways, right babe?" He grinned. She nodded, looking away shyly. Tom rolled his eyes, turning to me.

"We don't sound like that, right?" He snickered. I shook my head with a chuckle, sliding off the sticky leather. He took my hand, looking around the living room. "There's beer pong in the kitchen, wanna come with me?" He asked before turning back to me.

"What?!" I came close, furrowing my brows. He sighed, coming close to my ear.

"There's! Beer POOOONG! In the kitchen. Do you wanna come with me?" He pulled his mask back over his face. I followed to where his eyes once were, turning back to him.

"Sure, " I snickered. He slapped my ass before taking my hand to lead me to the kitchen. I sighed in relief once my boots met the wooden floors again. The music growing fainter. Tom wrapped his arm around my waist, approaching the beer pong table.

"Can we join?" Tom asked the two dudes on the other side of the table.

"I'm not playing, I'll just watch, Tom, " I said. He gave me a nod, pulling away from my waist as he picked up the ping-pong balls. The sound of the balls dinking on the gray foldable table started again. The other guys kept hitting the solo cups, missing some shots. I sighed, watching Tom down his fourth cup, making me feel thirsty. "Hey, Tom?"

"Yea?" His focus stayed on the other side of the table.

"I'm gonna get drinks, I'll be back, " I tiptoed, speaking into his ear. He nodded, turning to me to peck my cheek with his damp lips from the beer.

"Be safe, " He turned back to the game. I grinned before walking away from the beer table. The kitchen was also as crowded as everywhere else in the house. Whoever owned the house, had money, and the kitchen was huge. I walked over to the counter and saw a cooler with ice resting on the granite surface. I waited for the two girls talking in front of it to move before reaching into the blue cooler. I grabbed a buzzball, cracking it open to take a sip.

"Tom's fucking ran through, " One of the girls spoke as they were by the sink now. I raised an eyebrow, standing close as I sipped the buzzball to seem unbothered.

"Right? And he has a girlfriend, she's so oblivious, " The second girl sighed.

"Exactly. Either way, if I was honest... I wish we could've fucked..." She looked away from her friend. The second girl gasped, widening her eyes.

"Me too, to be honest, " They snickered. I furrowed my brows as my back was facing toward them, continuing to down my buzzball slowly as I eavesdropped.

"How long do you think they'll last?"

"Probably not long, " She smirked.

"Tom's easy, you'll get a chance."

"Right?" They continued to chatter as they walked off. I clenched my jaw, finishing the buzzball.

"Assholes..." I turned around, beginning to follow behind. I froze, seeing a dark red in my peripheral vision. I turned my head to the sink, gasping as it was full of jungle juice. I grabbed a solo cup from a nearby stack, dropping the empty buzzball can to the floor. I grabbed the ladle, pouring two scoops into my cup. I cringed, putting my lips to the rim of the cup, and taking a sip. I smacked my lips, furrowing my brows. I downed it, still being thirsty. I threw the empty cup into the trashbag hung on the cabinet knob, turning toward the beer-pong area. I squinted my eyes, not being able to see Tom, starting to walk back to the living room again. The music filled my chest as I looked around, blinking my eyes as it was a bit blurry. I raised my eyebrows, seeing a Ghost Face. I shoved past people, immediately throwing my arms around his neck. It felt like forever to get there but I managed. I tilted my head as it was a higher reach than normal. "Tom, fuck. Can you believe what I heard in the kitchen?? Some girls were ranting about you, " I frowned, feeling my face heat up as tears welled up. He raised his hand to my cheek, swiping off tears with his thumb.

"Y/n-"

"Then, they just...they talked about wanting to..." I gulped, starting to hear myself in my ears. "Fuck...what was in that jungle juice...anyways. They were talking about how badly they wanted to fuck you. God, they pissed me off. Isn't that unbelievable?" I tilted my head. He nodded in response. "Fuck. Tom...I just..." I bit my lip, coming closer to close the gap between us. I slid my left hand down to his chest, rubbing it up and down before grabbing the bottom of his mask.

"Wait-"

"Please, Tom...I can't wait any longer. They make me so...mad, " I growled before lifting the mask just a bit to expose his lips. I narrowed my eyes at the beauty mark under his lip, pushing it off for being tipsy as I held his face. "Please, " I whispered against his lips. He moved his hands down to my waist causing me to smirk before I kissed his lips. The taste of whatever he drank before filled my lips which was pretty sweet. I furrowed my eyebrows as the cold metal that I was so used to, hadn't tickled me. I pulled away, gazing over his lips again.

"Don't stop, " He muttered through his breath. I widened my eyes with a smirk, coming close again to place my lips on his. This time, he harshly moved against my lips, I breathed heavily as I wrapped my arms around his neck. My face heats up, feeling his fingers tickle up to my throat, pressing his fingers down gently. I let out a small whine and he took the chance to slide his tongue in, pressing his against mine. My heart skipped a beat as shivers went down my spine, pushing myself more against him. He groaned into the kiss, moving my face up more by my jawline. I shuddered, my hands slowly moving through the fabric of his mask down to dangle over his shoulders. I pulled away after a while, my lips swollen as I caught my breath. He licked his top lip, grinning with his teeth as he swiped his thumb over my bottom lip. The music continued to boom in my chest as I looked over my shoulder toward the speaker. I turned back to Tom, tilting my head.

"I can't focus..." I licked my lips, wrapping my arms around his neck again. He smirked, reaching down for the back of my thighs. I jumped and he held me by my thighs, walking toward the stairs by the front door. They creaked as he nearly tripped over the people who sat on the stairs. I laid my head on his shoulder, the music growing fainter. He dropped me on my feet by a door in the dim hallway he made it to. He wrapped his fingers around my throat, lifting my face to smash his lips against mine again. I furrowed my brows, kissing back as my heart raced again, my knees growing weak. "Tom, " I whined against his lips. He shushed me as his other hand reached down to turn to doorknob by my hips, never breaking the kiss. I stumbled backward into the room and it was already lit as if it was waiting for us. I breathed heavily against the kiss as he closed the door behind him with his foot, placing his other hand on my waist.

"You taste so sweet, " He bit his lip after he spoke, looking down at me. I gulped as I stared up at him at what seemed to be his eyes through the mask. He swiped his thumb over my bottom lip causing me to part my lips. He slowly slid his thumb in and I wrapped my swollen lips around it, keeping eye contact. "Such a whore, " He muttered as he moved his thumb down. He moved his hands to the opening of my jacket, helping me pull it off. He threw it aside, reaching down for my shirt after. Once the bra clipped off, he slowly peeled it off of me, gazing over my chest. He gasped softly, pushing me toward the bed by my waist. I shivered at his cold fingertips, stumbling before the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. I fell back, allowing him to crawl on top of me. The smell of his cologne filled my nose as he dove down, keeping his eyes on me.

"New cologne, Tom?" I nibbled on my bottom lip, I preferred it much more than his other one.

"Yea...new cologne..." He grinned. I reached down to the bottom of his mask, trying to pull it off. He took hold of both of my wrists, holding them above my head.

"But, I wanna see you, " I frowned and he held both of my wrists in one hand as the other came down.

"Later...it'll be hotter with this on, " He trailed his fingernails down the side of my ribcage. I arched my back at the gentleness, reaching up into his touch. He bit his lip at the reaction, coming down to kiss around my nipple. His free hand came up to cup my other boob. I squirmed under him, feeling him lay his tongue flat against my nipple. He kissed around again, sucking at my flesh. He nipped, grazing his teeth around the areas. I let out a small cry and he slapped the side of my waist in response. "Patient, " He snarled. He kissed the dark purple marks he left behind before wrapping his lips around my nipple, swirling his tongue around it. My breath hitched as I looked down at him, feeling his hand slowly glide down to the start of my pants. He undid the button with one hand, slipping the black pants a bit by gripping the fabric on the side of my thighs. He slid his hand into my pants, grazing my nipple with his teeth. He pulled off with a pop, sitting up as he looked down at me. Effortlessly keeping me down while his other hand rubbed my clothed clit. I arched my back again, clenching my eyes as I trembled. "Does it feel good?" He asked and I slowly opened my eyes, being met with him staring down at me. I pursed my lips, nodding slowly with furrowed brows. He applied more pressure and I yelped in response as he harshly traced circles on my clit with his fingers. "Answer me."

"Yes, it does!" I stammered. He gave me an amused hum, feeling the wetness seep through my panties. He pulled out, placing the fingers to my lips. I parted them and obeyingly sucked on his fingers. He snickered at the sight, moving the hand around my wrists away. I sat up on my hands, my tongue sliding against his fingers as he pulled them out. He slid off the bed, reaching under the cloak to pull the matching black pants along with his boxers off. He threw them aside, coming over to the edge of the bed. He wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it as he pointed at the area on the bed in front of him.

"Here, " He demanded and I crawled over on my knees, leaning down to reach his cock. I kissed the bottom of his cock as his hands moved up, keeping eye contact. He moved his hand away, allowing me to replace his hand with mine. I laid my tongue flat against the bottom, coming up to his tip. My hand moved the opposite way as I licked the precum off his tip, wrapping my lips around it. I smirked as I pulled out, pumping the rest as I kissed his tip. He groaned, moving a hand to the back of my head. "Don't fucking tease me, sweets, " He rasped, pushing my head down to take him whole. I choked and his mouth hung low, watching tears well up in my eyes. I breathed heavily through my nose, looking up at him as his tip hit the back of my throat.

"Aww, why are you tearing up? You deserve it for trying to tease me, " He swiped off the tears that rolled down my cheek and I moved my hands up to the sides of his thighs, which were surrounded by the cheap, black cloak. He put his hands on either side of my head, beginning to thrust into my mouth. I hallowed my cheeks, continuing to tear up each time his tip hit my throat. He let out low moans, gripping a handful of my hair to pull. He bucked his hips faster causing me to gurgle around his cock. I pulled off after a few thrusts, and a trail of saliva followed as I choked for air. He cupped my jaw as I looked up at him, my vision even more blurry with the accompanied tears. "You okay?" He frowned. I nodded slowly, catching my breath as he leaned down to kiss my nose. He kissed down to my lips as I fluttered my tears away. He reached down, hooking his fingers at the start of my pants as he leaned into me. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me hungrily, pulling my pants off for me. He let them drop off the edge of the bed, hooking his nails into the lace of my panties. He tore it open, causing me to pull away from the kiss with a gasp.

"Tom!" I looked down at his hands which were intertwined with each threading of the panties. I furrowed my brows at his black-painted nails, looking back up at him. "When did you paint your nails?"

"The other day...you didn't see. I wanted to surprise you, " He dropped the ripped panties. He leaned into the crook of my neck, planting kisses as he held my waist. I leaned back towards the bed as he pushed me down, moving my right leg over his right shoulder. He aligned himself, pumping the leftover saliva as lubrication before moving his tip to my slit. I grit my teeth, reaching behind him, under his mask for what I thought would be braids but were replaced with the feeling of dreads. I narrowed my eyes before widening them as he slowly slid in. I threw my head back, tugging at his hair which earned a groan in response. I wrapped my other leg around his waist, letting out a high-pitched moan as he stretched me. He dug his nails into my flesh, leaning his head down with groans. He bottomed me out and I breathed heavily, looking back up at him as my fingers were tangled with his dreads. "You alright?" He breathed out, sliding his hands up and down my sides to comfort me. I nodded as I bit my lip.

He moved his hands to either side of my body onto the bed, slowly bucking his hips. My eyebrows knotted and my jaw hung open as hushed moans escaped my mouth. He bit his lip at the expression on my face, keeping his rhythm.

"So...good, " I panted and he moved a hand up to my throat, pressing his fingers on either side. He looked down at the sight of me taking him, causing him to jolt his hips faster. My breath hitched, throwing my head back. "Tom, " I cried out. He clenched his jaw, moving two fingers up to my mouth. I sucked on them as the rest of his fingers choked me. He leaned down to my ear, muttering.

"You don't wanna get caught, right?" He husked out. I nodded slowly with a small whine into his fingers. "Good girl..." He removed his fingers, continuing to choke me as he sat up straight, thrusting into me. He moved a hand down to my inner left thigh, opening my legs more. "You're taking me so well, " He purred, looking down at me as I whimpered through my teeth to stay quiet. He looked down again at my pussy, letting out a desperate, filthy noise. He pulled out before flipping me onto my knees. He bent me over slightly, grabbing hold of my wrists to hold me up as he aligned himself. My whines were cut off, feeling him slam back into me. I shuddered, as he started to slowly move up into me again, hearing a plastic material hit the wood floor. I tried to turn back, only to be made to face front again by him gripping my lower jaw. He crossed my arms on my lower back with the other hand, pounding up into me. I threw my head back into his chest, letting out cries of pleasure as the sound of our skin slapping filled the room. His strained moans danced into my ear as he kept his uneven place. My moans were broken as I became lightheaded from the pleasure, clenching around his cock.

"Close, " I whined, feeling his nails dig into my arms.

"Hold it for me, " He lifted my face to look up at the ceiling, leaning into my neck. He planted kisses as he thrusted up, and his moans were hoarse against my skin. "You feel so good, " He panted. His thrusts grew more sloppy as I continued to throb around him. He pulled away from my neck, moving the hand around my neck down to my swollen clit. "Come for me, " He rubbed circles around my clit and I threw my head back, rolling my eyes back. I twitched, letting out a sharp moan before releasing all over his cock. He pulled out, letting go of my arms which allowed me to fall on my back. I repeatedly panted as he pumped himself to reach his high. He shuddered as he came, the mattress shifting as he got off.

"Fuck...I think that was...the best ever that we've done...Tom, " I slurred as I breathed heavily, my head resting on the pillow.

"That's because I'm not Tom, " His voice was clearer. I raised an eyebrow, lazily looking over to my right. I widened my eyes, seeing the mascara that ran down his face from sweat. His hair was disheveled, as sweat ran down his forehead.

"Bill! What the fuck! What if Tom finds out?!" I sat up, sitting back on my hands.

"He doesn't need to know, " He stepped over with a finger on his lips as he stared into my eyes. I pursed my lips, shooting my head to the door as I heard a knock.

"Y/n??" A deeper voice behind the door called, knocking.

"You're so fucking dead, " I mouthed aggressively. Bill smirked, tilting his head.

"Don't lie, you enjoyed it, " He muttered and I looked away shyly, feeling my face heat up.

"Are you in there?" The voice behind the door continued. "Whoever's in there, if you don't respond, I'll fucking break the door down."

"He's gonna kill you, " I whispered.

"Call me for a next time, " He winked, hurriedly sliding on his costume as the knocks became more aggressive, running into the closet. The door cracked open and I looked over with widened eyes.

© bkaulitzz; dont steal :((

pt. 2 HERE

[carelessflower]

consul alec designer pull

for @malectober prompt suits

let's take a detour to the highly influential, currently a fashion icon of the shadoworld. a pioneer and the inspiration behind consulcore, alec lightwood-bane did quiet luxury like no other

Being surprised when kissed by his warlock ex-boyfriend in Hermès Kelly Belt Bag Epsom Black ($2,750)

Dancing at Malcolm Fade's party in Rome in 1920S Savile Row Antique Morning Coat Tuxedo Tails UK TW Castle Military Tailor ($175) and Saint Laurent Silk Long Sleeve Button-Up Top ($210)

Driving his favorite Maserati with then-boyfriend Magnus Bane and nemesis Shiyun Jung, looking fabulous in Prada Brown Acetate Frame Gradient Tint Aviator Sunglasses ($655.20)

Brooding beautifully in this Polo Ralph Lauren Icon Wester Denim Shirt Light Blue ($130,52)

Another iconic vintage pull - Dior Homme SS06 red leather suspenders ($125)

For a simple scroll through the park with his partner, Alec picked this Moorer Darren UR Suede Hoodie Jacket in Orange ($4,675) number

Decked in full leather glam for City of Lost Souls photo shoot, in order: Spring Summer 1999 Gucci by Tom Ford Black Patent Leather Accent Crop Top ($1,295), Balmain Black Leather Biker Pants ($2,300), Chanel Vintage Black Leather CC Combat Boots ($2,495)

Celebrating a cozy birthday with his husband in a customed Sacai Hooded Sweatshirt With Reverse ($272)

Getting up to some mischief, wearing possibly Agent Provocateur Rozlyn White Bridal Ouvert Brief ($175)

Sipping cocktails on St Barths beach, looking so chic Versace 1990s Clear Rectangular Frame Sunglasses ($375)

Follow Instyle for more Shadoworld fashion updates and tell us what you'd like to see next!

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[yeehawbvby]

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 3

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: March walks the farmer home from the inn somewhat early, so she invites him in for some coffee c:

Author’s Note: Prefacing this chapter with: I have no idea if tech like TVs and stuff exist in FoM but let’s just pretend 😌

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

It was March who wound up forfeiting, after… all that. 

After sharing a grilled cheese, a loaded baked potato, and a large pint glass of water with December, and after enduring some quiet teasing from Ryis about showing her — in March’s own unfortunate words — some finger action, he set out with the farmer to walk her home.

Although the snow of winter was long gone, the rain had died down to a drizzle, and the spring perennials were beginning to blossom around town, there was still a harsh chill that night. The two were practically glued together, bumping elbows and hips as they used each other’s body heat to keep warm.

December noticed the way that, as she grew increasingly lucid thanks to the greasy food in her belly and crisp air on her face, her earlier pains began to come back. It reminded her that not only did she wake up feeling horrid, but she then spent the day pushing herself to her limits, and topped it off with what was basically poison. Real smart.

She knew it wouldn’t stop her from doing this all over again some other time, though. 

“Why didn’t you bring a jacket?” she asked, ending the comfortable silence in hopes to distract herself.

“Didn’t think I’d need it.”

December inspected her torso, taking note of how baggy her own jacket was on her. Hm…

“Wanna share mine?”

March stopped walking and raised a brow. “In what world would we both fit into that thing?”

Halting in front of him, December explained, “It’s big on me, it might work.” She slipped it off and handed it to March. “Try it on.”

March frowned as he observed the goosebumps that prickled her arms before equipping the garment. To December’s dismay, he had this victory over her. 

She truly forgot how buff he was sometimes. The sight of him wearing her jacket and threatening to tear it at the seams was just as amusing as it was frazzling. “Oh.”

March tried to remove it, but stopped at the feeling of the black denim clinging to his biceps for dear life. He sighed, and almost looked pitiful as he went on, “I don’t know if I can get this off.”

December had to stifle a laugh. “It was worth a shot, I guess.”

Carefully, she tugged at the left sleeve while March twisted a little to his right, giving the jacket enough leeway to get his arm out. He then freed the other with much more ease and draped the jacket over his friend’s thick, white ponytail.

She tilted her head forward to let the fabric fall into her arms before swiftly putting it back on. As much as she enjoyed the cold, at times like this where she was a little tipsy, beyond sore, and very sleepy, all she wanted was to bundle up in a pile of blankets by the fire. Maybe she’d do just that when she arrived home.

The two of them fell silent again as they continued their journey, perfectly content with just listening to the flow of the river and their soles against the pavement. Once they reached the dirt path, they began taking turns kicking a rock along with them; and after they lost sight of it in the grass, March tentatively wrapped an arm around December’s shoulders. 

Her heart raced as she looked up at the blacksmith, curious if he’d say anything about it. He got defensive as soon as he felt her stare on him. 

“You shiver too much,” he claimed.

She hadn’t been shivering at all. But upon seeing the faint blush on his cheeks and smelling the residual sweetness of their drinks on his breath, she decided to let him have this one, smiling and allowing herself to cozy up to his side. It was a little hard to walk this way, but neither of them paid mind to it.

A few more minutes passed before they approached the door. It was only nine, so December figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, “Wanna hang out a little longer?”

March’s first impulse was to question her, “And do what?” He mentally slapped himself in the face for how abrasive it came out. 

The farmer, unaffected, shrugged. “I can make coffee, or something.” Shifting on her feet and looking down at them, she added, “Maybe we could watch a movie… or something? Play games? I dunno.”

She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about this, considering the night they had — and after spending the entire day together, no less. Maybe she was worried she’d come off as clingy or annoying. Maybe she feared that he would get the wrong impression, assuming what most people would if a girl had invited them inside after an evening of drinking together.

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to,” December backtracked. “I just thought I’d— oh.”

She cut herself off as March opted to keep his mouth shut, nudging her aside with a smirk that flustered her and opening the door before she could.

Cool.

March had been to the farm, but never for leisure. He’d stopped by once to drop off December’s jacket after she’d left it in the smithy, and a few times to drop off mail, but this was his first time entering the home’s interior. He didn’t know what to expect, and was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with the smell of her woodsy, citrusy air freshener.

Aside from the bathroom and coat closet to his immediate left, the house was entirely open-concept, each “room“ sectioned off with furniture. Her small, L-shaped kitchen resided along the far left corner of the room, with two bookshelves filled with books and trophies serving as a right-hand wall for it. After following December’s lead to remove his shoes by the entrance, he made his way further in, and noticed a makeshift breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen.

Her unmade queen-sized bed was in the corner to the right of the door, with a dresser and shelving covered in plants separating it from the living area. In that space was a large, grey brick fireplace that matched the accent wall it rested against. Her tv was backed with frosty blue LEDs and mounted to the right wall, with an entertainment station below it homing a gaming console, video games, and DVDs. Finally, against the bookcases was a loveseat, with an end table between its arm and the wall.

Beside the console table and her dresser was a small pet bed, by the breakfast nook were some tiny bowls, and next to the couch and nearest bookcase sat a cat tree; and while March noticed these things, and as if on cue, he was greeted by a short-haired tuxedo cat — with thumbs! — rubbing itself against his leg.

He was ecstatic.

Feeling a little self-conscious while March took in the sights around him, December noted, “It feels like you’re judging me.” 

As he crouched down to pet Goose, he answered with surprising earnestness, “Not at all. It’s really nice in here, actually.”

“Oh! Thanks,” December smiled after tossing her jacket onto the bed. Pulling a pair of sweatpants out of her drawers, she told him, “Um, I’m gonna go change real quick.” Walking to the bathroom, she added, “Get comfy. O-or don’t.” She paused for a moment, then breathed, “Whatever.”

She closed the door behind her and once again wondered why she was so antsy. She’d had plenty of people over since moving to Mistria, and she’d been to plenty of people’s houses. Hell, she’d been in March’s home just as much as Celine’s. And sure, the bulk of it doubled as a shop and showroom, but if he ever invited her into his kitchen or his bedroom, she probably wouldn’t think twice about it. 

So why did this feel like a big deal? 

Oooh, how scary, a hot man is hanging out with her! At night! In her house! All alone!

Like, what?

While December splashed her face with cold water and worried that she was being creepy or weird, March wasn’t even considering it. He could tell she was nervous, and he didn’t know why she was, but he found it cute; it was rare he got to be on the other side, usually being the one who turns into a stuttering mess under certain varieties of social pressure.

The blacksmith, while giving Goose some chin scratches, read the tag next to his collar’s bell. He huffed a laugh out through his nose at the idea of December naming one animal after another. Was it just Goose, or did she do this for all of them? Did she have a cow named Dog? A goose named Cat? Did she even name her livestock?

When he made a move to sit on the couch, Goose followed him, climbing into his lap the moment he sat down. March was glad December wasn’t like Hayden, keeping an ”outdoor” animal in her home. He was even happier that Goose wasn’t nearly as bossy as Henrietta. The sheer audacity of that chicken never ceased to haunt him… 

Coming out of the bathroom with comfier pants and a new sense of determination to simply ignore her racing mind and heart palpitations, December made her way into the kitchen. 

“Alright,” she offered, opening a cabinet, “I’ve got tea, hot cocoa, coffee..?”

“I’m pretty torn between coffee and hot chocolate, to be honest.”

“How about a mocha then?”

March peeked at her over the shorter book shelf. Glaring and raising a brow, he asked, “Can I trust you to make a good one?”

December stared at him deadpan for a moment before getting started, ignoring the question with a stubborn “Hm.”

As March watched his host work, he began imagining what it would be like to experience this regularly. To come here and share warm drinks, and maybe even stay over, after hanging out at the inn. To wake up with December, to help her out in the fields, to pour her a coffee or make her breakfast while she got ready for the day.

That scared him. He blamed his thoughts on the minuscule bits of alcohol left in his system and turned back around. “Mind if I start a fire?” he asked, wanting a distraction.

“Go ahead,” December nodded — even if he couldn’t see her — while pulling some milk from the fridge. “I was gonna anyway.”

Shortly after that, as the smell of coffee and smoke began wafting through the house, March began to feel almost unreasonably cozy. He let himself sink into the couch, and eventually lay down, hugging the cat to his belly.

December was surprised to see that he’d dozed off when she made her way over to him. In her eyes, he was basically a big, grumpy cat. Letting his guard down enough to fall asleep had to have been a sign of trust, or at least comfort, in her. 

It was an honor, really. 

She couldn’t help the grin that crept up on her lips while she observed him for a moment. She’d never seen him so calm. Of course, when he was drunk she had the privilege of his softened features, and smile lines rather than deep creases along his brow. But to see him sober and so at peace was strange — in a good way, of course. It was nice.

It didn’t stop her from being a menace, though.

She had half a mind to wake him up gently, but opted to just knock his knee with hers instead. “Hey.” Another nudge. “Hey, sleepyhead.” 

March barely even registered that he conked out as his eyes blinked open, his eyebrows shooting up. ”Oh.” He leaned up on his hands slowly until Goose jumped down from his perch atop him, leaving the two of them alone while he relocated to December’s bed. “Shit.”

“Good thing you have this,” December said, handing him his mocha once he sat up fully.

He scooted over to make room for her, claiming the spot by the end table while December sat next to the cat tree, her knees to her chest and her matching beverage in her grasp around them. 

Before the two of them knew it, they were lost in conversation. Playful bickering about December’s brewing skills after March’s first sip (which he refused to admit was delicious) turned into reminiscing on their childhoods. March foolishly drank his first coffee black at age nine and spat it out instinctively, dirtying his pants and the tablecloth in front of him; meanwhile, December hadn’t tried it until she was 17 only because her parents said it would stunt her growth, just to wind up being 5’2” (and three-quarters, she emphasized) anyway.

That led into her telling him more about her snowboarding days: for example, how she was only semi-pro, so she wasn’t very well-known, but she was still able to make a living off it. March learned that December sucks at skiing, she can’t skateboard, and she busted her face the first time she rode a bike without help and refused to get back on one ever since. It’s a miracle she was even semi-pro, March thought, given how clumsy she is.

He voiced that opinion. December flipped him the bird.

She then learned that March broke his first bone by dropping a hammer on his foot and breaking a toe during one of his first ever smithing lessons. His second break was only a month later by hammering his index finger. His parents were reluctant to keep teaching him the craft, but Olric convinced them otherwise.

Discussion about minor injuries and fractures segwayed into December telling March about her accident and its resulting impact on her body. She hadn’t even told Celine the specifics yet. It was something she inexplicably never felt comfortable to share. But something about the night growing older, and the way March was listening so intently, and how he was growing so much more earnest with each new word he uttered, had her feeling safe enough to give him those little bits and pieces that she often kept to herself.

For March, December putting all this trust in him despite how cruel he’d once been was more than enough for him to offer some knowledge of his own inner workings in return. To tell her secrets only he and sometimes his brother knew. 

To feel comfortable rather than cagey as they grew physically closer, too; their shoulders touching after they’d abandoned their empty cups on the end table, and their bodies slumping against each other’s before completely melting together, as their arms overlapped and their thumbs brushed; as March rested his cheek atop December’s head while hers squished against his shoulder, her left dimple disappearing into his skin for safe keeping with each smile and laugh.

As they both slowly realized that, this entire time, they’d simply talked. They paid no mind to the means of entertainment around them because they had settled onto a narrow path of banter, confessions and stories — sans the distraction offered by the forge, or the courage granted by booze — that neither of them were willing to stray from.

[iqueenlost]

Part 1/5 (probably) of my andreil fake dating au

@givemethedamnflowers @bikevindayy @mai-feri @neilimfinejosten @runpinocchio @youweremyversaillesatnight @paradoxolotl @paysomeonetopaysomeone @asteria-astraeus

----------

It was all Nicky’s fault. 

Well, technically it was Andrew’s stupidity’s fault, but he was going to ignore it and blame Nicky anyway. They were at Nicky’s for Thanksgiving when the pest popped up the question he would ask every family gathering. 

“So, Andrew…” he paused dramatically, because why wouldn’t he. “Are you still single?

And that had been it. Andrew was tired, he was working on a case that took a lot from him. A thirteen-year-old boy who had been raped by his stepbrother since he was seven and it was hitting way too close to home that it had given Andrew nightmares. He hadn’t had a good night of sleep for almost three weeks now. So he could be excused when his sleep-deprived ass had blurted out. “Neil’s my boyfriend.”

His heart came to an abrupt stop the moment the words left his mouth. He felt his mask of indifference begin to crack as he looked across the table to where Neil was looking at him, a spoonful of mashed potatoes halfway to his open mouth.

Andrew was thoroughly fucked. Of all the names he could have used to get Nicky off his back he had to have said Neil’s name. As if Nick hadn’t known Neil for years, as if he hadn’t known Neil for years. Besides he had a crush on Neil since they met in his senior year of high school.  

Neil carefully placed his spoon on his plate, a mischievous grin forming on his lips, his ice-blue eyes glistening dangerously. Again: Andrew was fucked.

“I didn’t think we were going to tell everyone yet.” He said slowly, all fake innocence.

The table exploded with noise that Andrew could barely register, all his attention focused on Neil and his smirk and his stupid good looks. Today he was dressed a bit better than usual, in a brown cashmere sweater and olive green denim jacket, probably a courtesy of Reynolds. The colors blended well with his auburn hair and made him look like the personification of autumn. Most of the freckles on his face were gone with the absence of the hotter summer sun, but Andrew could remember each one of them perfectly. Noticing and remembering each and every little detail about Neil was enough to make Andrew forget where he was and what was happening around him. 

Today though his mind was occupied with other things. Why did Neil join in on the lie? Was he only being his chaotic self? He knew Neil was prone to saying anything that came to his mind simply to stir shit up, but usually, Andrew knew exactly what he was thinking, or he could make a pretty accurate guess.

“Pay up, bitch!” Aaron’s voice sounded from Andrew’s left. Andrew snapped his head in his direction with a scowl as he took in the scene. Aaron had his hand up in Nicky’s direction, a smug expression settled on his face. Nicky sighed, taking his wallet from his pocket to supposedly pay Aaron.

“Don’t forget my share,” Eric said when Nicky went to put his wallet away. “I told you this was the year.”

“You betted on us?” Andrew asked. That Nicky and Aaron made bets about him wasn't a surprise, but even Eric? 

“Of course they did,” Neil said. “And I bet Matt and Dan did as well, it's going to be fun telling them.” he laughed.

“We are not telling them.” 

“You told Nicky, I think it's only fair I tell people too.”

It was official, Andrew was going insane. He should have stayed in bed instead of coming to Thanksgiving, he didn't even have something to be thankful for this year, and his life was going downhill. They were not a real couple and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what Neil was playing at here. And to be honest, whatever it was he was not going to join in. He made a mistake, slipped up a little, but he was going to set things straight and not get tangled up in a lie. Especially not a lie that involved Neil and his messed-up idea of fun. 

“We’re not.” Andrew crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He opened his mouth to tell everyone the truth when Neil caught him by surprise again. “Let’s not have this discussion now, babe.” He pursed his lips in Andrew's direction and went back to his mashed potatoes. The nickname rolling out of his mouth like this wasn't the first time he ever called Andrew that. Like this wasn't a monumental moment in the history of Andrew. Like this wasn't going to come up again as soon as Andrew laid his head on the pillow that night and keep him awake for hours.

Nicky snickered and leaned over Eric to whisper something at him. Aaron paled to a green color, a disgusted expression beginning to form on his face. “Never ever call me that from now on.” He said to Katlyn.

She smiled at him, slapping his shoulder lightly. “I'm happy for you, Andrew.” She said, leaning forward to look at Andrew from her seat on the other side of Aaron’s chair. All Andrew could do was nod at her and go back to his food.

There was a time when he couldn't even look at Katlyn. That was when he thought she wouldn't be good for Aaron and when she showed him she was, he then began to be afraid she would take Aaron away from him and instead of a strained relationship, they would have nothing at all. But she didn't take Aaron away on the contrary actually, seeing her relationship with her sisters made Aaron reevaluate his relationship with Andrew. They became closer and after they began to have joint therapy sessions they now had something that resembled what the relationship between brothers should be. Andrew had reached the point where he could admit she was alright most days and even great some days.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Nicky jumped away from Eric and pointed a finger between Andrew and Neil. “We're not ignoring this GREAT revelation and going back to lunch. I need dets, gimme the dets. I need to be fed after watching you two pinning for almost ten years. I earned the right to every juice detail of this relationship. I swear you two got together just when I changed my choice on the bet. I lost fifty bucks.”

“You’ve earned nothing and I'm giving you nothing.” 

“Oh, don't be shy Andrew. Tell them exactly what goes down between us.” Neil chimed in, biting his lips suggestively while raising his eyebrows at Andrew.

Andrew felt his blood rush downwards with every image his fucked up brain conjured as a result of Neil's suggestive expression. Nope. Not the time to be thinking about that.

“Please don't, not at the table.” He vaguely heard Aaron say.

“Stop.” Katlyn scolded. “If Andrew and Neil feel comfortable sharing with us we should hear them as their family.”

“You, Katlyn, are too good for this world,” Neil stated. “And definitely too good for Aaron.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, thank you, I prefer your brother.” 

Aaron gagged at that and Andrew got the fuck away from them immediately, Nicky’s delighted cackle following him all the way to the front door. Before he could even open the door he heard the soft taps of Neil’s shoes on the hardwood floor. Usually, Neil walked like a ghost without any sound but when he clocked in on the fact that it freaked Andrew out not hearing someone approaching him from behind he always made sure to make his presence known before he reached Andrew. It was one of the things that made Neil different from everyone else. He just got Andrew without Andrew even needing to say anything.

“I’m sorry if it was too much.” He stopped beside Andrew, leaning his back against the wall and looking down at his feet. “I just wanted to get under Aaron’s skin, I didn't think how it would sound to you.”

Andrew gritted his teeth. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” At Andrew's snort, he continued. “I really don't know. I guess I just didn't want Nicky to catch up on the lie at first, but then I thought it would be funny. You know me, I don't have a sense of humor.”

That wasn't true, Neil could be really funny. Or maybe his sense of humor was just the right amount of acid and sarcastic that his remarks made Andrew want to laugh, even though he didn’t most of the time.

“You’re really not as funny as you think you are.”

“I don't think I am.”

“Exactly.”

The corners of Neil's lips pushed up in a small smile. “We’re okay, right?”

“We were never not okay Neil.”

“Good.” he smiled softly. “Does that mean we still can tell Dan and Matt about the change in our relationship status? And Alison? We have to tell Alison, it’ll be gold.”

“Why would we tell them?” Andrew asked, running his right hand over his face. He was too tired for this, he didn't want to use his brain to solve Neil, even though most of the time it was his favorite thing to do.

“First, funny.” Neil put one finger up. “Second, it really would get Alison off my back about not dating anyone ever.”

“You could just tell her you’re ace and don't want to date. Or tell her to fuck off, whatever works best.” Andrew suggested.

“I know, but I don't want to have this conversation with her, or anyone else really.”

“Because you love to make your life more difficult. And mine, you're really into that.”

“Come on, Andrew. What’s the worst that could happen? We go on a few dates, lie to a couple of friends. I bet we're going to laugh about it in a few years.”

Andrew was sure as hell he would not, but for some reason telling no to Neil was very hard. “Okay.”

“You’re the best, babe.” He said with what looked like an attempt at a flirty smile.

“I’m going to stab you.” Andrew hissed.

“No, you’ll not.” He laughed brightly. “You’re too well adjusted now.”

Andrew almost gasped, and he probably would if he hadn't perfected his bored resting face to a T. “Take that back.”

“Nope.” beamed Neil, he straightened his body and got past Andrew to open the door. “Do you want to get out of here? We can go home and watch some crappy detective show?” He tossed over his shoulder.

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

Things I want to make clear:

— Aaron it's homophobic in this au, he just don't want to know about his brother's sex life, or anyone else's for the matter.

— Next part is in revision and it's from Neil's POV

— Little spoiler: Neil's a high school math teacher because I said so 😆

Check Part 2

[inlovewithalotoffandoms]

Crazy Love

Gil Rizzo x Reader

Fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies

Summary: You have been hiding a secret from your boyfriend Gil. When he finds out what it is, he's "pissed" that you didn't tell him.

A/N: I mention 'Big Momma's' (From the Disney movie 'Teen Beach') later in the fic, just think of this as an alternate universe or that the movie has already been made (Wet Side story, the movie within the 'Teen Beach' movie). Yeah, anyway, hope you enjoy the fic.

"Okay, what is it? What's wrong?" Gil asked as he leaned against your Locker. You rolled your eyes at him. "I'm fine, okay?!" You snapped. Gil's eyes widened as you snapped at him. "Baby, chill. It was just a question." You sighed. "Gil, I'm fine." "Y/N, come on. You know you can talk to me." Gil was trying everything to get you to talk. "Yo, Y/N you gotta see what David and I found." Your best friend Daniel said as he walked up to you. "Not now, Daniel. I'm busy." You answered back. Daniel just nodded in response and walked away. "Gil, can we just drop this? Please?" Gil stood there and sighed. "Y/N, come on. Talk to me. What's going on?" "Nothing, it's fine. We're fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine!" You stated as you walked away from him and left him there speechless.

As soon as the School Day ended, you went straight to Daniel. You leaned against his car and said, "So, what did you want to tell me before?" Daniel went to the bag in his car and started frantically looking for something, "This." He said as he showed you what it was. Your eyes widened in surprise. "No way!? At the-? With the-?" Daniel nodded his head as he said, "Yes." To all your statements. You squeal in excitement and joy as you hug your best friend. "And you have to tell Gil," Daniel added. You then gave him a look. "No, no, no, no, no, no! Gil, can not know that I can sing. Okay, Okay, Okay?!" You stated in a frantic tone, "Y/N, the more you don't tell him, the more pissed he'll be when he finds out," Daniel replied. "Fine, I'll tell him." You gave in and sighed. "Good, because if you don't, I will," Daniel said sternly.

Later, you were at Gil's place, helping him with homework. The two of you were in silence when you decided to say something. "Gil, I have to tell you something. You promise you won't laugh?" Gil looked up from his textbook, "Yeah, what's on your mind, babe?" "You know how every time you've asked what's going on and I've been snapping at you?" You sighed. "Yeah, what about it?" Gil asked as he cuddled up next to you on his bed. "I-I didn't know how to tell you, but, uhh, I can sing." You confessed as you looked down in embarrassment. "Y/N, why didn't you tell me?!" Gil exclaimed. It was meant to sound happy, but it came off as angry. "I'm sorry, Gil. I know you're upset, and I should've told you. I just... I didn't know how!" You said, tears welling up in your eyes. Gil took your chin gently in his hand and started wiping away the tears from your cheeks. Gil then sighed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer to him. "It's okay," he said softly. "It's okay, I'm not mad. I'm just really happy that you finally told me." He kissed your forehead.

Finally, the week was over and you started getting ready for the performance you were doing at 'Big Momma's'. Daniel was already there because he was the drummer for the band that plays there. So, Gil, Richie, Potato, Shy-Guy, Jane, Olivia, Nancy and Cynthia were picking you up and taking you there.

You checked your outfit in the mirror one last time. You wore a black leather jacket, a red plaid shirt, skinny jeans and boots. You wanted to look cool and edgy, but not too flashy. You grabbed your purse and headed downstairs, where your friends were waiting for you in Gil's car.

"Hey, you look awesome!" Jane complimented you as you got in.

"Thanks, so do you!" You smiled back at her. Jane was wearing a floral dress and a denim jacket, her brunette hair in a ponytail. She was your best friend since you and the rest of the girls became 'The Pink Ladies'. They always supported you in everything.

"Are you ready to rock the house?" Gil asked you from the driver's seat.

"I hope so!" You said nervously.

"Don't worry, you'll do great!" Richie said from the passenger seat. He was Olivia's brother. He was wearing a band t-shirt and his 'T-Bird' leather jacket. Gil then made Richie move to the back of the car so you could get in the front with him. Which happened rather quickly and smoothly.

"Yeah, we're all here to cheer you on!" Potato added from the back seat. He was also a member of the 'T-Birds', like Gil and Richie. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans and his 'T-Bird' jacket. His nickname came about because no one could pronounce his real name.

"You're gonna kill it, girl!" Shy-Guy said from behind you. He was wearing a sweater and his 'T-Bird' jacket, like the rest of the boys. He was shy around strangers, but very sweet and funny with his friends.

"Thanks, guys. You're the best." You said gratefully.

You looked out the window and saw the familiar neon sign of 'Big Momma's'. You felt a surge of adrenaline as Gil parked the car.

"Let's go!" Olivia said enthusiastically. She was wearing a leather skirt, a crop top and her 'Pink ladies' jacket.

"Come on, we don't want to miss the show!" Nancy said impatiently. She was wearing a jumpsuit, heels and her 'Pink ladies' jacket.

"Yeah, hurry up!" Cynthia said eagerly. She was wearing a T-shirt, boots and her 'Pink ladies' jacket.

You followed them out of the car and into the bar, where Daniel greeted you with a hug.

"Hey, you made it! I'm so proud of you!" He said warmly.

"Thanks, Daniel. You're so sweet." You said smiling

Daniel was your best friend since middle school. He was the drummer for 'Momma's Boys', the band that played regularly at 'Big Momma's'. He had also helped you practice for your performance.

He led you to the stage, where he introduced you to the other members of 'Momma's Boys': Mike, the lead singer; Dave, the lead guitarist; Sam, the rhythm guitarist; and Ben, the bassist. They all welcomed you and the girls warmly and wished you good luck.

You saw the boys sitting at a table near the stage, waving at you and cheering for you.

You took a deep breath and smiled.

"Hello, everyone! I'm Y/N, and I'm here to sing some songs for you tonight! With some help from my girls; Jane, Olivia, Nancy and Cythina." You said into the microphone.

The crowd clapped and cheered for you. "And this first song goes out to my Boyfriend, Gil!" You added as you pointed to where Gil was sitting with the guys so everyone could see and know, who is yours and only yours.

Gil smiled and waved at you, his eyes shining with love and pride. He knew how talented you were and how much you enjoyed music. He blew you a kiss and mouthed "I love you" as you started to sing.

((Just so you guys know, you don't fall off the Stage like Lela does in the movie))

After you finished the song, you and the girls walked off the stage..."AHHH!" You, Olivia, Jane, Nancy and Cynthia (believe it or not), squealed in happiness. "We did it!" You said. "No, you did it, Y/N." Jane smiled. Olivia, Nancy and Cynthia nodded their heads in agreement. You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks as you hugged your friends. "Thank you, guys. You're the best." You said. "No, thank you for being our lead singer. You have an amazing voice, Y/N." Cynthia said. "Yeah, you totally rocked the stage!" Nancy added. "The crowd loved you!" Olivia exclaimed. "And so did someone else..." Jane winked at you, pointing to a familiar figure waiting by the bar. You blushed. "Okay, I'mma go talk, Gil." "Go, go, go!" The girls forced you to go as they lightly pushed you next to him. You gave them a playful glare as they left you alone with your boyfriend.

You smiled nervously as you approached him. He turned around and his eyes widened when he saw you. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up, spinning you around. "You were amazing, babe!" He said, kissing your cheek. "You're the best singer I've ever heard!" You giggled as he put you down. "Thank you, Gil. You're the best boyfriend I've ever had." You said, looking into his eyes. He leaned in and kissed you softly, making you melt. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, feeling his tongue explore your mouth. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. "I love you, Y/N L/N." He whispered. "I love you too, Gil Rizzo." You whispered back. Gil smiled and took your hand, leading you to the dance floor. You followed him happily, feeling his warm body against yours. You danced with him, feeling his heartbeat in sync with yours. You felt like nothing could ruin this moment. You felt like you were on top of the world.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

Tijuana sunrise | kinktober 2024 | day xxxi.: “lunatic kibbutz”

pairing: lars ulrich x oc

prompt: olfactophilia (obsession with scents)

word count: 3333

song: “meet me in the shadows” by last american cowboys

happy halloween! 🎃

I was met with that familiar scent of cinnamon and anise near the displays at the very front of the market. I would always love that smell no matter how much I picked it up around Halloween time, and I would always want it to follow me even when I went into the back part of the store itself.

He had suggested to me to meet him at the next party near the governor’s mansion, one that took place at one of the many Victorian houses that dotted the neighborhood. I knew what the intention was with the house and that was to invoke the feeling of a haunted house. I knew for a fact that some of the houses around there were haunted, but no one ever wanted to admit to it, however.

I wanted to bring my baking skills to the party, too: show them all that I had the chops to bake for several people in costume. I wasn’t going to take it too far, however, as they were planning on having things like cupcakes, cookies, and all manner of treats and things available there. I decided to take things to a whole new level and bake a couple of pies for the party, one nice big apple and blueberry pie, and another pie filled with ground beef, potatoes, and some homemade gravy.

I was eager to make a hot water crust for the latter, and I could only hope that the partygoers would enjoy it as much as I did.

A bag full of Granny Smith apples, followed by some blueberries, a pound of ground beef, a sack of potatoes, and a few sprigs of rosemary and thyme, and I was on my way back out to the coziness of my car. And all the while, I caught the smell of the cinnamon and anise again.

I wanted that smell to stay with me. I kept it tucked in my memory as I returned home and began working on the two pie crusts. Though the one for the meat pie was a hot water crust, I still had to tuck it in the fridge to have it keep its shape. Once I put the crust for the apple pie into the fridge, I opened the door of my spice cupboard and took out the cinnamon and the ground star anise from hiding.

I unscrewed each cap just to smell their essence. I closed my eyes at the jar of anise under my nose, and I nodded my head at the aroma. I tucked the jar back into the cupboard, and I sighed through my nose. I was all the more eager to make those pies and take them to the party stacked upon each other like my building blocks to one hell of a Halloween.

************

On the night of the party, I had dressed as a witch, the black gown cropped down low to show off my breasts with a bodice that showed off the hourglass shape of my body. My lilac purple hair streamed down from the base of my pointed hat lined with a deep purple ribbon around the brim. I bowed out of the car with the point of the hat strong and high against the desert sky; I peered up to the cottonwood trees all around me, at their colorful leaves ready to fall against the faces of these hundred-year-old houses. I then picked up the pies, covered in protective tin foil and stacked up on top of each other, and I cradled them in one arm as I closed the door with my hip.

He stood there at the far corner of the porch with a long thin black object nestled in between his fingers. It wasn’t until I made my way up to the edge of the porch when I caught the smell of cloves wafting off his clothes. I could smell it even as the breeze took the wispy smoke from the end of the stick the other way.

I adjusted the brim of my witch hat with my free hand, to which he responded with a flash of his eyebrows at me. The little olive-shaped scar over his left eye seemed to shine against the late afternoon sun. He was there wrapped in a black leather jacket lined with zippers and a pair of fitted black denim pants: his white sneakers were gigantic in comparison to his long spindly legs, but they accentuated the shape of them. His long mousy brown hair was as filmy and wispy as the smoke drifting off the end of the clove cigarette.

He tucked the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and put on a pair of shiny Highway patrolman sunglasses over his face so I could see my own reflection as I walked on up to him. At that point, I put both of my arms under the base of the meat pie, which was the heavier of the two, as I walked on over to him.

“You look so badass,” I told him as I came within earshot.

“‘Tis the point, my dear,” he assured me with another puff from the back of the clove cigarette. “I’m a greaser ready to take you away on the back of my spider.” Thin wisps of smoke billowed out from his cherry lips, and I caught more of that rich spicy smell even as he let the smoke go away from me. “And you look absolutely ravishing tonight.” I moved the pies over to my left hand so he could better see the shape of my body.

“Little witch in a gown that was made for me,” I told him with a slight sway of my body at him: I was going to let him see my breasts, even if I still had clothes on. He let his sunglasses ride down the bridge of his button nose, and then he leaned in closer to me. The smell of the cloves surrounded me; there was also the smell of the leather from his jacket and the soapy quality of his cologne on the side of his neck.

Those cherry lips curled up into a sweet little smile. Those green eyes locked onto me, as fresh and lovely as wild spearmint.

“What kind of pies are those?” he asked me in a soft voice.

“Top one is apple and blueberry,” I replied. “Bottom one is like a beef pot pie.”

“Mmm… well. I should perhaps tell you that I have quite the appetite.”

“Really, I had no idea,” I teased him, to which he hooded his eyes and licked his lips at me. I could tell that he was smoking from purely clove cigarettes as the faint crackling sound from the stick itself and the woody aroma were the only things I could pick up right then. To kiss the taste of cloves. To dance in the proverbial fire that rested on the pad of his tongue.

He lowered his sunglasses some more, that time so I could see him looking down the low neckline of my gown. To tease him, I pressed my free hand to my hip, and my breasts tucked back behind the fabric of the gown itself.

“You smell so good,” he whispered into my ear, and he held his arm out behind him as if he was preparing to take one final hit of clove cigarette before putting it out on the stone underneath his feet.

“It’s what I get for being into baking,” I told him. He showed me his tongue, and then he turned away for that one last hit of the fiery spices. He let the cigarette butt fall to the gray stone beneath him, and then he put it out with the toe of his sneaker. I was about to ascend on up the steps to the porch when he emerged from behind me with one hand rested upon the crown of his head and his other hand on the crest of my shoulder.

I showed him a little smile from over my shoulder, and I smiled even more so he reached on past me to the brass handle of the front door. He stood there and held the door for me right as I caught the smell of cinnamon and cloves that time: cinnamon and cloves combined with caramel and some kind of stout but sweet liquor, the latter of which was already to the forefront of the haunted house. On the left side of the room stood a long low table covered with a white linen tablecloth decorated with what looked to be spiderwebs: all of the food stood on display there, to which I gladly took the chance and set down my pies still stacked on top of each other. I lifted the apple pie off the beef pot pie and placed it down on the tablecloth to my left.

He strolled on up behind me and took a pair of paper plates, one for himself and one for me. I showed him a smile as I took it, and the two of us beheld the long table full of goods before us. The two pies I had made. The red velvet cake. The devil’s food cake. The Halloween cookies covered in sprinkles and miniature bats and pumpkins. The buttermilk biscuits. The big plates of vegetables and fruits. We even had “poison” candied apples before us, with the sinister dark caramel glaze over them.

I volunteered to slice us a bit of my pies for the two of us. We both took full plates of food, but he was the fuller of the two of us as he took one of each from my pies as well as a slice of red velvet cake; I had my pot pie plus a slice of devil’s food cake and a candied apple. 

It was Halloween, after all, and for that, I needed to relax.

More people came in behind us, and he guided me away from the front room towards the dining room and the kitchen. The dining room gave us both the deepest shivers while the kitchen was crowded from the lack of counter space alone. He led me over to the stairwell right outside of the kitchen. I could hear the people in the next room. I could smell the hops of the beer already flooding in behind us.

But we were going to be safe and alone on the dimly lit second level. 

He brought me to the bedroom at the very top of the stairs. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and let me inside first. Indeed, there was a queen-sized four poster bed tucked against the wall on the left, complete with a pure white bedspread over the mattress. He took his spot on the edge of the mattress first, to which I followed suit after he had patted on the bedspread with one hand; the sole light came in through the filmy curtains over the window on the far right side of the room before us.

As he indulged in his food, I lifted my gaze to him every now and again.

Maybe it was the shadows that crossed his face. Maybe it was the way that his green eyes looked on back at me with the feeling that I had wandered off into a forest somewhere. When I closed my eyes, I thought about the time that I had gone to a Halloween party with a mask over my face.

And it wasn’t until I sensed him leaning in closer to me when I could smell something from under the smell of the clove cigarettes. Something sweet and sugary, and strong enough to break through the musk of the cloves. And I realized that it was the red velvet cake.

That was it. That was it, and I opened my eyes.

Why did you bring me here?” I asked him in a low voice.

“To keep you out of there,” he replied, and his cherry lips curled up into a smile. “A ghost like yourself needs to save your tits for someplace private like this, away from the hardcore brutality and the orgy of drugs out there.” He then flashed me a wink, and he tucked a bite of apple pie into his mouth.

“Gorgeous pie,” he remarked, and he showed me a playful little smile with his eyes hooded. I knew that fire within.

“It was either that or the zombies,” I told him in a low voice. I hesitated in telling him my name, because I knew that the mask proved to be a means of why he brought me there.

“You and me, we should have a moment alone together,” he suggested. “Some time away from the chaos out there.” He inched closer to me, such that I could smell the soft soapy cologne that lined the side of his neck as well as the smell of the red velvet cake and the clove cigarettes. “Mind, I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do. You are the one who is in control.”

It was then I remembered him. I knew where I had seen him before. 

He was missing the mask on his face. I leaned in closer to the side of his head.

“Lars,” I whispered into his ear, and he closed his eyes. I could smell the cloves and the smoke on his neck and shoulders. The cake and the apples on his breath. That soft soapy cologne.

He leaned in closer to me as if to kiss me, but he never did.

Instead, I could see his nostrils moving about as if to take in my essence as well.

“There she is,” he said. “Plucky Portia.”

He opened his eyes and reached up to the lock of hair next to my ear. He tucked it behind my ear, and then he nudged the brim of my hat back a little bit to show off the top of my forehead.

“Let me just…”

Lars took another bite of apple pie, and then he gave me a kiss on the lips for real. The big explosion of flavors on his lips was enough to send me backwards into a frenzy. The cinnamon, the apple, the butter, the cloves, the smoke and fire, and of course, the feeling of the red velvet. The red velvet that reminded me of my vampire’s kiss back at the first party.

That was it. This was my vampire’s kiss.

“Finish your plate, then we’ll have some fun together,” he whispered into my lips.

“The vampire’s kiss,” I said in a breathy voice, and I returned to my plate once again. I only had some veggies left as well as my meat pie, but each and every bite gave me a rush. I knew what was awaiting me at the end of the last carrot stick.

I finally set my plate down on the small narrow table right next to the bed, and he put his hand underneath my chest as if he was trying to catch me. His fingers caressed over the rounded shape of my breasts.

I responded by pushing myself against his body and the cornucopia of scents that emerged off from him. Lars fell back against the top of the bed with his legs wide open and the leather jacket spread out on either side of him like bat wings.

I lifted myself off his body and nudged the brim of my hat so he could see my face.

“Shall we?” he offered me.

“Shall we have a moment alone?” I asked him, and he lowered his eyes to my breasts, and he licked his lips. I thought about that velvet tongue making its way around my breasts, all around my nipples. It helped that the wall creaked when the edge of the bed pushed against it as well. He seemed to have picked up on that, too, because his palms caressed over the seat of my skirt.

“Okay. When I hold onto your ass, I want you to hold onto the wall and push up against it so everyone can hear us.”

He rested his hands on my ass, to which I reached up and pressed my hands against the wall. I spread my legs as if I was about to ride him Amazon style, but my skirt was in the way. Nevertheless, I ground up against him with the smell of cloves, sugar, and soap right up in my face.

I moved about slowly so he could have the feeling of my body bearing down upon him. My warmth down upon him. I wanted him to never forget me, even if we went our separate ways again.

My breasts were right in his face, to which he lifted his head and gasped for air.

“Let me do it doggy style with you,” he choked out. “But I dunno if I can with tits like those. And it’s going to be dry as fuck, too.”

“Just do it dry!” I insisted with a smile and a run of my fingers through his smooth hair.

“But I need some kind of lubricant,” he insisted. “Moreover, you need some kind of lubrication.”

I licked my lips and wondered as to where he was going with this. I kissed him on the forehead and climbed off of him. I made my way down to the floor with my ass up in the air all for him. The bed creaked a bit as he climbed off, but then there was silence.

He nudged the skirt over and off my ass so my skin was exposed to him.

Another whiff of cloves followed by sugar.

“Okay. Here goes nothing.”

I pinched my eyes shut as he stuck his erect dick up in my ass with nothing more than that thin layer of lube over him. All I could smell was that anise smell once again.

“Are you using star anise for your lube?” I stammered out. He never replied as he ground down deep and hard on me. The smell of anise and cloves riddled around me to the point it felt like a protective blanket.

“Let’s kick this up a notch or two,” he said. There was a brief pause, then I could feel something cold on the end of his otherwise hot, wet dick. I smelled something else in there. Something that balanced out the sugar and spice.

Iron. I had no idea as to how he had found some blood to use for the lube as well as the cinnamon and anise stuff, but I was already in too deep. 

And I was enjoying every second of it. And it smelled utterly wonderful.

In fact, the scents gave way to the smell of sex, of my own sweat and euphoria, of his own euphoria and pleasure. The scents lifted me up with the pounding of my heart and my own deepening breathing. I reached up to keep my hat on, but my elbow shook from the feeling. I nearly lost my balance as I could feel myself coming.

I was coming to the smell of cloves, red velvet cake, and leather.

And I could hear him coming as well.

My back arched and I let out a low groan from the feeling. Lars let go of my ass and leaned over my back. He put his arms around me and rested his hands on my breasts. His scent blanketed me. His heartbeat pounded in sync with mine.

I lowered myself down onto my elbows as my arms couldn’t hardly take the feeling anymore.

Lars exhaled on the back of my neck as well as the crest of my ear.

“Will I see you again?” I asked him in a broken voice.

“I certainly hope so,” he whispered into my ear. “You are not my first but you are not my last, min kærlighed.”

[idiopath-fic-smile]

having a quiet afternoon in; feeling like doing that "choose a WIP and i'll write a bit of it" meme that's been going around but I only have 2 WIPs so it's really just a binary choice:

"e/R 1970's" (sequel to this)

"the patron saint of all-night diners" (sideways spin-off of this feat. Julie the waitress and the Reagan-hating fry cook falling in love)

(i don't think you're supposed to give that much context to the WIPs but *sunglasses emoji* sometimes you gotta break the rules.)

snippets under the cut. both of them are set in restaurants in the American midwest, which i mention only because it might be distracting otherwise. throw me an ask about one or the other and i'll write three more sentences. i will do this until i get tired.

e/R 1970's

Grantaire frowns down at her menu. “Suppose I’ll have to get used to lentils eventually,” she says, “if it’s bound to become part of the lifestyle. Only, remember when all you had to do to be a lesbian was want to make love to women?”

“And live entirely submerged in fear and shame?” Enjolras replies, without heat. New York’s Stonewall Riot seven years earlier—and the bolder, more confrontational movement that followed it—have changed her. With a suitable outlet for her particular magnificent energy, she is more focused than ever in work, and a little calmer in repose.

“True,” Grantaire replies. “But I worry that any day now, we’ll be issued a box of cats.” She shakes her head theatrically. “You know I can barely keep houseplants alive.”

“Houseplants don’t meow until you remember to water them,” says Enjolras. “And I admit, I have a morbid curiosity for what you’d name a pet.” She raises her eyebrows.

“Skinny Bones, if we fed him the food of our people,” says Grantaire. “Did you see they sell vegetable ice cream?”

Enjolras shrugs serenely. “We’d give him meat,” she says. “Cats are carnivores. And as far as human food goes, the spinach and black olive enchiladas aren’t half bad.”

They’re sharing a table at Viv’s Vegetarian Spot, the best lesbian-owned cafe in all of Boystown and likely all of Chicago. “Best” being perhaps a little generous, in Grantaire’s meatloaf-and-potatoes-loving book.

“You know I admire your devotion to supporting our sisters-in-arms—our sisters-in-amour, let’s say,” Grantaire counters, “but in this one particular case, I’ll never grasp why you—”

Enjolras reaches over and squeezes her hand; their waitress has swooped in, the numerous political pins rattling on her denim jacket like chainmail. “WE HAVE BEEN TOO NICE TOO LONG” reads one. “OUT OF THE CLOSET, INTO THE STREETS” reads another.

“Hi there, I’m Sandy. Can I get you two anything?” she asks.

“I’ll have the enchiladas,” says Enjolras. She hasn’t moved her hand on top of Grantaire’s. And then she beams up at Sandy and adds, deliberately, “And my date will have…”

“The enchiladas also,” Grantaire fills in, swallowing hard as Sandy nods and retreats to fetch them waters like this is the most normal and natural thing in the world. “Alright,” Grantaire says. “I think I can grasp it now.”

the patron saint of all-night diners

The first thing to know about Al’s 24-Hour Eats is that it didn’t start as a haven for the queers and deviants of the greater Indianapolis area.

The second is that the transformation was no accident.

“Julie Williams,” says Lloyd, the night manager.

Julie nods, smiles blandly. She does not adjust her unfashionable brown turtleneck or her equally out-of-date khaki maxi skirt, both chosen with care at Goodwill in an effort to look as staid and buttoned-up and employable as possible.

Lloyd’s eyes scan down her resume. She presses her lips together. Given that he’d kept her waiting in the narrow, dingy outside his office twenty minutes into their scheduled 10 o’clock appointment, it feels like he could’ve at least already read a single sheet of paper. A bead of sweat slides down her spine.

There are six lies on her resume, and seven truths. The lies: previous places of employment, mostly, retroactively fitting her with a past where she has always been known as she. The provided contact numbers belong to sympathetic friends who have been told to answer the phone cautiously over the next couple of days. The truths: her name, first of all, truer now for years than whatever might be printed on her birth certificate. Her list of relevant skills; even in her previous life, she knew her way around a tray of plates, a table full of rowdy drunks.

Also this: Julie Williams is a people person.

This will be important later.

“You ever done this before?” Lloyd says suddenly.

Julie blinks. He’s still holding the paper in his hand. The paper which says that she has a combined fifteen years of experience working as a waitress in dining establishments across the Midwest. This is not strictly true, but that’s not the point.

“Yes, I have,” she says, in her most pleasant voice. “Most recently, six years at Sunrise.”

“Sunrise in…?” Lloyd trails off.

“Lafayette. Up way past Lebanon.”

“Were you any good at it?”

“Very,” says Julie without hesitation.

Lloyd lets out a long sigh. “That’s good, that’s good. Between you and me, we’ve been having a tough time filling the night shift lately. Nobody wants to work anymore. And this part of town going the way it’s been going, we’ve been getting a lot of weirdos applying.” He raises his eyebrows.

“I’m real sorry to hear that,” she says. A second bead of sweat is slipping down to join the first one, right at the start of her asscrack. Charming.

“Yeah.” He pulls himself to his feet and shakes his head. “This place is headed downhill fast. Has been since that seedy little rathole across the street opened.” He must be talking about Hey Sailor, the windowless establishment Julie passed on her way here. Mentally, Julie updates the little dot on her mental map from probably a gar bar to almost certainly a gay bar.

“I should warn you,” he adds, “the crowd gets a little wild at night. Our last waitress quit because she couldn’t hack it. Think you can stand up to the freaks and perverts?”

She can feel her smile go sharp-edged. “I don’t let anyone push me around, sir.”

Provided the patron saint of all-night diners comes through for her and she gets the job, Julie makes a solemn vow to herself just then, regarding said freaks and perverts.

This, too, will be important later.

[xxxevilfilms]

The Osaka Bowl | Chapter 6

Info: A dirty fic collection featuring Asuka getting acquainted with some of the Tekken studs and a few gals. Viewer discretion is advised, a lot of these get a little icky.

Summary: After the war between G-Corp and the Tekken Force destroys Tokyo, Hwoarang and Asuka find themselves in an unlikely partnership as they try to survive in war-torn Japan as thieving drifters.

Warnings: Breeding Kink, Implied Teen Pregnancy

Run With Me | Asuka Kazama x Hwoarang

Ao3 Link

Asuka's cheek is smooshed into Hwoarang's back, hair whipping in the wind as dirt and bugs hit the goggles he gave her. She frowns when a bot fly smashes into her left eyeshield and wipes it off on the back of his jacket out of reflex, denim already stained red and brown with blood and motor oil. From a distance, she sees a potential pit stop, a chance for food, and lightly beats her fist on his back to alert him.

“Yeah, yeah,” He responds. “I see it.”

Asuka smiles and remains patient, belly craving ponzu potato chips.

He drives off the freeway and turns into the direction of the pit stop. It's an abandoned gas station, bombed to hell, but still standing. Asuka thinks it stinks of old gasoline and burned shrapnel.

“What do you want?” Hwoarang parks along the curb.

“I want chips.” Asuka lifts the goggles on her face and sets it on her head. “Ponzu... Honey butter if they don't have ‘em.”

“You'll get what I can find, how ‘bout that?” He puts down his kickstand and hops off.

“No downstairs kisses then,” She sticks out her tongue. 

“Liar,” He pokes her nose. Asuka simpers at the touch. “Whatever you want, I'll be back.”

Asuka watches him leave, eyes following the swerve of his rear. She giggles before settling back onto his bike, gaze now focused on the clouds in the sky, floating like cotton along a great blue sea.

She recalls a time when she was no different than a cloud carried by the breeze, wind in her hair, going wherever life took her so long as it was somewhere. Such a life seems so long ago, so distant, and yet it’s barely been a year since she began living like this. She supposes she couldn't complain; she was alive at least, healthier than most people she's seen. She got away from Osaka with only a few scrapes, a broken arm, and a burn on her right shoulder; folks like her father weren't so lucky. He passed away the same night she escaped, orphaning her. She aimlessly wandered what remained of the city until Hwoarang showed up, looking for the man who started this war, but instead took pity on a little girl who bore his name.

Asuka sighs, belly suddenly hurting. If it weren't for him Hwoarang wouldn't have found her, but she can't help but feel resentful of him, whoever he is.

“I wish I was a cloud...”

Asuka watches her clouds and keeps an eye out for fellow drifters until Hwoarang walks out of the store. In his hands were Asuka’s snacks as well as some candies and lukewarm drinks. Asuka bounds off the motorcycle to retrieve her chips and whatever else Hwoarang had.

“Thank you~” Suddenly her belly didn’t hurt anymore.

“Of course,” He shoves what he doesn’t wanna carry in his bag before cracking open a can of beer. “You really love those things, huh? You've been eating them like crazy.”

“I just like ‘em, I guess.” She shrugs and tears the bag open, unwilling to elaborate. “Let’s sit down.”

Hwoarang pops a squat on the sidewalk as he sips at his beer. Asuka follows suit and sits between his legs, munching her chips like a starving child as she stares at the highway. As always, it's quiet save for the sound of a very distant air raid siren. Asuka thinks it’s a good thing; the last time they saw another human, she almost got robbed and things didn’t end too well for him when Hwoarang intervened.

“There should be a motel about twenty miles that way.” Hwoarang points to the right. A plume of smoke rises from the horizon. “We’ll bunker down there for a few days.”

“Are we still going to Okinawa?”

“For now.” He drinks again. “Not crawling with G-Corp goons.”

“Sucks that we can't go to Hokkaido anymore...”

“Fuckin’ Zaibatsu...” 

“Well, I guess it's no big deal...” She swallows a lump of chewed up potatoes. “I always wanted to work on my tan...”

“Look sexy with one,” He laughs. “Ever think about dyeing your hair, too?”

“Uhh... Kinda?” She twirls a chocolate-brown lock. “I always loved highlights more. I think blonde would look cute on me~”

“You’d make a cute beach bunny.”

“Heeentai...”

Hwoarang sniggers, causing Asuka to do the same. 

Hokkaido, their initial destination, was safe up until a week ago; when G-Corp troops seized control of it from the government. Rumour has it that Okinawa was safe, one of the last prefectures spared from martial law and Tekken Force control. The American naval base did a great job securing the area it seemed and have been shipping refugees to foreign countries for safety. Hwoarang had plans to get them to a ship that would take them to South Korea so they could stay with Hwoarang's former master.

“We should go,” He scoots away from her to stand up. “Before something happens.”

“Haaaai,” Asuka does the same and skips to the motorcycle. “Do you think your master will like me?”

“We share a type, he’ll like you fine.” He climbs one and waits for Asuka to cling on to him. “He loves big tits.”

“Dirty old man...” Asuka smirks as she grabs the decorated goggles resting on her head, finger smoothing over a Sanrio sticker. “C’mon, I'm getting tired.”

“Yes ma'am,”

Hwoarang starts the bike and drives off, making a beeline down the highway.

It's nearly nighttime when they check into the motel, a shabby, cheap little room that was just barely clean enough for their comfort. Too tired to complain, the couple shower and settle in for the night and try to relax, or at least Hwoarang does. He's lying in bed watching TV with a smoke in his mouth while Asuka stands naked in a dusty mirror, examining her figure. She smooths her hands down big breasts and wide hips as she glares at her stomach, an area of concern she's recently been agonizing over.

Hwoarang notices her behavior but doesn't complain.

“Man, you gotta big ass.” He blurts out.

Asuka scoffs. “It'd probably be smaller if I wasn't so fat...”

“The hell are you talking about?” He raises a brow. “Ya look fine to me.”

“I think I'm gaining weight...” She complains as she touches her stomach. “I dunno... Feels like my belly is getting bigger.”

“Not gonna stop me from fucking you.” He ashes his cigarette in an empty beer can. “You're getting curves, so what?”

“Fachan...” Asuka whines. “It's not about that...”

“Then what is it?”

Asuka has her concerns, knows that they're not putting in an effort to have safer sex. It was very easy to blame the junk food that she's been gorging on lately, but she knew better than to do that.

“I haven't had my period in a while...”

Hwoarang is quiet, but she can see him in the mirror, eyes dancing between his cigarette and her figure as he puts two and two together.

“So...” He sits up. “You knocked up?”

“I...I could be, I don't...” She turns to him, fiddles with her fingers. “Would you be mad?”

“I'm not mad. Just means we should get to Okinawa sooner than we thought.” He then looks at her. “You'd wanna keep it, yeah?”

“If I could.” She walks back to bed and sits on the foot of it. “Are you sure you're not mad?”

“Can't get mad at nature, baby,” He finally puts his tab out in the can. “I hate condoms, you can't get on a pill, was gonna happen eventually.”

Asuka is silent for a time, a sudden fear welling in her heart.

“When we reach South Korea... You’re not dumping me with your master, are you?” She asks. “To go find...him?”

She feels two big arms pull her into a crushing hug. Asuka grunts but accepts his touch gratefully.

“Don't be so fucking stupid.” He growls. “You're pregnant. Whatever beef I have with that asshole is second to you.” He holds her tighter. “I'm not abandoning you.”

Asuka closes her eyes and breathes in his scent, content with his answer. 

“Thank you...” She sighs.

“I'm not leaving you, doll,” He kisses her hair. “Only pussy in the world I can count on right now.”

“Even when I'm fat and pregnant, you wanna fuck me?”

“I'd rather you be fat than skinny. Skinny bitches got nothing to grab.” He places his hand on her swelling stomach and squeezes lightly. “Got a body like a coke bottle already, can't imagine how fat your tits and ass are gonna get with a baby in you.” He then touches the meat of her backside and smacks it playfully. Asuka shudders in response. “You're gonna be a sexy little mama.”

“F-Fachan,” Asuka giggles at his enthusiasm, suddenly feeling happier about their situation than she did before. “I didn't know you'd be that excited about it~”

“It's a pretty hot thought,” Hwoarang cups her breasts, holds them up against Asuka's chest to flick dusty nipples with his fingers. “Nice big fat milky tits,” He pinches them, pulls them taut to make her whine. “Gonna make it hurt real good when I suck on them.”

“Y-You’re into that, huh?”

“I guess I am,” He's bouncing her tits in his hands now, entranced by jiggling flesh and rippling skin. “Wouldn't have enough to feed the damn brat once I'm done with you.”

“Ah… I don't want you taking that much,” She plays into the fantasy, arching her back to get him to do more to her. “What am I gonna feed him when–!”

Hwoarang takes her to the bed, gives her a devious look when he climbs on top of her.

“Guess you're bottle feeding then because I ain't sharing, not when they're this fucking big,” Hwoarang holds her tits together, lips pulled into a tight smirk when he opens his mouth. “This fucking perfect.”

Asuka sucks in a breath, both tits suddenly taken into Hwoarang's mouth. He rolls his tongue up and over fading areola and stiff nipples as wandering hands knead and toy with her breasts. Hwoarang refuses to break eye contact with her, watching her eyelids flutter like butterfly wings as he pretends to take milk from her. He sucks about as hard as she imagines he would if she were actually pregnant, belly big and full with their child as he wrestles her into the bed, humping a rigid cock into her pussy as he drank his fill of her. Her breasts would be so sore and tender after he's done with her, littered with bright red teeth marks and hickeys that Hwoarang would love to kiss and lick at as he bounced her in his lap. It's so lurid and so, so dirty to think about but she can't help it and neither can he.

“Fuck...” Hwoarang spits out her breasts, tongue now swirling around a swollen nipple. “You taste so fuckin sweet, baby girl...”

“You're greedy, Fachan...” Asuka mewls, thrusting her hips against his chest. “You're gonna milk me dry~”

“Oh baby,” He kisses along the curve of her tit while his hand moves down, down to where she needs him the most. “That's never gonna happen if I'm around.”

“W-Why--” Asuka gasps, suddenly plunged by two fingers that aggressively pump her cunt. “Ah, Fachan, why’s that...?”

“Cuz this won't be the last one,” He meets her gaze as he scales her figure. “I'll keep fuckin’ you, fuckin’ this pretty pussy,” A twist and a drag over her g-spot gets her wincing. “Knocking you up, making you a mommy,” Another finger, they go deeper this time, as far as they can reach. “Watching this fat belly get fatter...” He wriggles them up and down, side to side, bringing strings of slick with him with each pump of his hand. “Until you can't give me any, when I'm good and fuckin’ ready to stop.”

“Hwoarang...” Asuka's eyes cross, pussy close to coming, but she doesn't want it, not yet. “Please, Hwoarang, fuck me, hurry...”

“Yeah? You want this dick?” He kneels between her legs, grinning like a devil as he holds a foot-long, uncut cock above her sex. It's rock hard and framed by shocks of dark wiry hair. “Want me to breed you again, baby doll? Give you another one?”

“Yes, yes,” She wraps her legs around his waist, licks her lips. “Fuck me, fuck another baby in me, daddy. I need it...”

“Oh yeah, I hear you, baby...” Hwoarang holds her hips still, teeth chewing into his lip as he angles himself. “I hear you loud and clear.”

Asuka nearly cries when Hwoarang pushes in, slides against her walls, filling her with a girth that measures his wrist. It's so big, so fucking thick; she should feel grateful that such a mighty, hefty thing bred her so well, made her fit to be a mommy.

“So tight, fucking hell...” Hwoarang is slow, yet thoughtful once he fucks her, savoring the hold she had on his shaft, balls tightly drawn as they bounce against her ass. “Got me so fuckin’ horny for you, Asu, holy fuck...” He narrows his eyes, slaps his hand on her hip like a slut. “Gonna make you cum on my cock, make this cunt squirt,” He focuses on her breasts again. Hanging low on her body, sagging ever so slightly from rapid endowment, Hwoarang makes them bounce and jiggle, ripple and wobble along a slender chest by fucking her faster than he did before. Asuka yips and holds onto Hwoarang's sides, crying and gibbering like their unborn child would do. He smacks her again and then lifts her thighs to use it like a toy, treating it like a means to an end. He's gonna knock her up again, and if she isn't knocked up, he'll just top her off, finish the job and fuck her every day with his stud cock until she's finally with child.

“Love how hot, how sweet this little pussy is...” His hips knock her pelvis, pinking her skin, ass smacked red from swollen balls. “Want me to come that bad? This slutty pussy can't get enough of it?”

“Please, daddy, please knock me up...” She cries, holds her bouncing tits to pinch her nipples. “Fuck me, make me a mommy, I want it so bad...!”

“Fuck yes, baby, lemme beat it up...” Hwoarang topples over, forces her legs against his shoulders so he can pound down into her hole, folding her in half. Asuka wheezes but doesn't complain, too out of her mind from sex and attention to talk back. “Lemme beat this little pussy up...” He sacrifices speed for power, skin spanking skin as he hammers the flat end of his cock into her womb one thrust at a time. He holds her tight and smothers her with his breath when he kisses her. It's enough to make Asuka come, come so hard that she soils Hwoarang in sweet hot cunt juice. He practically bathes his cock in it, shoving his face into her neck when the thrum in his loins get too much to take.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...!” He's so noisy when he's fucking her. Asuka loves it. “Take it baby, take it...!” She feels warmth, delicious warmth that blooms in her quim and ends at her womb. Asuka moans while Hwoarang pants, rocking his cock into her hole to wring out his balls. 

“Fachaaan... You gave me so much...” Asuka clutches his shoulders, kisses his chin and neck. “Such a manly, studly cock~”

“All for you, baby,” He huffs, wipes the sweat off his brow. “I'd do anything for you, I don't give a shit what it is.” He kisses her deeply then, thumb steadying her chin so he could cover her in love bites. “Fuck it, get pregnant, baby, make me a daddy...” A lingering peck filled with spit that he leaves on her lips makes her shiver. “Be such a cute, sexy little mama.”

Asuka revels in Hwoarang's words, delighted by his excitement, by his dedication to her. She can only pray that his master has room for three.

[bettyfrommars]

Itching for more biker!steve😆

you read my mind

I've been thinking about him so much, everything else is on temporary hold until I can get a first chapter out. It's going to be gritty and wild, and I can't wait.

Here is a little sneak peek to the beginning of our biker Steve story Ring of Fire (has not been edited, and I might switch some details around, but anyway, I'm happy you mentioned it anon)

18+ONLY

The bell on the door dinged to announce a customer, but you didn’t look up right away, you were too busy trying to figure out why your till was a few bucks short for the day.  Donovan would not be happy.  Heavy foot falls made it to the counter and then the person in question cleared his throat.

“Ten on pump 2 and a pack of reds,” the voice was deep and scratchy, like he was recovering from a sore throat.

You closed the cash register and glanced up for the first time.

The view made you inhale a sharp breath and hold it.  The man before you had on a thick motorcycle jacket zipped up halfway over a white tee atop blue jeans that were a dark denim wash, faded over time, with a tattered hole in one knee.  There were tattoos scattered over his flesh, peeking from his collar, and down his hands.  Letters on his knuckles spelled something, but you couldn’t quite make it out, and didn’t want to reveal that you cared.  He had a crazy mop of maplewood hair on his head that looked like it had once been gelled into place but lost the fight hours ago.  He raked a big hand through it slowly, pausing halfway through the movement, and tucked his chin to pin you with an anticipatory stare. 

The last person you ever expected to see again after all those years was Steve Harrington.

He pushed his wayfarer sunglasses up to reveal hazel eyes that were just as sad as they were electric. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his top lip, he coughed into his fist and repeated himself.  “Pump 2?”

You gave a flustered wave of your hand.  “Sorry, of course,” you turned to pull a soft pack from the wall behind you.  “Matches?”

He shook his head, and then, “just a sec,” before sauntering over to the aisle on the other side of the potato chips.  

Tossing a pack of Magnum condoms on the counter next to his smokes, he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and said a polite, “those too, please.” The wallet was as worn as his jeans and connected by a chain to one of his belt loops.  

The cash register made loud click-clack noises as you punched in the numbers and gave him the total.  You weren’t expecting to see the wad of bills that fanned, but then he handed you what you needed.

“You new here?” He asked as you passed him his change.  He rolled a piece of gum from the inside of his cheek to start chewing it again.

You stumbled over the question.  “New to this store or Hawkins?”

He shrugged, a smirk lifting up one side of his mouth.  “Both, I guess?”

He was well aware that you were new to the corner gas n’ sip because he’d been a regular customer for years, and he definitely would have remembered you. 

Definitely.

Yet, something about you felt very familiar. 

“I grew up here,” you admitted dryly.  

Steve tilted his head back to assess you down the bridge of his nose and frowned like he didn’t believe you.  

[madiomens]

Just Pretend [n.s.]

Chapter Sixteen

Warning: Spiciness

The party later on in the evening ended with all of us passed out in various parts of the living room area. We drunkenly figured out the sectional extended into a giant bed so Noah, Folio, Nicholas and I all passed out on it together. I woke up wrapped around Noah and Nicholas woke up being cuddled by Folio, sending everyone into a headache inducing laughing fit.

I gave all the guys and myself IV hydration before we headed to the venue to start setting everything up. The sound system in the venue was weird, so doing an initial soundcheck took much longer than expected. The rest of us were already done setting up the stage equipment, so I was now sitting criss cross on the stage beside Noah who was doing the same, listening to them try and get the sound perfect. Anytime Noah showed any sign of frustration I reached over to rub his arm or neck, which would cause him to take a deep breath and calm himself before sending me a gracious smile. They finally hit the sweet spot with the sound and the guys collapsed onto their backs on the stage, deep sighs of relief echoing around us. I laughed as Noah pulled me onto my back beside him, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. The clicking of Bryan's camera went off as he climbed the ladder left of the stage to take a birds eye view picture of all of us. I sighed and pushed myself to my feet, holding my hand out for Noah and chuckling as he let out a groan.

"Come on, you guys need a good dinner and rest for tomorrow." I said.

"Fine." He grumbled, giving me his hand so I could help him to his feet. I went around to all of the guys and did the same, earning similar grumbles from them too. "If you guys get moving I will cook for you." I said, causing them to perk up and quickly follow me off the stage.

I made everyone smothered chicken and roasted potatoes once we got back to the Airbnb, earning happy sighs and many thank you cheek kisses. Noah grabbed my face with both hands and smushed our lips together, causing me to laugh against his mouth. The guys let out a chorus of 'EWW' which caused me to pull away so I could fully laugh at them.

"Shut up and eat the food I made you." I said through my laugh.

"Yes ma'am." They all echoed, digging back into their food.

A couple hours later everyone retired to their rooms with full bellies and sleepy eyes. It took Noah all of five minutes to fall asleep, laid between my legs so his arms were wrapped around my torso and head rested on my chest. I sighed contentedly as I ran my fingers through his hair, his usual short locks grown out some so it curled up at the base of his neck. He was cutting it off tomorrow so I reveled in the fact I could still wrap strands around my finger. I dozed off with my hand on his head and warmth radiating onto me from him.

The next day, we made a big breakfast and Noah had cannoli's delivered, insisting that we had to eat them since we were in Italy. We made our way to the venue shortly after eating and I made my way to the back to start getting ready while the guys did the final soundcheck before VIP. Since we did a perfect soundcheck yesterday it wouldn't take long. I settled on a black turtleneck tucked into a black denim skirt, black pantyhose, tall combat boots, and a long two tone jacket to go over everything. It was fucking freezing, even inside the venue, so I decided to let myself stay warm this time. I did a smoky wing eyeliner with a nude lip and put waves in my hair, fluffing them in the mirror before zipping up my bag and walking into the backstage area.

Everyone except Noah was walking back from soundcheck and paused when their eyes landed on me, whistles coming from everyone.

"Damn Maddie, you look fucking good." Folio said, knocking his shoulder into mine. I laughed and pushed his arm, causing him to stumble to the side. "Ohh, you wanna play like that?" He said, bending over with his hands out as if to prepare to tackle me.

"No, don't you dare." I said, shielding my sides from being tickled.

He launched at me and I screamed, turning to run away. He stopped me by putting me in a headlock and sending the other guys into a laughing fit. I went deadweight so I could drop to the floor, catching him off guard and dropping me. The guys laughter got louder as I flipped my hair back over my head, my own laughter blending in with theirs. Nicholas walked up and offered his hand to me, pulling me to my feet.

"Turd." I said to Folio, making him laugh again.

I turned to see Noah watching us, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and a humorous grin on his face. I grinned back and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and dropping my head back to look up at him.

"You are so fucking gorgeous, Maddie." He said, eyes roaming my face.

I smiled and puckered my lips so he would kiss me. He leaned down and placed his lips on mine, resting his hand around my neck and squeezing gently. He nodded his head towards the bathroom. "Help me real quick." He said, grabbing my hand and leading me to the room.

I walked in and he followed, closing the door behind us. The sound of the lock clicking caused me to turn around in confusion, seeing him lean against it."Whatcha doing?" I questioned humorously.

"Did you like Folio putting you in a headlock?" He asked, eyes dark.

I breathily laughed. "We were just playing around."

"Let's play a game." He said, pushing himself off the door to begin slowly walking towards me.

I cocked a brow at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "What game is that?"

"I choke you." He said, getting closer so his smell wrapped around me.

My heart sped up, pounding in my chest as it heaved with my breath. "...And?"

He stopped right in front of me, looking down with a ghost of a smirk on his face. "And I fuck the life out of you for everyone listening to hear."

I rolled my bottom lip into my mouth, slowly backing up so I could slide on top of the sink behind me. Noah walked forward and stood between my legs, hands sliding up the sides of them and underneath my skirt. He squeezed my thighs, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him closer, his already hardening erection pressing against my core. He pushed my skirt up higher around my waist, fingers pulling at the pantyhose I had on. I grabbed his hand to stop him from ripping them.

"No ripping. The crotch unbuttons." I said, reaching between us to undo the buttons. My fingers brushed his erection as I undid them, causing him to jerk and such air between his teeth. I smirked. "Oops." I said.

I looked into his eyes to see them darken even more, his hand coming up to squeeze my throat. My breath hitched as his other hand cupped my heat, sticking one of his slender fingers inside of me. He pulled his finger out and stuck it into his mouth, sucking it clean and causing my pussy to throb with desire. He took his hand off my throat so he could push his pants down, erection slapping his stomach as it sprung free. I pulled him down to me and slammed our lips together, pushing my tongue into his mouth to begin wrestling with his own. I felt him bring his erection up to my core, sliding it up my slit. We moaned into each other's mouths at the feeling of it, my arousal coating the tip of him. He pushed into me with one big thrust, grunting against my lips and causing me to claw at his back. I broke the kiss and dropped my head back against the mirror, moaning softly as I stretched to accommodate him. He slid his hand up my body to grab my neck, forcing me to pick my head up to look at him.

"Remember. Let everyone hear you." He growled out before beginning to slam into me at a fast pace.

I gasped at the feeling, moans beginning to leave me. His hand tightened around my throat and sent a shockwave through me, my breathing speeding up. Noah groaned as he kept up his pace. His muscles flexed as he gripped the counter, knuckles turning white through his tattoos.

"You feel so goddamn good, baby." He moaned out, leaning in to place his lips on mine.

Our tongues tangled for dominance as we moaned into each other's mouths, the wet sound of him thrusting in and out of me echoing around us. He broke our kiss so he could look into my eyes, thrusting one harsh stroke in me so he was buried as far as he could go. I screamed out his name, digging my nails into his back and surely leaving marks under his hoodie. He pulled out of me and dropped to his knees to latch onto my clit, causing me to gasp loudly. My fingers laced through his now short hair and I gripped it at the roots, causing him to groan against my clit and send a jolt through me. He sucked my clit into his mouth, pulsating it. My breathing sped up as my moans got louder, my orgasm quickly nearing.

"Fuck, Noah I'm gonna cum." I moaned out. He hummed against me, sliding his finger inside and rubbing against my g spot. "God, fuck." I moaned out before my orgasm hit me.

I screamed profanities as stars blurred my vision, body convulsing against the counter. I tightened my legs around his face as he lapped me up and eased me through my high. He pulled away and wiped his mouth off before raising up off the floor to kiss me, tangling his tongue with mine so I could taste myself.

"You ok?" He mumbled against my lips.

I nodded. "Perfect."

He chuckled before pushing all the way back into me, our moans lacing together. He brought his hand back up to my neck to squeeze and picked up his pace again. Our moans bounced off the walls around us, the thought of the guys getting a free show outside far from my mind.

He growled as he slammed his lips onto mine. "You are so fucking wet for me. I'm not gonna last much longer."

"Cum for me, Noah." I mumbled against his lips. He groaned, thrusts getting sloppier as his high approached him. "Come on, cum for me baby."

"Fuck, Maddie." He whined against my lips.

"Cum in my mouth." I said breathlessly, quickly pulling him out and hopping off of the counter before dropping to my knees.

"Oh, fuck." Noah groaned as I took him into my mouth.

I sucked on the head as my hand slid up and down the length of him. Within a few seconds he was moaning my name, his warm cum shooting into my mouth. His hands tangled into my hair as his whimpers filled my ears like a warm melody. I pulled my mouth off of him with a pop and looked up to meet his eyes, wiping my spit from the corner of my mouth with my thumb. He pulled me to my feet so he could kiss me, picking me up and setting me on the counter so my trembling legs didn't give way from under me. He pulled back to rest his forehead on mine as our chests heaved, trying to catch our breath.

"I should let Folio put me in a headlock more often." I said breathlessly, causing him to chuckle.

A loud knock at the door caused us to jump and look towards it. "You guys done making a porno in there? It's about time for VIP." Nicholas said, the sound of Folio mocking our moans coming from the distance.

I laughed and shook my head, Noah doing the same. "Don't be jealous!" I yelled back. The guys laughed.

I sighed and pulled his face to mine, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Time to go be a rockstar."

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @kyber-infinitygems​​​

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So now that I’ve finally reached the point where Kit’s in the Whitetails, expect a lot more Kit and Jacob stuff for these WIP Wednesdays. Here’s a bit from chapter 19 of American Beasts, set around the time of her 2nd trial shortly after the fun visit from Joseph:

“Kitten?” Her eyes flashed with anger, unimpressed by her own nickname. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that now.”

“Got a problem with that, Deputy?” He dragged his chair over, metal scraping against the floor. He swung his leg over the seat and sat down in front of her, leaning back and taking her in. His crossed arms drew attention to his broad shoulders, pulling at the worn canvas of his army jacket. “Look at ya. I’ve seen what you’re capable of. You’re methodical, precise. You strike hard and fast, you’re not some blunt object that beats until the job finally gets done. You’re sharp, like a knife, every cut you make is damn near surgical. Frankly, I'm impressed. You’re on the path of the Chosen now.”

Her eyebrows flicked up gently, surprised considering everything he’d said about her previously. “So you don’t want to kill me?”

“No, that would be a waste.” With a quick shake of his head, he unfolded his arms and pressed his hands to his thighs.

She couldn’t help but have her eyes follow, dragging over the denim material and noticing how it bunched up around the holster on his thigh. Noticing the very large blade he wore there, along with his handgun. She���d be a liar if she didn’t admit she was growing fond of his legs. 

“I can help you, Kit, I can help make you strong.” He tilted his head with a smug grin.

“I am strong.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that.” He grabbed at the cougar pin on her jacket, his thumb brushing off a drop of blood that had dried on it. “The brutality inside you, just clawing at the surface, I can use that.”

She scoffed at his insinuation, “I’m not some fucking tool for you to use. Why don’t you get your own hands dirty?”

He sneered and then reached over towards the table beside her, in amongst his files and maps was a tarnished metal plate with a sandwich. White bread, crusts still intact, mustard dripping over the edge and clinging to what looked like bologna. He pulled the plate towards himself and placed it in his lap. 

She hadn’t eaten in some time and she could feel her stomach growl. It was hardly the most appetizing thing she’d ever seen but beggars can’t be choosers and right now she didn’t have many options. 

His eyes flicked up to notice where she was staring, a cruel grin spreading across his lips. “You came here because of Peaches, right?”

She was hardly going to refer to Staci using that stupid nickname. She rolled her eyes and brought her eyes back up to look Jacob in the face. “You mean, Pratt?”

“Potato, potahto.” He said with the shrug of his shoulder. 

Picking up one of the sandwich halves from the plate, he held it in front of her face just out of reach of her mouth. Another form of torture. 

“I’ll fucking bite you if you try and feed me.”

He pulled the sandwich back and grinned. “Then I'll have to grab ya by the scruff of the neck and toss ya back in your cage like the feral little kitten you are. Won’t I?” His pale eyes stared into hers. “Open up.”

His voice seemed to have a power over her now, she was tuned into the tone so when he gave an order she felt forced to obey, whether she liked it or not. She licked her chapped, wind-bitten lips and then opened her mouth. His hand shot to her jaw, fingertips stained with nicotine, gun oil and dirt pressed into the meat of her cheeks as he placed the corner of the sandwich into her mouth. She tore into it and began to chew all with a scowl on her face. 

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, her mouth full of bread.

“In the general sense or do you mean me feeding you?” She gave no answer to his question. He knew damn well what she meant. “I know how to treat my weapons, how to look after them, and how to care for them. And you, Kit, you are my weapon now. I intend to keep ya in fighting shape.” He answered with a wink.

“Tell your people to stop fucking shooting at me then,” she swallowed. 

He chuckled, “Maybe you should stop your war against us.”

“I’m just supposed to let you win?” Her brow furrowed, one thing she was not was a quitter, she was sure he already knew that too.

“Or you could join?” 

“You’re fucking crazy if you ever think that’s going to happen.”

His hand slipped from her face as leaned back in his seat, enjoying the little game they were in the middle of, the back and forth. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You let John live after all. Maybe you have a bit more sympathy for the devil than you think?”

“Or maybe you should put a bullet in my head for having a moment of weakness.”

“I was meaning to ask ya why you left him alive. After what he did, to you, to your friends. You could just have easily killed him. So why didn’t you?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, she could tell he was taunting her. Goading her into giving him further invitation into her thoughts than he had already stolen from her.  “You think I'd ever tell you something like that, give you more access to the inside of my head? I don't fucking think so.”

His eyes narrowed, but the smirk remained. “Smart girl.” He brought the sandwich up to her mouth once more. 

“I don't need to explain myself.”

“You don’t. Not to me.”

She bit into the sandwich, tearing another chunk off like she was ripping into his jugular with her teeth. “You think you know me, Seed?”

“I know you better than you know yourself. You follow the rules that society has deemed essential, you hide what you really are because it makes it easier on everyone else. You’d rather be alone somewhere far away where you could do as you please, where your instincts are all that matter. When you’re out there fighting you feel a rush, don’t you? You like the blood and the violence. It makes you feel strong, powerful, in a way nothing else seems to match. When the world comes to an end, you’re one of the few who could survive it.”

She sat there chewing with a cocked eyebrow as she forced the food down her throat with a heavy swallow. “Just me and the cockroaches, huh?”

“You already spend all your time with insects, would things really be so different?”

She shook her head, “There is nothing you will ever be able to say to me to get me on your side.”

He placed the plate back on his table and stood up, pacing around her seat. “You know I'm right, Kit. Ignoring the religious side of things, you can see the empire is about to crumble and fall. It’s a matter of when, not if.” He sat back on the tabletop, leaning his weight against it, watching her as her eyes cut their way up his middle, traveling over him. 

“Then let it end. If the resistance is so weak, let them fall. Stop attacking them, just let them live and when the end comes they’ll go down with the rest. I didn't ask to get dragged into this.”

“No. But it makes you feel alive for the first time in a long time, doesn’t it?” He waggled his finger, pointing at her. “Joseph thinks this is meant to be, he believes you can see sense.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I believe you deserve to be saved.”

She looked down at her lap and snorted, glancing back at him from her periphery. “Big leap from wanting me dead.”

“It all comes from the same place. You’re a thorn in the side of the enemy, I’d just prefer you were a thorn for the other side.”

A smile crept across her mouth, looking up at him through her brow with her cat-like eyes. “You trying to call me a rose, Jacob?”

“No one’s ever going to confuse you for some delicate flower, honey. The best you’ll get from me is kitten.” He leaned over her and stroked the corner of her mouth with his thumb, dusting away the bread crumbs that had accumulated. “I want us to be friends, a mutually beneficial relationship. I give you what you want, you give me what I want.”

Looking up at him, her icy eyes seemed to sparkle, growing large as she pretended not to know. “And what is that?”

“The Whitetail Militia gone,” he rasped.

The way he said it made her shudder, a vibration traveling down her spine and into that dark pit inside her. She bit back on her molars and tried to steady herself once more. 

“That would certainly make your life easier, wouldn't it?”

“You have no reason to show any loyalty to Eli. What has he done for you?”

“Freed me from the room you left me to rot in.”

“That’s all he’s done, otherwise he will take and take and take like the parasite he is. Expecting you to do his dirty work while he hides and plays general from the safety of his ivory tower. You deserve better, your efforts should be appreciated. You deserve to be rewarded.”

“Is that what these dry ass sandwiches are supposed to be? My reward?”

He walked back to his seat, easing himself back down into it, making himself eye level with her once more. Equals.

“They’re a peace offering. No more cages, no more torture. All you have to do is agree to not get in my way. To pick the right side when the time comes.”

“Become a Peggie?”

“In time. Once you prove yourself. Maybe.”

“I thought Joseph said it was a sure thing? You suddenly don’t trust him and his word?”

“I trust Joseph with my life. Who do you have on your side like that, Kit? Who can you say you feel that way towards?”

Kit rolled her eyes away from him. Unimpressed by his efforts to get inside her head.

“It’s all well and good to play at being the hero, the warrior. But at the end of the day what does it matter when you could fall and the resistance will pick someone else out of the crowd to lift them up. You’re not their savior, or their messiah, you’re another piece of meat they’re ready to toss into the flames at a moment’s notice.”

Her eyes landed on his chest, focused squarely on the dog tags that hung around his neck. “Why do you still wear those?”

He looked down at his chest. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Just what are you trying to prove and who are you trying to prove it to? Do you think your army only listens to you because you wear the trappings of a soldier?”

He fell silent. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in towards her, his eyes narrowed, his voice so low it was barely audible. “Don’t try and play mind games with me, angel. I’ve been around the block more times than you have.” 

Kit’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening, she tilted her head and sat forward in her seat as best she could. “Do you think I’m scared of you?”

He cut the distance between them, his voice a deep rasp, “You should be.”

The corner of her lip curled, she could feel his hot breath against her lips. “Why?”

His eyes drifted back down to her mouth, breathing in and out of his nose. He was fighting against himself. She could see the cogs turning inside his head as he tried to persuade himself from doing something rash. Something he’d regret. Something that might give her the upper hand in their dealings. 

His hand flew to her jaw, holding her steady as his eyes returned to stare at hers. “I don’t have time for whatever the hell this is.”

“Whatever the hell this is? We’re supposed to be enemies. You wanted me dead, I wanted you dead, and around and around we go. Blame your stupid fucking conditioning.”

“This has nothing to do with that.”

“Then I guess we’re both just fucked up. Seems a good a reason as any, it’s certainly the reason why John had such a hard on for me.”

“Jesus Christ.” He dropped his hand from her jaw and stood up, walking back over to his desk he picked up the package of smokes and slipped out a cigarette. Grabbing the lighter he lit the cylinder with shaking hands. Inhaling the tobacco smoke and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not going to be your pet like Staci, if that’s what you want it's never going to happen. So either kill me now or let me go.”

He puffed from his cigarette once more as it hung from the corner of his mouth, he picked up one of the manila files on his desk and started flipping through its pages. “I’m not gonna kill ya, i’m not in the habit of wasting those who are strong. If I let you go, you know I can have ya back here whenever I want.”

“So I just have to wait until you call me back home for dinner?”

He tossed the file down on the table and placed the cigarette into the ashtray in front of him. “Something like that. Yeah.”

[l1terat1]

Tagged by @auroratigress for some this or that...

Rules: this or that, Bold your preference in the post

tea or coffee / musicals or plays / spring or autumn / halloween or christmas / diners or cafés / cats or dogs / brunch or happy hour / fruity or floral / rome or amsterdam / sushi or ramen / glitter or matte / aquariums or planetariums / Coloring Books or puzzles / books or movies / closed curtains or open window / hillside cottage or city apartment / smoothie or milkshake / holding hands or hugs / poetry or prose / longing for the past or longing for the future / vocals or instrumentals / indoor plants or outdoor gardening / space or deep seas / ghibli or disney / honey or maple syrup / baking or cooking / dusk or dawn / horror or sci fi / beach or pool / sweet or savory / paperback or hardcover / running or hiking / sleeping with socks or without socks / dark wood or light wood / handwritten or typed / instagram or pinterest / hoodies or sweaters / long hair or short hair / boots or sneakers / curls or straight hair / photography or painting / monsters or ghosts / fiction or non-fiction / gold or silver / dyed hair or natural hair / astrology or tarot / earbuds or headphones / 12 hour clock or 24 hour clock / pen or pencil / pandas or koalas / denim jacket (I immediately thought of Best Jeanist from MHA) or leather jacket / chocolate or fruity candy / pastel colors or earth tones / neon colors or jewel tones

Some of these were no-brainer preferences for me, but that Space or deep sea one had me really questioning things lol

pumpkin spice or Apple cinnamon / halloween or thanksgiving / leaf piles or apple picking / hay ride or corn maze / black cat or bat / skeletons or witches / mashed potatoes or stuffing / orange or black / vampire or werewolf / fireplace or bonfire / scarf or beanie / candles or incense

I'm gonna tag @sunny-cecilia @xhailfirex @justflying @dokurtybitz2 and anyone else interested.

[wordsinhaled]

5 and 27 for the ask thingy?

Also hi! I hope you're doing great <3

hi!!! thank you, i hope you are too!!! <3

5. favorite form of potato? honestly, i've yet to meet a potato i didn't enjoy. but i love baked potatoes and mashed potatoes!

27. what’s your favorite or go-to outfit? lately it's been jeans (or pants of some sort) + a t-shirt or a knitted sweater + a layer (a denim jacket or a fleece) + doc martens

[smacmcdnld]

assigning TMBG albums flavors and outfits cuz why not????

uhm this is kinda like the "what i think TMBG vinyls would taste like" post except i saw a poll with gender neutral outfits in it. if you disagree with my choices, the door's right there

pink album: cotton candy, pop rocks, smarties. most likely a very maximalist and clownish outfit

lincoln: cola, any cherry candy, popcorn. idk maybe a cowboy-businessman/weatherman-soldier hybrid outfit lmao

flood: coffee, pie, cookies. a turtleneck-flannel combo

apollo 18: oreos, pizza, rootbeer. a deadass space suit

john henry: weed, gasoline, strawberries. a tie-dye shirt with denim shorts and socks with sandals

factory showroom: cough syrup, mac and cheese, ice water. a firefighter suit (its the first thing that popped into my head)

long tall weekend: those tuna and pasta salads, popcorn, beer. a big ass suit jacket with a jumpsuit

mink car: coffee, bagels, cereal. a BBQ dad outfit

the spine: sushi, buttered noodles, pepsi. a yellow rubber raincoat with red rubber rainboots

the else: idk some shit like halloween candy. a business suit

join us: the hi-ci ecto cooler, saltines, bananas. a cool ass cryptid hunter outfit

nanobots: strawberry ice cream, altoids mints, toast. a big puffy dress

glean: flintstones vitamins, tomatoes, chicken pot pie. graphic T-shirt with stained sweatpants

phone power: pop rocks, sour candy, gatorade. those sleeping bags that have the holes for your face in them

i like fun: cookies and cream ice cream, stale bread, strawberry jam. head-to-toe duct tape fit

book: burritos, potato chips, lettuce. a college hoodie