#hes excited for my letter hes excited excited for my letter hes excited for the letter the letter that i sent

[i-love-ptv]

Hand Prints and Good Grips…✱*.:｡✧

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Childhood Best friend!Reader

Trouble brews once Mary walks into the twins’ juke joint, and you just wanna be the girl Elias likes.

wc: 6,103

warnings: porn with lots of plot, jealous!dom!Elias, sub!reader, clit slapping, face-sitting, cunnilingus, unprotected p-in-v, dirty-talk, degradation (not tew much but it’s there), overstimulation (r receiving), rough sex, manhandling, slight tit sucking/licking, marking, creampie (gulp??), language, one klan mention, shitty southern writing

an: HEY GUYS!!! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER WOOHOO! (ignore how it took me a month to make it, i’ve been going thru it man) i’m literally obsessed w sinners so hopefully i did stack justice! do y’all even read these? anyways

feedback is always appreciated n welcomed <3

Your hair was starting to cling onto your forehead as if you were drenched in sticky molasses.

The air was humid and dry; of course, this was a Mississippi custom, but it doesn’t help that there’s dozens of bodies stomping and prancing around.

Though you can’t complain much, considering that you were right here with them—dancing as if you hadn’t in years.

In a way, you haven't. You haven’t felt a rush of autonomy and euphoria quite like this before.

With everyone being nothing but working busy-bodies, there’s been little to no time to plan big events such as tonight. The lack of excitement has been a major factor too.

Hence why as soon as the Moore twins came back into town with the intention to open up their very own juke joint, everyone was on board.

The pair hadn’t been seen here in seven years.

Seven long, cruel years without the twin you’ve grown to love.

Stack.

Well, he was Stack to everyone else. But to you? He was still Elias. Your ‘Lias.

Seven years without his lingering touches and pearly smiles.

You weren’t the only one that missed him, it seems.

Your sister told you that when she went down near the train station, she was right there waiting for your Elias.

Mary was waiting.

You don’t have a clue as to how she knew he was coming home before you did, considering that nobody from the Delta had heard from him except for you. And a letter from him was rather rare.

Mary had nearly thrown a fit once she saw him; it didn’t help that Elias had turned down her persistent advances.

The lack of contact obviously sent her over the edge.

Apparently she mentioned their former relations; their connection being a secret to none.

You were envious of this; never jealous, but overcome by a feeling of want.

Growing up with the twins meant that the three of you were as close as can be. That being said, though, they looked at you as if you were their little sister. It was fine when Elijah assumed the role of a family member, but Elias?

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache.

You longed for the flirtatious remarks that he’d give off to any and every woman, a night filled with intimacy plagued your mind constantly.

But you got over it.

You had to. Not only for the sake of your friendship with Elias, but also because of his prolonged absence from town.

That’s why tonight—right now, you had to pump the breaks and focus on celebrating the twins’ success.

Speaking of success?

You making your way over to the bar with your wobbly heeled-covered feet was a success. Surprisingly.

“Someone’s been dancin’ a lil too hard, huh?” Annie chortles, looking at you with nothing but sisterly-love, and a bit of amusement.

“Only dancin’ I was doing was during my cooking—nothin’ like this in a while,” you exclaim with bliss through a beaming smile. You huff as you sit down in front of the bar. “Y’got anythin’ good back here?” You motion to the bottles Annie has surrounding her.

“Better than good,” Annie replies before ducking down and searching below the counter.

You brace your hands on the counter and slightly peer over at the woman, but then she pops up quicker than you can plop back down onto your chair. She quirks a brow at you before placing a bottle down in front of you.

“What’s this?” You question; if Annie didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that it was Christmas morning with the way you were looking at the bottle.

“Authentic Irish beer; straight from the north side of Chicago. Different from the rest they’re sellin’.” She replies. “Your man brought it specifically for you—made me promise I wouldn’t give it to nobody else, no matter how much they was payin’.”

You bite back a smile at her words; you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“He fixin’ to be Mary’s.” Your lips straighten, it’s bittersweet.

“That so? ‘Cause that ain’t what I heard,” Annie muses, making you pause. You savor Annie’s words as if they were your holy grail. Was there a chance that Elias looked at you the same as you did him?

You crane your neck and your gaze is set over your shoulder—over at him.

He catches your eye and he gives you a cheeky smile, to which you return rather eagerly.

You hadn’t had a single nonchalant bone in your body it seems.

Your shared staring was cut short as Mary forced Elias’ attention back onto her, but it wasn’t exactly a hard task for her.

Something about her was just so easy and simple, despite the ring shining on her hand that matched another man’s being anything but simple. The way that they connected even after all these years made you feel as if you swallowed a jar of mud.

After a few sips of beer, you can’t help but let a smile rest on your face. Elias knew you’d love it, and it makes your heart dance.

Speaking of dancing, your dearest friend Pearline struts up to you with a grin that soared for miles.

“What’s got you cheesin’ all hard?” You raise your eyebrows at her, making her giggle.

“Y’know the Preacher’s boy? The one that was just singin’?” Pearline’s nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement.

“Lil’ Sammie Moore? Course I do, why? What’d you do Pearl?” You gape at her and hold her hands tightly in yours.

“Well…” She trails off. “Let’s just say, he showed me he ain’t a boy, but a real man.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of the sockets as you exclaim a Pearline! that could probably be heard for miles.

Pearline gushes, “He made me feel things I ain’t never felt before.”

“Not even with your mister?” You gasp.

“Not even close. And that’s not all,” she pauses before looking around, then leaning in towards you.

“I wasn’t even able to freshen up. He didn’t want me to,” Pearline whispers.

You shout, then look around in embarrassment at your outburst; you shake Pearline vigorously by her shoulders and giggle some more.

You decide to look around the joint, and you coincidentally catch Sammie looking right at the back of Pearline’s frame in utter awe.

You nudge Pearline, and she looks over at him with you. The look that she throws his way is nothing short of flirtatious.

“He looked at ya like he wanted t’take a bite,” you snicker.

Pearline looks at you mischievously, “Funny, considerin’ he already did.” You can’t help but laugh.

“So, y’thinkin’ bout singin’ like he said?” You ask.

Pearline hums, “Maybe. ‘M thinkin’ you should too.”

“No, not happenin’. Not a chance,” You scoff playfully.

Pearline whines and grabs your wrists. “C’mon, sista! When’s the last time you got the chance to do this?” She pouts, and tries hardest to make puppy-dog eyes at you.

“Besides, this could be y’chance to make a move on Stack. Ain't that whatcha been waitin’ for?” She drags.

You falter at the question she poses.

“Tonight’s the night, sista.” Pearline murmurs softly.

It’s crazy how you always get in your head when it comes to him.

The thing is, you weren’t one to throw yourself out there just to entertain a man. No, that just wasn’t your style.

But God—tonight? His suit was fitting snug in all the right places, his grills glimmered dangerously in the dim lighting, and his eyes always found yours, recklessly.

You couldn’t resist Elias Moore.

And right now, you’re starting to wonder if you ever could.

“Y’better wrap that scarf on tight, Pearl,” you say as you grab her arm and start walking with her to the front. Pearline shrills and claps her hands with glee.

You saunter towards the stage with a pep in your step and your arm linked with a perky Pearline. Your heels clack on the wooden floors as you come face-to-face with the band and none other than Delta Slim, who’s now grinning at you.

“Been tryin’ to getcha to sing for years girl, what’s with the change o’ heart?” He questions with a smirk, as if he already knew the answer. You’re sure that he did with the way that his eyes looked past you and towards Elias.

“It’s a nice night, figured I’d try sum different,” you shrug, trying to mask your sudden embarrassment. Pearline intertwines her hand with yours and uses her other one to gesture to the band. You inhale deeply while looking at her; she gives you a look of reassurance.

The patrons of the juke joint grow silent at the sight of you two taking your stances and the band readying their instruments.

Pearline starts humming and you lightly stomp your feet on the stage, starting to form a beat as the band follows.

Elias feels as if his heart was being weighed down by a ton inside of him. He held his breath—scared that the rise and fall of his chest would make him miss the steady view of you: parading around as if everything outside the joint had come to a halt.

You looked completely, and utterly divine up there; moving swiftly and effortlessly, as if you owned the very ground you were stepping on.

You were absolutely ethereal in Elias’ eyes.

And he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t falling even harder for his sugar as of right now. He was the only man that could get away with calling you sugar; he knows it, so does everyone else in the Delta—and Elias can’t help but let his pride swell every time he thinks about it.

Your body sways carelessly as if you were one with the words that escaped your lips, but your eyes are grounded—powerful, even. Speaking of them: your glittering orbs meet his, your gaze nothing short of a vixen’s.

Though, the interlocking of your sights is interrupted when Mary makes her presence known yet again at Elias’ side. He can’t help but sigh at the intrusion.

Luckily, Elias’ ever-growing agitation fades when the patrons of the juke let out their elation around him. The band’s playing picks up, as well as you and Pearline’s voices.

Don’t let it shine, shine, shine once more

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

Everyone chants and stomps rhythmically.

“I wanna sing, like I hear the crickets do,” Pearline sings seductively while peering at Sammy as she struts.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna hoo,” you and Pearline sing simultaneously, harmonizing beautifully as your backs meet and you both slide to a crouching position.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna howl,” the two of you sound as if you were straight out of a folktale—like one of those myths of the sirens that Annie had explained to Elias once before. You and Pearline then reside in a crawl as you look at the crowd with a sense of hunger in your eyes.

Mary gets ahold of Elias’ tie, but he quickly removes her grip from him—without even breaking eye contact with you. He knows she’s interested in spending the rest of the night with him; maybe in hopes of rekindling an old flame.

But how could Elias be interested in another woman when his woman—his sugar—was looking at him so deliciously.

You grin slyly at him, biting your bottom lip before licking your teeth.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna scream,” Pearline sings, as you mouth the three words to Elias.

Three little words that have Elias fucking mesmerized, hypnotized even. You have him in a trance, right where you want him, and you both know it.

Elias wishfully thinks that the pick up in your breathing isn’t just from all the dancing you’ve been doing tonight. He bites his lip at the thoughts running through his mind.

Mary can’t even say that she recognizes the look that Elias gives you, for she has never been on the receiving end like you have been. Her frustration and jealousy boils over, and she eventually huffs before walking away from Elias, and out of the juke joint.

Elias doesn’t mind one bit, and he sure as hell doesn’t when the song finishes and you hug Pearline with excitement as the joint nearly turns upside down. You’re jumping up and down and Elias can’t help but smile til his cheeks hurt.

Elias feels a hand slap somewhat roughly on his shoulder. He knows good and well it’s his brother, with or without the wave of tobacco radiating.

“Came out here after the game finished, saw the way she was lookin’ at’cha, too.” Elijah grumbles.

“Breathtakin’, ain’t she?” Elias remarks breathily, not even turning to his brother—keeping his sights on you, as you hug Slim and the rest of the instrument players.

“Not ‘bout how I feel, ‘s ‘bout how you feel,” Elijah sighs. This makes Elias turn towards his brother.

“Don’t know what’chu waitin’ on, already been years,” Elijah then pauses before continuing, “Don’t be surprised when somebody see what’chu see.” Elijah trails off, almost ominously, and nods his head in your direction.

Elias follows his twin’s trail of sight and spots you: talking to a man he ain’t even seen before. You were beaming, your hair a little frizzed up by the humidity, your lipgloss smudged a little onto your shimmering skin.

Speaking of your lipgloss—whoever you’re talking to decided to rub his finger below your lip to wipe it away. Right now, Elias’ demeanor resembles the snake him and his brother killed earlier: cold and unmoving.

You glance around the sea of bodies, and Elias takes this as a sign. He starts to walk up to you, but not before having to mumble several ‘excuse me’s while side-stepping quite a few people—who seem to not be able to hold their liquor.

He finally reaches you, and he gets a glimpse of you over the guy’s shoulder, who has no idea he’s even there.

“We got a problem?” Elias murmurs, making the stranger nearly jump out of his skin.

“N-nah man,” the man chuckles awkwardly as he faces Elias.

“I reckon we do, since y’talkin’ to my lady,” Elias replies, sizing him up as he takes a step closer to him. The man takes a step back in return.

“I ain’t know, I-I’m sorry, Stack,” the man trembles meekly. Elias only hums. The man glances between the two of you before making himself scarce.

Elias stays in the same spot for a beat, before turning and giving you a look that says let’s go, before walking towards one of the back rooms of the joint. You hesitate, before inching behind him.

“So I’m y’lady now?” You don’t bother to tone down the sass in your voice.

“‘S what I said, ain’t it?” he mumbles, not even looking at you.

You scoff, “Yeah, well, y’got a funny way a’ showin’ it.”

Elias pulls you into a dimly lit room and finally faces you as you stand before him. “What’s that s’possed to mean?”

You narrow your eyes at him before speaking. “Means I saw you messin’ with ole Mary.”

“She don’t mean nun to me,” Elias guaffs. “Why d’ya think she left already?”

You roll your eyes and begin to head out the door you just came from. You’re not sure where this attitude just came from, in all honesty. The moment your eyes met him while you were on stage, it felt as if everything else had faded away, and it was just the two of you.

Maybe it was the irritation caused by Mary that left you in a sour mood now, you’re not sure. You know it won’t be beneficial to you nor Elias in this moment, but you can’t help it.

Elias grabs your wrist before you can get too far away from him.

“She ain’t nun, y’hear?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he almost sounded desperate. You stay quiet.

“Asked you a question, sugar. ‘N with that attitude of yours, I ain’t fixin’ to repeat myself.” His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks, and heat twinges through your stomach. Elias seems to take notice of the subtle switch in your demeanor; he smirks and his chocolate brown irises darken even further.

“I…I don’t believe you,” You almost whisper, but still meet his gaze.

Almost immediately, he responds with, “What I got to do to convince you, baby?” Elias matches your tone, but there’s still a hint of assertiveness conveyed through his words.

You don’t speak—it’s almost like you couldn’t, but you release your wrist from his grasp gently.

Elias’ jaw clenched slightly, but you still spot it. He looks as if he’s pondering his next words.

“‘S not makin’ sense, darlin’. I mean, you were acting like a whore on stage, now you don’t want me to touch you?” He cocks his head at you and your lips part—like it was reflex, and maybe it was. Elias clicks his tongue.

Your breath picks up, and if your mind weren’t turning fuzzy, you would’ve chided yourself for making a fool out of yourself in front of a man—Elias at that.

The man you’ve yearned for longer than you can even remember.

“I ain’t no whore,” you speak, finally regaining your senses.

“That right, sugar?” You can feel Elias’ breath on your heated face, and all you can do is nod in return.

“Y’wanna know what I think?” Before you can answer the question Elias poses, he murmurs lowly, “I think that deep down….You are a whore—and you needa be fucked like one.”

Despite the vulgarity of his words, the way that Elias places his palm across your cheek is soft—loving, even.

You press your thighs together through your dress unconsciously, desperately seeking even an ounce of friction to cool the impending heat between your legs.

Elias takes the hand that rested upon your cheek and moved it to the stiff rim lock that resided on the door’s surface.

Thank god—You’d hate for the likes of someone such as Sammie barging in and being witness to sin hotter than the Mississippi sun.

Elias then starts to walk you back to the table that remained bare in the dingy-lit room, removing his suit jacket and vest, followed by his tie. The backs of your knees meet the edge of the firm table, making you stumble just a bit. Elias takes it upon himself to lay you down onto the table.

You rest on your elbows as you look up at the six-foot-something man in front of you, and you can’t help but swoon. His beating eyes look down at you lustfully—almost as if he were a predator, and you his prey.

It made you weak.

Weak at the hands of a man you’d been waiting on while he had the time of his life in Chicago, with all sorts of Italian customs. Your actions are beyond halfwitted, but you make no effort to straighten yourself out anymore.

Elias takes his warm hands and spreads your knees with ease after unbuttoning his shirt, making you yelp involuntarily at the near-abrasiveness. He licks his grillz and lets out a short, deep chuckle; you feel it vibrate your bones, while he aligns himself so that almost he’s eye-level with your warm core.

“Elias, wait—“ You whimper meekly,

He hums disapprovingly, letting out a firm ‘mm-mmn’. He rips his gaze from your thighs to your eyes, “Been waitin’ for years, sugar, not sure if I can any longer.” He repositions his hands, lifting your dress and hitching it up to your upper thighs, nearly to your pelvic bone.

Elias massages your thighs with an iron grip, it’s not yet rough, but not exactly gentle either. His switch between the two is making your mind reel.

He kisses up from your knee almost to where your dress bunches up as he removes his button-up, leaving him in his undershirt. He then says, “…So, m’sorry if I lose m’manners,” he breathes hotly against your skin, “But I don’t think I can live without destroying this pussy for a minute longer.” He damn near groans.

His mouth hovers above your clothed cunt—he purposely breathes in a way that makes you squirm at the feeling you’re unable to run from. As you shudder and tilt your head back, you suddenly hear a rip and you feel a gust of air.

You gasp and look down, where you’re met with Elias looking up at you cheekily, with one half of your panties in his mouth, and the other in his hand.

“‘Lias!” You exclaim.

Elias feigns innocence, “Told ya I ain’t mean no harm.” He then averts his focus to your legs, and he leaves a kiss to your mound.

“Y’not gon let me freshen up, will ya?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

Instead of answering, Elias takes his tongue and trails it from your hole to your clitoris, and you puff out the air you didn’t know you were holding in.

Elias seems to enjoy your reaction, for he then gives you another long lick.

And another,

and another,

and you guessed it, another.

You press your lips together, muting your sounds, and Elias ‘tsk’s at the sight.

He nips a bit of the skin next to your lips, making you choke on your own spit. “Don’t like how quiet you’re bein’.” Elias reprimands you.

“Stop t-teasin’ then,” You manage to huff.

Elias chuckles in disbelief, “Wanted to be gentle, but y’makin’ it hard,” he then lifts you up from the table, and places his back where you once laid. He hooks your legs over the sides of his head, your pussy now inches away from his plump, shining lips.

Elias’ typical, million-dollar smirk is back on his face, but there’s something more sinister behind it—your legs would’ve buckled if he weren’t holding them.

“You’re a whore, jus’ like I said y’were.” His southern drawl makes your stomach twist in knots, despite the familiarity. Before you could get a word out, Elias placed you onto his face.

You mewl at the feeling of his tongue swirling around anywhere, and everywhere.

Your clit, your lips—it was almost as if he were starving.

There was no rhythm, no harmony and contentment, just the actions of a man on a mission.

A mission to make you scream louder than the birds on your farm.

Then, abruptly, Elias leaves a small, yet firm slap to your clit. “Admit it,” he says between licks. “Admit that you’re a whore.” He leaves another slap.

You don’t respond, too caught up in both the pain and pleasure. Your head hangs back and your eyes are clenched shut, and Elias grows impatient.

He removes his mouth from you with a ‘pop’ and almost snarls at you, “Thought I told ya Ion like repeatin’ myself.” He slaps your clit again, this time with more force.

“Okay—Okay! I was bein’ a whore tonight, ‘m sorry!” You cry out as your back arches.

Elias starts to lower you towards his grinning face, and you shiver at the feeling of his cold grillz.

Instead of teasing kitten-licks, Elias sucks at your slit and lets his tongue roam freely, without a care in the world. You writhe and whine on top of him, your body bending back and creating a dull aching sensation.

His advances are relentless, and you have no chances of escaping his grasp; he readjusts his grip as soon as he feels you start to slip away from him. You don’t know whether to clench around his tongue as he fucks you with it, or to cry–you end up doing both, and this continues on for who knows how long.

You’ve stopped counting the number of orgasms you’ve had after the second one–you think–but you think Elias has been keeping track. He’s muttered ‘jus’ one more, sugar’ maybe three times now, and you don’t know how many you have left in you at this point.

After what feels like hours, Elias finally lifts your hips up, allowing you to slide down and straddle his hips with your head resting upon his chest.

The beating sound of his steady heart fills your ear, and you try to match your breathing with Elias’. You feel a vibration as he shakes with laughter. You slightly drag your head up just enough to peek at his face, and he looks down at you with amusement.

“We ain’t done, not yet, peach,” he chuckles breathily at the wave of surprise that washes over your face.

You fumble with your words, “What d’ya mean? ‘L-Lias, I-I’m spent!” You continue to tremble in his arms.

“Y’still talkin’, ain’t ya, sugar?” He scoffs, it’s antagonizing. And before you can utter anything else, Elias flips you around onto the table, so you now lay with your back on the wood once again. Your dress rides down a tad at the sudden movement, and Elias holds your back, lifting you so that he can push your dress up past your breasts.

Elias lowers your back, before leaning peck your nipples. You bite your lip, but quickly let out a moan once he blows air onto your nipples, watching almost menacingly as they harden. One hand tweaks one of your nipples, as the other drags down your rib cage.

His hot, glistening tongue swishes around your tits, as he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

He sucks harshly as you whimper beneath him. One of his hands leaves your body and goes down to his slacks, he unbuttons them with ease without even looking, as he continues to leave hickies on your chest.

He untucks himself from his underwear, and you can’t help but buck towards his cock in anticipation.

“Easy, girl. You’ll get it when ya prove y’deserve it,” Elias mocks, you whine in response.

“I deserve it, more than anybody else–y’know that, ‘Lias,” You plead in hopes of him giving you what you want.

“That right, baby? All this yours, nobody else's?” He challenges, starting to stroke his length.

You squeeze your eyelids together, almost as if you were personally pained by the question.

“Damn right,” You huff as you look at him with a sudden wave of fire blazing through your eyes. Elias scoffs with a mixture of incredulity and mirth.

“Yeah, baby–always been yours. Glad ya finally came to y’senses.” And with that, Elias pushes inside of you, and you let out a broken gasp.

Elias quickly finds his pace as he thrusts in and out of you rapidly. He nearly pulls entirely out of your dripping cunt–and you think he’s going to tease you again, but he then slams back into you roughly, making you cry out as your back arches into him.

You’re now chest-to-chest with Elias as he continues to pump into you with little regard to your overstimulation. The contact of skin makes your toes curl in your heels. Elias grunts at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and bites forcibly at the flesh of your neck.

Elias groans–almost as if fucking you were the key to heaven’s gates. He takes his large palm and pushes it down onto your torso, making your sweating body meet the barely-covered, rumbling wood.

You weep helplessly and squirm as he keeps you pressed against the shaking table.

“Mmnf–”Lias! Please!” You cry yet again, but without knowing the reason behind it this time.

He doesn’t respond to your watery blabbering, instead putting your legs on either side of his shoulders. Elias slowly–and almost lovingly–kisses your ankle, before unclasping the latch of your heel and sliding it off of your foot, letting it hit the floor with a thump that neither of you seem to catch through the sounds of your bodies meeting.

You two damn-near become one.

He repeats his actions on your other leg, but this time he kisses from your calf to your ankle before removing your heel and letting it meet the ground with your matching one.

His hand grips at the ankle he just kissed, using it as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded; like an anchor. He then sucks and nips at your leg, quickly marking just above your ankle with a red bruise, which you know will be purple by the time the sun rises for morning.

You hiss when he bites a little too roughly, and he shows his sympathy by licking at the irritated skin, soothing the tender ache.

“That feel good, darlin’? Tell “Lias how much y’love it, peach, c’mon,” Elias coos, lifting his shirt up so he can get a proper view of your sex.

You babble through sobs intelligibly, mewling something along the lines of ‘so so good, ‘Lias!’—at least that’s what Elias makes of it.

“Can’t hear ya, baby. Ya gotta–fuck! Ya gotta speak a ‘lil louder f’me, hm?” Elias manages to speak through his panting and groaning. You bawl, hot tears dripping from your cheeks down to your chin.

“It feels so good–oh god—‘Lias!” You shriek, not caring about the volume of your crying. “Please don’t stop! Please, please, please–” You ramble with a slur.

If Elias ever felt guilty at the way he man-handling you, seeing your fucked-out expression made all his worries wash away at the sight of you: tongue hanging out, as your tears dribble into your open mouth.

Your panting grows more frantic, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s being let out more frequently as you feel another orgasm course through your veins. “‘Lias—cummin’! S-sh-it, I-I’m cummin’!”

Elias firmly plants his feet on the floor, repositioning the arm on your stomach onto your other leg so that he can fuck you even deeper–deep enough to create a slight bulge in your stomach with his throbbing tip. “Yeah, that’s it. Fall apart on this dick, y’know y’want to, sugar. Been dreamin’ ‘bout it f’years, huh?” He taunts.

You try to answer him, honestly! But he’s hitting your cervix just right and his abs rub against the backs of your thighs–it’s too much.

Elias thought you’ve learned by now that he doesn’t take silence for an answer, so to remind you, he gives your spent cunt a more forceful slap than before.

“Fuck—Yes! A-always been wantin’ you, ‘Lias,” you wail. “I-I never let nobody touch me! Nobody but you!” You exclaim without thinking.

This fuels Elias to quicken his pace; he almost fucking growls at your words, and he tightens your legs around himself–right now, as he feels himself getting closer and closer to climaxing, he has no plans on pulling out.

He continues to heave words of encouragement as fucks you ruthlessly through your orgasm.

You moan and blabber as your vision turns white, and your ears start to ring. Your toes curl and flex, and your nails scratch at the table, hands desperate for something to hold. Your voice then gives out, as your tongue lolls out of your mouth yet again.

Elias gives you a few more earth-stattering thrusts, before his seed fills your puffy, aching hole; the guttural groan that leaves his throat ups in pitch–nearly turning into a whimper.

He pumps his cum into you once more, before releasing your legs from his grip and laying down on top of you. As he half-lays-half-stands against the table, he feels as if a cold bucket of water was dumped onto him.

He can no longer focus on the tingling feeling that shoots from his skull to his toes, but now on the fact that he was the first man you’ve been with.

You spent your first time with him–in a rickety building he bought from a Klan member, on an even dingier table.

Elias then taps your face, just enough to get you to come back to your senses. You open your eyes with a lazy grin at the feeling of his seed mixed with yours, but when you’re met with his panicky expression, you quickly push yourself up–to the best of your ability.

“What? Wha’s wrong, ‘Lias?” You question worrisomely.

He allows himself to catch his breath before speaking, “Y’serious?” It’s all that he says.

You furrow your brows and tilt your head at him, “Bout what? Y’scarin’ me, Elias,” you chuckle awkwardly.

Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

A million thoughts run rampant throughout your mind.

“‘Bout all this,” he flails his hand, motioning to where your bodies had just met. “Was that really ya first time?” He speaks loudly, and you feel mortified.

Your breath catches in your throat. You confirm his worries, your voice softer than a freshly picked feather, “Yes.”

Elias takes a step back, and it takes everything in you not to reach out for him. Instead, you sit up fully and push your dress back down to your thighs. You twiddle your thumbs idly, seeking for even an ounce of comfort as Elias pushes his shirt back down and tucks himself back into his boxers after wiping himself off with a rag. Despite his glowering, he hands you a rag so that you can wipe away the slick from between your thighs.

Did he regret spending the night with you? Did he find the fact that you remained a virgin because of him embarrassing?

“Why you ain’t tell me, girl?” He exclaims, “I wouldn’t have said and done all that foolishness if I knew you ain't never been with a man before!”

You feel your soul come back into your body. “You would’ve been all sweet with me? That whatcha sayin’, ‘Lias?” You can’t help but giggle.

“Ain’t nothin’ funny, woman! I was all rough with you ‘n–” You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer to you. You fold your arms around his neck, and you feel his hands drift down to your waist and squeeze lightly. Your nose nudges his, his breath fans your face as yours does his.

You break the kiss when you feel yourself losing your breath, and you gaze at Elias lovingly.

“You were perfect, I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” you whisper.

“Well for starters, could've gotten you a bed in the house ‘stead of a table in this dark ass room,” Elias grumbles.

You grin, “I think the lightin’ was just fine. Added ambience ‘n all that.” Elias pouts, and you peck his lips.

“I don’t care ‘bout the details, “Lias. Long as it was with you.” Your tone is as sweet as the finest honey in Clarksdale, and it pulls on Elias’ heartstrings.

“Y’really waited all these years….For me?” He whispers.

“Course I did, couldn’t imagine bein’ with anybody else.” You speak just as softly. You recognize the guilt that crosses his face, despite his best efforts to mask it with his bravado. “Don’t feel guilty, please. I don’t blame you for nun.” You caress his hair. Silence fills the room as Elias deciphers what to say, you just hold him tenderly until he’s ready.

“I-I love ya, more than y’know, sugar…” He trails off before finishing his sentence, “I jus’ want ya to know that. I have since we was young.” He looks at you with adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you too, Elias Moore. Have since you stood up to my daddy on his farm f’me when we was seven.”

He smiles, but it’s tight lipped, making you frown. “Jus’ wish I could’ve admitted it sooner. Then this would’ve went down differently—would’ve been better.” He sulks.

You take your thumb and index finger and pluck his lips, making him shout ‘hey!’ with a laugh.

“Stop beatin’ y’self up, Elias. I told you, I’m perfectly happy here, right now. Ain’t nun gon’ change that a bit.” You scold him.

“If ya stop all that moppin’, I’ll let ya try again tomorrow, however y’want,” you giggle mischievously. Elias’ eyes light up almost immediately, the way he perks up reminds you of a puppy that was just given a treat.

Elias roars with laughter and squeezes you, before lowering you back down onto the table, he presses nearly all of his weight onto you.

You squeal and cackle as he tickles your sides, “‘Lias!”

You lay wrapped up with Elias, you felt as if you could lay there forever, and honestly in this moment, you wanted to.

Clarity and revelations do the body good.

Everything was good.

Until you heard a commotion on the other side of the door.

[81pastrys]

Second Sport

Summary— Antanette loves supporting her papa no matter the sport.

Warnings— pure fluffy goodness

A/N— dad Pierre has entered the chat

Dad Pierre List

Request— maybe like toddler daughter he dressed her in her psg top and walks around the paddock matching if you can get any from that thanks

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Antanette was probably Pierre’s biggest cheerleader. Now, she knew her papa drove scary fast cars, but he sometimes yelled at players kicking a ball around. He also played with some of the guys and was really excited when they won.

Her mum got her a jersey with letters and the same number her papa had on his fast car and she wanted to wear it everywhere. “I need to wash the jersey, Ana.” Her mum insisted. They had a Grand Prix weekend and if she wanted to wear the jersey, it had to be washed.

“No! Papa!!” She yelled for help. Her papa would say the same thing but it would warrant a lesser tantrum and probably a sweet treat for the trouble. “Papa, I wear my jersey!” She whined when Pierre became visible from a different room.

“Well, you have worn that shirt a lot ma belle, you don’t want to be stinky huh?” He pulled out the tough questions as Antanette pondered. “Non, we don’t. Let’s wash it and we can wear something else for a little while.” She pouted but let him take the shirt off and walk her to her room to find another to replace it.

“Alpine!” She said holding her alpine shirt with the same number, the same shirt she would wear to cheer him on at races. “Can I wear it papa?”

“Then you can’t wear it at the race ma belle.” Pierre reminded her. “What about we wear cha’s Ferrari red shirt today?” He compromised. She thought it over and nodded shyly. Both jerseys were now to be saved for the weekend and Pierre took that win.

The first day at the paddock she wore her PSG jersey with GASLY and 10 on the back, warranting awes and coos of how adorable she was. “Cha!” She exclaimed, seeing her uncle in ferrari red. “I’m wearing papa’s jersey! See?” She turned on her bouncing feet and Charles giggled at her when she turned back around.

“Oui, such a good cheerleader.” He praised. She beamed with excitement, she showed her jersey to anyone that would listen. Isaak had caught a glimpse of her from his interview and excused himself.

“Antanette, where’s my support?” He joked with her. “I gave you a jersey too!” She giggled and claimed that she only brought jerseys with papa’s number and not his.

“I only support papa!” She giggled more. Oliver was next to spot her and tickled her. “Papa’s number! See?” She turned for Oliver to see and he gave her the biggest smile.

“Look at you! Amazing job Antanette!” She beamed from all the attention. By the end of the day, exhaustion from being the perfect little cheerleader weighed on her. Her eyes drooped and her papa had to carry her to the car.

“Everyone likes my jersey papa.” She yawned. The F1 media was flooded with videos or pictures of her with the drivers, showing off her jersey.

“Oui, ma belle. Everyone likes your jersey.” Pierre confirmed before buckling the car seat and kissing her forehead as she dozed off.

Dad Pierre is now part of the collection

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @justaf1girl @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @chertik-007vvv @kallanfiona

[sevsevteen]

Can I request please 🙏 reader just listened to circles or cheers of youth (or literally any of the sad depressing im gonna sob song genre that woozi loooves) and they show up at woozi’s studio an emotional mess and woozi just comforts them

i can't resist this request with MY CURRENT OBSESSION WITH WOOZI 🥹 ...sad music is literally my whole life. with happy burstday just out, woozi's solo destiny is the perfect song for this round !!

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

You weren’t supposed to be here yet - technically. The agreed time to meet and listen to the new Happy Burstday album was still a good hour away. But your schedule ended early, and with the kind of week you had, you found yourself quietly slipping into Woozi's Universe Factory studio. It wasn't the first time you came unannounced anyway, Woozi always kept it open when he knew you’d be coming.

The studio was dimly lit, quiet save for the low hum of the monitors still glowing blue. The monitor was open, screen stacked with demo files and folders - and among them, you noticed one single project labelled:

“DESTINY\_FINAL\_MSTR.wav”

You knew the tracklist by now. You also knew this was Woozi’s solo.

It was the one you were most excited for. Woozi hadn’t let anyone hear it yet. Not even Seungcheol, which said a lot.

He’d just smiled, eyes crinkling in his usual secretive way, and said: “It’s personal.”

Curiosity bubbled up. Not nosy - just... admiring. You respected your precious producer immensely - not just as a leader or fellow member, but as an artist. A quiet genius, one who always listened more than he spoke, always gave before asking for anything in return.

With one final glance toward the hallway to make sure no one was coming, you reached for the headphones, slid them on, and pressed play.

Woozi wasn't here yet anyways.

And that was when the room fell away.

The track started slow. Just his voice and a few chords - raw, like a breath into dawn.

“I didn't believe in fate, because I thought it would only hurt...”

His voice wasn’t polished here. It was personal - laced with hesitation and something aching. The lyrics painted something deeper than love - it felt like fate, like loss and hope threaded into one. A letter never sent. A wish made at the end of a long day.

It wasn’t like the other tracks. It didn’t soar; it floated. Like a whispered memory, or a quiet realization - the kind you have when the world is still and your thoughts are loud.

As the chorus hit, layered vocals and strings building into a vulnerable tune, your eyes stung. A hand flew to your mouth. You didn’t know when you started crying - only that now, you couldn’t stop.

“A lot of sadness and pain must also be destiny, right? I want to believe that it is a shower that will pass quickly.”

By the last chorus, you were full-on bawling - knees pulled up to your chest on woozi's chair, sleeves damp as you tried to wipe away the overwhelming tide of tears.

That’s how Woozi found you.

.

The door clicked open softly.

He froze.

You, curled on his chair with headphones still around your neck, looked up with red-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face.

His heart immediately dropped.

His voice was gentler than usual, alarmed but not panicked. “Hey- what happened? Are you hurt?”

He blinked, completely caught off guard.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccuped, swiping a sleeve across your cheeks. “I listened to your song. I wasn’t supposed to, but I did and-”

Woozi didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he stepped in quietly and walked over.

“Come here,” he murmured, making a stop beside you. Without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his chest, a hand cradling the back of your head as you melted into the warmth of him.

You fell into him like second nature.

And the both of you sat there like that for a while - your trembling subsiding slowly, the quiet hum of the studio equipment grounding you.

“I didn’t mean to cry.” You whispered, voice muffled in his sweater.

“I think it means more that you did,” Woozi replied. “That’s the biggest compliment I could ever get.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered into his chest, voice shaking. “You’re beautiful. How does someone even sing like that?”

You looked up at him, eyes still glistening. “You really sang that from your heart, didn’t you?”

He gave a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I don’t know,” he replied softly. “But I think…I wanted someone to hear it like this. Just like this.”

And she did.

The moment held.

Because in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the quiet comfort of being seen, of being heard - and of standing beside the person who made “destiny” feel like something possible, even in a world that rarely slowed down long enough to believe in it.

--

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ along with destiny, i listened to svt's playlist of sad songs (Pinwheel, Habit, & Hug are my babies, go and fight a wall) and had to take a pause while writing this to bawl my eyes out

[bloodb3nders]

dvd 002: cardigan.

| toshinori yagi (all might) x fem!reader |

wc: 3.6k

content warnings: same as masterlist

a/n: why is this lowkey goblet of fire core

NOW PLAYING: cardigan t. swift

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

when you are young, they assume you know nothing

you knew that toshinori yagi will easily become the number one hero. after all, he was easily one of the most powerful kids in your class, smile constantly painted on his face through all trainings, good and bad. even when he'd pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion, he would still shoot you a smile and a thumbs up. even when he didn't win, when he failed, he never ceased to let his upbeat energy die.

but that's not what you made you fall so head over heels for him. no, not the smile everyone got to see, not the bravado you knew he put on when he was scared. but for all those moments in between. the moments where it all falters, and you see him. not all might, but toshinori yagi, the boy who wouldn't leave you alone after your first day of UA, the boy who was constantly trying to make you smile. the boy who shared his hopes and dreams, but also his darkest fears and untold secrets. the boy who makes you run around outside with him when it's raining in the dead of night, dancing in that white t-shirt he fills out almost a little too well, and his old, tattered jeans he refuses to get rid of, no matter how many times you tease him for it.

to most people, they wouldn't be able to catch it. they wouldn't be able to catch the look behind his eyes when he's in a tough spot, to see all the gears turning in his mind, before he shifts back to the boisterous hero he's promised you he'll turn about to be. at first, towards the end of your first year, you felt his radiance, and you wondered if he'd ditch you, now that he was in the spotlight. everyone wanted to be friends with him, because it was obvious to anyone with eyes that toshi was built for greatness.

"you don't have to sit with only me at lunch y'know," you had spoken once, towards the last month before final exams at the end of your first year.

"why would you say that?" he'd responded, voice soft and low, surprise written all over his face, and his face scrunched slightly, as if what you'd said had hurt him.

"well, i know so many people are dying to just talk to you toshi. i'm just saying, you don't have to only hang out with me, y'know? i'll be fine on my own, promise," you'd replied, not daring to look at him, opting to twirl with the end of your uniform skirt instead.

"y/n, i choose to sit with you because i want to. besides, you always wanted to be my friend, even from before people knew what my quirk was," he said, his voice firm, and you glanced at him, looking into his eyes.

"you're my best friend, so of course i'm always going to want to hang out with you," he added, and you smiled at him.

"thanks toshi."

and after that, you were pretty sure you'd fallen for him right there and then.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

"dvd 2 it titled UASF, no clue what that stands for," izuku midoriya spoke, popping in the second dvd, the whole of class 1-a on edge as they mumbled in excitement over seeing what the next disc would hold, as the tv flashed to life. UA Sports Festival, appeared in big blue letters, and a grainy image of the UA stadium appeared on the television.

"oh! U.A. Sports Festival! that makes so much sense," momo yaoyorozu spoke as the television flickered, introducing the festival. old heroes, some known and some unknown flashed across the screen, as the students watched the familiar event unfold. despite the decades difference, it was set up mostly the same, three main events, the first two being group events, and the last being duels to determine a winner. the first even began, and the screen flashed to a bunch of students standing on the rim of an expansive lake, all wearing what seemed to be some sort of breathing device on their mouths.

a timer flashed on screen, signaling a countdown as the students seemed to brace themselves to jump into the lake. the students quickly spot a head of familiar blonde hair, as all might stands at the front of the pack of students. "there's that girl again!" mina points out, and there you stand, next to him, a determined look on your face as you prepare for the first event of the sports festival. suddenly, a loud buzzing went off in the air, and dozens of UA students jumped into the lake, and the scene shifted to the numerous underwater cameras planted in the expansive lake.

class 1-a watched on as the students started swimming deep underwater, and as the first set of obstacles appeared. some sort of underwater robots approached them, shooting out ropes to attempt to capture the students. they watched as several students were easily captured, flotation devices immediately activating and sending them to the top, rendering the students unable to compete. cameras flashed around to several more students swimming through the murky depths, avoiding the mechanical tendrils that shot out like underwater lightning. however, it was you and all might who caught their attention the most. despite it being a free for all, you two were relatively close to each other, moving in perfect synchronization, a reflection of your years of training together.

"look! they're helping each other!" ochaco gasped, pointing at the screen as you and all might seamlessly deflected robot attacks while maintaining a constant speed through the water.

the cameras followed as all might powered through a cluster of robots with raw strength, his quirk creating powerful currents that pushed you forward. you suddenly took to the spotlight, using your quirk to manipulate the water around you. you redirected the water around you while simultaneously lifting debris out of your path without even touching it.

suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, a large mechanical octopus-like robot cornered you against some underwater ruins. before it could shoot out a net at you, all might was there in an instant. he created an opening for you, and in an instant, the mechanical robot immediately began pummeling towards sea level, and you raised it up, before bringing your hands down, slamming it down onto three other approaching robots.

"damn, mystery girl is powerful," kirishima breathed, and even bakugo looked somewhat interested despite himself. "she's moving all that stuff without even touching it! her quirk is crazy!" kaminari added.

as the first event progressed, more obstacles appeared. underwater mazes that shifted and changed, pressure zones that could crush someone if they weren't careful, and whirlpools generated by massive mechanical devices. through it all, all might maintained his spot as leader of the pack, but you stayed close behind, using your telekinesis to move through the water with an almost supernatural grace, never falling below fourth place. you were not to be underestimated, that was for sure.

the most impressive moment came when a section of the underwater course began collapsing. massive concrete pillars started tumbling toward a group of struggling students. without a moment's notice, you threw out your hands and caught all six pillars, holding tons of concrete suspended in the water while the other students swam to safety. class 1-a watched your face twist in exhaustion, but despite how strained you look, you pushed forward, refusing to give up an inch of ground to your fellow classmates.

the finish line soon came into view. a glowing archway at the far end of the lake stood, welcoming the students. all might burst through first, water cascading off him as he surfaced with a smile that blinded. you emerged seconds later in third place, just behind a student with a speed quirk who'd barely edged you out in the final stretch. the announcer's voice boomed out, listing off the winner as the camera panned to show him helping you out of the water, his hand lingering in yours just a moment longer than necessary. as soon as you saw the camera come into view, you offered a shy smile to it, throwing up a thumbs up.

class 1-a watched on, completely absorbed, as the scene shifted to the second event of the sports festival.

"the second event will test your strategic thinking and combat coordination!" the announcer continued as the camera showed the students being divided into teams of four. "teams will face off all together in direct combat scenarios. each member is given a number, an amount of points based off how they placed in the previous event. the four teams with the most amount of points advances to the final round!"

the students watched as their teacher was immediately swarmed by classmates wanting to team up with him. after all, very unlike how this same scene unfolded at their own sports festival. but all might was incredible strong, and in this case, being on the strongest student's team seemed like a guaranteed path to the finals. as numerous voices called for him, his eyes glanced passed them, landing on you, awkwardly rubbing your arm as you looked around in search of people who'd be willing to team up with you.

your name slipped from his lips, and your body betrayed you, head perking up in and instant as you locked eyes with him, a brief moment of toshinori on display for you, and only you. "you really didn't think i wasn't going to team up with you? i'm offended if you did," he joked, gripping his chest dramatically, which made you smile in amusement.

"we've been partners for two years straight, don't you want to switch it up?" you offered, insecurity pooling in your chest as you tried to drive down your feelings. him wanting to partner up with you didn't mean he wanted you. not like that.

"no one else i'd rather fight with, mind reader," he said, your nickname falling from his plush lips that taunted you so.

"fine, we can team up," you said softly, and he grinned at you. you approached two other students who'd been overlooked in the initial team-picking frenzy. a quiet girl with a barrier quirk and a nervous boy whose quirk allowed him to turn invisible.

"an interesting team composition," the old commentary crackled through the footage. "the number one has chosen more of a support team rather than going for full power!"

the battle arena was elaborate, including a multi-level urban environment with buildings, bridges, and plenty of cover. all teams would enter simultaneously and attempt to steal each other's headbands with their number of points. combat was allowed, so if you got ko'd, you were automatically down. the catch? if one member of your team went down, you were automatically eliminated.

"it's like they can just predict each other's moves" momo observed as the camera followed your team through the opening moments of the second event.

all might took point as expected, drawing attention with his usual bravado and strength. but what made class 1-a lean forward in amazement was watching you control the entire battlefield from behind the scenes with your quirk. while all might engaged the strongest opponents directly, you were lifting your invisible teammate to high vantage points, all the while moving your barrier-quirk teammate's shields to block attacks from multiple directions. between that, you were hurling debris at enemies who thought they were safely out of reach. it was safe to say, you were amazing.

"she's fighting like four people at once," midoriya whispered in awe as the camera captured you deflecting three separate attacks, eyes glancing around to your teammates.

the cameras showed other teams struggling with to work together. some team members getting in each other's way, losing track of each other, failing to realize when they had the upper hand. but your team moved like extensions of your will, quite literally in some cases, as you used your quirk to guide your teammates' movements and enhance their success.

with three teams out of the running, tensions heightened as your team attacked against two other teams simultaneously. a student with an explosion quirk was raining down destruction from a rooftop while his teammates attacked from ground level. they'd figured out you were running the operations part of your team, and two of them charged at you while the other two made a move to take out toshinori.

with a harsh crinkle in your brow and a look of unshakeable determination written across your face, you threw your arms out in front of you. quickly, you lifted chunks of rubble to create a spiral staircase in mid-air while toshinori ran up it at full speed. your barrier-quirk teammate quickly created a large shield around the two of you, rendering the explosions useless. you shot your right arm out to the side, raising up your invisible teammate who came down with a sickening crunch, delivering a surprise attack from above onto the second attacker. another thwack sounded from the air as toshinori reached the explosion user, effectively knocking him out and taking his headband.

as just five teams remained, class 1-a could see the exhuastion emanating from the students. all might was facing off against the a team composed of pure strength and power. he was quickly attacked by a student with a strength quirk near to his own. the two were trading devastating blows that shook the entire arena, but, to his students' shock, he was slowly being pushed back.

you grunted in pain as your head throbbed with every object you moved. your attention quickly snapped to toshi as he took a sharp punch to his jaw, and your heart fell to your gut as you watched him wince in pain. without thinking, you quickly flung your opponent out of your way, and made a mad dash towards toshi. although you had trained defensively with your quirk far more than offensively, you launched yourself at the strength quirk villain, and unbeknownst to you, your quirk leveled up ever so slightly.

with the determination of a girl trying to save the boy she had a hopeless crush on, which is not to be underestimated, you threw yourself at him, feet first, connecting with his side and blowing him away.

a bell rang out across the arena, signaling the end of the match, right as you stumbled a bit, only to be stabilized by the calming hand of toshi at your side.

"don't worry about me," you said softly, eyes meeting his dazzling blue pair as worry etched into his face.

"team one consisting of toshinori yagi, y/n l/n, xx, and xx, have won with an amazing amount of points!" a voice boomed out as the arena erupted in cheers.

"and now, the moment you've all been waiting for: the final event! individual duels will now be held to determine this year's sports festival champion!"

the tournament bracket appeared on screen, showing the top sixteen students who'd made it through both previous events. all might's name sat at the top of the bracket, while you were seeded fourth.

class 1-a watched on as you stepped into the arena to face your first opponent.

your opponent was the speedster who'd beaten you to second place in the underwater event. he was cocky, and clearly underestimating you. the match was over in under two minutes. the moment he tried to rush you, you threw a hand out, stopping him mid-charge, holding him suspended in the air for a few seconds before gently placing him outside the boundary ring.

"did she just... catch him?" kaminari asked in disbelief.

the second match was more challenging for you, as you were pitted against a student with a duplication quirk. but you were patient, using your quirk to lift all of them up in the air, and you sensed which one actually weighed the most, and quickly slammed him down into the ground, effectively ko'ing him.

meanwhile, all might was blazing through his side of the bracket, though class 1-a caught him glancing toward your matches every so often when the cameras panned towards the student section.

"the semifinals!" the commentator announced as the bracket narrowed down to four students: all might, you, a girl with a powerful energy projection quirk, and the student with the barrier ability from your team.

your were pitted against the energy projector, and it was the most visually spectacular fight yet. she fired devastating beams of pure energy, and you barely deflected them with rogue debris, trying to get close enough to grab her with your quirk. the arena floor became a warzone of craters and floating rubble as you two went all out.

in a sloppy move, you accidentally left yourself ungaurded, and a rogue beam of energy hit you square in the chest, almost pushing you out of bounds if you hadn't forced stopped yourself. head woozy, you looked up, watching as she readied another beam of energy, and you threw your hand out, putting all your focus into the beam, and redirected the blast back at her, pushing the girl out of bounds.

you were breathing hard and clearly exhausted, having pushed your quirk to its limits. "shit, i'm gonna die next round," you muttered to yourself as you made your way off the arena's square.

the other semifinal was far more anticlimactic. all might easily defeated his opponent, one smash and he was out.

the final pairing was all might against you, and boy was class 1-a invested in how this match would go down.

you stood across from all might in the center of the arena, both of you showing the wear from your previous matches. however, it was clear to the eye that you looked far more exhausted than the future number one hero.

"no holding back," you called out, voice hoarse, but still full of determination and excitement.

"wouldn't dream of it, mind reader!" all might called back, bumping his fists excitedly as the match began.

all might flew at you with incredible speed and power, but you'd been watching him fight for two years now, you knew his patterns, his technique, his ultimate moves. you moved into a defensive stance, ripping up the ground in an attempt to allow the debris to slow him down so you could build up some sort of attack.

however, all might continued charging forward at you with a devastating force, while you responded by hurling massive chunks of the arena itself at him or trying to catch him directly with your quirk. however, it was clear he knew your boundaries too, and you needed to be within five-ish feet of someone to catch them. he kept using air waves to push you back, and you found yourself barely making up any ground toward him.

"she's actually managing keeping up with him," shoto spoke, voice monotone as the camera captured you managing to grab all might's ankle mid-charge, sending him stumbling just long enough for you to launch a counterattack.

but, the difference in raw power was undeniable. your telekinesis was incredibly versatile, but it had limits, and all might's strength seemed boundless. as the match wore on, you began to show signs of the mental strain that came with using your quirk so intensively. every so often, you'd rub your temple, and you could feel your head pounding as you tried to concentrate on what toshi would do next.

a particularly powerful smash from all might shattered the entire section of arena floor you'd been standing on, and you were launched up into the air, flying backwards toward the boundary. surely, the match was about to end. with a cry of pure determination, you used your telekinesis to stop your own fall, suspending yourself in mid-air above the boundary line. then, in a display of power that had the entire crowd hollering, you began lifting and hurling every piece of debris in the arena at once.

"she's going, plus ultra," midoriya whispered in awe as rocks, concrete chunks, and metal fragments filled the air in a telekinetic storm centered on you.

for a moment, even all might looked genuinely concerned as he found himself in the middle of what was essentially a localized tornado of debris. but then, he smiled, that bright, invincible smile, and launched himself straight through your telekinetic storm with a jump that cracked what remained of the arena floor.

your quirk was a feat, but you couldn't stop the concentrated force of all might's most powerful attack. the collision of his punch against the debris created a hail storm of concrete as it all came pouring down on you, too much for you to stop all of it, as you were covered in rubble and chunks of rock. when the dust settled, you were unconscious, the upper half of your body free from the rubble, but your legs trapped under some concrete.

"TOSHINORI YAGI WINS THE U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL!"

the crowd erupted, but the camera stayed focused on all might as he immediately jogged over to you, lifting off pieces of rubble from your body, pulling you out from the cocoon of concrete.

"come on, y/n, wake up!" he willed, and your eyes fluttered open, giving him a weak smile.

"remind me never to pick a fight with you again," you said weakly, and he chuckled, helping you up to your feet.

"what a sports festival!" the announcer boomed medics arrived to check on you and confetti rained down from above.

the screen flashed to the medal ceremony, as all might stood on the top podium, and you on the second-place podium looking tired but proud, a small bandage on your forehead from overusing your quirk.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

"hey," toshi called out to you, as the two of you sat on a bench, enjoying some strawberry mochi after the sport's festival had come to a close. you turned your head towards him, capturing his features as you savored the moment around you.

"i always want you by my side, fighting with me," he said firmly, and you couldn't help the smile that broke onto your face.

"always is a long time, toshi," you responded, and he snorted.

"always and forever then."

and when i felt like i was an old cardigan, under someone's bed. you put me on and said i was your favorite

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

taglist (4/50): @pixelcafe-network @mjuhgydxf @musclefanatica @dick-blender

[kaliforniahigh]

I can't choose just one😭 you chan choose for me or the letter that didn't get requested yet I, K, R, S, with Noah please😘

NSFW Alphabet - 900 Followers Celebration!

R (ride) | 🔞 SMUT 18+ only! | Thank you for the request 💜

Requests are currently closed for the 900 Followers Celebration!

To your defense, his lap looked absolutely inviting, especially when he wore those sweatpants that you loved so much.

You totally intended to let him play his game in peace, as you laid on the bed, reading your book. But, suddenly, invasive thoughts started to cloud your mind, and before you even knew it, you were making your way over to him.

It started innocent enough. A hand on his shoulder that started to travel over his chest. Noah leaned his head back a little, telling you that he was enjoying your touch on him.

Your wandering hands traveled even more downwards, and you rubbed him over his stomach, feeling him clench under your palms. Your face was close to his neck, and you had to stand on your tip toes just to reach over the chair.

When you attempted to go even lower, Noah paused his game, and swiveled in his chair to face you, your touch leaving his skin for the moment.

"What are you doing?", he questions, tilting his head to the side, trying to gauge your intentions.

"Just wanted to be close to you", you tell him, innocently enough.

"The bed felt lonely?"

You nodded you head yes, giving him your best doe eyes and a little pouty lip.

He find it hilarious that you think you need to beg for his proximity.

"Why don't you come here sit on my lap while I play this game?", he suggests and you beam in excitment, immediately plopping yourself on his lap.

Both of your legs are dangling off the side of the chair, and you rested your head on his chest, fingers absentmindedly messing with a loose thread on his sweatshirt.

You let a few minutes pass by, and you start to get a restless. Shifting a little on his lap to get more comfortable, one of his hands goes to grip your thigh, trying to keep you in place.

He can't see the grin on your face when you shift once again, this time rubbing your core that was thinly covered with your sleep shorts over his covered one.

He hisses quietly at the feeling.

"Noah", you whine his name and he hums, prompting you to go on. "Wanna ride you in this chair."

You feel him pause for a second over your words before he answers you.

"Well, I'm not pausing the game", it's all he says, and you lift your head to look him in the eyes, you can see the challenge there. He's giving you an opportunity to get what you want, but you're gonna have to do it all by yourself.

You don't waste time taking your shorts and panties off, and you don't even bother with his sweatpants, only sliding it a little bit lower, until you can free him from the confines of his boxers.

You pump him a few times, and he tenses under you. Maneuvering as well as you can in the limited space that you have, you lift yourself to line him up with your entrance, sinking down inch by inch.

Your head is thrown back and your eyes are squeezed shut at the feeling of him stretching you out so nicely. Noah takes a second to admire you. He loves it when you take control and get what you need out of him.

Your movements start slow. You hips leisurely moving back and forth. You rest your head on his chest once again, feeling his whole body pressing into yours.

Noah wants you to go faster, wants to feel the bounce on top of him, wants to feel your ass moving over his thighs.

But he lets you do it at your own pace.

He thinks you've been at it for hours already, but in reality, it's been only ten minutes at max.

When you moan in his ear and clench around his cock, is when he can't take it anymore.

He doesn't pause the game, just leaves his mouse and keyboard abandoned and throws his headseat on the table in front of him.

His hands rest firmly on either side of your hips, and he starts to move you up and now with more urgent movements. The change of pace catches you off guard for a second, but soon, you're leaning back to rest your hands on his knees.

"Thought you needed a little help."

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[threegoldfish]

When Steven finally lets Harrow get a word in - pauses long enough for the man to manage to do so - he thinks he can spot some discomfort there, pulsing through the doctor's very being; Unsure what exactly it is, but Steven takes that moment of non-rambling to take a closer look at the other sitting there, as he always does, just...

---More stiff, maybe, yeah. He appears more stiff. More sore, in a way that's hard to describe, as Steven obviously cannot feel whether some soreness really is going on there. Harrow's expression tells that he must've had a day, someting taxing happened, pulled on his nerves, left him tired and a bit exhausted.

Well, Steven's never been really good at such things. He could be entirely wrong, definitely, but... it pokes at him, in a way, and ist causes brows to lift again as that excited expression softens a bit, followed by what is clear empathy appearing within dark brown irises.

"Had a day, yeah?" A gentle inquiry, all soft-spoken and kind, with Steven shifting a bit forward in his seat as he folds his hands onto his lap, blinking once while a few seconds of silence pass. "I, erm, I'm not saying that you look--- bad, or something, no, not at all! Just... a bit tired, maybe? Tense - around the, uhm, jaw-area. Shoulders. ...Something like that."

Mentioning all this sure as hell is a great way to make friends, huh? Steven cringes a bit - internally, that is - before he clears his throat, then allows another smile to tug on his lips again, head tilting a bit, nostrils flaring as he exhales a breath. That previously mentioned empathy continues to exist, however, because it is genuine in nature, sincere; Steven's not one who likes to see other people suffering, and he wants everyone to be okay - which is stupid, honestly, because life is shit sometimes and there's no way for a man like him to make everyone's day be a bit better.

But he cares, still. Has a heart made of gold - which he himself does not really see, not at all.

"Y'know, it might sound stupid to some, but... whenever I feel a certain way, I like to have a cup of tea. It's a warm beverage, therefore makes one feel more relaxed, and it smells - and tastes - very nice. ---Depending on the kind of tea, of course, and whether someone's able to make it the proper way." A slight jab at the psych ward's canteen? Definitely. Steven clears his throat for a second time.

"...What I wanna say with that is, that, uhm... maybe have a cup of tea, yeah? I'm sure it will help you deal with whatever caused you trouble today. --- I mean, yeah, People keep saying that it isn't the case, but I think that tea can help to fix everything!" A true Brit he is, but he might also cling on some childhood memories there, who knows? Steven might not even be aware of it - he just believes in it, the magic powers of a good cup of tea, and he thinks that others can profit from it as well.

Another soft gaze, another kind smile, and Steven inhales deeply, then exhales - looks at the succulent again, being very much fond of it, before his attention is back on Harrow.

"To answer your question - sorry, I just... y'know..." A hand moves, gestures at the doctor, then drops back onto his lap as Steven nods, shrugs, then clears his throat once more. "...Uhm, yes, things have been good for me! ... As far as they can be good, since I'm here and not at home, but!" A finger is lifted, accompanied by a nod, brows rising along the shape of that forehead - so expressive, always. "I did finish an entire puzzle yesterday! No one really wanted to join me, unfortunately... but that's okay. I also went for a stroll in the garden; That lovely caretaker named Abby joined me, and we talked about birds! Very interesting. ---I kinda hoped to find another letter this morning, but... yeah, Marc probably takes his time, huh? ... I hope he's okay and doing well, all things considered. ...I have to admit, I found it rather endearing that he must've made his way over to my room in the early morning just to slide the letter under the door without me noticing, and then probably hurried back to his own room; Wished he would've knocked or stayed for a chat, but... I guess he's shy. That's okay! I can wait."

The day started with a limp. Not unusual, not severe, but just off; tightness in his thigh that hadn’t stretched out like it normally did. Then the heatwave hit, turning the ride on the bus into a sauna, making certain that his head was already aching before he’d even made it to the first patient of the day. 

Khonshu had thrown up on the rug. Ammit was nowhere to be found - the vet didn’t have an opening until Thursday, and his only reassurance had been that he should ‘only be concerned if Khonshu gets lethargic’; as if he were home to be able to watch for that. As if Ammit might not already be lethargic, and he didn’t know because he didn’t have the time to see where she was hiding. 

After that, the coffee was wrong. He didn’t realize it at first, too distracted and stiff in the leg to notice, but it was wrong. Wrong milk, wrong temperature, wrong order. Not even a second later came the zap; a burning strike of pain that lanced up his cheekbone, across his eyes, through the side of his skull like he’d been hit with a live wire from the inside. 

He managed to swallow. Managed to smile, even, as he walked past the front desk. 

The rest of the day was unkind. 

A young woman sobbed as she realized her abuser had finally died, and Arthur had sat with her, carefully not reacting as she threw one of his chairs. Another had a panic attack so violent that he clocked Arthur in the side of the head; by accident, but it still rattled him. 

He was already exhausted by the time he’d met with one of his newer patients; a woman in her mid-thirties. She didn’t sit down. She didn’t look at him; her file was thin, and she refused to answer questions. The only thing she had bothered to do was threaten him; talking through the last doctor she’d had, one who she’d broken the jaw of. 

I’ll see you next week, she’d said as she walked out. Unless someone else gets to you first. 

Overkill, certainly, and not very frightening, but it had been a frustrating way to end their first conversation. His head was resting against his hand when the door opened; he almost didn’t have the energy for it. Not after the morning, the threats, the flare in his jaw that hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d gotten up. But when he heard that voice — Steven, not Marc — he blinked, looking up. 

It hit like sunlight on a rainy day. Arthur looked up just in time to watch Steven fall into the chair like it had been waiting all day just for him. His eyes were wide, his face open; Arthur didn’t interrupt. He just… watched. 

The words flooded in. Excited, warm, spilling over each other like they couldn’t be fast enough. It filled the room in a way that nothing physical ever could; Steven was grinning, talking so rapidly, updating Arthur on all of the good things going on in his world. 

Arthur let out a breath that might have been a laugh. Just a soft puff of air through his nose, but it was more than he’d managed in hours; he nodded gently, faintly, just… listening. The plant had grown on him, yes. He was happy that Marc had written the letter, happy that Steven had received it; the man was glowing. 

Only a few minutes, and Arthur’s chest ached in an entirely different way, his eyes more relaxed than they had been only moments before. 

“I’m glad he replied,” Arthur answered, his voice quiet as he gently shifted to open to a new page in his notebook. “And I’m glad you wrote back. That connection is very important, I think you deserve to be heard.” 

He leaned back slightly in his chair. His body still ached, his jaw still bothered him, but it was already easier. 

“Marc can be… the type of man who takes his time,” he agreed, with a little nod. “But he was very happy, when getting your first letter - I’m sure he’s going to write something back very soon. I assume that things have been going well for you, here?” 

[hainge]

Sixth bullet: Timed too well

cowboy!kaiser x fem!reader

part 6 (wc 6.7k) from Silver Bullets and Stolen Hearts

part V part VII

warnings: MDNI!!!, little angst, strong language, abuse, human rights violated, gun usage, violence, blood, slaughter, fire, mention of characters death

“I’ve been planning something,” your father said quietly, voice low as if confessing a sin more than making an announcement.

He moved slowly, dragging out one of the kitchen chairs with a soft scrape against the floorboards. He gestured for you to sit across from him, and though confusion furrowed your brow, you obeyed.

“Planning… what exactly?” you asked, watching him carefully.

He looked down, one hand rubbing his jaw. There was a long pause, thick with whatever weight he was carrying in his chest. Then finally, he exhaled.

“We’re moving,” he said.

“…Moving?” you echoed, blinking once, not sure you heard him right.

He gave a short nod. “Yes… in a few days. Five, to be exact. I just got the chance to tell you now.”

You didn’t speak right away, not because you were upset, but because something fluttered in your chest, a light, breathless excitement that caught you off guard. It rose faster than you expected, leaving a ghost of a smile you couldn’t quite hide.

Your father caught it. His own face softened with a gentle smile, worn at the corners with age and fatigue. “I want better for us, Y/N. Truly. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. You’ve got a fire in you, something bright.You deserve a future, a real one.”

That softened you more than you expected. You looked down at your hands for a moment, your lips curving just slightly, and that was enough for him.

“Where are we going exactly?” you asked.

He leaned back a little in the chair, pride gleaming faintly in his eyes. “The city of Gotham,” he said, smiling.

You paused. “…Wait. Gotham? You mean New York? No. No, Dad, you’re joking.”

He shook his head slowly. “I ain’t. Gotham City, Y/N. Right across the damn country. That’s where we’re headed.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and you stared at him as if he’d just said he bought a piece of the moon. New York. All the way east. The place you’d only ever read about or heard in the chatter of travelers passing through town. A place of carriages and steamships, of galleries and stone buildings tall enough to scrape the clouds.

Your father let out a small laugh. “Come on now, don’t look at me like I just pulled a rabbit from a boot. It’s real. And it’s happenin’. We’re leavin’ this town in five days.”

And for the first time in a long while, the kitchen didn’t feel so quiet.

It felt full of possibility.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

Your father waved it off with a small shrug. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. Just start gettin’ your bags together. You got five days.”

You didn’t even try to hide the excitement that burst in your chest. You pushed back your chair and stood up so quickly it scraped loud across the floor.

But then, he stopped you.

“One thing, though,” he added, and your feet stalled mid-step. “We won’t be travelin’ alone.”

“…Wait, what?” you said slowly, your brows pulling together.

“There’ll be others. A few folks from around here, some from nearby towns. They’ll be comin’ with us.”

Your voice rose before you could stop it. “Why? Why them?”

“Mind your tone,” he said calmly, though his gaze carried a note of warning.

“Sorry,” you muttered, lowering your eyes. You were still standing, your excitement tangled now with something else.

He exhaled through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck. “The attacks, Y/N. Out here in Texas they’re gettin’ worse. There’s been raids… outlaws, trouble along the borders. Some families are takin’ the chance to get out while they still can. My old trailmates are gonna ride with us for protection.”

“…What?” The single word left your mouth dry.

Your mind raced to the letter, the strange timing. Of course it made sense now, of course. Evacuation. Quiet warnings. Plans unfolding just beneath your nose.

“You might even get the chance to talk to Michael again,” he added casually, though there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“What? No, come on! I thought it was gonna be just us. You and me!”

He frowned, slow and stern. “Y/N… don’t be selfish.”

“Selfish?” you repeated, stunned. “How is that selfish? I don’t even understand what this all means!”

But the words weren’t born of logic.

Your stomach twisted.

Your father looked at you with steady patience, though the edge of concern tugged at his jaw. “You think I’m hiding somethin’ from you?”

“I-” You froze. No. You couldn’t mention the card. If he found out you had gone through his things, there’d be no forgiving that. No understanding.

“…No. I don’t.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then nodded. “Then why the fuss? Why the overreaction? These people are doin’ what’s best for them. And truth is, it’ll make the journey safer for all of us. You may not see it now, but this is how we get through.”

You couldn’t argue. Not really. But you hated the way your body sank into itself. The way you felt like something important was slipping through your fingers and you couldn’t say why.

Your shoulders dropped, and your mouth formed no words. You only sulked as your father stood and left the room, leaving behind a quiet that felt far too loud.

“I know it hasn’t been a good day for you, and I’m sorry,” your father said gently. “Y/N, like I told you, I want the best for you. But I also want the best for other people.”

“Okay, I understand,” you cut him off, your voice sharp and clipped.

You didn’t wait for another word. Your boots hit the steps hard, each stomp echoing up the narrow staircase. Behind you, your father let out a slow sigh, raising his brows in a silent, weary gesture, as if to say Lord, give me patience.

Inside your room, the door shut behind you with a thud. You didn’t breathe. You didn’t think. You just acted.

In one harsh sweep, you cleared your table, everything crashing to the wooden floor. The box Kaiser had given you, the canvas, the brushes, the ribbon, the gold earrings… all of it tumbled down like they meant nothing. Maybe something cracked. Maybe something bent. You didn’t look. You didn’t care.

Your body felt too small to hold all this chaos. Rage. Sadness. Confusion. Your heart had been pulled in so many directions today, it felt like a splintered bone waiting to snap.

With a grunt, you slammed both fists down on the table, the impact shaking through your arms and up into your shoulders.

“He’s hiding,” you muttered under your breath, chest heaving. “They’re hiding.”

You weren’t just talking about your father anymore. You were talking about all of them. The men he rode with. That so-called cowboy circle who always knew more than they let on. The way they spoke in glances, shared secrets in plain sight. You weren’t stupid. Not anymore.

And worst of all, you had forgotten. Forgotten the very first thing you wanted to do when you left the table downstairs. You had wanted to see Kaiser. You were ready to chase him down, to demand more than a letter, more than a box of apologies.

But now?

Now your mind was swimming in things too heavy to hold. Questions. Regrets. Things unsaid. And the weight of it was dragging you under.

You sank down onto the bed, still shaking.

Everything felt unreal. You didn’t know who to trust. You didn’t even know what to feel anymore. It was too much.

So you did the only thing you could.

You curled beneath your blanket and let the silence swallow you. 

You closed your eyes.

Let this day be over. Just let it end.

And with that final thought, the world slipped into darkness. "Y/N..." "Y/Nnnnn..." "Y/N!" "Y/N!"

You shot up with a sharp gasp, your hand instinctively clutched to your chest as your eyes flicked around the room, breath shallow. The morning light spilled in through the curtains in soft yellow streaks, dust dancing lazily in the beam. Your ears strained.

“Umm…?” you mumbled groggily, still half-lost in sleep. "Who the hell was calling me..."

Silence. Just the early sounds of life outside, the clatter of a passing wagon, a distant dog barking, the murmur of wind brushing the windowpane.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to ground yourself, then looked down, only to see the chaotic mess on the floor. Everything from your desk, tossed in a storm of emotion just hours ago, still lay scattered. The brushes, pencils… even the small golden earrings glinting faintly beneath a crumpled sketchbook.

"Seven a.m.," you muttered to yourself, catching sight of the small, ticking clock near your window. You let out a slow sigh and pushed off the covers.

Despite the weight in your chest, your movements were automatic. You knelt down and began picking up what you'd thrown, each item a reminder of what you’d tried to forget.

“To my dearest Y/N...” you murmured quietly. His handwriting, elegant and sure, flashed in your mind. So unlike the sharp, reckless boy you remembered. You bit your lower lip, pressing it hard to stop the wave threatening to rise again.

Your eyes drifted to the window. That same dusty town, half-awake under the pale morning sun. Soon, it would be behind you. Soon, you’d walk cleaner streets, maybe live among things that sparkled and shone. But the idea of getting there—with them—with other people.

Your jaw tightened.

“It makes sense now,” you muttered bitterly. “The card my dad got... it’s all connected.”

You paused. Then shook your head.

Outside, a high-pitched squeal echoed down the street, kids yelling and running past. “No, it doesn’t. Not yet. Not really." You blinked, the sound breaking your spiral like cold water.

“Okay. Good timing,” you said under your breath. You weren't going to drag yesterday into today. That was your rule. So you got dressed.

The blue dress you'd sewn yourself, the one with the cinched waist and careful embroidery along the collar. You buttoned it up slowly, smoothing down the skirt with practiced hands. Then came your jacket, dark and trim. You braided your hair into two polished pigtails, tied each with a delicate white bow. You checked the mirror once, twice, then nodded once to your reflection.

This day would be different. You’d make sure of it “Maybe Cupid won’t miss… maybe,” you hummed the tune under your breath, a silly little melody you’d made up long ago, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped out of your room. The air in the house was still, and when you glanced toward the parlor, the space where your father usually nursed his coffee, it was empty.

Gone already. Where? You hadn’t the faintest clue.

The front door creaked lightly as you pushed it open. The morning sun spilled across the porch, and the dry wind brought the smell of dust and prairie bloom. Right on cue, as if the town never changed, two familiar voices shouted from the road.

“Y/Nnnnnn!”

You didn’t even have time to blink before Leon and Alex barreled toward you with grins wide enough to split their faces. Alex’s hair was a mess of curls, and Leon still wore mismatched boots, same as always.

“Good morning,” you greeted, brushing your dress and bracing for impact.

“Why did your dad close the saloon?” Alex blurted.

“…Excuse me?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Your da closed the saloon,” Leon repeated with full confidence, like he’d seen it himself.

You blinked. The saloon? You hadn’t heard that yet.

“…Ah-yes,” you fumbled, trying to catch up, “he did.”

“Why?” Alex demanded with a furrowed brow.

“Stuff,” you said curtly, hoping they’d drop it.

“Noooo, tell usss,” they both whined in unison, as dramatic as always. Leon even tugged at your sleeve.

You sighed. It wasn’t in your nature to lie, not to them.

“I’m… moving out...?” you admitted, instantly regretting it.

The boys froze, their grins melting away, expressions twisting in disbelief like they’d just watched the sky fall out of place. You wished, with a sudden pang, that you could pull the words back into your mouth. Since you’d first come to this dusty corner of Texas, friendships hadn’t come easy. The girls your age whispered behind fans and fenceposts, and the boys either avoided you or wanted something you weren’t willing to give. But Leon and Alex, loud, stubborn, full of questions and wild schemes, had slipped past all that. Without even trying, they’d become the one steady part of your day. They never cared who your father was or how quiet you stayed. They just showed up, every morning, like clockwork, like the sunrise. And in their company, those early hours didn’t feel so hollow. Didn’t feel like you were always waiting for something that never came.

“You’re lying,” Leon said quickly, voice cracking a little. “You’re not leaving.”

“For the best,” you replied softly. “Sorry, boys.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Alex suddenly lit up, eyes wide with realization. “But now you can become a fashion designer!”

You blinked, a little taken aback by his excitement.

“Ahh yes,” you said, deciding to run with it, “I can make as many clothes as you boys want.”

Leon grinned. “Especially the suit for my wedding.”

“Of course,” you teased, ruffling his hair. “And your suit too, Alex.”

Alex grabbed your hand without warning and tugged with determination. “Can you take us to school?” “Of course” you smiled at him. The sun wasn’t even fully up yet, and the town was already stirring with the sounds of hooves, wagon wheels, and distant voices. The dirt roads kicked up soft clouds as you walked alongside the boys, the dry breeze tugging gently at your skirt.

“We learned the last letter yesterday! Z!” Leon declared with his chest puffed out like a rooster.

“Hmm, great on you boys,” you said with a grin.

“Will you play with us before you leave?” Alex looked up at you, hopeful.

“I’ll try,” you replied, ruffling his hair.

They slowed their steps as the schoolhouse came into view. Alex turned and hugged your waist tightly. You bent slightly, hugging him back with the care you’d give a porcelain doll. Then came Leon, who clung around your middle like a determined barn cat.

“Pay attention in class,” you said, voice gently teasing as you brushed his hat into place.

“We will! We will!” they chorused, already half-running toward the front steps, laughter echoing in the morning air.

You stood for a moment, watching them disappear into the little building.

Just seeing those two bedbugs was enough to brighten up your day. Every time. They didn’t need to say much. Their presence alone was enough to remind you that not all parts of this town felt heavy or hollow.

And that’s how it went, day after day, in those final mornings before you had to leave. The same old dusty Texas town, but everything felt a little lighter. Maybe it was the quiet now that your father’s saloon was closed. No more drunken fools leering from the porch, no more sharp words exchanged over spilled beer and bad card hands. What a relief. That gave you more time for sketches, for wandering in the sunlight, for those little conversations with the kids, even the ones you only shared a few good memories with.

As for Kaiser? He’d vanished. Not a single sighting. Four whole days, gone like smoke on the wind. The wagon stood behind the house, its wooden sides worn but sturdy, wheels creaking gently under the weight of the growing load. The sun had climbed higher, casting long slants of gold across the dusty yard. Chickens wandered nearby, clucking lazily as they kicked up dirt.

You stood at the back of the wagon, folding a blanket into one of the trunks while Leon handed you a satchel and Alex tried to roll up your old drawing case, though it kept unraveling in his hands.

“Careful, don’t crumple it,” you warned softly.

Alex gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry…”

Leon, meanwhile, was peering back toward the house with furrowed brows. “What are you gonna do with the piano?”

You turned from your packing and followed his gaze, where the old upright piano sat just beyond the back window.

“My father’s selling the house,” you said gently. “The piano comes with it. I don’t need it anymore.” You tried to smile, though it didn’t reach all the way. “I’ll get a new one in New York.”

Their faces shifted at once, both boys’ expressions falling in that unmistakable, quiet way that scraped at your chest.

You knelt between them, brushing a bit of dust from Alex’s cheek. “Hey now,” you said softly, “we’re still gonna write, remember? Cards. I talked with your parents. We’ll keep in touch.”

“It won’t be the same,” Alex muttered, his voice small. “We won’t have you here to draw with us. Or to play music.”

“We have other friends,” Leon added, not quite meeting your eyes. “But you’re our favorite one.”

You took a breath. The ache behind your ribs grew sharper, not just from saying goodbye, but from knowing what it meant to be someone’s safe place. Even if only for a while.

“I know it’s hard,” you said gently, smoothing down Leon’s hair. “But y’all gotta think of it this way, the town stays the same, right? Dusty, noisy, little bit boring… But if I’m in New York, you’ll have someone who’s seen a whole different world. I’ll draw it all for you. Tell you stories. Send you pressed flowers from places you’ve never been.”

Alex blinked up at you. “Really?”

“Of course,” you smiled, finally reaching them this time. “And when you grow up and come visit me, or better yet, when you make it out of here yourselves, you’ll already know where to find me.”

That gave them pause. A spark of something hopeful lit behind their eyes.

“Now,” you said, turning back toward the wagon, “hand me that bag, will you?”

Leon tried to pass it to you, but it was heavier than expected. You tried to lift it onto the wagon’s bed, arms tightening, back tensing.

“Need help?”

The voice came low and smooth, from somewhere behind you.

You turned, breath catching slightly.

There he stood. Michael Kaiser. Tall, clean as ever in his usual dark coat and neatly tied bandana, dust clinging to the soles of his boots. His white horse stood just behind him, reins slack in the breeze.

“I-” You swallowed lightly.

He stepped forward and took it from your hands with ease, lifting it into the wagon without effort.

“You always pack like you're moving a small kingdom?” he asked, brushing his palms off on his trousers. “What are you doing here?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “Knew you’d need help. You always had trouble pickin’ up heavy things,” Kaiser said with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes. “You can go. I don’t need your help.”

Unfortunately for you, the next bag was just as heavy, if not worse. You barely got it off the ground before he stepped in again. He let out a low chuckle. “See? Let me.”

Without struggle, Kaiser hoisted the bag and tossed it into the back of the wagon like it weighed nothing.

“Wow, you’re really strong,” Leon said, wide-eyed.

Kaiser smirked at the praise. “You’ll be like me one day, trust me.”

He ruffled the boy’s hair, and Alex immediately chimed in.

“You’re a cowboy?” he asked.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Can I try your hat?” “Can I touch your gun?” “How many people have you killed?” “Is it true you got more enemies than friends?”

Kaiser laughed at the barrage of questions, indulging them one by one. He let Alex try on his hat, let Leon peek at the revolver’s holster, just enough to stir their excitement without being reckless. You stood off to the side, sulking as you continued organizing the crates and sacks in the back of the wagon.

Then a voice cut through the air. “It’s gettin’ dark.”

You looked over your shoulder. Your father stood behind you, cigar in hand, the smoke curling lazily around him.

“Hello, sir,” Kaiser greeted, polite and steady.

“Hm… hello, Mihya. You’re already here,” your father muttered, squinting as he stepped closer. “Is everything in place, Y/N?”

“Uhum, uhum.”

“I don’t understand ‘hum’ language.”

You sighed. “Yes. Everything’s in place.”

He nodded, taking another slow drag from his cigar. The sun had dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of dusty gold and red while the boys still giggled and clung to Kaiser like he was some kind of hero. And you, well, you kept your hands busy, trying to ignore the storm of thoughts circling your head. “We’re leavin’ in twenty. The rest are on their way. Michael, come here” your father said as he stepped off toward the far side of the house.

Kaiser gave a short hum and went after him, leaving you and the boys by the wagon. As soon as he was out of sight, Alex and Leon pounced on the cowboy’s prized possession.

“Don’t toss it like that,” you warned, grabbing the hat before it hit the ground. “It’s expensive.”

You turned it in your hands, eyes catching on the label inside the brim. Boss of the Plains. “Dayum,” you murmured, impressed in spite of yourself.

On the other side of the house, Kaiser walked beside your father, the wind picking up a little as the horizon deepened with gold and violet. The wooden boards creaked under their boots. Smoke from the man’s cigar drifted lazily into the cooling air.

“Ego, Noa, and their groups are likely near Shvespere by now,” your father said, staring off at the setting sun.

“That fast?” Kaiser asked, brows drawn.

“They left four days ago.”

Kaiser exhaled through his nose. “You think it’ll take longer now? More people this time. Families. Elders…”

Your father rubbed his temple. “Forty souls. That’s countin’ your group, me, and Y/N.”

He let out a long sigh.

“Two to three months on the road, like Ego promised.”

Kaiser clenched his jaw. “Three months? I promised-” He stopped short and looked away. “Never mind.”

Your father’s voice dropped. “They hit another town. South of here. Not much left of it.”

Kaiser turned back, eyes narrowing. “Anyone made it out?”

“No one.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Crickets had begun their nightly chorus, faint at first.

“They’ll be here soon,” your father said quietly.

Kaiser looked him in the eye, tone dark. “Soon means?”

“Noa said five days… but I don’t trust that number.”

“Neither do I.”

Kaiser’s eyes shifted to the trees at the edge of town, scanning the shadows like they might already be here.

“You think we can still get folks out in time?” he asked, voice low.

“I don’t have an answer for that yet. People know what’s comin’, Michael. They just don’t all want to believe it.”

Your father looked down at the dirt, thumb brushing against his cigar.

“I just don’t want it weighin’ on Y/N’s head,” he added. “She can’t know. Not yet.”

Kaiser was quiet for a beat.

“She’ll find out.”

“I know.”

“She won’t forgive you for keepin’ it.”

“Maybe. But at least she’ll get to New York alive.”

The last light of the sun dipped past the edge of the hills, and the wind carried the smell of smoke and dry grass. Kaiser stayed still for a moment longer before nodding once, slowly.

“…Then let’s make sure she does.” “You won’t forget to send us the cards,” Alex whimpered, his small hands clutching at your sleeve like he might hold you back.

“I won’t…” you whispered, brushing his bangs out of his teary eyes. “I won’t forget, I swear it.”

He hugged you tightly, nearly knocking the breath out of your chest. Leon followed right after, arms thrown around your waist, his face buried in your coat. You held them both as tight as you could, like you could squeeze the memory of them into your bones. If only you could take them with you. If only the world were gentler.

Alex cried harder, his shoulders shaking, and your arms started trembling too. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the sob rising up in your throat, but it betrayed you anyway. A tear slipped down your cheek, and then another, and another. The mask you always wore, the calm and cool that folks expected from you, cracked in front of them.

You didn’t care.

Not this time.

From the other side of the wagon, Kaiser stood watching. His brows were furrowed, jaw tense, but the look in his eyes was soft. Understanding. There was a silence in his posture, a quiet kind of grief, that told you he saw everything and wouldn’t say a word to break it.

“Time to gooooo~” Shidou’s voice cut through the dusk like a wild chord. He swung onto his horse with that usual manic grin.

“Y/N…”

Kaiser’s voice was quieter than before, more careful. He tilted his head slightly toward the wagon trail. The look on his face said enough. It was time.

You let out a long, trembling breath and leaned down one last time to hug the boys again, tighter than before. If you stayed any longer, you’d break in two. You whispered something they wouldn’t remember in words but would carry in their hearts.

Then you stood, the weight of goodbye pulling at your knees.

Your father was already at the reins of the wagon, silent, waiting.

“Y/Nnnn…” Alex cried again, desperate, and that time, it almost broke you.

Before you could say anything else, Kaiser stepped in. Gently but firmly, he knelt beside Alex, placing his expensive, perfectly-kept hat onto the boy’s head.

“Keep it for luck,” he said, smoothing it over the boy’s dark hair. “It’s yours now.”

Alex blinked up at him, sniffling, touched by the gesture in a way only a child could understand.

“I’ll take care of Y/N,” Kaiser promised, his voice steady. “She’ll be alright. I swear that to you.”

You didn’t expect the way his arm wrapped around your waist, not possessive, but certain. Like he was making a vow and you were part of it. His presence steadied your shaking limbs, but your heart was still raw. And when he turned to you, his hand rose to your cheek, catching your tears before they could fall too far. “I got you,” he said quietly, thumb brushing the salt from your skin. “You’re safe now.”

And for the first time all day, you let yourself believe it. He turned you both around without a word. You looked back one last time at your two favorite boys, their small hands waving, their eyes full of everything you could no longer hold. You raised your hand slowly and waved back. They didn’t stop waving. Not even when the wagon wheels creaked into motion. Not even when your figure began to blur behind a veil of golden dust.

Their silhouettes grew smaller with every turn of the wheel. Smaller and smaller, until the shadows they cast vanished completely into the fading light of town.

The sun was low now, hanging behind the hills like a dim lantern. The world was dipped in amber, and the trail ahead was quiet save for the soft rumble of hooves and the crunch of wagon wheels.

The wagon pulled to a stop. You leaned forward and peeked out. There were other wagons ahead. People, too. Most from your town. Some from nearby, others you had never seen before. A handful of children chasing each other near a cart. A few adults your age, faces worn and eyes sharp, like they’d lived double the years you had.

It felt like too much at once.

Your father left you alone to mingle with the others. “Go on, stretch your legs,” he’d probably muttered before disappearing into the crowd. You didn’t. You stayed in the wagon, nestled behind the bags you had packed yourself, tucking your knees in and burying your face against the fabric.It was quiet for a while.

“Boo!”

You flinched. “Kaiser!” you hissed, turning around sharply.

He was crouched by the edge of the wagon, leaning in with a crooked grin.

“Sorry, princess,” he said, clearly not sorry at all.

“What do you want?”

“Talk to you.” He hopped up and sat beside you, resting his face lazily against his arms. “You feeling better now?”

You blinked twice, caught off guard by the gentleness in his voice. “Yes… I guess so.”

He smiled a little. “Still mad at me?”

“Not much.”

“You read my card?”

You nodded. He looked down and bit his lower lip, nervous all of a sudden.

“Why do you feel that way about me?” you asked, voice quieter. “What do you even see in me?” There was a pause. Kaiser looked at you with a strange softness, the kind that didn’t show up often on his face.

“Something about you is just…different...distant,” he said finally. “I can’t explain it clear, not even to myself. But ever since we were kids, my gut’s been telling me there’s something in you I ain’t supposed to lose.”

Your breath hitched slightly. The way he said it, quiet, certain, honest, made your chest tighten.

“Do you accept my apology?” he asked, voice even lower. “Or do you want something more? I’ll do it. Just tell me what.”

You met his eyes. “No,” you said, shaking your head tenderly. “It was enough.”

His smile returned, softer this time. He didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t need to.

He leaned a little closer, his voice low and casual. “By the way it’ll take us at least three months to get there.”

“Three?” you repeated, startled.

“Would’ve been faster if we weren’t draggin’ half the town behind us,” he said, exhaling as he settled more comfortably at your side, his new hat tipping just enough to shade his eyes. “Three months to get to know you better, after all these years.”

You turned to him with a narrowed gaze, but he was already smirking.

“So, for starters,” he began, tilting his head toward you. “You’ve got a fine attitude. Sharp tongue, especially with men. Impatient?...Cheeky. A little sensitive-”

“Stop there,” you interrupted firmly.

“There’s my point,” he said with a light laugh, tapping your knee once. “I find it cute.”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile tried to betray you.

Just then, your father’s voice cut through the moment. “Michael, what got you here?”

Kaiser glanced over lazily. “Just bored. Thought I’d give your daughter some company.”

“You can go back to your horse.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

“Michael.”

“Please,” Kaiser said, dry as ever, flashing a grin like he didn’t care one bit for your father’s tone.

A few quiet minutes passed. The wagon creaked along the dusty trail, wheels crunching over gravel and twigs. You thought he might drift off beside you, but instead, he started talking, little stories at first. About the time he got chased out of a saloon in El Paso. How he once won a horse in a card game and lost it three days later in another. You didn’t speak much, but you listened. And he kept going.

“I’ve been in Paris, too,” he said after a short silence, glancing toward a trail.

“Where haven’t you been?” you asked.

“Hmmm… Lisbon. Rome,” he replied with a smug grin, crossing one leg over the other.

You raised a brow. “You planning on going?”

“Only if I’ve got the right company,” he said, voice playful. “How ‘bout we take my horse instead? Just the two of us. Faster. More fun.”

“She’s staying here,” your father cut in sharply from up front, without even looking back.

Kaiser sighed like he’d expected that answer all along, then leaned back beside you again, smirking to himself.

“Worth a try.”

Another beat of silence passed. Then he nudged your arm gently with his elbow. “I’ll make sure the new place feels like somethin’ good, if I can help it.”

You didn’t answer right away, but something about the way you looked at him, soft, wary, maybe even hopeful, said enough. Then, without warning, he rested his head gently on your shoulder.

Your body stiffened for a second, you weren’t prepared for that. Your guard slipped.

“Why-”

“You don’t mind if I stay like this for a few minutes?” he murmured.

“…No,” you said after a breath.

“Nice.”

He took his hat off, settling it on his lap, and closed his eyes with a soft sigh. You stayed like that, him leaning against your shoulder, the two of you quiet, as the sky turned deeper and darker. The only thing above you now was the moon, bright and solemn as it followed the trail alongside the wagons. Everything else had faded into blue-black silence.

Then, the wagons creaked to a stop.

“We’re stayin’ here,” came your father’s voice from the front.

You turned slightly and nudged Kaiser. “Kaiser… Kaiser! Michael,” you hissed.

“Huh?” he blinked groggily, lifting his head slowly. “We reached-?”

“Yeah.”

“Ahhh, finally,” he groaned, stretching his arms until his joints popped. “What time is it… ten? God.” He rubbed his face, then looked down at you with a faint grin.

Before you could move, he offered his hand. You took it without thinking, and he didn’t let go. Instead, with one quick motion, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you out of the wagon like you weighed no more than a sack of feathers.

“Michael!” you started, but your feet had already touched the ground.

“Easy there,” he smirked.

In front of you stood an old large roadside inn, the kind with flickering lanterns and crooked signs. It wasn’t fancy, but it looked dry and warm enough.

“We’re stayin’ there?” you asked.

“Just for the night,” your father called over.

Before you could walk, Kaiser casually pinched your waist, making you flinch.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned under your breath.

He only grinned, already stepping ahead with that swagger like he owned the whole dusty road. You were just finishing packing your small bag, a spare dress, a comb, some wrapped bread your neighbour had insisted you take, when you heard the sudden thunder of hooves cutting through the quiet. Heads turned. Three horses charged into the clearing.

Men. Cowboys. From your father’s side. Scouts, maybe.

You were close to the edge of the group, right next to Kaiser, who instinctively kept you near. One of the riders, a young man with long red hair, jumped down from his saddle before the dust even settled and ran straight toward your father and Kaiser’s group.

“They attacked,” he said breathlessly.

“What?” your father asked, stepping forward.

“Already. They weren’t supposed to move yet,” the redhead added. “We were wrong about the date.”

“Bullshit,” your father barked, his face twisting into a scowl.

You stared between them, confused. Kaiser’s body had gone stiff next to you. When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, scared, even. You swore you’d never seen that look on his face before.

Even Shidou, who usually looked like he enjoyed every kind of chaos, wasn’t smiling anymore. The group around you fell quiet, their chatter replaced by tension in the air. Something bad was coming.

“What is happening” you began.

Kaiser stepped away from you without answering and stalked up to the red-haired boy.

“Are you fucking serious?” he asked, his voice low.

“Why would I lie?” the boy snapped. “They’re moving faster. A lot faster.”

“Shit.” Kaiser turned away, ran a hand through his hair, then buried his face in both palms. You could see his back rise and fall sharply. He was thinking. Almost panicking.

Your father said nothing for a moment. Then he turned sharply to his men. “Hide the wagons. We can’t let them see how many we are. Now.”

“Dad” you tried.

“Not now, Y/N,” he cut you off. Everything around you was still. Even the wind had stopped. And in that silence, the weight of what was coming began to settle on everyone’s shoulders. Nothing, and yet everything, was starting to make sense now. The card. The tension. You turned around, your breath shallow, heading toward the red-haired boy who now looked just as frustrated as he did shaken. Two other men stood behind him, one with stark white hair, the other with dark violet. Both were quiet, their gazes fixed on the dirt like it held all the answers.

“What’s happening” Your voice cracked. “What the hell is happening? Please. Tell me.”

He looked at you. “The… the town. It was attacked.”

“What?” Your stomach dropped.

He didn’t say anything else. You didn’t even get the chance to press him.

“Back off from her, Chigiri,” someone growled behind you.

A hand clamped down on your shoulder and shoved you back a step. Rin.

“Look, Y/N,” he began, trying for calm, “it’s just an attack.”

But then you heard it. A horse’s sharp neigh. All heads turned. Your blood ran cold.

Kaiser had climbed up onto his white horse and was already galloping toward the place, back the way you’d all come.

“MICHAEL!” your father roared, running after him too late.

You stared at the dust his horse kicked up, frozen.

Then something in your chest snapped.

The signs. The patrols. The strange cowboys coming into your father’s saloon. The way people stopped talking when you walked in. It was a warning.

You didn’t think. You ran. Past your father. Past the others. Toward the line of horses where a few were still tied.

“Y/N?!” your father shouted, his voice growing louder. “Y/N, STOP! DAMN IT, GIRL-”

You jumped onto the closest horse you could reach. He jerked his reins.

“Why mine?” Rin groaned from behind, half in disbelief.

You kicked the horse gently, pushing him forward. You didn’t answer.

You just chased the only person riding straight back toward hell. The full moon cut through the night like a silver blade, painting the hills and path ahead just bright enough to follow him.

You kept low, urging the horse forward. The town wasn’t far, twenty minutes, maybe less, at this speed. But no matter how hard you pressed, no matter how fast your heart raced, you couldn’t quite catch up to him.

Kaiser didn’t look back. He didn’t know you were there. Or maybe he didn’t want to know.

Then you saw it.

At first, it looked like strange clouds on the horizon. But then they flickered. A shine. Glowing embers lifted toward the stars like fireflies dragged from hell.

You reached the top of a ridge and pulled the reins. The horse reared slightly, but you steadied it, swinging yourself off and stumbling forward on foot.

And there it was.

Your town.

Or what was left of it.

Flames devoured rooftops and walls. Ash rained from the sky. Screams bled out from the streets like they had no end. Gunshots cracked the silence of what should’ve been night. Smoke stung your eyes, but you forced yourself forward, trailing behind Kaiser who was already deeper in, lost in the storm.

You tied the horse to a post just beyond the blaze. The rest, you ran.

You weaved through the wreckage, through the street you knew by heart. Or thought you did. Now, everything looked different. Wrong. Burnt.

You turned a corner and stopped cold.

A side street. Bodies.

And among them

“No,” you whispered behind your palm.

Alex.

Leon.

Sprawled against the cobblestones like discarded dolls. Still.

Your knees buckled, but you didn’t fall. You turned away, heart slamming against your ribs, and ran until the heat from the fires felt distant again. You couldn’t let yourself cry. Not now. Not here.

In the distance, you spotted him.

Kaiser. Running toward something, someone.

A small cottage. Burning.

He reached it. Stopped. Stumbled.

And fell to his knees.

You didn’t know what waited inside that house. But you knew, somehow, it was something he couldn’t save.

taglist: @jjklover365daysayear @silverwings920 @talkinboutinnitt @rroxii @byzantiumhollow @amy-briar03 @ladykamos @emikikus18 @chuua-l0ver @strwbrryrsh @zinflo

[lovejongseob]

Hii babe its me again the girly who requested the soul‘s first

Tysm for doing my request <33 rn im so in my theo phase so im sending another request asking for theo‘s first

It is totally fine if you dont!! I totally understand

Don’t overwork yourself, drink and eat enough

(Btw can i be 🌙 anon? I think with the way i love your writing im gonna request a few more stuff)

Theo's Firsts

Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed it !! Ill talk with you more in the a/n, but thank you for requesting again ! Jongseob version ☆ Soul version All sfw except for the last paragraph

First love:

Calm and a little shy on the outside, but so lovingly dramatic on the down low. Theo's a hopeless romantic at heart, he'd have playlists about you, seashells or rocks that he wants to give you someday, and love letters he rewrote and rewrote before tossing them aside. You could never really tell when, or if Theo was flirting with you. There was just always a certain tension you felt around him.

First date:

Theo has had everything planned out. He would take you out to a nice restaurant, listening carefully to everything you say during dinner. Would gift you roses or a favorite flower of yours. He'd offer a small walk through a park, and bring you to some thrift and antique stores. He'd carry your bags for you, and drive you home while you play your music. Maybe on future dates he'll show you his playlists. Would press a soft kiss to your wrist or cheek if the mood seems right. The first date is extremely tranquil, they progressively get more affectionately chaotic.

First relationship:

Theo is a very soothing, and relaxing man to be around. There's genuinely never a reason to be worried with him, the only nervousness you feel is from excitement or because everything is so new. And if you do find yourself worried about something, he would take the time to figure it out with you. Everything feels so special and intimate with him, and he puts so much value in the small romantic details. Hes of course still humorous, a princess, a little dramatic and sarcastic, but he shows all of this in the most loving ways.

First touch of affection:

It could technically be the soft kiss to your wrist or cheek if it ended up happening, but if it didn't, or you don't count that, there are still many other examples. I think Theo would really like you leaning against him or resting your head on his shoulder. He often will have an arm thrown around your shoulders while sitting as close as he can to you. If/when possible, Theo would brush your hair out of your face or tuck it behind your ears.

First kiss:

It's the kind of kiss that takes all the breath from your lungs; It's gentle, soft, slow, but your heart is beating faster than it ever has. After a date with him, Theo would ask if he can kiss you right outside the door of your house. He'd hold your waist carefully, just barely pressing you against the door as the kiss gets longer and a bit deeper. He's blushing more than you expected when he pulls back, and he's apologizing for getting carried away.

First night sleeping together:

Hes quiet about it, but excited to hold you for an entire night. Theo can play it off smooth if you don't want to cuddle that quickly or just aren't into touch like that, but he definitely had dreams. If you are, though, he likes holding you in his arms while you lay your head on his chest. However, he likes resting his head on your chest while you hold him an equal amount.

First shower together:

He would just ask if he could look, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but would rather know where to keep his eyes rather than darting them around unsure. If you say not to look, he keeps himself fully turned away and eyes shut, even while trying to help or grab something. He specifically asked and was told no, so he's not taking any chances. If you tell him its okay, he's respectfully looking. He really just loves and appreciates you, he feels like hes back at being first in love again with how intimate this is. Giving you caring and sweet compliments the entire time.

First time:

Has no preference for who's on top or bottom, or for being more dominant or submissive. Genuinely just in love, wants to do this because he loves you and everything feels right when hes this close to you. Would yearn like actually. Soft, slow, but extremely sensual and passionate. He's as deep as he can be, but you're both so gentle. A lot of kissing and making out, especially leaving trails down your chest and up your neck. Likes when you softly bite his neck or whisper in his ear. He tears up a little afterwards just because he's so happy and it's such a special moment, but he makes sure to reassure you he's okay and that it's just because he loves you so much.

Genuinely needed to hear the don't overwork yourself part 😭 It was like 4am and I was about to write this and the thought of drinking something saved me. Thank you for the request, though !! Theres no need to worry (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) I hope you enjoyed reading, and ofc you can be 🌙 anon, thats so cute !! Thank you so so much, you're very kind 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Im excited to see what else you request for ! formatted, tagged, proof read, feel like I'm forgetting something again 👹

[bumblebeeonthistle]

Anyone up for a game of tag?...with ODM gear?...where Levi's it?

Tags: Levi/Reader, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, canon verse

Characters: Reader, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zöe

Summary: On orders from Erwin Smith, you have received private training lessons with Levi since you started as a cadet. One evening, Levi suggests that you play tag – for training purposes only, of course.

Excerpt from my Levi X Reader fic

It’s been months since you’ve last seen Hange, so as soon as you spot the familiar tall figure approaching beside a noticeably shorter silhouette, you feel your mood rise considerably.

Damn it. You’re growing soft, you guess.

“Hey, little prodigy!” they call, waving their arms at you in their signature greeting.

You’re just about to offer a half-hearted wave when you suddenly find yourself enveloped in a strong embrace.

“I missed you, little P,” they coo, their nose buried in your hair.

“I refuse to be named after a bodily fluid. That’s where I draw the line,” you scowl, trying to pull away from them without hurting them.

And failing.

“No no, not pee, but P! As in the letter P – for prodigy!”

“Nobody but you will know the difference!” you groan.

“What about L then? For little? Or for Levi’s, you decide.”

“I hate you,” you grumble.

Maybe not so soft after all.

And to think you’d been happy to see them.

You turn to Levi for support, but he only shrugs as if to tell you that you’re on your own this time.

Traitor.

“Can’t you just call me by my name?” you complain.

“Where’s the fun in that? Levi here is Shorty, I’m Four-Eyes or Glasses, and you’re our little prodigy!”

“I think you forgot the prefix to Glasses,” you mutter, earning you a twitch of Levi’s lips.

“So, should we start training, or are we just gonna stand here and chitchat all night?” you snap.

Before any of them can answer, you’ve grabbed Levi by the wrist and proceeded to haul him with you into the woods.

It’s first when you reach your forest clearing that you realise how casually you’d just touched him. Of course, you’ve done similarly before, but that was before the whole almost-kissing thing.

Mortified, you let go of his hand and whirl around to apologise, but he shushes you with a finger on your lips. “Do you really think you could have dragged me here if I hadn’t let you?” he muses, eyes twinkling silver and mouth curled into a smirk.

Your scowl immediately returns, and you stomp away from him.

“Oi, how are we supposed to train if you’re leaving?”

His words make you halt in the middle of the clearing. You can hear him approach you from behind and turn around to face him. “Okay, what’s on the program today then?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“We’ll play tag.”

You feel your jaw drop.

He can’t be serious…right?

“You’re catching flies,” Levi says dryly.

It takes some time before you’re finally able to string together a coherent sentence.

“What are we, five years old?” you scoff.

“It’ll be good ODM practice,” he points out.

You think about it for a moment before concluding that he’s right. Not that you like it – you’ll probably spend the whole night chasing him around, or the whole night being caught by him. Neither of which you’re particularly excited for.

“Who’s it?” you ask.

Levi’s eyes darken. It sends chills down your spine and you can’t decide whether it’s from anticipation or fear. Probably a bit of both.

“I am. You have a head start of thirty seconds.”

It takes you a moment to realise that you need to get the hell away  right now if you don’t want to get caught within the next minute.

You shoot into the air and begin zipping through the forest. If you can get far enough away, he won’t be able to hear the whizzing of your wires – because regardless of how much you oil the main housing, you know Levi will still be able to hear that – and you might be able to use the darkness to your advantage.

But you know it’s in vain when you hear him set off the ground after twenty-seven seconds have passed – because if you’re able to hear him, then he probably already knows where you are too.

Dammit.

Levi catches up to you after an embarrassingly short amount of time, like a shadow following you through the night. It doesn’t take long before you see the figure whizzing only a dozen metres to your right. You know you can’t outrun him so instead, you wait for him to get closer.

Closer.

Just a little closer.

Close…closer…closer…

Without warning, you drop to the ground. As you’d hoped, Levi continues his trajectory for a split second longer – enough for you to shoot in the opposite direction.

You swerve in and out of the trees, so fast that it takes all your concentration not to collide with anything. The wind whips your hair around your face and you feel your eyes sting and water. Furiously, you try to blink away the tears so they won’t obscure your view.

And before you know it, you’re back at your clearing. You aim for a tree on the opposite side, scanning the area for a glimpse of silver, listening for the faintest sound of whizzing wires.

But the forest has gone silent.

Too silent.

You should have known he was only waiting to ambush you.

As you shoot over the clearing, a figure comes hurtling at you from the side, too fast for you to avoid. The last thing you see before you’re thrown off course is Levi’s eyes and a glint of teeth. The impact of your collision knocks the breath out of your lungs as you both speed towards a large tree.

You feel Levi’s arms form a protective cage around your body, and he’s basically carrying you by the time he lands elegantly on a tree branch.

He loosens his grip on you slightly. “Got you,” he breathes into your ear before finally letting you go.

You stumble out of his arms, thinking that it wouldn’t surprise you if you keeled over from embarrassment right now.

Laughter sounds from below, and you spot Hange eyeing you from another tree, their long legs dangling over a branch and notebook at the ready.

“I suck at this,” you grumble.

Geez, you hadn’t even been able to evade him for longer than a couple of minutes at most – and he’d practically princess carried you because you were thrown totally off course during your collision and hadn’t been able to land properly yourself.

Levi’s fingers twitch at his sides before he curls them into fists, hiding them in his pocket as he answers. “It’s still a couple of minutes longer than most would’ve been able to.”

“If you say so,” you huff.

Then, you square your shoulders, sauntering over to him.

Fake it till you make it, or whatever the saying is.

“Well, is it my turn now?” you ask.

You really don’t look forward to chasing Levi around the forest – you’ll probably end up playing this stupid game until curfew starts because there’s no way you’ll be able to catch Levi if he doesn’t want to get caught – but you can still pretendto be confident, right?

“You don’t need to give me any head-start,” he says, just before setting off from the ground.

“You little--”

Seething, you set off after him.

As you’d predicted, you spend the rest of the evening following Levi around the forest.

You curse and yell and try any dirty trick you can think of to catch him off guard, to make him veer off course, to make him slow down. Anything that would give you just a glimpse of a chance of catching him.

But he’s always just beyond your reach. Sometimes, you think he’s letting you catch up to him on purpose, just to tease you – to let your fingertips barely graze the hem of his cloak just before he speeds up again, leaving you behind frustrated and fuming.

It’s like a game of cat and mouse, but where the mouse is the one toying with the cat instead of the other way around. And by the time training is finished, you’re gasping for breath, your uniform sticking uncomfortably to your back.

You land heavily on the ground after Levi calls it a night, swaying on the spot.

“Hey.” A firm grip steadies you before you collapse onto the forest ground. “Hey, breathe.”

“I’m trying to,” you hiss, “but someone made me chase them around the whole forest for an entire two hours!”

“Actually, it was only one hour and forty-three minutes,” Hange informs you.

You send them a nasty glare. They just shrug, then busies themselves with flipping through their notebook.

Sighing, you turn towards Levi. “So, am I excused now? I could really use a bath.”

“Actually…”

Read the rest on ao3 if you're interested! Call my name || Levi X Reader

[thedilfdiaries]

November || 900 words

Summary: Every November, Arthur Morgan is haunted by memories of a love he lost..

Warnings: 1000000% angst, that's it, that's my life now.

Notes: I heard a song, and then this fell into a doc on its own. I hope you enjoy 💕✨️ tysm @thundermartini for your support always, I love you so much 💖 @itwasntimethatdidit40 for always reading and supporting me, i love you 🍎😘 @sawymredfox for being the sweetest supportive twin! I love you bunches!! ❤️🫂 @dilf-luvr-4evr this is your special tag. Sorry in advance and thank you for always being so excited and hyping me up, I love you my angel 🥹🩷

Masterlist

Arthur never did like the cold.

It settled into his bones too easy these days.

But November…

November was worse.

Because it wasn’t just the cold, it was you.

It always started the same.

The morning frost on the grass, brittle and white like bone. The way the air burned in his lungs. How the wind carried the smell of woodsmoke and something sweeter, something that always reminded him of you.

He’d ride a little slower that time of year. Let his mind wander. Let it drift back to a cabin tucked away in the trees north of Roanoke Valley. The one with the squeaky porch swing and the crooked chimney. Back to the warmth of your smile. The way your voice sounded when you said his name like it meant something.

It used to mean something.

Back then, you were his quiet. His pause. The thing that made him believe there might be something more than running and fighting and dying for someone else’s cause.

Back then, Arthur Morgan was a man who knew what it felt like to be loved.

And it happened in the fall.

You were wrapped in a wool blanket, sitting on the porch steps, laughing as he tried and failed to chop firewood without looking at you. He remembered the way your hair caught the light, the way your fingers pulled him down by his collar when he passed too close, stealing kisses like secrets.

"Stay a while," you'd whisper.

And god help him. He always did.

He remembered the first time you told him you loved him, half-asleep, in the dark, your fingertips tracing the scar on his jaw like it was the most sacred thing you'd ever touched.

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” you’d whispered. “You're a good man, Arthur. I love you.”

He didn’t say it back, not that night. But he pressed his forehead to yours and held on so tight, it hurt.

Because you weren’t supposed to love him.

Not like that.

Not like he was something good.

He remembered lazy Sunday mornings, your legs tangled with his under the quilt, your laughter soft in his chest. He’d make you coffee that tasted like mud and you’d drink it anyway, just to make him smile.

And god, he wanted to be yours.

He remembered dancing with you in the kitchen to some humming tune you made up, your hands buried in his shirt. The way you looked at him like he was ordinary, not a gunman, not a killer, not a man wanted in five states, but just Arthur. Just yours.

But the world didn't have a place for things like that. Not for men like him. And not for love that soft.

So it ended.

He left before he could break your heart for good.

Maybe you were buried somewhere under a maple tree with the last letter he sent clutched in your hand.

Or maybe you’re still out there, somewhere west of Strawberry, running a little shop like you always dreamed, wearing that necklace he gave you like it still means something.

Maybe you're married now to someone steady, someone kind. Someone who doesn't ride off without a word and leave the porch light burning.

Maybe you forgot him.

Or maybe you didn’t.

Maybe you still sit on the porch when the leaves start to fall, fingers tracing old letters, wondering what would’ve happened if he'd stayed. If he'd been brave enough to choose you instead of the gang. Instead of the fight. Instead of everything that came after.

And maybe, just maybe, when the wind gets cold and the sky turns that bruised shade of gray, you think of him too.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough for it to ache.

He never asked. Couldn’t bring himself to. Couldn’t stomach the answer.

All he knew was you were gone.

And every year, when the leaves turned gold and the sky got heavy, it came back. You came back. In every song the wind played through the trees. In every fire he built trying to stay warm. In every fucking sunset that reminded him of how your skin looked in the late light, with his shirt hanging off your shoulders and nothing but forever in your eyes.

You’d loved him like he was worth saving. And maybe he could’ve been, if he’d just stayed.

But he didn’t.

He remembered the way you used to fall asleep with your face tucked into his neck, murmuring dreams into his skin. The time you spent the whole afternoon making an apple pie, and he kissed the sugar off your fingers like it was holy.

“I want forever with you,” you’d told him once, voice shaking. “But I’ll take whatever you can give.”

And all he gave you in the end was a memory.

He left. Like he always did.

And now, every November, Arthur Morgan lives in the ghost of what could’ve been. The memory of a porch swing creaking in the dusk. Of your breath against his neck.

The world kept turning. The gang kept riding. The cold kept creeping in.

But November never let him forget.

And he didn’t want it to.

Because remembering you hurt.

But forgetting you?

That would kill him.

[wizardelio]

Whatttt Is your Favoriteeee...

• Byler Gate/theory?

• Byler Proof?

• Byler moment?

• ST character? (Mby Ur top 5?)

• byler/miwi headcanon?

• Duo in the Show? (Exept byler)

• Line in Stranger Things?

• ST season?

• byler related Song?

OK SOOOO.

my favourite byler gate is probably flickergate. it was the first one i heard about and i just think it's a great idea! my favourite byler theory is that mike is going to confess his love for will in ep6, because of the theory that camazotz is a reference to a novel called "a wrinkle in time", where the main characters basically defeat evil with the power of love.

for byler proof... we have so much to choose from, but in my opinion, the most obvious one is the california plot in season 5. because if you think about it, what was the point of it? exploring will's feelings for mike? that would make no sense if they were just going to make mike reject him in the end! (also the van scene taking a whole day to shoot is pretty big evidence...).

my favourite byler moment is when mike tells will about the day that they met, when will was possessed in season 2. it makes me emotional everytime i watch it! i also love their fight at the rink-o-mania in season 4!

my favourite stranger things character is mike. i think he's such a well written character and i also relate to him in a lot of ways. my second favourite is will, for the same reasons. i think my third favourite is el. i love her, she's just been through so much and all i want is for her to be happy! i also love dustin!! he's so kind to everyone but he's also just a very fun character!

i don't know if i have any headcanons... when i read fanfiction, i love jealous mike. but this isn't really a headcanon. for example in season 2, when max wanted to join the party, if you look into why he didn't want her to, you can see that it's probably because he was jealous about the fact that will seemed so interested in her. also when mike asks will about his painting in the airport scene in season 4... that boy was jealous!!!

this may be an unpopular opinion, but i love the el/mike duo! i don't ship mileven, but i do think that they have very cute scenes together, especially in the first 2 seasons. of course, i love the more popular duos like steve and dustin and robin and steve, but i'd really love to see robin and will together in season 5. from what we've seen in the date announcement teaser, they're going to have some scenes together, so i'm really excited to see them interact!!

i can't pick only one line from the whole show, but i loved when hopper said "make mistakes, learn from 'em. and when life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt. the hurt is good. it means you're out of that cave." in his letter at the end of season 3. really made me emotional!

for my favourite season... once again, it's hard to only pick one. i love season 2, so i think it's my favourite! i love the lumax plot, discovering steve and dustin's friendship, the possession of will, etc. season 4 is a close second though!

i have made multiple byler playlists over the years, and i've been listening to my s5 byler one a lot recently. i love "some protector" by role model, i think it really fits them! "i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me)" by whitney houston is also perfect for them!

thanks for asking me all those amazing questions!!!

[when-you-die-you-will-rot]

Last night me and ADAM (@.patchwork-and-paisley) listened to the new episode!! I'm gonna start posting my thoughts on the new ch&t episodes as they come out!!

Spoilers for the new episode ofc

First off, I love how the opening scene of season 2 mirrors the ending scene of season 1, with a chess game, and Lucille even says some of the same lines ("But don’t let it distract you from our game", "Don’t be distracted", etc)

Also, I think it was pretty funny when Lucille asked how they were and Jedidiah got so flustered and said "But we're, um, uh, nf6" Idk, that was just funny to me

Speaking of Jedidiah, something's been nagging at me for quite a while-- His new voice sounds familiar to me, but I can't figure out from where. And then it hit me: IS THIS A KIN MEMORY KIND OF THING????????

Also, this description made me go HDIHFISDOFHEWKLHRWK

Aaaanyway! I LOOOOVE all the callbacks to season 1 so far. "Yes, I must address the elephant in the room – not that one!", and "Let’s show some camp spirit, not… whatever the opposite of spirit is. Camp murder?", specifically.

When the flag of Camp Over Where was described, I immediately said, "Natsume drew that." And I kid you not, A SECOND LATER, Sydney said "I’m guessing Natsume drew this"! AND THIS ISNT THE FIRST TIME SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAS HAPPENED EITHER LOL. (Ask me about the time it happened with Gravity Falls if you wanna know more.)

When Sydney said that Jedidiah's great with hearts, I immediately went "No he's not." But when he clarified "anatomically", my JAW DROPPED. But what REALLY broke me was the line "He’s a pretty good guy to call if your heart ever stops." AND THE WAY THAT LINE WAS DELIVERED. THE TONE OF HIS VOICE. HEARTBREAKING. (pun not intended.)

SALMON INFEsTATION??? God, these salmon sound terrifying. CLAWS?? TUSKS?? WINGS?? FLUFFY TAILS?? ANTLERS?? I can see why "salmon" was put in quotes in the episode description. Those are NOT normal fish.

Also! "Beaks the size of centipedes" -- I guess we can check "centipede mention" off the bingo card haha. Right off the bat!

As soon as Sydney mentioned they were calling in extermination, I KNEW that the Super Slaughter Bros were gonna be the Tonies.

When Sydney said "when we die...................we rot" I went HE SAID IT HE SAID THE THING (I think I started bouncing around the room, too, haha.)

I can't help but notice that the Super Slaughter Bros were described as "copper-smelling"....... Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

NOT THE VOICE LEECHES

WHAT ARE SALMON PLIERS AND GOAT SWORDS?????

This is an incredibly trivial, very small detail, but the fact that Sydney's Joshua-imitating voice has changed ever so slightly is BOTHERING me for some reason

And no, pretty sure there are NOT any adults working at Camp Over Where.

HIGHLIGHTER SOUP SOUNDS DISGUSTING! Also, "Can't beat blue"... Blue Wolfe, I see you not-so-subtly calling yourself the best in your own podcast. (But in all seriousness, this got a good laugh out of me.)

AHA!!!! I KNEW it was the Tonies. ADAM can tell you that I totally called it. Also, I'm wondering if Tony 2 was affected by the voice leech spitballs that Camp Over Where unleashed upon the campsite... Maybe that's how they'll explain his voice change, too.

I think we all know who that letter is really from.... (ADAM got VERY excited listening to this part!)

While I think it's entirely possible that Adam lied about being the Camp Over Where director, wouldn't it be funny if he actually was? If anyone could find an actual demon to run their camp, it'd be Natsume. I wouldn't put it past him!

WHAT IS THE NEFARIOUS SHADOW SKULL?????

I am very concerned by Delightful Mystery Pudding Cup. Kids, I advise against eating Delightful Mystery Pudding Cup.

JEDDIE MAKES ME GO UUUUE😢😢🥺UE😭💧💧UEUE😢

I feel so bad for him but at the same time WHY IS HE LIKE THAT

It feels a liiiiiittle rude to me how he kinda yelled at Sydney. And I hate to say it, but I think I understand what Sydney said in the ghost recorder segment. Hopefully he'll get better though, right....?

.....right?????

Well, I guess all I can do is hope for the best.

That guy by the lake? Sounds suspiciously like..... micheal distortion from tma......

okay, but jokes aside, I think that's probably Adam. The way Sydney said "It felt kind of like a dream I had once" kind of confirms this suspicion, because the two of them originally met in dreams.

I decided to listen all the way to the end, since I am a patron and I wanted to see if my name made it into the credits.

When I heard "callmetroy" I actually freaked out because I KNOW THAT PERSON!!!! Well, I'm not sure if I'd say I know troy personally, but I've seen him around.

And then! I HEARD MY NAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! UNFORTUNATELY SYDNEY IN ALMOST EVERY WAY IS ME!!!!!! THATS ME!!!!!!!!!!! When I heard that I REALLY freaked out, like, actually bouncing and flopping around the room. I did NOT know how to react!! It felt VERY special to hear myself thanked in the credits of this show that I love so dearly.

Also SHITNEY??? I don't know who that is but hearing that made me laugh (same with Juniper's Weirdly Long Neck)

AAAAANd I think that's all!!!! Now for the bingo card....

If you guys have any thoughts on this episode that you wanna share with me I'd love to hear them ^^ Thanks for listening to me ramble!

[whosectype]

The Grind never stops

[gh0stj0y]

all i can be is sorry, and that is all i am

[willczek-art]

Decided to give Dragon Age another try and the first character I meet COMPLETELY wins me over in a matter of seconds-

[nebulathunderwave-art]

Birthday wishes to Zewu-jun from Lanling

(Birthday wishes to Er-Ge from A-Yao)

8.10.2024 | Happy birthday Lan Xichen! 💙☁️