#i hope everyone has a decent day :) thanks again for reading

[rashomonss]

I couldn't stop thinking about this after reading your "Readjusting" hc

Imagine that the reason MC started acting like a "proper" attendant was because Barbatos couldn't stand how improper and casual Mc was with the brothers. He decides to take her under his wing but he isn't gentle about it, not even when it becomes clear that MC is human, on the contraire, he becomes harsher with his methods until even the brothers notice. Meanwhile MC could be in the state of mind to believe that they deserve to be treated in such ways because they feel guilty over letting everyone assume they were a demon

Also think about how this treatment would affect MC relationship with Barbatos. Imagine MC slipping up in front of him and immediately tensing and starting to apologize. How scared MC would be of even the thought of doing something NB!Barbatos though them was wrong and undignified of her to do/say as the brothers attendant.

And how heartbroken OM!Barbatos would be at seeing MC be so terrified of him.

so I’m currently deep diving thru my drafts and inbox and this was from forever ago so I’m so sorry I’m only getting it done now (,,Ծ‸Ծ,, )

anyway oh. my. god.

i absolutely love this idea! the angst potential this ask has is literally to die for. i’ll be incorporating a few of my readjusting ideas as well and yeah i know nightbringer didn’t go in this direction but im going in it anyway, so i hope yall enjoy! (๑>؂•̀๑)

you’re nothing more and nothing less

You admired yourself in the mirror then stared at the reflection looking back at you. 

Sighing you gave yourself a small smile, then remembered his words before giving yourself one last look in the mirror. 

“You really do look decent when you know how to clean up.” 

An attendant is supposed to look sharp, and presentable no matter the circumstance. They are a direct representation of who they’re serving. How was a noble demon supposed to take the seven rulers of hell seriously if their attendant didn’t even know how to properly dress or present themselves? 

Your tie had to be perfectly crisp and presentable, same with the cuffs of your uniform; not a wrinkle should be present. Next, your preferred uniform bottom was ironed with no wrinkle in sight, and your shoes shined to the point you could see your reflection. Each plead and fold was sharp, crisp, and perfect.

Your hair looked presentable and you carried out your normal face routine making sure you looked awake and ready for the day. Finally, you organized your belongings and sat them by your table in a neat fashion ready to be grabbed once you headed off to RAD. 

You then made your way to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for everyone as well as coffee and tea for those who usually required it. 

As you were finishing up most of the food Beel walked into the kitchen heading straight for the fridge. “Morning MC,” he said catching his breath. 

“Good Morning Beel, how was your run? Also, your snack is on the counter so please refrain from eating anything in the fridge,” you replied, as you continued cooking. 

“Oh thank you.” he smiled while closing the fridge. As he sat at the counter watching you cook he couldn’t help but become confused at the sight. “Wasn’t it Levi’s turn to make breakfast this morning?” 

“It was but he stayed up late last night, and I had a feeling he would oversleep so I took the liberty of making it myself. Not to worry though because I have nothing against cooking for all of you” 

Beel frowned in response “Yeah but this is the third day in a row you’ve prepared breakfast and dinner” 

“Is it now? Well I have no problems with it unless the rest of you do, I am your attendant after all.”

Beel stopped eating and frowned again, “MC you’re an exchange student from the human realm. You’re back home; there’s no reason for you to still act as our attendant.”

You didn’t respond, instead you finished up the food and began to plate each brothers breakfast. Beel tried to speak again but you cut him off.

“Apologies but could you do me a favor and wake up your brothers for breakfast? I wouldn’t want them to be late for classes.”

Beel gave you a sympathetic look and nodded just before leaving the kitchen.

You did stop to think about his words though. After all everything that happened in the past didn’t need to be continued in the present, you could go back to living how you normally did before.

The only problem was that you didn’t know how to go back to that carefree lifestyle. After being on edge constantly while being stuck in the past you found yourself adapting to that lifestyle. So breaking it all of a sudden was much harder than everyone understood.

Humans are adaptable creatures, they adapt and survive to whatever environment they are thrown into, no matter the circumstances; at least that’s how he explained it.

He drilled it into your head that if you wanted to survive against the best of the best you needed to be superior in every way. It didn’t matter to him if you were a demon or human, neither was an acceptable excuse for not being absolutely perfect.

This mindset had been engraved into your soul during the small time period you were there, so for everyone to just tell you to forget about it was something you couldn’t do even if you tried. They all needed to accept that this was how you were now; and maybe with due time you’ll revert back to your old self.

Numerous voices could be heard in the dining room causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You sighed and then took a deep breath before walking into the room with everyone’s plates.

“Good morning everyone, how’s are all of you?” You asked placing plates in front of each brother at the table.

“Mornin’ MC, I’m fine how are ya?” Mammon said yawning.

“I’m good thank you for asking, but I would be even better if you fixed your tie and shirt” you smiled, placing his food in front of him.

“Dah you sound like Lucifer…” he groaned. It did work however because he buttoned up his shirt and tightened his tie before eating, to which you smiled at him in response.

“That goes for all of you as well, fix your uniforms please.” you said, placing the last plate in Lucifer’s spot. Each groaned and fixed themselves as well before they began to eat.

A laugh was then heard from the doorway which made you look up in response. The oldest then greeted you with a kiss to the cheek before sitting down.

“I see your keeping them on a tighter leash than I am.” Lucifer said looked up at you.

“Well of course. How is anyone supposed to take the seven of you seriously when you don’t even wear the uniform properly.” The room fell silent and Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Thank you MC, but you realize that you don’t have to worry about our images anymore. You know your home correct..? You don’t have to continue being our attendant.”

You sighed then spoke after a few minutes. “Thank you for your concern I appreciate it, but if you’ll excuse me I have to get the dishes clean”

“Wait you’re not having breakfast with us dear?” Asmo asked worried.

“You haven’t eaten with us at all since you came back. Come on MC, please?” Satan then said.

“I appreciate the concern but I already ate. Thank you for the offer though, I do appreciate it. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“As their attendant you should not be eating with them unless permitted on a special occasion. It’s basic etiquette as a servant to eat in the kitchen. So you will eat when I eat. Understand?”

That phrase popped in you head again and you sighed heading towards the kitchen.

. . .

The walk to RAD was normal, for you at least, the brothers were a different story entirely.

They tried engaging with you or even walking next to you but you stayed silent and walked behind them.

Normally you’d walk at the same pace and would engage in any kind of small talk but ever since you returned walks to a from RAD had been awkward for the brothers.

Barbatos never walked next to Diavolo, and he taught you to do the same with the brothers.

“You aren’t from the same status, so you should take your place behind them as a result.”

That phrase played in your head as Mammon talked to you about his latest new scheme. You realized that he was walking at the same pace you were so you slowed down ever so slight and engaged in a bit of small talk with him.

The second born frowned as he saw you retreating again, so with a sigh he finished talking and walked a bit faster to catch up with the eldest.

You could see them shorting you glances and whispering to each other but neither said a word to you.

You understood they probably weren’t a fan of this behavior either, but it’s not as if you could break it anytime soon, after all what would he think if you were acting casual with everyone again?

. . .

“Good morning MC” Barbatos spoke, smiling as he slightly waved at you.

Upon seeing him your posture straightened up and you immediately greeted him back with a wave and a nod, in the same fashion he greeted you with. You held eye contact for a brief moment then looked over towards Lucifer.

“I believe we should head out now. There’s paperwork to be done. It was lovely running into you but we’ll be on our way now” you said to the butler.

Before he even had a chance to respond you grabbed Lucifer and dragged him through the hall leaving a confused Barbatos alone in the hallway.

Lucifer tried to question you about your behavior towards the butler but you always avoided talking about it.

Diavolo tried his hand as well and you had given him the same excuse you gave Lucifer. Sighing, the two decided to talk to you over tea instead, hoping that it might calm the mood.

So you followed Lucifer into the council room where Diavolo sat, waiting with a smile. The minute you saw him you smiled back, but soon tensed when Barbatos appeared behind him.

“Sit down MC” Diavolo gestured as soon as you reached the table.

You bowed slightly and did as you were told, making sure to keep yourself in line while Barbatos was present.

Barbatos from the past despised when you were casual with Lord Diavolo and shut down your relationship with him the second he took you as an apprentice.

As Diavolo began to speak you listened attentively and sat up straight making sure to hold eye contact just as Barbatos had instructed you to do before

“MC…” he started. “I understand that it's taken you awhile to try and readjust to everything again, and while we don’t want to pester your progress we do want to talk to you about a few things.”

Were you in trouble? Your heart sank to your stomach as you gripped your uniform bottoms under the table.

“What can I help you with then?” You asked.

“Well for starters you needn’t be so tense, we’re close after all! It’s okay to let loose around us” Diavolo smiled as he gestured towards Lucifer who nodded in response.

“I thank you for your concern, and I will try to relax as you asked” you then nodded.

Your formal response tugged at a frown on Diavolo’s face. “Thank you, now then let’s enjoy some tea.” he said, trying to quickly change the subject.

You froze on the spot as Barbatos brought out the cart of tea and a few snacks. Immediately you jumped up and helped him set the table, much to everyone’s surprise.

“MC, you can leave it to me.” Barbatos said after a moment.

“I understand” you nodded yet still continued picking up the tray of snacks and placing plates in front of Lucifer and Diavolo.

After you finished you stepped behind Barbatos, almost as if you were his shadow. With a sigh he turned to you and tried to ask you to sit back down but you refused.

So instead he tried to guide you to your seat and you stepped away from him in response, the further you took a step back the closer he took a step forward. It wasn’t until you hit the snack cart had you realized how close the two of you were.

However that was short lived as the dish holding the sugar fell off the cart and shattered on the floor the moment you hit it.

Your eyes went wide in horror and you fell to the floor to clean it up in an instant, muttering to yourself silently.

“MC, are you-“

“I’m so sorry, Lord Diavolo, I'll clean this up right away. Please forgive me” you said swiftly picking up the shattered glass and trying your best to clean everything.

“It’s okay, don’t worry it was an accident” Diavolo said as he got up to make sure you were okay.

You shook your head as you went back to cleaning. You were positive Barbatos was going to kill you, he made sure to let you know if you ever messed up in Lord Diavolo’s presence.

So when his figure loomed over you your body tensed with fear as you looked up at him. However his expression didn’t match what you assumed it would’ve been.

He looked concerned and bent down to inspect your hands, hoping there wasn’t any blood due to the shards of glass from the dish.

You immediately retracted your hand when you noticed a cut and Barbatos stiffened.

“I’ll clean this up right away, excuse me” you said as you jumped to your feet and ran out of the council room, leaving three very confused and concerned demons behind.

As the door flew open when you left Solomon walked in with a bewildered look as you rushed out. “What happened? Is everything okay?” He asked as his eyes followed your figure rushing down the hall.

“It’s MC,” Lucifer sighed.

“What about them?” Solomon questioned.

“Long story short they were helping Barbatos and dropped the sugar then bolted out of the room in a panic when Barbatos grabbed their hand to see if they were okay.” Diavolo said with a sigh.

“Ah, that explains things then.” Solomon nodded. “And Barbatos I would refrain from touching or even being near MC for the time being”

“And why is that?” Barbatos questioned with a frown.

“Because MC is probably still on edge after serving alongside you in the past. Let’s just say your methods weren’t exactly…ideal, for a human.” He sighed.

His heart broke upon hearing those words. Barbatos frowned upon learning he was the reason for their rigid behavior and unwillingness to open up to him or Lord Diavolo again.

“I understand,” he sighed.

“If we just talk to MC I’m sure they’ll understand-“ Diavolo started.

“You can, but they haven’t changed their behavior with the brothers so I doubt they change it now. I’ll talk to them when I see them again” Solomon sighed.

Lucifer made a sour expression upon hearing Solomon’s words, mainly because he knew they were true. After all he had spoken to MC countless times yet nothing has changed.

Solomon handed a few papers to Diavolo who read over them in surprise. “Cocytus Hall? That place hasn’t been used in ages, and you wish to move in there?”

“Yes, well Mc and I.” He nodded. “All the paperwork should be there if you’ll allow it”

Lucifer shot the sorcerer a glare and shook his head. “Is that really necessary? That’s quite the opposite of having MC adapt back to the present”

“On the contrary I didn’t suggest this. They did, and if it's what they want I don’t mind indulging my sweet apprentice” He smiled.

The three frowned at Solomon’s words. No matter how annoyed he made them, they all agreed that he was the only one you talked to like normal.

It wasn’t fair that he was the only one that got that attention from you. After a few more minutes of going back and forth Diavolo finally approved the idea, much to Lucifer’s protests.

It was just a thought but Diavolo hoped that if he did this you would eventually come back to them, and not the you that was terrified and uptight, he missed the carefree human who could brighten up the room.

With a sigh the room fell silent as Solomon left, all three demons were running out of ideas and the longer you avoided them the more painful it had become.

How long were they supposed to stay like this? They all wondered with tense sighs.

[theaskywalker]

hi, it's me again! I wanted to ask something that's a bit less fluff if that's okay:)

(idk if you do smut, couldn't find anything about that, so sorry if you don't)

I was thinking Seth clearwater and fem!reader

(again soz)

having a honeymoon! like Bellas but, little longer and softer

(Because has a soft boy and I love him for that. would love for him to break the bed if you put that in there:)

thank you for reading and drink water and go cute a tasty snack!

(You could do Jacob black with this to if you would like I've read all the good Fics of both and can't get enough of them:( .)

Honeymoon

Seth Clearwater x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing smut so I hope it turned out decent. A big thank you to ghosty-boo-shh for the request 😊

Warnings: Mentions of oral sex (fem!receiving), Unprotected sex

❥ Seth Clearwater had always been a romantic at heart.

❥ When he first imprinted on you, he spent hours fantasizing about important relationship milestones such as moving in together, getting married and starting your own family.

❥ He desperately wanted all of these.

❥ If it was up to Seth, the two of you would get married right after your relationship became official.

❥ But you wanted to take the relationship one step at a time and he respected that.

❥ Fast forward to your two-year anniversary, when Seth decided that it was finally time to make you Mrs Clearwater.

❥ Seth suggested celebrating your anniversary at your favourite restaurant in Port Angeles.

❥ After a delicious meal Seth remarked that it was time for a dessert.

❥ The waiter came minutes later with a chocolate cake and placed it right in the middle of the table.

❥ To your surprise the cake had a large ''Will you marry me?'' sign in white frosting.

❥ When you looked over at Seth, he was already kneeling down holding a small box with a beautiful diamond ring.

"Yes" you replied instantly and hugged him with tears in your eyes.

❥ Everyone was ecstatic when you announced it.

❥ Especially the pack.

❥ Preparations for the wedding started right after the announcement.

❥ You and Seth had agreed on a small ceremony at the beach and a barbeque afterwards for your family and close friends.

❥ The pack (minus Leah) set up the whole event and made sure that every little detail was perfect for the big day.

❥ They had help by the vampires of course as most of the Cullens had taken a liking to Seth.

❥ With the boys working on the wedding venue, you and the girls set out to send the invitations and select the dress.

❥ Selecting the right dress was easier said than done.

❥ Leah and Alice had completely different opinions on the matter.

❥ Alice advised you to go for something fancy.

❥ And Leah thought that a boho design would be more appropriate.

❥ But the final word on the matter was yours to make.

❥ So, after many dress fittings you finally found the one.

❥ The weeks passed and the big day finally came.

❥ Seth couldn't take his eyes off you as you walked down the aisle.

❥ Looking breathtaking in your white dress.

❥ Vows were exchanged and with a tender kiss you and Seth became husband and wife.

❥ At the after-wedding barbeque you had the time of your life dancing with your husband and close friends.

❥ When it was time to leave for the honeymoon, Carlisle and Esme surprised both you and Seth by giving you plane tickets for Rio de Janeiro and full access to Isle Esme.

❥ Seth and you were beyond grateful for the gift.

❥ The flight to Rio de Janeiro and boat ride to Isle Esme filled you with excitement about what was to come.

❥ Upon arriving on the house that would be your home for the next month, Seth gently picked you up and carried you inside.

❥ You giggled at the gesture and thanked him with a kiss when he placed you down.

"Shall we take a bath, Mrs Clearwater?" he asked.

"Of course" you replied with a wink.

❥ The two of you headed to the bathroom .

❥ While Seth filled the bathtub, you slowly removed your dress and lingerie.

❥ Without breaking eye contact with him.

❥ Seth felt a lump in his throat as he stared at your curves.

❥ Feeling hornier as each minute passed.

❥ You approached Seth and helped him remove his clothing.

❥ Once the bathtub was ready, you and Seth proceeded to enter.

❥ Seth rubbed your back, helping your muscles relax.

❥ You returned the favour by lovingly massaging his scalp.

❥ What started as a relaxing and intimate moment between a newlywed couple quickly grew into a passionate make out session.

❥ Seth couldn't stop kissing your lips as his hands travelled on your body, before settling on your thighs.

❥ You straddled his hips and deepened the kiss.

❥ His wolf side took over and he picked you up, heading out of the bathtub in a hurry and laying you onto the canopied bed.

❥ Not caring for the mess your wet and shampooed bodies left on the sheets.

❥ Seth left steamy kisses on your neck and breasts.

❥ He then moved to your inner thighs and eventually found the delicate spot between your legs.

❥ Soft moans escaped your lips as his kisses set your body on fire.

"I'm close" you whispered while tightly clutching his black hair.

❥ Seth knew exactly what you wanted and soon the pleasurable feeling spread through your whole body.

❥ He then kissed you hard on the lips and awaited for your consent to take things further.

❥ You nodded impatiently.

❥ Seth entered you gently at first and then picked up his speed.

❥ Pounding relentlessly into you.

❥ Stretching your tight walls with each thrust.

❥ Seth couldn't get enough of this.

❥ He felt divine when inside you.

❥ It was a mutual feeling...

❥ Things got so heated that he ended up using his wolfish strength a little too much.

❥ Resulting in the both of you landing on the floor.

❥ Bye bye bed...

❥ You and Seth laughed it off and continued your erotic dance without interruption.

❥ Having your climaxes simultaneously on the floor. covered with feathers from the mattress.

❥ After getting a proper bath and tidying up the mess in the bedroom, you layed in Seth's arms and enjoyed how blishful it was.

The honeymoon had just started and it was going to be a memorable one...

Masterlist

[fluffytriceratops]

I am DESPERATE for some 2k3 Donatello dating headcanons, literally give me anything PLEASE I AM OBSESSED

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥���𝐨 [𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑]

notes: i gotchu bestie. <3 lemme know if you guys want these for the other 2k3 turts as well! :D also sorry for taking literal ages to get this request done for you! thank you sm for requesting i hope you have a wonderful day/night! <3

warnings: brief nsfw mentions, mature language, 

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover  @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1 [if i've forgotten anyone i'm so sorry please comment or dm me and let me know and i'll add you right away so i don't forget in the future!]

(if you would like to be tagged in my future tmnt x reader related work, feel free to let me know and i'll happily add you!)

i love you all sm! i'm sending all the virtual hugs and well wishes to you!! <33

---

- as usual, 2003 donnie has an obsession with coffee. so if you get this mans some coffee expect an INSTANT marriage proposal. [honestly what ver of donnie doesn't have a coffee addiction?] 

- likes to do your hair. it's calming to him and helps him think. hes watched a lot of youtube videos and stuff for it, so he knows what he's doing too. he likes to try new styles n stuff on you. everyone knows when he's particularily stressed or can't seem to figure something out because you seem to have a new hairsyle everyday until he's fixed whatever it is that's bugging him, 

- will also handmake beads and stuff to put in your hair. <3 

- makes jewelry for you, esp out of silverware and other things. it always turns out so beautifully. 

- late night drives. donnie has insomnia and his brain works a lot during the night/evening. so expect to hang out a lot with him during this time. driving at night at new york is super pretty and peaceful too. esp when it's just the two of you. [so long as you don't mind the hectic city hehe-]

- cuddling with him while he works. includes sleeping on him/in his lab when he works really late into the night. he'll later carry you to bed. 

- painting on his shell/body for funzies. and if he does the same to you don't expect it to look too great because 2k3 donnie can't draw for shit. 

- donnie will gift you homemade cards with stick figures on the cover cuz again he cant draw but he knows you'll adore it no matter what just because he made it. plus you think its funny as hell and he adores your laugh. 

- hes actually really good at photography. and he has loads of pictures of you. you two go out and take pictures together sometimes. it's always a lot of fun. and they always turn out great. 

- late night talking sessions are a normal for you. 

- donatello tries his best to get you to sleep at a decent time, but sometimes you'll refuse if he isn't coming to bed with you just to get him to go to sleep earlier. he'll probably lay with you for a while, unable to actually sleep. maybe he'll read or listen to music to help pass the time. sometimes he will also sneak back out of bed once you've fallen asleep, and when you catch him you give him a good talking to. 

- he really needs to take better care of himself. he's always putting those he cares for above himself. so you're always there to make sure he's okay and that he's doing what he needs to do to be happy and healthy. 

- you guys hardly ever fight. donnie isn't one to argue with you. he's a very gentle and kind soul. he rarely raises his voice. (but when he does you find it hot as FUCK- lets be honest--) 

- fix it felix. always fixes things for you, even if you dont ask it of him. if he's at your place and notices something needs to be fixed he'll just do it for you. even if you insist he doesn't have to, he will anyway because he loves you. it brings him joy. and honestly, you should just let him because it probably stresses him out a little thinking about how your door isn't closing properly or your car sounds funny or your light keeps flickering- 

- you like to prank him on occassion, this includes the whole "i filled my tank with the special gas-" or "i let them put premium air in my tires and they gave me a really good deal". it freaks and stresses him out, at least in the moment hehe. its very funny but keep in mind he'll get you back. 

- him reading to you sfghfdgkjhdfg (id die please-) esp if you have trouble sleeping or something. 

- coffee dates are a must. even if you dont drink coffee. 

- donnie napping curled up on your chest/on top of you. you tracing the grooves of his shell. you've learned he finds this very comforting and it helps him fall asleep. 

- hes a definite switch- lmao.

- very gentle and understanding. he's like your personal diary or therapist and you're the same for him. 

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: At the request of Papa Emeritus III, you return to your duties around the Ministry, but when he reminds you of your absence from confessional in the past month, he asks you to return to where it all started...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12k (lol wtf sorry guys this one ran away from me...)

Warnings: Pillow Humping, cunnilingus, panty-sniffing kink (once again, the glove returns...), honestly Copia just gets more pathetic in this part, vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, cum eating, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk (a lot of it...), lots of feelings, idiots to lovers

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Guys... thank you all SO MUCH. The love for this fic has been bigger than I ever thought, and genuinely my heart is so full whenever I get a comment, a reblog, a message about it. I hope this is worth the wait, I know it's literally double the length of the other chapters but I really wanted you to enjoy and immerse yourself - there needed to be a decent enough pay-off after all the pining and angst 😂 Special thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for the beta reading and encouragement, and to @adinferix for their help with the Italian translation!

Copia had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t think of you today. Last night had been the last time. No, really.... He swore it. The moment he decided? When he’d woken up, face down in his pillows – after a night of self-indulgence that included another long-since dirtied and discarded pillow... - and realised that there was something stuck to his face.  

Your glove.     It had taken at least 25 minutes for the red imprint of that floral pattern to fade away from the pale skin across his cheek, and he’d been mortified - especially when brushing his teeth, having to stare at himself in the mirror with that pattern taunting him. He may as well have written “PERVERT” in sharpie across his cheek instead, for all the shame it brought him. 

That pattern was the reason for the Cardinal’s tardiness to his seminar that day, the man scurrying down the halls and checking his reflection in any and every passing surface possible to be sure that there was no longer an intrusive red flower burned into his pale skin.  

When he reached his classroom, everyone had taken to their seats already, some chattering away with each other as they waited, others impatiently tapping their feet or pencils with each passing second. Copia slunk into the classroom, muttering apologies with his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the death glares of the siblings who took their studies just a touch too seriously.  

Without further ado, the Cardinal began to make some notes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The chalk squeaked against the board, some of the siblings in the room whining incredulously at the sound and the chatter ceasing as if he’d done it deliberately to shush them.  

“Okie dokie, we will look today to focus on Latin pronunciation, and-” the Cardinal froze as he turned back to the class, eyes settling on a figure in the back corner.  

He must have been dreaming...   

There you sat, in your most conservative habit possible – purposefully changing after your meeting with Terzo that morning, your guilt for derailing the Cardinal in the confessional booth forcing you out of your impressive ensemble meant to manipulate Papa. 

Coming to Copia’s seminar was not a choice; you just desperately didn’t want Papa to bring Sister Imperator into this or get yourself in any more trouble. Terzo had spared you a punishment and you weren’t to take this for granted. So, you’d made sure you arrived with a group of other siblings, pushing through into the seminar room and plonking yourself in the very back corner in the hope he wouldn’t see you. 

But of course, he saw you. As if his body was magnetically drawn towards you, you were the first he laid his eyes on.  

You avoided his gaze, scribbling something down on the paper in front of you to look busy. You hadn’t missed his cut off sentence as his eyes settled on you, nor the lingering silence as you scribbled.  

‘Say something, Cardinal... Please say something. I can’t bear this...’ you thought, the seconds ticking by.  

“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I lost my train of thought for a moment. Pronunciation, sì, that’s where we were. Okay...” he shook his head, returning his attention to the class. He couldn’t focus on you now, couldn’t jeopardise himself that way. One wrong move, and you may disappear for another four weeks, or worse, and Satanas, he’d never forgive himself. That was not the kind of hell he wished to endure.  

Throughout the seminar, he would steal quick glances in your direction, as if making sure you were indeed still there, that you were real. Trying to find you before now had been like trying to catch smoke... downright impossible. His guilt gnawed at him like an insect burrowing into his skin, shame creeping over him each time he saw you staring down at your page.  

You didn’t want to be here, that much was clear to him. He’d made you uncomfortable, avoiding him... It stung him more than it should. 

“I... I think we’re done for today, classe (class) . Good job, molto bene (very good),” he fussed over the book on his desk as the class rose from their seats, gathering their things and heading for the door. In a moment of what he would describe as idiocy, he called out, “Uh, Sorella ______? Could I just...”  

But you were gone.   

Copia felt like a moron, embarrassed and pining over you as he watched you leave so quickly, quite obviously running from him. All he wanted to do was to apologise, to make you feel like you didn’t have to hide from him anymore. But you were that repulsed by him that you fled at the first chance you could.  

He huffed, dropping into his chair at his desk as the room emptied. He thought it over for a moment – you didn’t want to be in his class, and yet you came anyway. Why?  

Terzo... He had noticed your absence, questioned the Cardinal over it... Perhaps he’d told you to return to your duties, punished you...   

And that was all his fault. He’d upset you so much you’d avoided your duties, hidden yourself away. You were so repulsed by him that you couldn’t even look at him anymore. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…  

The Sorella who used to smile at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.   

The Sorella who never missed a seminar he was hosting.   

The Sorella who only ever confessed on a Thursday, during his duty.   

The Sorella who kept stealing glances at him as his brothers performed Black Mass.  

Not anymore.  

How silly of him to think there was ever any chance you might not hate him. How silly of him to think you might actually be attracted to him, that you could be at all interested in the blithering idiot Cardinale who still reads Beano comics and relaxes with a Juicebox and video games at the end of the working week.  

Copia was always brushed to the side, never good enough for a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as you.  

How daft he felt, and how sick he felt knowing how he had defiled your trust – and continued to do so every. fucking. night. Behind your back, in the shame of his private quarters. 

Perverted old Cardinale Copia...  

Those moans, oh how he could write a symphony with those moans. They sounded so visceral and somehow so melodic rolling from your tongue as his rolled against your heat. And Sathanas, the taste... he devoured that sweetness like it was his last meal on Death Row. Your hands clutching his hair scraped their nails against his scalp and he growled into your mound with a deep vibration that drew more sweet, sweet moans from your lips.   

With two gloved fingers, he breached your walls and with expert precision, he found the spot only you had found yourself – no previous lovers ever able to satiate you like he could. You were his.   

His his his.  

Even through the leather, he could feel your warmth on his fingers, hear the hungry slurps of your pussy drawing him back in over and over with every pump of his fingers inside you.   

“Cardinal... Cardinal....” you chanted like a mantra, eyes screwed shut and breath laboured as he drew you closer and closer to an end, more of your juices seeping out and dripping onto his eagerly lapping tongue, until...  

Until...  

Sweat beaded on Copia’s forehead as his eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch in the dark around him. His head snapped to the side, seeing the glowing red of his digital alarm clock reading 3:09am.  

He rubbed at his paintless eyes, groaning into the dark at the sticky feeling all over his body, the sweat now cooling in the night air and chilling him.  

Just a fucking dream.   

He could still taste you, still feel you, still hear you... How could he stop this? How would he ever be able to move on from this fucking chokehold you had on him? Does time heal all wounds?     Copia sure hoped so.  

In the dark, he felt the familiar need in his groin – a stiffness he wouldn’t be able to shake so easily. He didn’t want to, not again. Already he felt like a total degenerate, jacking off to the smell of your used glove a nightly occurrence. But now he was dreaming of you?  

With reluctance, he shifted the sheets and let his naked form hit the cold air around him, thick cock standing to attention. He threw an arm over his eyes, his other reaching down until he could lazily stroke the shaft of his shame a few times.  

Here we go again, he thought to himself in disgust.  

But disgust wasn’t enough to quell the rising lust he felt, and his hand began to pump his length with vigour as he recounted the details of the dream that woke him.  

He whimpered into the night, the heavy arm across his eyes shielding himself from his own depravity only getting heavier. His hips started to roll against the mattress, meeting his fist over and over. He couldn’t take this, he wanted so badly to bury himself, to grind down, to feel pressure...   

He sat upright, reaching behind him for one of the silk pillows he lay on before. He got up onto his knees, folding the pillow in two to create a crease and pushed it into his mattress, lining his hips up with it.   

And like the dirty old cardinal he was, he pushed his cock into the crease, groaning into a tight fist as he did.  

He leaned his weight over onto the hand pinning the pillow down and began to roll his hips into the softness, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as images of you flashed in his mind. That dream, it had felt so... so real? As if he could taste you still, smell you still... 

And he could, of course, once his hand had snaked under the remaining pillows to retrieve that damned glove he was far too lazy to hide properly these days. He humped the pillow he buried his cock into like a horny teenager, holding that glove against his nose and mouth as he got faster and faster, inhaling.  

“Ohhh, cazzo... (fuck),” he groaned, picturing you beneath him, his cock pistoning in and out of you. How good you’d feel beneath him, how slick, and wet, and warm you’d be for him. The noises from the confessional booth still haunted him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull as he buried himself over and over.   

“Sorella... Hmmm,” he hummed, “______, merda (shit).” His hips stuttered, the silk dampened with precum giving just enough friction... He wished it was you so badly, your pussy enveloping him. He craved it, like he couldn’t bear to go on without having you, even if it were just once.  

He bit his lip as he growled, hunching over the pillow like an animal and spilling his cum into the crease. His hips slowed, lazily rocking back and forth as he milked the rest of his spend until he could take it not more, letting go of the silk and falling face first into the rest of his bedding, uncaring of the mess beneath him. 

Integrating yourself back into the Ministry life hadn’t been nearly as hard as you had thought, managing to avoid the Cardinal everywhere other than that damn seminar. You’d heard him call out to you as you were leaving, but it only made your feet carry you faster past your Siblings and out into the hall to escape. You knew it was cowardly, but you weren’t ready to have to explain yourself to him, to see the disappointment in his face or to chastise you for what you’d coerced him into doing.  

You knew today you could evade him, his schedule keeping him busy all day and out of your current hiding place; the library.  

You adored this library... The corridors were like a maze, easy enough to get lost in your pursuit of knowledge. In dark nooks, high back leather chairs to read in sat in dim lamplight. Artistic renditions of Satanic teachings littered the ceilings as they might in a Catholic church – except, it was Lucifer who danced through each scene instead of Jesus. Dark wooded desks for studying or translating lined up in the middle of the lobby, two grand staircases winding up the walls opposite each other to the second floor. In between the staircases, was the most beautiful part of all... 

On the floor sat a reversed Pentagram, carved into stone with pictures of Lucifer and his most feared animals painted into the ramp where the staircases met – goats, cats, owls, bats... the misunderstood creatures tied to him. Carved into the outer edge of the pentagram sat purple stained Atropa belladonna flowers and vines, and atop the raised pentagram sat a marble statue of a white snake winding around a black pedestal. In the mouth of the snake, stuck between the fangs, was the ripest red apple – a symbol of Lucifer’s temptation, his greatest triumph in the Garden of Eden.  

That statue always seemed to steal your breath away, as it did anyone who gazed upon it. The care and attention to detail, the way it always shined in the faux candlelight – real was too dangerous around the ancient texts and antique furniture throughout the library – it was just so spectacular.  

It was a beautiful place to spend your day, but it served a purpose today. You chose one of the leather high back chairs just off from the lobby to relax and catch up on some reading you’d neglected in your time spent hiding.   

As you neared the end of the book you were studying – an old Catholic tome you struggled to translate from the dusty pages – you decided to find the book that you knew countered the Catholic teachings, so you could cross reference and perhaps understand the old book better.  

You stood, taking the Catholic tome with you into the rows of tall bookshelves in search of the Satanic counterpart. It had to be up on the fourth shelf, just out of reach. Sighing dramatically in your own laziness, you reached for the running ladder at the end of the shelves, dragging it along its tracks to the spot you had been standing. You rested the book in your arms on a lower shelf, and starting to climb the rungs of the ladder.  

In your haste, the long skirt of your chosen conservative habit – the ones you had taken to wearing every day now that you were to be out and about around the Cardinal again – became trapped under your foot and naturally, you slipped from a few feet off the ground, losing your grip and balance.  

Two unassumingly strong arms stopped you before you could hit the marble flooring, wrapping around your waist and tugging you to a body behind you to stop you meeting a rather bruising conclusion.     “Careful, Sorella...” the chest you were pressed against vibrated with a deep chuckle. “Pretty girls should not be covered in accidental bruises, eh?”  

You stumbled to your feet, straightening out your habit and turning to see Terzo smirking at you, his ghostly eye somehow even more bewitching in the dim lamplight.     “Grazie (thank you), Papa... I slipped on...” 

“Sì, your habit,” his eyes raked over your form, confusion furrowing on his brow as he remembered the other morning in his office – you'd been wearing something much more to his liking. “I must say, I preferred the shorter one, mia cara . With the red stitching...” he winked.  

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you averted your eyes from his.  

“Did you only wear that for me, tesoro? ” he winked, taking a step towards you, “Thought it would get you out of trouble, eh?” His teasing flustered you, and you couldn’t string a full sentence together as your heart pounded in your ears, breathing irregular to compensate for the rush of oxygen to your brain. He laughed as you stuttered a denial. 

“Speaking of trouble, have you been attending your duties, sorella? Did you go to Copia’s seminar?” he stepped back again out of your personal space, allowing you to breathe normally once again. 

“Sì, Papa.” 

“And was he... happy to see you?” he asked, arching a brow. His tone confused you, like he expected a specific reaction. But Terzo was fishing... he suspected the Cardinal had a crush and was doing anything he could to put you in Copia’s way. He was making you dance around him, like the carrot on a string to tempt the donkey.... 

“Uh... I don’t know,” you thought back to the way his face fell when his eyes caught yours, the way his breath caught in his throat and the look of fear as his skin had paled to a grey colour. “Perhaps he was surprised.” 

Terzo’s face screwed up in confused annoyance. He’d expected better from the Cardinal, for him to be more welcoming when he so clearly had missed you around the Ministry. He’d asked Terzo to keep an eye out for you, to tell him immediately if he saw you, after all.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to your schedule, mia cara. But you know,” Terzo had a plan... He enjoyed meddling in the Cardinal’s affairs, and well, anyone’s ... “I must insist you attend confessional before today is out.” 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You fought to keep your face neutral, quelling every natural urge to look absolutely petrified of the thought. Because of course he would want you to attend confessional today.  

On a fucking Thursday.  

“It’s been a while, no? If you were gone for four weeks, you must be overdue?” he quizzed.  

“W-well, yes...”   

“We can’t have you falling behind, mia cara. I’m sure you have something to confess to the Dark Lord,” he turned on his expensive Cuban heels, “I must go, I have some uh... business to attend concerning a rather beautiful Librarian,” he began sauntering off into the bookshelves, “By tonight, per favore, sorella !” he called out behind him. 

Just as before, your shoes echoed on the Ministry floors as you walked to the Chapel. Except tonight, they felt louder and louder, ringing in your ears with each step. Your legs carried you on autopilot, unable to disobey a Papa’s direct instruction.  

Why did he choose tonight of all nights? It felt like returning to the scene of a crime... You didn’t know what you were going to say, what you could possibly confess to the Cardinal this evening that you’d done in the last few weeks when quite obviously you hadn’t done anything at all... 

The Chapel was steeped in dim candlelight, completely void of any signs of life. You stood in the doorway for a moment, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the booth at the other end of the room. A shiver ran over your spine, a nasty reminder that you were supposed to move, to go and sit in that infernal wooden box next to the source of your embarrassment, your fear... your lust.  

Because of course, despite your efforts to pretend he didn’t exist, your brain liked to remind you at night that he most certainly did. Except now, the grunts and groans of his pleasure were accurate, burned into your memory and used against you as a weapon as you slept.  

With a push, you entered the Chapel, somehow speed-walking to sit inside the booth beside the Cardinal who jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut a little too hard. You wasted no time.  

“Bless me, Cardinal, I have sinned,” you deadpanned.  

Beside you, the Cardinal sat bolt upright, eyes staring into his peripheral vision, afraid to make a move and look directly at the shadow beside him. If he made any sudden movements, perhaps you’d disappear in a puff of smoke... 

He cleared his throat quietly.     “Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?” He stuck to his duty, as you stuck to yours. He wasn’t about to risk trying to have any other kind of conversation with you right now. Perhaps he could try after...  

But what the fuck would he even say to you? He wanted so desperately to apologise, but he couldn’t completely clear his conscience without admitting to everything that’s happened since the last time you sat beside each other in this damned booth. And there was no way he could do that, not without the promise that the ground would open up beneath his feet and plunge him into the deepest pit of hell the second he finished confessing. 

Beside him, you waited a moment, trying to think of something to confess to, but your mind was screaming the same thing at you.     Lust. Lust. Lust. Lust. LUST.  

“Sloth, Cardinal,” you huffed, “I’ve neglected my duties.” Coward, you scolded yourself. Not that it was a lie, of course. But... you couldn’t just own up to the worst of your sins. 

Copia’s shoulders relaxed next to him, a sigh leaving his lips. Part of him was terrified you might say lust again – he wasn’t sure he could take that torture. 

“Do you wish to elaborate, sorella? Is there a reason for your sloth?” he asked, as if he was trying to hurt himself further. He knew it was him – he was the reason. You were avoiding him, disgusted by him.  

“I did something terrible, and... I’ve been hiding,” you admitted. The cardinal was confused... What could you, his sweet sorella, have possibly done that was so terrible? Lucifer, you didn’t mean him? Were you that horrified by him?   

“Sorella, there’s no need to hide, you... uh...” he couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat rising in his chest as he panicked. He didn’t know what to say... Almost as if he were to absolve you of your sins but that wasn’t what confessional was for? But he wanted so badly to comfort you, to tell you it was okay, that he was so sorry... So very sorry for putting you in that position all those weeks ago.  

And on the other side of the lattice, there you sat, feeling sorry for ever entering the booth that night, for pushing him into such a situation with a member of his congregation, for defiling his position as Cardinal.  

Both two different sides of exactly the same coin. 

“I... I can’t do this, Cardinal. I’m sorry...” you rushed, pushing your way out of the booth and running through the Chapel. Copia sat for a moment, frozen in shock and disappointment when his body reacted before his mind could.   

He got up, and chased you. Out through the Chapel, down the hall where the clacking of your shoes was still echoing off the marble. But he kept running, desperately trying to find you without tripping on his cassock. He had to find you. He couldn’t let you stay like this, so angry and disgusted at him. He needed to apologise, even if that meant admitting to all the rest...    

“Sorella, wait!” he called, the halls empty for the time of evening it was. He was grateful, chasing a mere shadow through the halls like a predator on the hunt for his prey. Except that’s the last thing he wanted you to feel; hunted.  

You found it too difficult to run in your habit, far too long for you. You cursed as you stumbled, somehow managing to stay on your feet in the pursuit of your dorm but the Cardinal was faster than he looked, and before you knew what had happened you felt a grip on your arm dragging you into a nearby door, letting go as soon as you’d been almost flung into the room.   

The door slammed, and the Cardinal stood against it, breathless and looking distraught.  

“Cardinal, don’t make me s-” you wanted to apologise, to beg to spare you the shame of saying aloud what you’d been thinking since that first confessional... but he interrupted you.   “Sorella, mi dispiace if I frightened you, but I owe you an ap-” 

“Cardinal please, I can’t-”    “Mia cara, just listen...” he begged, but neither of you could get a word in edgeways.  

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...” you cried, eyes filling with tears as you yelled your sorrows at him.     “What? What are you-” his confusion painted his features, hardened lines forming in his face.  

“Y-you’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward or put you through that ever again. I should never have made you do that, I’m so ashamed of myself,” you rabbited on, wailing at him with four weeks of pent-up embarrassment spewing out your mouth. But the Cardinal stared at you as the cogs in his brain turned, realising what you were actually apologising for.  

“Are you sorry for your dream, mia cara?” he asked you softly, taking a step to stand of his own accord instead of leaning his back against the closed door.  

“Yes!” you yelled, “That and... well... what happened. It was too far, I put you in such an uncomfortable position and that’s not fair of me at all. Cardinal please forgive me, I’m trying not to have these thoughts-”     “You’re still having them?” his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting as he processed your rantings. 

“Well, um... I... yes, but I’m working on it, I’m trying to busy myself with other things and I thought that maybe if I hid for a while that I could stop it, not that I could look you in the eyes again anyway after what I did, and...” 

Copia had heard enough. He strode towards you through the rows of desks and chairs surrounding him, pressing the palm of his glove to your mouth to quiet you and in turn, pushing you to lean back against the solid oak desk behind you.     “Sorella, please...” 

That moment, singularly, was the beginning of your downfall. When you felt the leather of his glove press against your lips, his body pressing against yours as you stumbled back, and you whined against his hand...  

Copia’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected that at all. His movements were not meant to be at all provocative in nature; he had simply panicked, needing you to hush so he could speak, to apologise and not knowing how else to do so. But now... Well, he could see the crimson colour of your cheeks under his glove, matched with the look of shock on your own face. That noise; it was completely involuntary. But it came from a place of lust...    Of submission. 

A beat of silence passed between you, the air appearing to be sucked out of the room completely, suffocating you both where you stood. Your screamed at yourself inside your head, cursing how pathetically easily you had succumbed to the slightest touch and showed your hand before any kind of game had truly even begun.  

“You must learn when to quiet this pretty mouth of yours and listen...” The cardinal tested his limits, watching your response. He noticed the way your chest rose and fell deeply and slowly beneath him, and how your eyes softened a little as they scanned his face and found no real anger there, only the hint of a smirk. “Now, give me a nod or a shake of your head, eh? I want to ask you a few things. Nod if you understand.”  

You nodded, his hand still pressed firmly to your mouth.  

“Are you still having these dreams, Sorella?” You shut your eyes now, embarrassed, and slowly nodded your head.     “And are you still... enjoying these dreams?” he spoke slowly, deliberately. You nodded again, hesitant. 

“And have you acted on these dreams since, tesoro?” You took a few deep breaths before answering again; a slow, ashamed, but deliberate nod.  

Copia sucked a lungful of oxygen in through his teeth, watching your eyes on him as he did. His head swam in a dizzying array of images; thoughts of the dream you had told him about in such detail, thoughts of you alone at night thinking of him, touching yourself for him. As he exhaled, he looked away from you, breaking the eye contact you held in fear and finally looking around the room.  

The seminar room...  

… from your dream.  

A wicked smirk spread across the Cardinal’s face, and as you followed his gaze around the room, you realised why. You dare not move, holding your breath as he turned back to you, his beautifully monochrome eyes hooded and boring down into yours. 

“It’s here, no?” he asked. You didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “This is where your fantasia (fantasy) takes place, eh? Answer me, tesoro. ..”  

You nodded against his hand again, shame flooding your cheeks with warmth. The stirring in your abdomen was growing the longer he stood pressing you into the desk behind you. It was maddening.  

“I press you against this desk in that dream, hm?” he knocked on the wood you leaned on with his free hand, in turn pressing just a little tighter against you. You could feel his body heat through his cassock, and it served to focus your own heat between your legs... “Will you remind me, mia cara , what exactly did I do here?” 

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth to let you answer him with words – except, you could find none. You stuttered and fumbled as you stared into his eyes, his face so close to yours you could smell his cologne stronger than you ever had. It was utterly intoxicating, a sweet yet smoky aroma. 

“Come, now, dolcezza ... Don’t hold out on me now, hm?” The back of his fingers met your cheek, lightly grazing the blush soothingly. “What. Did. I. do?”  

There was no escaping this, not that you wanted to. You were so close, your dream practically coming true before you. You may not be able to forgive yourself for pushing your Cardinal over the lines of professionalism all those weeks ago, but here he was, quite obviously flirting with you, enticing you.  

Tempting you.  

And you would never forgive yourself for fumbling this, for running and hiding once again. And that guilt would be worse, embedded with more shame and embarrassment than ever before. 

“You... were kissing me...” you whispered. The Cardinal smiled – not the dirty little smirk from before, more of a satisfactory smile, sweeter.  

“Tesoro, I’ll only ask you once – and whatever the answer, I will respect it,” he began, some nerves starting to bubble up in his chest. He feared rejection more than anything, having been rejected his entire life. Could he take it if you rejected him too? He wasn’t sure, but he had to try...  “Would you like me to kiss you?” 

Your chest bloomed with warmth, eyes flickering down to his half-painted lips and back to his eyes, somehow looking more puppy-dog like as the seconds ticked by. You realised then, he was scared of you saying no. Scared...   

But you could never deny your Cardinal.  

Words had failed you, that much was clear. And so, you opted for almost involuntary action, slowly leaning forwards against him until your lips barely grazed his. Copia could have sworn he felt his lips tingle where they’d brushed with yours; such a fleeting touch, unsure of yourself but it was all the answer he needed.  

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss that took your breath away... His lips melded into yours with such a longing, both of you easily losing yourself in the moment. Just as in your dream, you sank into him, your hands gripping onto his cassock as he deepened the kiss. His arms had snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush against him as he hummed into your mouth. 

Just as you imagined every night, one of his hands came to remove your veil, letting your hair fall freely while he worked his way past your lips with his tongue, gently mixing with your own as you fell further into him. You whined at the sensation, feeling his hands regroup and tighten on your waist as you did.  

He pulled away from you breathless, the black paint of his top lip smudged slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for any sign you wanted to back out, but finding nothing.  

“You look so beautiful without your veil, dolcezza...” he whispered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a lovesick idiota, but the way you looked into his eyes and smiled was everything he had hoped for. He twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, watching it as he curled it around the leather. “I had no idea you had all this under there, eh?” he chuckled, “ bellissima (beautiful).”  

He dropped the strand and instead came to hold your chin between this thumb and finger.  

“Now tell me, what happens next in that dream of yours again?” Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to punch straight through your ribs to get to him. This was happening. This wasn’t you pushing him into anything, you weren’t undermining his authority. He wanted this. He wanted you.   

“Your hands... they slide up my habit...” you muttered, shy.  

“Like this?” he narrated, crouching momentarily to hook his hand under your habit, trailing slowly up your leg until the skirt hung lopsided around your upper thigh. You nodded at him, watching as his eyes never left yours. “And do I touch you here, mia cara? ” His palm cupped your mound over your panties, and he could feel the searing heat emanating from your core through the leather of his glove.  

The noise you made was involuntary – a soft gasp that made his already half-hard length twitch with interest beneath the heavy wool of his clothes. He didn’t wait for you to answer him, his question more of a rhetorical tease. Instead, he slid his hand against you, pressing against your entrance while his palm sat heavy against your clitoris.  

“Cardinal...” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to a perfectly round ‘O’.  

He continued to tease for a moment, enjoying the soft mewls and sharp breaths you took each time he would alternate the pressure between his palm and his fingers. But he only had so much control, after weeks of pining, of dreaming of you, fucking his damn pillows to the memory and the scent of you. 

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and letting them hit the floor around your feet. Without wasting a second or daring to look away from the blissful expression on your face, he dipped his fingers between your folds, dragging them painfully slowly through the mess you had made for him. The choked moan you let out at the sensation of that damned glove sliding through rang out against the stone walls of the seminar room.  

Copia collected some of your mess on his glove, lifting his hand into the dim candlelight of the room to see the way it shined. It reminded him of the moment he’d found your sodden glove in the booth, how it left the darker wet marks where he’d held it. Except this time, he was blessed enough to have it right from the source.  

“ Splendido... (splendid)” he mumbled, before you opened your eyes to watch him bring his shimmering glove to his lips, tasting what he’d taken. The way he groaned at the sweetness had you clenching around nothing, fisting the cassock you still had such a tight grip on. “I can’t deny myself, dolcezza ... Not anymore.” 

Before you had time to linger on his words – not anymore... - he dropped to his knees in front of you, as if ready to worship. He adjusted the skirt of your habit for you to hold around your hips, still covering your modesty for now. Both his hands slid up your thighs, parting them as he slotted in-between, finally coming to uncover you for him. 

The way you glistened for him made his concealed erection throb, and as much as he wanted to dive in and devour you whole, he didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long to be sloppy here. Instead, he pressed his lips to your inner thighs, enjoying the way they trembled in anticipation. Slowly, he made his way up, his breath tickling and warming the trail of wet he’d left with his tongue.  

Finally, his lips pressed against your mound. As painful as it was to have him tease, to gently kiss you where you so desperately needed more, you were grateful for any contact at all after the weeks of anguish believing he held no feelings other than disappointment and disgust for you.  

When the Cardinal at your feet finally allowed his tongue to slip between your folds, you couldn’t help the hand that flew to knock his biretta off his head, grasping at the peppered grey hair that grew beneath it. He groaned against you; at your taste, at your heat, at your grip. It was all so wonderfully intoxicating.  

As he let himself bury his tongue in you, he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder for better access for him, and stability for you. He wrapped his arm around that thigh, gripping on for dear life as if you’d disappear on him again. But you were going nowhere anytime soon... 

As he mouthed at your clit, he couldn’t help the grunts and groans that rumbled like thunder against you, vibrating through you. You threw your head back in pleasure, uncaring of how loud your moans and whimpers were.  

When Copia started to slide his middle finger through your folds below his tongue, you almost collapsed back onto the desk. He pressed against your entrance, slowly allowing his leather-clad finger to slide inside you. He never stopped his tongue, never came up for breath.  

When he had his ring finger join the other, you began to see stars. He filled you so well, scissoring inside you and curling up towards that glorious spot inside you that no other had ever found.  

“C-Cardinal... ahh,” you whimpered. It fuelled him further, hearing his title fall from your lips above him. It was all too much for him; your taste, your grip. And now that? Oh, how sinful it sounded, how beautiful, like the prettiest songbird singing its morning melody.  

He was ashamed to admit that what you were doing to him had such a tight grasp on his sanity, he was losing himself in his mind and his body was following suit. While he had no friction, no pressure, nothing to help the painful need in his crotch, he was so close...  

In his reverie, he lifted your other thigh over his shoulder, burying his face further into you as he continued using his fingers to bring you closer and closer to the edge. You had to grip the desk under you to steady yourself, allowing his animalistic urges to take total control of your body. This was nothing like your dream.  

This was so much better.  

His tongue lavished against your clit unforgivingly, lips circling and suckling from time to time as he drank you in.  

“F-fuck, Cardinal... I can’t,” you begged for nothing above him, so close to the edge, dangling by a splintering branch over a deep canyon that was ready to snap at any moment. You couldn’t help the way you bucked your hips anymore, or the way you ground your pussy down into his face, his nose becoming a tool for pleasure as much as his tongue, lips and chin.  

That splintering branch snapped clean off when he growled into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, back slamming down into the hard wood of the desk behind you. If you felt any pain at all, it didn’t show – you were too busy writhing and squeezing your thighs around poor Copia’s head.  

What you didn’t know, was that the growl that had pushed you into your earth-shattering orgasm had been a growl not only of lust, but of anger. At himself.  

Beneath you, Copia was squeezing your thigh with the hand that wasn’t buried inside you, desperately trying to stop himself... But his poor, untouched cock had violently flinched beneath his cassock before spilling a hot load of his seed. Copia had cum just from eating you out.  

If he didn’t feel like a pathetic pervert before tonight, he certainly did now. Who cums from just going down on a woman?  

Oh, but you were not just any woman, were you? Not to him. You were the woman he pined over, stressed over, cried over, came over every fucking night for four wretched weeks. What it was about you, he wasn’t sure, but the Cardinal had never been so besotted with a woman in his life. Dare he say it, it had started long before that night in the confessional booth... He had been drawn to you since the day you took your vows.  

And no, he just couldn’t help himself.  

You lay on the desk, catching your breath and waiting for your head to stop spinning as your limbs went lifeless around him, one slipping from his shoulder. He detached himself from your core and stood up, readjusting himself in his pants for a more comfortable position now that the wet patch in his underwear was beginning to seep through to bloom into a deep red stain on his cassock. But there was no getting comfortable with his softening cock confined and covered in his own spend.  

He stepped towards you, between your legs and reached for your hand with the glove that wasn’t still glistening with your arousal. He lifted it to his completely smudged lips, peppering the back of it with chaste kisses as you came to.  

“Mia cara... are you... okay?” he mumbled between kisses. You hummed an affirmative response back, your mind still foggy in post-orgasm haze.  

Copia continued peppering kisses to the back of your hand, to each fingertip, your wrist, a little way up your arm and back down as he waited patiently for you to come back around to him. Eventually, you sat up, pushing your habit down to cover your modesty once again. He held your hand in his, gazing up into your eyes with a soft expression you couldn’t quite read. 

When you really looked at him, you couldn’t help but giggle. His paint was smudged around his mouth, a grey hue painting him from his nose to his chin, and his hair was so dishevelled he looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge.  

“What’s so funny, cara ?” he smiled with you, the kind of smile you can’t keep off your face when someone you adore is laughing near you.  

“You look a mess,” you laughed, smoothing out the parts of his hair that were sticking up.  

“Ah, sì, you have quite a grip,” he chuckled, looking away for a moment, suddenly bashful. “I trust that was not so bad, eh?” he bit his lip as he waited for your response, a little smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Better than my dream, Cardinal,” you shyly admitted. “But um... my dream doesn’t end there...” 

Copia’s smile dropped, realising what you were hinting at. You weren’t done yet... You wanted more from him. But in order to perform, he would have to reveal what you so far had missed.  

Before he could protest, your hand was cupping his bulge under his cassock, but as you pressed your palm there, your eyes grew wide, and your gaze dropped to look at what you’d felt.  

Wet.   

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...”  

Someone had stoked the dissipating fire inside you once again, and a flame began to burn. You weren’t sure if it was knowing that Copia had cum in his pants at the taste of you, or if it was his dumbstruck look as he tried to rectify the situation with words but knowing he had been so enamoured with you that he’d reached his end even whilst neglected... that was hotter than you could have ever imagined.  

“What was it, Cardinal?” you interrupted him. He silenced quickly, cocking his head in confusion. “Was it how I sounded?” You pressed your palm to the soft bulge beneath you, not at all bothered by the wet fabric. 

“Was it how I tasted?” you asked, your confidence growing as his eyes widened in shock.  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” The heel of your palm dug into him, rotating in a small circle over his cock.  

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” You heard him moan softly as you stared into his eyes. His cock was beginning to twitch in interest again.  

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”   

That did it. Without a word, the man before you wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him to crash your lips together. You’d awoken something inside him, a beast that he’d been keeping tame until now. Between desperate clashes of lips and tongues, Copia began to tease you back. 

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?” he panted against your lips like a dog in heat, “it was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you,” he paused for another heated kiss, “ finally tasting what I’ve been desiring for so long,” and another, “but that I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”   

You whimpered at his words, knowing every single one was no lie. But hearing Copia call you his had you arching your back to press against him, your hips desperately seeking him out and your lips messily found his again.  

 Terzo yawned as he walked down the halls of the ministry, the days of solid paperwork and papal duties - not the mention his library rendezvous earlier that day... - catching up to him as he slogged back to his quarters. The halls were dark, silent. He didn’t rush – he didn’t have the energy to. His mind wandered as he dawdled, taking in the stained glass around him with every step he took.   

He rounded a corner, and thought he could hear shuffling coming from inside one of the seminar rooms. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the thought of having to put on his big scary Papa voice and tell whoever was out of bounds this late to go back to their dorms. Why did they make him work so hard, eh?   

As he drew closer to the door of a room he presumed was the one inhabited, he heard voices. He reached for the doorknob, until the voices registered, and he realised... These were voices he recognised...  

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...” Was that Cardinal Copia he heard stammering away in there like a moron? Well, as a higher up member of the clergy, he was okay to be out of bounds at this hour. Terzo shrugged to himself and started to turn away from the door – whatever the Cardinal was up to in there was his business. And frankly, Terzo was too tired to even realise he had been speaking to someone...    

“What was it, Cardinal?” Terzo stopped, his brows pulling together in thought. That had sounded like you, Sister _____?  What would she be doing alone with the Cardinal at this hour?   

Terzo was now intrigued, and hung around for a moment. 

“Was it how I sounded?” What on earth was she talking about?   

“Was it how I tasted?” Terzo’s eyes widened, his jaw falling open. Had he heard that right?  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” This was not the same Sorella _____ he knew, surely not? Such filth spilling from her mouth... He almost felt a swell of pride in his chest. 

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” Terzo all but jumped with giddiness at the door, keeping himself as quiet as possible to not alert those inside. He heard the Cardinal moan the most pathetic little sound, and slapped his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Oh, fratellino, you are down BAD...    

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”  

Terzo’s hand dropped when his jaw hit the floor, completely taken aback by your brazen use of such a sinful phrase. He’d clearly stumbled upon something already in motion... Suddenly, he heard a quick shuffle, followed by a suppressed moan from you and a hungry growl from the Cardinal. Terzo jumped away from the door as if it had burst into flames.  

Now, Terzo was certainly a pervert. But he was not about to eavesdrop on his brother fraternising with a sister of sin. He recoiled at the thought, shivering as he backed away to the far wall of the opposite corridor. He stood frozen for a moment, his body not reacting anywhere near fast enough.   

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?.... It was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you... but I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”  

That did it. Terzo turned and bolted down the corridor to get away from the lip-smacking sounds and the whines you let slip.  

As he rounded the corner and managed to get away from the noises that frankly would now haunt him in his dreams, he couldn’t help but feel a little... proud.    

That had been his doing. He’d pushed them together, forced them into each other’s presence knowing how absolutely pitiful and sciocco (foolish) the pair of you were being. Terzo certainly wasn’t blind – he'd seen the Cardinal’s affections, saw how your absence had affected him so. Now he was beginning to think your disappearance may even have had to do with him, in some way. Avoiding him, perhaps?  

Not that it mattered. For now, he was proud that his fratellino was making a move – however mentally scarring that move had been to overhear. 

And he told you that you were his, too. The meaning of that may have been lost in the moment, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Terzo. Copia meant that with every fibre of his being.  

He smiled to himself as he continued to walk to his chambers. For all the teasing and all the jokes Terzo made at Copia’s expense as they were growing up, he had to admit, he turned out alright in the end. His goofy little half-brother who kept his secret Beanos and drank his little juice boxes. He chuckled to himself – he certainly was proud of him. And finally, someone else saw him for more than a bumbling idiot. Someone finally didn’t underestimate him the way the rest of the ministry did.  

“Ben fatto (good job) , Terzo,” he smirked to himself. His little plan had worked; albeit, far sooner than expected, and just a little too well. 

He would be working hard this evening to forget what he’d just overheard...

Copia’s grip on your thighs around his hips tightened as he deepened your kiss, the leather of his gloves tightening and squeaking over his taught hands. You were sure he would leave bruises with how hard he held you, pulling you flush against him until your core pressed against his hardening length. You didn’t care though; any mark he left on you was like a badge of honour.  

“Dolcezza, what do you want from me, eh?” he pleaded, breathless as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and to your neck, never once disconnecting his lips along the way.   

“All of you, Cardinal...” you practically sang, “ please...”   

He hummed against your neck, lost entirely to his visceral need to devour you whole. You threaded your hands in his hair again, holding him tight to you as you let your head fall back, enjoying the kisses, the nips and bites, the suckling against your skin that bloomed in beautiful red and purple patches. 

Copia stood upright for a moment, biting at the leather on his right hand to free himself of his glove and spitting it to one side before he lay his palm on your cheek. He drank you in with his eyes, hooded and blown out with lust. You nuzzled into him instinctively searching out his touch, your lips finding his thumb to pepper kisses to the tip. It felt oddly intimate, more so than having his face buried between your thighs.  

No one ever saw the Cardinal – or any clergy member, for that matter – without their gloves. Their bare touch was saved for those they devoted it to, and here he was, baring himself to you . 

You pressed a final kiss to his thumb, before allowing your tongue to lave over the pad of it, your lips following to engulf his thumb in the warmth of your mouth. Copia hummed in front of you, his other hand squeezing your thigh tightly as he watched. 

“Cosa ho fatto per meritarti, tesoro? (What did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?)” he groaned, pushing his thumb to smear your spit over your lips, adoring the way they glistened for him in the low light. “I want to give you all of me,” he slid his hand to your neck, a wet trail left along your skin by the saliva still on his thumb, and gripped tight enough to send a wave of excitement through you. “Every last inch...” 

You whined for him again, as your body seemed to do of its own accord, and let him capture your lips in another kiss. You could no longer stand it – you needed him, like the moon needs the sun to glow brightly in the night.   

Hastily, you reached for the buttons of his cassock, making quick work of them until he could shrug out of the heavy red wool and let it fall to the floor. He helped you then, to remove his jacket underneath while you focussed on freeing his length.  

“A little messy, mi dispiace ,” he smirked, not sorry at all for the mess he’d made when he now knew how much that had turned you on. On another occasion, you would have liked to sink to your knees, clean him up and ready him for what came next but there was no time for that. Messy or not, you simply needed him.  

You didn’t even attempt to remove his pants, instead pushing them just a little further down his hips to allow you to reach into his underwear and take him in your hand. He hissed through his teeth like you’d scalded him, but instead rocking his hips to chase your touch. He had been correct, there was certainly a mess in there – one that coated your hand as you pulled his erection free and pumped along his length once, twice...  

“ Cazzo... (Fuck...)” he groaned.  

As your hand moved, you let your eyes wonder over his body, half exposed to you now. The physique you had dreamed of wasn’t far off, except he had a little more muscle definition than your imagination had given him credit for, particularly in the two lines that framed his abdomen, leading down to where your hand worked him over. But what caught your eye most of all, was the strange tattoo that sat over his heart, hidden by a thin layer of grey-speckled chest hair.  

Three 6’s, in a spiral, marked into his chest for eternity. Your free hand traced the black lines, fingertips grazing over it making him shiver at your touch. You didn’t ask about it, there was no need. He had kept it covered, hidden from knowledge of anyone else until right now – you were the only person he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to. Someday though, you might ask him about that...  

Copia moved to remove his other glove, letting it drop to the floor beside him with the rest of his garments. His red pants still clung to his thighs, and he struggled to draw his eyes away from where your hand stroked his cum-covered cock lazily.  

With one long, drawn out stroke back up his length, you lifted your hand – smeared in his mess – and pressed two of your fingers to your tongue, sucking the mess from them as you held his eye contact. His expression darkened, baring his teeth to you like an animal as he smirked, watching you lick and suck every last bit of his essence from your hand. A fire raged within you, like lava spewing through your veins at the quiet yet guttural groan he unleashed. 

In a flash, he was dragging you to the edge of the desk where you sat, both hands burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. His hips slowly rocked against you, cock dragging through the plentiful juices you’d left for him. You hummed at the feeling of some contact, particularly the feeling of the veins and ridges of his hardness. You needed him inside you, filling you. You couldn’t drag this out anymore; it was like torture. Worse than torture.  

“Please, Cardinal...” you begged. And how could he deny you when you’d asked so nicely?  

“Kiss me, bella,” he huffed, his focus snatched away by the hypnotising sight of his cock sliding through your folds as he teased. It was as if he could only be diverted by your lips, that he couldn’t drag his attention away voluntarily.  

You grabbed him by the jaw with one hand, crushing your lips to his desperately. He growled again, the weeping head of his cock catching on your entrance and slowly, finally, he began to push inside...  

Your jaw went slack, kiss long forgotten as your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a staggered moan into his mouth.  

“ Sono qui, tesoro... (I’m here, sweetheart...)” he assured, holding your hips flush to him with a hand on the small of your back. He struggled to keep himself still, buried to the hilt and desperate to move, but you needed a moment. The feeling was overwhelming, stretched to the brink of pain and pleasure, dangling dangerously there as you got used to him.  

It was a true testament to his self-control and his character that he waited for you – as soon as his length had been buried in your tight, wet warmth he thought he was a goner. He figured that this was it – this was the glorious afterlife he’d been promised, that he prayed to Lucifer for day in, day out. 

Having you pressed against him grounded him as much as he needed. He watched the expression on your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort, of regret. He found none, because there was none to give. His lips hovered above yours, enjoying the warmth of your breath as you moaned for him.  

You were wearing too many clothes still for his liking; he wanted to be unbearably close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin on his, see you in all your glory. Still buried deep inside you, he used one of his hands to unbutton your habit, slowly revealing more flesh to him, kissing down your exposed chest until he could reach no further down.  

He was so gentle with you, so patient. He fought the urges to thrust into you, to take what he so desperately wanted from you. He simply wanted this to be perfect, and the thought had your eyes glazing with an adoration that went beyond a silly little wet dream. 

As your own way of signalling you were okay, you wanted more, you shimmied out of your now open habit, letting it pool around you where you sat, and pulled the straps of your bra down, unclipping it at the back.  

He watched your slow movements, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips. “ Più bella di quanto avrei mai potuto immaginare (more beautiful than I ever could have imagined),” he whispered, pressing his lips to your sternum, feeling your heart beating against him. If only he had known he felt this way, that it was more than just lust – if he had admitted that to himself... 

“ Copia ...” you whined, the first time you’d called him by his name all evening... His heart swelled, smiling against the swell of your breast between kisses. “ Per favore, h-ho bisogno d-di te... (Please, I need you...)” you stuttered in broken Italian, piecing together bits you had picked up in your time in the Ministry, but he knew – oh , he knew what you were saying.  

“ Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio (anything for you, my love),” he replied, sweetly pressing his lips to yours as he cradled your face in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk into him, only for him to begin moving his hips, slowly pulling back from where he had been buried deep within your warmth for a few minutes now at least... 

You mewled into his kiss, letting your tongues dance together so beautifully. It wasn’t until he had slid almost completely away from you that he pushed his way back in, gliding almost effortlessly in the slick you’d created for him. He built his movements over a few slow thrusts, gradually setting a pace that would never bring you to any kind of climax, but enough that the two of you were swirling in pleasure, able to enjoy your first moments anchored together.   

Copia’s lips never left yours, not to allow moans the freedom to escape or to allow his lungs the freedom to breathe. You were totally, utterly enamoured with each other.  

With every roll of his hips, you edged closer and closer to a point of begging for more, begging for a means to an end. He was struggling to keep himself composed, too scared to frighten you off if he unleashed what had built inside him for the last four weeks.  

“Copia, m-more... please...” you begged, finally separating the two of you to hazily look in his beautifully distinct eyes, show him the desperation in your own.  

“Amore, if I let go, I’m not sure I can control myself...” he warned, still forcing himself to stay at the pace he’d set.  

“Then lose yourself, Cardinal... Take me,” you offered yourself to him, trusting completely that he would never do anything you didn’t desperately want yourself.  

With no further encouragement needed, and a whisper of “ Cazzo, Sathanas perdonami ... (fuck, Sathanas forgive me...) ” he picked up his pace, effortlessly sliding into you over and over until the tops of his thighs were smacking into the underside of yours. The sounds ricocheted off the stone walls around you, a sinful mix of whines, pants, grunts and skin slapping on skin swirling in the air around you.  

The hands laying loose around his shoulders slid into his hair, pulling tight to press his forehead to yours. The desk beneath you groaned and creaked under the force, scraping along the floors with each hit. Your Cardinal’s cock filled you so deliciously, his hips angled to hit the back of your cervix and the top of your pussy where that tantalising sweet spot lay.  

“I wanted you for so long, amore mio...” he confessed, “so completely, like un patetico bastardo (a pathetic bastard).” He grit his teeth together, grunting like an animal as he fucked into you. He fought the urge to push you back down against the desk and lift your thighs up, spreading you open as much as possible for him, wanting to savour the closeness, the way he could feel your breath beading in condensation on his neck.  

“S-six months...” It was your turn to confess. “I’d b-been dreaming of... you... for six months...” you cried out as he slammed into you harder, fuelled by your admission.  

“ Bella , you’ll be the end of me, eh?” he chuckled between pants of breathlessness. “ Adesso sono tutto tuo (now I’m all yours...)”   

The coil in your abdomen wound impossibly tighter, threatening to fracture at any moment with the way he rolled his hips up into you, filling you deliciously with each pistoning motion. You felt the ripples from each violent thrust over and over against your clit where his body met yours, and the way his nails dug into your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises with deep crescent shapes imprinted in your skin.  

“C-can’t... hold...” you could barely string a sentence together in your current state, “ fuck...”   

“Cum for me, amore. Cum for your Cardinal, eh?” he roared. And well, you couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to.  

Fire spread from your core through every nerve ending, spanning your entire body and you squealed and writhed against him. He never faltered, not missing a single beat as you shook and spilled around his cock. The way your walls fluttered around him, squeezed him impossibly tighter made every thrust a struggle, but he fought it – he couldn’t let you down now.  

He tensed his body, staving off another orgasm as long as he possibly could. He wanted you to revel in yours, wanted to watch you come undone on his cock like he’d dreamed of so many times. A litany of profanities and mumblings of his name spilled in incoherent babble as your limbs turned to jelly, barely clinging onto him to stay upright. If you were to fall back or forward, you were to choose forward, slumping against his sweaty chest, your head sitting where his neck met his shoulder.  

In your tired and overstimulated state, all you could do for him was mouth at the skin there, leaving sloppy kisses while your pussy continued to pulse around him until eventually, he gripped your chin tightly to lift your head and crash his lips to yours. He growled into your mouth, hips stuttering and slowing – he had cum inside you, needing to taste you again as he did so.  

With his final few thrusts, his spend leaked from around his cock, mixing with your own climax. He punctuated each thrust with a hum of satisfaction, until he couldn’t take the movement anymore, his cock too sensitive to continue. Still, he didn’t remove himself. Not yet...  

Somehow you both slumped together, keeping each other upright with your body weight alone. Your chests rose and fell together, trying to regulate your breathing to have an opportunity to speak at all. But honestly? The pair of you were happy in your blissful silence together for a moment. 

After a few minutes, it was you who spoke first. 

“I thought you would hate me...” you sighed against his shoulder. Copia’s brows furrowed together, and he stood himself up removing his softening length from you, holding you by your shoulders to get a good look at you.  

“Why would you ever think that, amore mio?” he asked, genuinely confused.  

“I thought I had overstepped, that night in the confessional. I thought you were ashamed, disgusted...” you drooped your head in sadness at the memory of him excusing you so abruptly that evening.  

“No... not with you, never you , tesoro,” he assured. “At myself, sì? I assumed you would despise how I took advant-” 

“Cardinal no, you didn’t... Sathanas, we’re both really stupid, aren’t we?” you chuckled, shaking your head at your antics.    “Idioti innamorati (idiots in love),” he laughed, until he realised what he’d actually just said – and then the colour drained from his face, his eyes blowing out wide in horror.  

You smiled softly, taking his hands from your shoulders and pulling him to take a step closer to you.     “Idioti innamorati,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, still greyed from the smudging of his paints. Copia smiled sheepishly, a warmth spreading in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this before, much less ever had someone reciprocate his feelings. He felt strangely at peace, more so than he ever had.  

“Tesoro, promise me something, eh?” he asked. You nodded, willing him to continue. “Never hide from me again, okay? I damn near lost my mind.”  

You laughed at your idiocy. “I promise, Cardinal.” You leaned forward to press your lips against his, sweetly capturing the moment in a blissful kiss.  

When you pulled apart, he wordlessly helped to gather the garments that had been carelessly removed and dressed you again. You exchanged jokes about the messes you both were, how vile it felt to put your clothes back on with the feeling of your spend seeping from you and his still damp in his underwear... How truly ridiculous you both were.  

“Come, bella. I have a rather large shower cubicle I think we can both put to good use,” he flirted, pulling you to him by your waist now you were both fully dressed. You agreed, taking him by the hand and wondering through the corridors together back to the clergy suites.  

“Besides, I have something of yours I feel I must give back...” Copia laughed at himself, somehow no longer afraid to admit what he had been up to in your absence when he knew now just how depraved your own mind could be.  

Your mind ticked over at what on earth he could possibly mean, until it dawned on you... You had lost your fucking glove.  

“ You pervert!” you accused, smacking his chest playfully as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want it back, Lucifer knows what you’ve done with that thing...” The two of you giggled and flirted your way back, uncaring and unaware of any prying ears that may hear voices late into the night.  

And there were indeed prying ears, albeit accidentally, that perked up at the sound of voices outside his chambers... 

Terzo sat on his couch with a glass of vintage red in his hand, attempting to read a book to take his mind off the sinful noises he’d heard from his fratello earlier that evening. When he recognised the noises, he groaned to himself.  

‘Must they parade around to remind me of that?’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and standing to look through the peephole of his door. He saw the two of you waltzing through the dimly lit corridor, hand in hand like teenagers. The dopey look on his brother’s face was, to him, a wonderful sight; so hopelessly enamoured with you as you giggled and laughed together into the night.   

He had always hoped Copia would find someone like you – perhaps that’s why you were the one sister he never tried to bed, the one he felt was off limits to him. Maybe he had always known... but he was glad to see his fratellino acting like himself in your presence. Goofy, dopey Copia. Perhaps now, he could stop looking for approval from those he looked up to and looked down on him, and focus his efforts on simply being himself. After all, he had now found someone who liked him for who he was, not who he hoped to be .  

“Idioti innamorati,” he muttered to himself, chuckling at his win.  

Sì, his fratellino could be himself now – however pathetic he may be...   FIN

A/N: I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing this. This may be my first Ghost fic, but it will NOT be my last - so if you'd like to stick around for more, I'd be incredibly grateful. Send me some head canon requests or some drabble prompts - I'm MORE THAN HAPPY to do those for you. Endless love, Bee 🖤 TAG LIST: @melvilless @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus @edensbuttercups @daughter0fcain @xnothingpersonalx @assassinprocrastinator @funfetti-furby @kadedoesthings @sunbleached-ghoul @gravehags @gbatesx @solluna00 @mae-mei-m @bolliancat @ghulehsin @socksandcr0cs @girlwithissuesworld @fallen-angelito @maccery @wjyndigo @thew0man @a-fools-circus @luxavier @saintedcooper @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @calamity-queen @eternaltiare @moongoore @wagooo @dolceterzo @emeritusing @letstalkstories @sacred-coffin @rainstorms-library @ryos-cruddy-side-blog @fruitmanstyles @relentlessmoon @cardinal-copingmechanism @werich @strawberriiblossoms @evepeve @portaltothevoid @casualghostfan @copias-juicebox @sl1psth3magg0t @enchantedbunny @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you. 

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that. 

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo. 

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally. 

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you. 

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.” 

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.” 

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.” 

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.” 

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.” 

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?” 

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.” 

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.” 

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.” 

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.” 

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.” 

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.” 

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.” 

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.” 

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with? 

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.” 

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.” 

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.” 

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Finer Things 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom surprises you with a visit but has a lot more in store than you could ever imagine.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: happy hump day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“She just needs to sleep it off,” Tony declares as he puts his hands on his hips. He smirks as his eyes rove over to you on the other side of the bed. “Same as you, huh, sweetheart?” 

“Um, yeah, I... it’s been a long day.” You agree.

“Sure has,” he purrs. “I’ll give ya a ride.” 

“Oh, well, I can stay and keep an eye on her,” you insist. 

“Don’t sound like sleep to me. Mommy’s a big girl. She can figure it out,” he turns and searches the room. He strolls into a dark doorway and returns with the waste bin from the bathroom. “Hope her aim is decent.” 

He plunks the bin down next to the bed and teeter on your feet, “I don’t mind--” 

“You should. I mean, she’s your mom, you’re not hers, are you?” He challenges. 

“Well, no, yes, er...” you stammer. 

“If you ask me, you’re pretty mature for your age,” he crosses his arms. “Did I mention,” he pauses as his eyes flick up and down, “that dress is stunning on you. Really brings out your... eyes.” 

You look down and close your jacket. You fidget and gulp tightly, “you really don’t have to--” 

“I don’t have to, but I want to. I insist,” he struts around the bed as he drops his arms, raising his chin high. “You really gonna deny me? I’m being nice, sweetheart.” 

You peek at your mom and back at him. You wish she wouldn’t do these stupid things and let you pick it all up afterwards. If it isn’t a maxed-out statement, it’s something like this. She always made you the adult in the situation, even when you were just a kid. 

“That’s really nice, Mr. Stark.” 

“It’s Tony, sweetheart,” he stops before you. “I love the good girl thing but you don’t gotta play it up with me.” 

“I... I’m not?” You frown. 

“Ha, I’m teasing you.” He steps closer and turns to swoop his arm over your shoulder, “come on, let’s get you home and tucked in nice and snug.” 

You let him walk you across the room. You don’t know what else to do. He really is just being nice and you’re not sure of the busses on this side of the city. You look back at your mom one last time and let out a wispy breath. 

“Tell me again how you like my gray hair. I’m having a bit of a midlife thing going on,” he chuckles. 

“Huh, what?” You reel and look at him as he ushers you to the door. 

“You said it yourself, baby. You like it, right?” 

“Um, yeah, sure,” you are entirely lost.  

You don’t get him. He’s a billionaire, he’s famous, and he went to dinner with your mother. A woman his own age. A woman with a life. You’re just a girl who can barely keep up with her homework. 

His eyes sink down and you feel his gaze drift to your chest. Once more, you fix the front of your coat, this time hooking the button. He opens the door and nudges you through first. He follows you into the hall and yawns. 

“We could get a room. Crash for the night...” he suggests.  

“What?” You squeak. 

“I’m a funny guy,” he puts his hand on the small of your back. “I’m tired. I’m delirious. Saying things I don’t mean.” 

You squirm at his touch. You want to tell him to stop but you don’t know how. You don’t want to be rude, especially to him. Besides, he’s not doing anything wrong, is he? He’s just being nice. Boys, er, men, aren’t really nice to you. 

“It’s late. We’re both in need of a good night’s sleep,” his hand slips slightly, brushing the back of your jacket, before dropping away entirely. 

You continue down the hall in silence. Not sure what to say or do. You just to get to your dorm and lay down. Hopefully, tonight is an anomaly. You’re sure Tony will find someone new, like he always does. Well, that’s if you believe everything the media says. 

“You have a good time? Good food? Better company?” He goads as you step onto the elevator. 

“Um, yes, thanks again. It was really delicious,” you turn to face the doors as they slide shut. He stands close enough that his arm presses to yours and his cologne wafts around you. “I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere that nice.” 

“Really? Pretty girl like you? I don’t believe it.” 

You glance at him then look forward again. He chuckles as you face your reflection, realising he must have noticed the pointed glance in the mirrored doors. You drop your chin in embarrassment. 

“It’s cute, you know? Like you don’t believe me when I compliment you. Trust me, I don’t have the time or the need to lie.” 

You nod and meet his gaze in the reflection, “sorry. Um, thanks.” 

“No 'thank you' necessary. It’s the truth,” he winks and the doors open, breaking your eye contact, “ladies first.” 

You step out ahead of him before the heat can become too stifling. He struts up behind you and meets your stride across the lobby. As you come outside, you slow down, searching around as you barely remember parking. You’d been too concerned with your mother. 

You look around and Tony brings his hand up to clutch your arm. He leans in and lowers his voice, “this way.” 

Before he can urge you in the right direction, a flash scalds your vision. You put your hand up to shield your eyes and try to shake away the phantom white specks. Tony squeezes you tighter and tugs you away as the camera clicks again. 

“Woah, would you put that thing away? It’s the middle of the night,” he snarls as he draws you away hurriedly. “Sorry, sweetheart. I shoulda warned you. They follow me like scavengers.” 

You rub your eye as he leads you on. You can finally see again as he lets you go to open the passenger door of his car. You hesitate and look at him. 

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t look at me like that,” his voice drops in a way that makes your gut twist. 

“I’m... tired,” you croak. 

He chuckles, “come on,” he waves you into the car, “sit back and close your eyes. I’ll take care of you.” 

Something about his tone makes you squirm. You can only obey him. You get in the car and sit but you don’t close your eyes. You can barely settle in as tension wracks your shoulders. He shuts the door and strides around the front of the car. 

Another flash comes from a few feet away from the car and you hide your face behind your hand. It’s too much to deal with at once. The camera, Tony, everything. 

Tony drops into the driver’s seat and buckles his seat belt. You remember to do the same as he hits the ignition. That car hums and he takes his time adjusting the mirror and tapping buttons. Finally, he pulls out and you lurch against the backrest. 

You watch the smear of street lights and glare in the windows of dark buildings. Tony whistles and hums beside you. It makes you uneasy, like he’s waiting for something.  

As you come in sight of your street, you tense. You glance over at him, “wait... I didn’t... you didn’t ask for my address.” 

He chuckles, “oh, sweetheart, I sent the uber, remember? What, do you think I’m some sort of mind reader? A freak?” 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you cringe at your own stupid suggestion. You don’t know why you said anything. Certainly, that’s the easy and sensible explanation. 

“You know, I’ve been accused of being many things but that’s a new one,” he snickers. 

“No, I didn’t mean... I’m tired.” 

“Oh, I know you are, sweetie,” he pulls in at the curb and shifts into park, “I’ll get you up snuggly in bed.” 

“Huh, oh, no, this is good,” you say as you clutch your purse. “Thanks for the ride.” 

“Come on, what about when your mom asks if I got you home safe? I can’t just tell her that I let you wander off in the dark alone.” 

“But...” you glance over at your building. 

“For my peace of mind,” he insists as he shuts off the engine. “I’ll be quick.” 

Before you can protest further, he gets out of the car. You sigh to yourself. There’s no refusing him and you’ve never been very good at it. He comes around and opens your door. 

Just get to your dorm and it’ll be over. Then you’re going to forget about everything. Forever. You don’t think he’ll have much interest in your mom after tonight, especially since she left him to babysit you. 

You take out your keys as you walk up to the front door and you flick the fob across the censor. You pull the door open and inch and face him. 

“Thank you--” You begin but he’s already hauling the door open. Your hand slips and he nudges your elbow. Your mouth opens and shuts. What can you do? 

You go inside and he follows, just as close as ever. You lead him to the stairs. You fell out of the habit of taking the elevator, it’s always busy.  

“Ah, late night workout, I like it,” he comments as he climbs the steps beside you. 

“You don’t have to...” 

“Look, I’m gonna make sure you’re safe and sound. Any decent man would do that, wouldn’t they?” Hey chides. “Ah, don’t tell me the other boys don’t walk you home. I mean, they must be boys if they’re doing that.” 

You don’t say anything. You’re really not sure how to respond to him. Not anything he says or does. 

“You must have them lined up. Good thing there’s security in this building,” he chirps. 

“Huh, no, I don’t... boys, no. I don’t,” you sputter as you turn and climb the next flight. 

“Ha, oh, you’ve sworn them off, have you? One bad experience and you’re done with them. Can’t blame ya. You need a real man,” he insists. 

“Well, erm, no, I have school and... I’m busy,” you shrug. “That’s all.” 

“Mm, right,” he accepts lightly. 

You won’t mention to him that you are far from popular. Not in any manner of the word. You just keep going, too weary to argue. 

You get to the floor and head down the hallway. You flip your keys around again and slide them into the slot. You twist, pausing as you hear voices from within. Of course, your roommates are still awake. 

The door opens from the other side and you rip your key out. Damn it. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Racquel says, “I thought you were the food--” She chokes and bats her lashes. Her eyes sparkle at the man next to you, “oh, is that--” she points then quickly curls her manicured finger. She lowers her voice to whisper, “Tony Stark?” 

He laughs, more amused than you. “The one and only.” 

“Wow, I...” her mouth hangs open and she preens, tossing back her hair, “I’m Racquel.” 

She offers her hand and he arches a brow before he shakes it. He glances over at you and narrows his eyes. You shrug again. 

“I’m her roommate. Her favourite roommate,” she purrs. 

You frown and look at her again. She rarely talks to you. You tried over and over to get to know her and the others but they were always too busy. 

“And I’m her favourite Tony,” he tosses back. 

“How... how do you know each other?” She’s nearly squealing. 

“Long story,” he says. “Anyhow, I don’t wanna crash girls’ night so I’ll just be off.” He turns to you, “sweetheart.” 

He surprises you as he leans over and pecks your cheek. You blink and just stand there. He runs his hand down your arm before he turns and strides off. Racquel watches him and sighs dreamily. 

“Wow, I didn’t realise you were dating anyone, let alone... him.” 

“Him?” You echo, “dating? No... I...” Panic swells into your chest and you take a deep breath, “um, excuse me.”  

You squeeze by her and rush down to your room. You shut yourself inside and drop your purse on the floor. You stomp over the floor and deflate just before you flop onto the bed. 

What the heck? 

[fandom-geek17]

Destined For More

Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader

Synopsis: Being a close family friend of the Sully's, and Kiri's best friend, it was hard to be around Neteyam and not fall in love with him. Supressing those feelings were even harder, especially when his parents start pressuring him about finding a mate...

Rating: E MINORS DNI���🔞

Tags: Friends to lovers! Eventual smut! Semi public smut! P in V smut, Reader has a name, no use of Y/N

Vocabulary: Nantang (Viperwolf), Marui (Pods/tents), Skxawng (Moron), Tanhì (Bioluminescent freckles/stars)

Ages: Neteyam (21), reader (20), Kiri (20), Lo'ak (19), Tuk (13)

Can also be read on AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

“There child” Mo’at told you gently, standing over your shoulder as you crushed the herbs in the mortar. “Perfect.” You smiled to yourself. You were a decent healer, but hearing it from her directly meant everything. Kiri had always been the best healer, always would be, but you enjoyed the profession. Feeling like you could contribute with something else other than making clothes.

Alongside you and Kiri, there were two other healers in training, and everyone was currently busy helping a hunting party that had been attacked by a group of Nantang. None had been seriously injured, but there were a lot of bites and scratches to clean and bandage. They were lucky, it could have been worse. But since there were suddenly so many patients, the supply of medicines ran low. As Kiri and the other two worked on the patients, you were happy to sit in the corner, making more healing paste as fast as you could. The patients were an important part of being a healer, but the thing that had always interested you most was the science behind it. Discovering how new plants could optimize healing, which ones soothed pain, which ones killed bacteria. You had recently discovered that alternating the weaving pattern of the bandages caused more air to flow through without exposing the wounds to the elements. That way, it lessened the chance of infection.

“Emmy, can you pass me those?” Kiri asked, pointing to a pile of leaves next to you. She smiled in thanks as you gave them to her. Your real name was Emreyìte, meaning surviving daughter. It was a bit on the nose, but you liked it. You mother had labored for over two days to bring you into the world, and you nearly didn’t make it. The name was supposed to convey the strength you had already displayed coming into this world.

When you finished crushing the herbs, you put them in the water stewing above the fire. Stirring slowly, and evenly, the water slowly changed color. But it needed to steep for a little while longer. This particular mixture of herbs soothed pain very efficiently when boiled into a tea. But the taste wasn’t particularly pleasant, so you always added some sweetness in the hopes of counteracting the bitter taste. All the hunters were given a cup of the liquid to drink. They all grimaced badly, making you smile a little. It was terrible, but you were still experimenting with the recipe.

You all worked in quiet unison until all the hunters had been treated. It was well past the start of the communal dinner by then, evening setting in slowly. The other two healers went to get something to eat whilst Kiri helped Mo’at to her marui. You stayed behind to clean up. And also take inventory of how much of the supplies had been used. Hunger rumbled in your belly, but it would have to wait.

“Knock, knock” a voice murmured. A voice you knew all too well. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your breath hitched.

You turned around and indeed. “Neteyam” you breathed. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, watching you with a small smile from under his eyelashes. “I saw all the other healers join the dinner, but not you. I figured you’d be here, too wrapped up in your research to eat again.” He held out a steaming bowl in front of you. “So I brought you this.”

The smell of Yerik stew filled your nostrils, making your stomach rumble again. Neteyam smirked, proving his point. “Thank you” you said, accepting his gift. But it was only when he stepped inside the hut properly that you noticed the wound on his shoulder, making you gasp slightly. “Neteyam, what happened to your shoulder?”

“Nothing! It’s fine, don’t worry about it” he assured you, but not very convincingly.

“That needs to be cleaned” you stated, setting the bowl aside. “What happened?” You looked at his expectantly until he finally caved, quirking his brow in your direction.

“I caught a tree branch during fighting practice” he admitted with a nonchalant tone. “It’s fine.”

“Did you clean it, at least?” you asked, observing the wound. You already knew the answer.

“Yes” Neteyam said.

“Well, not well enough. Sit! Does it hurt?”

“No.”

You quirked at eyebrow at him, your tail swishing impatiently.

“A bit.” Neteyam’s ears flicked as his eyes flitted between you and the bowl of Yerik stew. “Can you at least eat first? Waiting a couple of more minutes won’t kill me.” He smiled at you playfully. He was normally very reserved, the smiling Neteyam was usually saved for his family.

But you only huffed, filling a cup with the last of the tea from earlier. “Here, drink this while I eat.” As you sat down with your bowl of stew, Neteyam took a small gulp of the liquid in his cup. His brows furrowed but other than that, he did an okay job of hiding his disgust. But having known him since you were kids, you could tell when he hid the truth. “You can grimace, you know” you giggled over the bowl. “It won’t hurt my feelings. I know it’s disgusting.”

Neteyam hummed, only making a small grimace after his next sip. “It’s not the best” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “But it’s effective. And a lot better than the last time. You’re getting very good at this, experimenting with medicine.” You couldn’t help but blush at his praise.

But you had also just stuffed your mouth full of food, so the only answer he got was that damned blush you wished would go away. As soon as you finished the bowl, you go to work on his shoulder.

Your hand trembled slightly as it made contact with Neteyam’s warm skin, holding him steady while the other hand cleaned his wound with a cloth. Your hand rose and fell with each of his breaths, and you leaned in to see properly in the firelight. Eywa, he smelled so good. Always had. It was intoxicating, and also the reason why you never got too close to him.

Your family and the Sully family had been friends since forever, you and your brother grew up together with the Sully’s, but as your brother made lots of other friends, your only real friend was Kiri. Of course, Kiri came with Lo’ak, Spider and Tuk and they were great, like additional siblings. But they weren’t Neteyam. With his broad shoulders, gentle voice, infectious smile, kind heart and protective older brother demeanor, it was impossible to not gain a crush on him. That crush had lasted on and on since you were fourteen. At seventeen, even you had to admit to yourself that you had fallen in love with him. And how could you not? He was everything, had everything. He was the handsome son of the Olo'eyktan that all the women gazed after, giggled around and tried to flirt with. He was the dream you could never have. It had been clear over the years that he only saw you as a friend, as Kiri’s best friend. So you had become very good at dreaming in silence and later suppressing your feelings for the man sitting before you.

Dreams of exploring with him, laughing with him, him confessing his undying love for you and making you his mate. And also not so innocent dreams, dreams of being with him. Of him kissing you, running his hands all over your body, his mouth following suit, him pushing his cock deep into your pussy, joining his kuru with yours, finally creating that everlasting bond…

A hiss from the man in question broke you out of your train of thought. “Sorry” you whispered, your mouth and throat suddenly very dry.

“It’s okay” Neteyam whispered back. You could have sworn that his voice was deeper, throatier, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “It just stings a little.”

You nodded quietly and swallowed, desperately trying to regain some moisture in your mouth so you could get your voice back. Standing up, you took a deep breath that you hoped was subtle and went to get the Yalna bark mixture. This was exactly why you tried to avoid being too close to him. Every time those big golden orbs watched you intently or his smell surrounded you, thought and memories of your illicit fantasies caught up with you and you had to remember that Neteyam was destined for so much more than a healer who was more interested in playing with plants than helping her patients.

He was watching you right now, you could tell. His gaze burned at the back of your neck, but when you turned back around, he thankfully looked away. You had to say something, quickly. The longer you stayed quiet, more memories of last night flooded your brain. Those fantasies of him wrapping your legs around his neck before he-

“Why didn’t you come here before?” you blurt out, desperately avoiding eye contact, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart.

Neteyam shrugged with his good shoulder, his eyes following the movement of you fingers as you dipped them in the mixture. “There were so many wounded hunters, thought you should prioritize them.”

You huffed at his stubbornness. “Skxawng” you muttered, trying to not take in how defined the muscles around his shoulder area were. “I al- we always have time for you” you corrected quickly. Please Eywa, don’t let him catch that slip up!

You dared a quick glance at his eyes, but you couldn’t read the expression there. He opened his mouth and closed it several times before speaking. “I’ll remember that” he breathed.

Quickly, you looked back down at his wound and shuffled closer to be able to apply the ointment. Too late you noticed that this position practically placed you between his legs. His knees rubbed against your waist as you leaned forward. Again, you placed one hand on his chest for support before rubbing your coated fingers over his wound.

A small groan left his lips. A groan that caused you to close your eyes and legs tighter together. Thank Eywa that your braids covered your face as you worked, if he saw the deep violet of your cheeks or your eyes that were more black than yellow, he’d probably bolt out and you’d have to dig yourself into a hole of embarrassment and stay there forever. There was nothing sexual about that groan! He was in pain, you reminded yourself. Still, all you could feel was the beating of your heart and the lightning bolts of pleasure going from your stomach to your core.

This was exactly why you needed to keep a safe distance from him! When there were other people around or you kept yourself at a respectable distance, it was easier to remember that all you would ever be was his friend. It made it easier to suppress everything.

As soon as you could, you bolted from your position as if you had just been burnt. Clearing your throat, you look away, letting your braids hide your face again. “Okay, you’re all set” you murmured under the guise of putting everything back at its rightful place.

You could hear Neteyam standing up behind you, shuffling about a little. “Thank you, Emreyìtre. I appreciate it.” It was so rare for someone to call you by your full name. It caused a flutter of your heart that made you feel both happy and sad at the same time. “Are you staying here long?”

Why did he want to know? Did it matter what you did? “Probably not” you answered slowly, finally turning around to face him. “We used up a lot of Mo’at’s supply today. I was going to forage some more for her so we can all start fresh tomorrow.”

“Now?” he questioned, gesturing to the setting sun outside of the tent. “It will be dark soon.”

You crossed your arms, tail swishing slightly. “So? I’m not afraid of the dark.”

Neteyam’s ears flicked upwards along with his tail. “I know” he smiled. “But I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You sighed… You wanted to say something derogatory to distract him from the real reason you didn’t want him accompanying you. It’s not like you could tell him you wanted the alone time to cool off and maybe shoot a couple of arrows in between gathering. But when you looked into those hopeful, determined eyes of his, you couldn’t lie. Damn him! “Fine. As long as you remember that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself then you can make yourself useful and help me carry everything.”

You thrusted a satchel bag into his hands. Neteyam snorted and slung it over his shoulder before accepting the large pile of smaller containers that you had woven for this very purpose. You gathered the same equipment for yourself before also armoring yourself with your daggers and bow and arrow.

As you walked, you tried to stay a couple of paces ahead of him, both to show him the way but also to give yourself some space to think. As eclipse slowly set in, his tanhì would illuminate more and more, creating that perfect canvas of speckled light. He had always been so beautiful in the dark, his features somehow more prominent than during the day. Over the years, you had spent many evenings around a campfire with him and his family. Carefully watching him out of the corner of your eye, you had decided that nighttime was his best look.

But you couldn’t think of that right now! If this was going to work, having him accompany you, then it couldn’t be awkward. You had to treat him the same way as you would anyone else helping you. And that meant no ogling! Hence why you were walking ahead of him.

Neteyam walked diligently behind you, not saying much, just following in your footsteps. Eventually you stopped in front of a clearing.

“Here” you pointed towards a patch of green. “See those plants with the rounded leaves?” He nodded, stepping closer to you to observe the plants. “Dig up the roots, clean them and put them in one container. As many as you can fit.”

“What do they do?” he asked curiously as he sunk down to his knees.

“They calm anxiousness” you answered immediately. “They can also help people sleep if prepared properly.”

As Neteyam worked on the roots, you used your knife to gather the same herbs you had boiled earlier today. Neteyam proved to excel at this, like everything else. He quickly filled the woven bag with roots and immediately asked for a new task. You set him to work as much as you could, both to get the work done faster and because you secretly wanted to see that pleased smile whenever he showed you his collection of plants. He was like one of those yellow canines Jake had showed you on a computer once. The ones that existed on earth. He had that same eagerness to please and do well.

It warmed your heart that he genuinely wanted to help. Yet you also had to remind yourself that this eagerness was not singled out for you. He probably wanted to help everyone with the same fervor. He was the next Olo’eyktan, after all. If the people were supposed to follow him, then he had to show he would be there for them with the same loyalty.

But as the evening went on, Neteyam followed you more and more, asking you to tell him about each and every plant you collected. And it was nice to have something to talk about. Something that you could sink into without feeling self-conscious. So, you happily shared your knowledge.

“See this one?” you sat down in front of a plant with thick, pointy stems and sharp edges. “Kiri and I discovered the use of it a while ago. It soothes burns, produces a cooling sensation.” You broke off a piece of the stem and cut it in half. A clear, gel-like liquid oozed out. You collected some on your fingers and you could swear you heard your foraging partner swallow. But before you had time to process whether he did, you reached for his arm to stroke some on it. “Feel that?” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah” he murmured before looking up at you. “That’s incredible.”

“I’m experimenting with it, to see if I can make turn it into an ointment somehow.”

Neteyam looked at you with hooded eyes. “If anyone can, it’s you.”

A blush spread across your cheeks. He had given you so many compliments tonight, it was hard to believe that this wasn’t one of your daydreams. Even harder when you observed the way his tanhì glowed in the moonlight, the way his braids fell to perfectly frame his face, his gentle smile, his golden eyes looking up at you from under his eyelashes again. The urge to be closer to him was overwhelming. Every fibre of your being longed for him, to feel his lips against yours. But you had to stay strong. He was forbidden territory. Kiri’s brother, the future clan leader, and most importantly; he wasn’t interested. And making any kind of move would ruin whatever it was that you two had.

So you cleared your throat and stood up. “After we get some of these, we should be set to head back” you said quietly, turning away from him.

The two of you quickly gathered the last plant and began walking back. But before you had gotten far you stumbled upon some of your favorite materials for making clothing. A small squeal of happiness left your lips as you bent down to scoop up some of the pebbles.

“Do these have a medical purpose?” Neteyam asked you curiously and picked some up himself.

“No” you admitted bashfully, placing the small white pebbles in your bag. “I use them to make beads and other decorations for my chest coverings.”

“Oh…” Neteyam’s eyes flitted downwards for a moment before he bent down to scoop some more pebbles into his hand to examine them further. “Is it hard to make beads out of them?”

“No” you shrugged. “Just time consuming.” Neteyam nodded slowly.

The two of you walked the rest of the way in silence. It had been such a nice evening and you desperately tried to remember that it was simply an outing between friends. You couldn’t get your hopes up over this one thing. He just came along to make sure you didn’t get lost out there…

“Hey” Neteyam stopped you with a hand on your elbow when the village appeared ahead. “Thank you for letting me come with you. I really needed to clear my head for a bit.”

Your ears perked in interest. “Oh?” His mood seemed to have dampened somewhat, judging by the way his eyes suddenly had darkened and his tail swished slightly when he looked at his family’s marui. “Can I ask why?” you probed gently. “Or is it too personal?” Whatever it was, a part of you really wanted, needed, to know.

Neteyam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Mom and dad have been trying to have a conversation with me for a couple of days. A conversation I don’t really want to have.” He looked at his home, his cheeks a bit more violet than usual. You nodded gently for him to continue. He cleared his throat and refused to meet your gaze. “They want me to start looking for a mate.”

And just like that, you could feel cracks appearing in your heart. “Oh…” you whispered, now avoiding his gaze, as well. You had always known this day would come, but mentally preparing and being slapped in the face with it were two entirely different things.

“And it’s not that I don’t want a mate” he added hurriedly. “I do. I just don’t want to be rushed into any big decisions. Whoever I mate with will have to burden a lot of responsibility and I don’t want to force that on anyone. I know what’s like to have so much responsibility thrust upon you that you didn’t ask for.”

You nodded slowly, blinking furiously. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they had to stay away! You would not cry over the news that a friend was supposed to celebrate. Be supportive! “I’m sure whoever it will be will make a great tsahìk one day” you murmured, clutching your bag closer to your chest. “Since we’re here, I can take the bags to the healing hut.”

“I can help you with that!” Neteyam offered immediately, making you want to cry even more. But not now, not yet!

“No, no I’ll be fine” you lied, your voice a lot shakier than you would have liked. “Go home, Neteyam. I’m sure your parents are wondering where you are.” He reluctantly handed you the bag he was carrying. You gave him a forced smile. “Goodbye.”

You started to walk away before he could answer, desperate to get away. He called after you. “Goodbye Emmy!”

The tears finally spilled over. It felt like a ‘goodbye’ in more ways than one…

Let me know what you think!!!

[elihashadenough]

Pairing: max verstappen x male reader (could be read by masc presenting people)

Summary: sometimes things go right in the moment but will they always be right? can they survive through the hardships of love? can their love hold the test of a treacherous path of love?

a/n: part 7 is here, sorry if the upload was later then i usually post, i hope its longer than the previous one, i've been a little busy with some things and exams but here it is now. I hope this makes up for the short fic and disappearing for the past few weeks, been really invested in the races ngl :)

-> do not repost, copy or translate my works nor post them anywhere else. Read at your own risk. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated.

[series masterlist]

liked by ynln-official, redbullracing, mickschumacher and 993,135 others

maxverstappen1: thank you for all the love you have given me @ynln-official. Can’t wait to make more memories to cherish. Love you, max

view all 47,309 comments

ynln-official: love you so so much (heart emoji)         maxverstappen1: love you more

mickschumacher: so proud of you both, always have your back :)         ynln-official: thank you for always being there (never thought of you as someone sentimental *wipes tears*)         mickschumacher: don’t even

danielriccardo: oh we will be feeling like third wheels soon            landonorris: tell me about it            maxverstappen1: you two are acting like you weren’t already third wheeling

user63: get yourself someone who gets you flowers when you feel down people user37: facts!!

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, redbullracing and 978,811 others

ynln-official: 2 years together and your smile still has the same effect it did on day one, though we have known each other for longer than I can even remember but the memories we have made through them, I’ll always cherish them. I can’t wait to love you till the end of times (heart emoji) but that doesn’t hide the fact that we were outed, yes we technically work in the media but still it doesn’t give any news site or person to publish an article about someone’s relationship  no matter their sexuality. Outing someone (in any setting) is not acceptable should they be a public figure (adult or not) or a normal person. People should seriously be taught how to act like actual decent human beings in school at this point. Though I do want to say thank you for all the love everyone has shown both max and I, all the messages and comments of support meant a lot :)

view all 34,948 comments

maxverstappen1: I love you so much that charles gave me ‘if you hurt my friend’ talk again         ynln-official: that’s Charles for you, you know (shrug emoji)         charles_leclerc: you are still not off the hook max

user86: you tell them y/n!!! so proud of you

landonorris: I thought this was for max why is this making me tear up          georgerussel: in the same boat as you mate          maxverstappen1: and just imagine how I am right now

user57: this is serious??!! Watch them shove it in our faces now smh       user82: not so kindly fuck off dude        *liked by ynln-official*

user30: god the pictures they have used of each other... makes me feel single as hell       user13: them holding hands it’s just ahhhh

{a small snippet}

You opened the fridge to pull out vegetables for the stir fry, you could hear max in the other room working on something. With the vegetables now washed you grab the cutting board and knife to start cutting them up while the chicken defrosted, light music playing in the background as your focus was on the vegetables until someone’s arms wrapped around you making you smirk knowing it was max “I thought we were supposed to cook together” max says as he rested his chin on your shoulder “you were working and dinner was getting late so…” you said turning around in his arms to face him “well what are you making?” he asks as he picks up a green capsicum “just a stir-fry with rice…easy and quick” you say as you turn around again and begin cutting again, you don’t hear a response from him but max putting a wine glass on the counter and you hear a pop , you look at him with an eyebrow raised, he just looks at you before pouring the wine in the glasses “to us telling the world…and to our love” you couldn’t help but laugh a little before raising your glass and take a sip “I love you” you say as max smiled and kissed you softly “I love you too. Now what can I do to help you my love” he asks as he looks at the chicken “anything but the chicken” you shake your head and move from your spot “cut the vegetables” you say as you laugh “be careful of the knife” you add max’s hand touches the blade “I know how to use a knife y/n” he says “yet you are scared of raw chicken”

Light touches and laughter surrounded the two of you for the rest of the night. Though both of you knew the hate would be inevitable but right now nothing mattered to either of them except each other.

i haven't proof read this so if there were any mistakes, i'm sorry. But i hope you all enjoyed this. I hope you all have a wonderful day/night ❤️

tagging: @leosxrealm, @miloformula123fan, @woozarts @eugene-emt-roe

[roseghoul26]

Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul. 

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp. 

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself. 

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go. 

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul. 

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months. 

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial. 

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped. 

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done. 

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head. 

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart. 

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more. 

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.” 

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them. 

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again. 

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him. 

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.” 

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this. 

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you. 

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond. 

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face. 

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night. 

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands. 

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it. 

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating. 

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it. 

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything. 

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

[imagine-that-100]

Will We Talk? | Part 1 |

Description: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 13.2k

A/N: Well hello there besties! Alex stannies your time has come again because I’m back and this short series is going to be soooo much fun! This was inspired by a harry fic I read many moons ago and I just knew I needed to do a grumpy Alex fic. I started writing this fic on the 15th of December 2021 so it’s been a long time coming. That being said part 2 isn’t yet finished (blame @nriacc​ lol) but I felt we all needed a new Alex ficccc! Big thank you to the author of the harry fic for the inspiration, and to @red---moon​ and @alovesreading​ for helping me/ keeping me inspired for this one. I would loveeee to know what you all think so please give me your reactions! Just keep an eye out for the time jumps, it goes back and forth quite a bit but I hope it makes sense. Thanks a million for reading, hope you enjoy x

| My Masterlist |  

~*~*~*~ 29th June 2018 ~*~*~*~

Just do it Y/N. Be polite, stop being a child.

Internally, you’re debating pretending that you don’t need another drink and to go back to Katie and Kelly without a new one so you don’t have to suffer what’s bound to be another awful encounter. Alex is standing at the busy bar with his drink in his hand, and you’d think that after 8 years of knowing someone you’d feel comfortable enough to have a chat with them at their best mates birthday party. But no. Not with Alex.

He might just be the grumpiest person you’ve ever met. He’d never once started a conversation with you, it’s always been you making the effort with him since the day you met him.

Truthfully, your tendency to talk a lot more than you should when you’re nervous probably hasn’t helped that. You’d seen interviews of him over the years and it’s clear that he really didn’t like talking to anyone who he wasn’t close to. And you’re not stupid, just because Katie is your best friend doesn’t mean that you’re someone he has to converse with.

Of course over the years you’d seen each other a lot but you’d only had a handful of conversations with him. Frighteningly few of those conversations were just between the two of you, and you were happy with things staying like that.

But this time you’re going to have to brave it. You’d promised Katie you’d grab her another drink along with getting yourself a new one.

The bar is fairly busy with a few people standing around chatting as they wait for their drinks. A few people have been standing there for the majority of the evening in this decently sized function room.

Of course for Jamie’s birthday, and with the band being back off tour for a short break, Katie had thrown her husband an early birthday party because she’s the best wife possibly ever. You’d helped her plan it and sort everything out so she didn’t get too stressed like any best friend would do and you’re so glad everything has gone to plan and Jamie seems to be having a great night.

Equally, you’ve been having a great night too. Getting to see everyone again is fun. You’d not seen Miles for a while nor had you really seen any of the band because they’d been on tour but each time you saw them it was like no time had passed. Miles has always been your favourite to chat to, you think because the both of you are just as chatty as the other so you always feel at ease around him.

You’ve always had a tendency to talk someone's ear off and even more when you’re drinking or nervous. So tonight with you being both tipsy and nervous about seeing Alex standing at the bar, inconveniently for you the only free space being one beside him, you don’t want to go over.

But you need another drink.

Just fucking do it Y/N.

Taking a deep breath you bite the bullet and head over to the empty space at the bar. You’re hoping that you’ll get served immediately but by the looks of the bar staff looking around like headless chickens, you don’t think your prayers have been answered.

Reaching the bar, you put your empty glass back down on the sturdy wooden surface and wait patiently for the bartenders to serve you.

“Hey.” You greet Alex as you turn to face him.

You smile once his eyes meet yours and you see the flicker of recognition in them. You expect a smile or something along those lines from someone you’ve known for almost a decade but no.

All you get from Alex though is a quick, “Hi.” before he glances back towards the rest of the party.

After a second of silence, you have to ask, “How are you?”

“Yeah, good thanks.” Alex smiles before taking a sip of his drink and looking away from you as if he’s searching for someone else to talk to.

Wow, great chat. Why do you actually still bother Y/N?

You make eye contact again and you can feel the tightness in your chest building as if storing up all the shitty conversations you want to blurt out to get rid of the silence. But you also don’t want to annoy him. So you don’t mention anything about the goatee that he’s grown since the last time you saw him. You want to be nice and complement him but you seriously don’t think you can survive the awkwardness of you doing that.

Thankfully you don’t have to think about it for much longer because someone else caught his attention.

Alex’s eyes flicked from yours to someone coming up behind you and you hear a male voice excitedly saying, “Alex, hey!”

A grin comes to the singer's lips then and you watch him as he enthusiastically asks, “Hey man, you alright?”

You've never seen the guy who’s taken Alex's attention before but it seems like they are friends. From Alex’s smile and the way they just shook hands you assume they must be, “Yeah good thanks, where’ve you all come back from?”

“Middle of the month we were in the States, then we went Germany, and we flew back from Denmark yesterday.” Alex explains enthusiastically and you can only imagine him ever being that engaged in a conversation you had with him.

“Christ, and you’re here now.” The guy shakes his head in disbelief, “I don’t know how you do it.”

You tune out of their conversation then and glance back at the bar. You really want your drinks so you can leave before the guy leaves and it gets awkward again.

It’s not that you want to be his best mate or anything close to that, you’d just love not to feel nervous around him all the time. In the beginning the nerves were probably due to you being a fan of the music and you’d never met him before.

Jamie was the most normal person so you didn’t quite believe Katie when she first told you that her boyfriend at the time was in Arctic Monkeys. But then you met him and clearly found she was telling the truth.

You’d met all the band by the end of the year and you got on well with them at various after parties that Katie had dragged you along to in your mid twenties. But Alex has always been quiet and marginally grumpy with you since day one.

Probably your nervous chatter that did it the first time considering he said ‘hi’ to you and nothing else. He just listened to you rambling on until he was pulled away by someone much more important than yourself.

But over the years you got to know him, even if it wasn’t directly through him.

Katie fed you all of her gossip as she thinks of you as her most trusted confidant so when someone in the band annoys her and she can’t show how annoyed she is to Jamie, she’ll have you over for a wine night. So you’re aware of everything that’s just happened between him and Taylor and a certain french bitch.

If he hadn’t have left the French bitch as what she was, a stupid fucking fling, you think Katie may have killed him. She was really close with Taylor and after finding out about the cheating she was round at your house for days trying to yell all her anger away. Obviously she didn’t want to make things more awkward by airing her current murderous feelings towards Alex to Jamie so you’re the one who heard it all.

Of course you disapprove of what he did too. But it’s not your place to have an opinion. You’re just there for Katie. But you have to admit, for Alex’s sake, you’re glad he just left the French girl. Katie would have murdered him if he started seeing her as something more.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the guy who was talking to Alex accidently bumping your shoulder as he was turning round to head back to whoever he was with. After he apologised and you promised him it was fine, back comes the uncomfortable silence that hangs between you and Alex.

He makes eye contact with you again as he sips on his drink, the smile previous on his lips now gone, and you can feel that you’re about to start nervously chatting to him. So you’re eternally grateful for the voice from behind the bar.

“Hi,” The bartender grabs your attention, “What can I get you?”

Thank you, God.

“Can I get two Amarettos on ice please?” You ask for two of your own drink because you don’t want to come back over if the grumpy fucker beside you is still over here.

The bartender preps the glasses and adds ice before he grabs the bottle of Disaronno and the double ended measure before asking, “Singles or doubles?”

“Doubles please.” You smile and watch as he pours them.

You’re glad he isn’t stingy with his measures because you don’t want to come back for a while, and after pushing the drinks towards you, the bartender asks, “Anything else?”

Smiling, you politely ask, “Can I get a large glass of Montepulciano please?”

“Yeah sure…” You watch as the guy looks around for a second and you know from his irritated expression what’s coming before he even says it. “I’m just going to grab another bottle from the cellar, I’ll be just a minute.”

You smile, “Okay, thank you.” as you can’t even change which wine you’re after because he’s already gone. You feel bad as the guy disappears off but you can feel the nerves bubbling back up inside you.

The silence falls once again, and despite the room being busy and there being a lot of people-watching you could do, you feel like because you’ve known Alex for so long you should be trying to converse with him. You really wish you didn’t care about uncomfortable atmospheres but you can’t really help but avoid it with Alex, you wish you could get over it.

Both of you are awkwardly standing beside each other once more with nothing to say and you can’t stand the stiff air between the both of you. So you end up doing what you do best when tipsy and nervous: You talk.

“I know you don’t like me very much, but I really rate your music and I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.” You begin to nervously digress looking Alex straight in the eye, needing to get rid of the silence between you. You hesitate before oversharing, “I say that, but it took me a long while to get into your new album but I like it now. Think it’s the one I listen to most actually.”

“Right, thanks.” Alex nods, before adding in a little confusion, “At least, I think that was a compliment.”

“Yeah it was.” You nod, your mouth unable to stop from rambling now. “I know my opinion means fuck all in the grand scheme of things but I just thought ‘give credit where it’s due’, right?”

Stop talking Y/N/N, you’re embarrassing yourself.

“Right.” Alex smiles at you, but you can’t help but feel a little stupid under his gaze.

You’ve told Jamie time and time again how you felt about his music, but never once have you felt this awkward about it. It really is just a reaction to Alex at this point because you could tell he just doesn't want to know.

However, just as he looks like he’s about to say something else, probably him finally telling you to leave him alone, you’re saved from whatever it was. Whilst your blundering conversation took place the bartender had returned and had poured Katie’s glass of red and it’s ready and waiting just in front of you.

“That comes to twenty-two all together, please.” The bar man asks and you happily give him your undivided attention as you take a £20 and a £5 note from your purse and hand it over.

“Keep the change.” You smile at the bartender who looks pleased with the tip you’d just given and as you pick up your alcohol carefully you glance back to Alex who’s clearly only watching you because there’s no one else around taking up his time.

He probably wants you to get a move on so he can chat to someone who actually peaks his interest. You half smile at him as you politely say, “Can’t keep the birthday boy’s wife waiting for her drink any longer. See you later.”

“See ya Y/N.” He nods, sounding just as disinterested as when you started the conversation.

Christ. Get me out of here.  

Thankfully for the rest of the night Alex is easily avoidable. Most people want his attention all the time so even if he joins a conversation that you’re involved in, he gets ripped away from it.

Miles keeps you entertained for a good portion of the evening, both of you chatting more as you drink more and more. Closer to the end of the night, Jamie gets up and does a speech thanking everyone for coming and that’s when Alex comes up beside you and Miles.

You just about hear him say to Miles that he’s just paid for a drink for him at the bar and for him to go and choose what he wants and then once again, Alex is left standing beside you with a full beer in his hand as you both listen to Jamie’s short and sweet speech.

Obviously, the guitarist brings up his lovely wife and thanks her for everything. Jamie gives Katie a stunning bunch of flowers which you can instantly tell that she loves, but as he hands the microphone over to her, Alex grabs your attention.

“Why do you think I don’t like you?” You're shocked as you hear that question fall from his lips, but you don’t hesitate to be honest with him.

You’re a little taken aback if you’re honest. He may as well have just shouted it at you because you’re genuinely that shocked by the question despite his voice being just above a whisper.

“Erm,” You swirl your drink around the glass before looking up into his brown eyes, “You never say more than a few words to me whenever I see you.”

Jesus, this is fucking awkward.

You see him frown a little then though, and after a second's thought, he asks, “That makes you think I don’t like you?”

“Well, it doesn’t make me think that you’re overly fond of having a conversation with me.” You say with a little chuckle of disbelief as to why you had to say it outloud. “And you’ve never tried to get to know me like the rest of your friends have and whenever I try with you, I don’t get much of a response.”

“Never intended for it to come across like that.” Alex tells you, and he does look like he feels bad, but it’s not like you’re holding it against him. So you don’t need his, “Sorry.”

All your brain is telling you right now is ‘Avoid confrontation at all costs’. You’re really not equipped to have that conversation with him drunk but you did tell him the truth.

“Don’t be.” You shake your head before looking back at Katie, “It is what it is.”

You can still feel his eyes on you and you’re half sure you hear him say the start of your name but your attention is clearly ripped away from him when Katie say’s your name down the microphone.

“Y/N,” She grins at you gesturing for you to come to her, and you see Jamie now holding a bunch of flowers that turns out to be for you, “Couldn’t have done this without you Hun. I had to get you these.”

You shake your head and go over to thank and hug her, leaving Alex watching after you. He just stays in his head and drinks his drink, silently processing your previous words.

~*~*~*~ January 26th 2018 ~*~*~*~

“Hey!” Jamie shouts as he runs through the front door and quickly starts routing around for whatever it is he’s looking for.

Katie says a surprised, “Hi?” and you can see and hear the distaste that he’s back so early.

Tonight Katie had invited you round once Forrest had gone to bed because Jamie was meant to be out for the evening with the lads. She needed a wind down after a long week of work and looking after her toddler whilst Jamie was away doing PR for the new album.

You’re both half way through your first bottle of red wine as Jamie now comes scurrying into the lounge, almost frantically searching around for something. You find it quite funny too because he definitely hadn’t noticed you sitting in his lounge.

That changes a second later when comes towards you and pulls out the messy drawer on the side table just near you. He smiles quickly, “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“And you Jamie” You grin, seeing his wife still waiting for him to announce why he’s intruded on your night in.

After scurrying around the lounge, clearly trying to find whatever it is he’s lost, she asks, “What are you doing back here?”

“I forgot my wallet.”

You’re desperately trying not to laugh at Katie’s silent sigh, or when she lets out an annoyed, “You left the door open J.”

You look towards their door and you can see it’s half open, letting all the precious heat inside their cosy house out. The winter air is absolutely freezing and it’s causing a draft that both you and Katie can feel without coats on.

“Al, you tosser!” Jamie shouts as he continues looking around for his wallet, “Don't wait outside come and help me find it, you prick!”

You can almost hear Alex’s sigh as he steps into the house, “Not my fault you left it here.”

“Alex, please come in and shut the door.” Katie waves him in from her seat, “It’s fucking freezing.”

He sighs a little as he says, “Yes, Miss Cook.” before closing the door and walking into the house with his coat wrapped tightly around him.

He looks like he doesn’t want to be out of his own space, let alone be here. He’s not smiling like he usually is when he sees Katie and he’s practically rolling his eyes watching Jamie run around like a headless chicken.

“Ignore him. He didn’t want to come out at all.” Jamie shakes his head as he walks around the lounge and back around the corner to the hall where he came in and heads past Alex and up the stairs.

Katie continues talking to you about your previous conversation and Alex just stands under the open arch between the hall and the lounge. Or that is until you all hear a loud bang come from upstairs.

A few seconds later all of you hear Jamie make another loud bang and Katie inhales sharply through her nose. Annoyance is bubbling through her system when you all hear him say “Shit.” from upstairs, clearly very loudly.

“He better shut the fuck up or he’s going to wake Forrest up.” Katie looks at you with a death glare that’s definitely meant for her husband.

Katie gets herself up from her seat opposite you and walks past Alex to half mute her voice as she yells, “Jamie!”

“Don’t mind me,” She looks from Alex back to you as she half smiles, “I'm just gonna go kill my husband.”

Alex chuckles at that and you let out a little giggle before taking another sip of your wine as you hear your best friend walk up the stairs. That leaves a silence between you and Alex and one that you’re itching to fill. You hate that it’s always awkward between you both.

After taking another sip of your wine, you politely ask, “How are you?”

“Good, thank you.” Alex nods, walking towards the wood burning fireplace that Katie was lighting when you arrived.

You debate mentioning that his hair is a lot longer since the last time you saw him, but you decide not to. The last thing you want is to make anything more awkward, so you go for something that he’s used to talking a bit more about.

“You enjoying the build up to the album release?” You ask, praying the conversation will being to flow a little easier.

But all you get is a half hearted, “Yeah. It’s been alright so far.” as he crouches by the fire and puts another piece of wood onto it.

“Good good.” You smile despite him not even looking your way.

… And nothing. No follow up question about you, not even a smile.

You’re sure he hates you. There’s absolutely no other possible explanation for why he would make things this uncomfortable for you both if he didn’t. You can’t stand uncomfortable silences which makes you more nervous and the need to chat takes over again.

You’d think that someone who does interviews for a living would know how to make people feel comfortable and you know for a fact that he does. You’ve seen a fair few in your time being their friend, and you’d seen Alex interact with his friends and his fans. You have no idea why he makes life so awkward for you.

You try again, hoping to ease your awkwardness by asking him about something he enjoys.

“How did you find writing this one?” Is the only thing you can come up with that you’re genuinely curious about, “I think Jamie mentioned that you got writer's block or something for a while, is that true or was he bullshitting me? Because you’ve always seemed to write and record really quickly from an outsider's perspective.”

“Yeah,” Alex nods with a sigh, still not even glancing at you, making you wish you never asked, “Was difficult at the beginning, got there in the end.”

Wow.

Amazing.

Enthralling story.

Taking another sip of your drink, the uncomfortable tension feels like it's suffocating you and you’ll do literally anything to ease it. Blabbing on about where they are going seems to be the direction you take.

“Where are you being dragged out tonight? Just to the George and Dragon,” which is about a 2 minute walk from here, “Or are you going into town?”

“Heading into town I think.” Alex stands himself back up and tucks his hands back into his pockets, glancing at you as he walks back to the centre of the lounge.

After taking a sip of your wine, you politely ask, “Anywhere nice?”

“No idea.” He shakes his head.

Smiling, you try to make light of the situation. “You really don’t wanna go, do you?”

“No,” Alex shakes his head, and says under his breath probably not meaning for you to hear, but you do, “I don’t even want to be here.”

To you that’s another way of saying shut the fuck up. Biting your tongue after that is difficult, but it's easier than letting him make you feel like shit again.

After drinking your last mouthful of wine, you get yourself up and out of this uncomfortable situation. You don’t bother telling him where you’re going as you doubt he cares but you’re just thankful that you don’t have to deal with him anymore.

Disappearing to the Cook’s downstairs toilet, you’re glad when you hear Jamie race down the stairs a minute or two later, shouting, “Right Al, come on. Let’s go.”

As you open the door and make your way back round to the hall, you hear Jamie say bye to Katie, followed by Alex politely saying goodbye to Katie. He gives her a hug and his eyes make contact with yours as he slips out, not even nodding a ‘bye’ as he leaves, closing the front door behind him.

“Hiding again?” Katie turns to grin at you, knowing just how uncomfortable you find interactions with Alex after years of the same behaviour.

“He’s so awkward.” You nod laughing, but you’ve got better things to be thinking about tonight. “Come on babes, I need another glass of wine.”

Thank fuck for that.

~*~*~*~ 21st September 2018 ~*~*~*~

“Y/N, Hey!”

“Jamieee.” You grin, walking towards his open arms so you can give him a hug.

You walk into his arms and you appreciate the tight hold he traps you in. As you give him a squeeze, the guitarist says, “Missed seeing you in my house.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little at that. After greeting Nick and Kelly as you walked in with Katie, you couldn’t wait to see Jamie backstage tonight. Matt unfortunately doesn’t seem to be around this communal area just yet but you're grateful for the lead singer's absence.

“Ahh well, I've been there more than you.” You tease him, his tour has been so long it feels like forever since you last saw him, “I’ll be sleeping in your bed next.”

“Surprised you don’t some nights,” Jamie laughs as he releases you from the embrace, “You’re both piss heads.”

You can’t help but laugh and nod. You just end up shrugging, “Well, red wine calls us both.”

Both you and Katie can’t help it. You’re just living your best lives and the wine nights you share are the highlight of your week.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” You grin at Jamie.

You’re actually thrilled you’ve been invited to their gig tonight. Them being back home in Sheffield must be awesome for them and the fact that they have four shows back to back at the FlyDSA arena makes you happy too. It’s a proper homecoming. And after a stressful week this is definitely what you needed to let loose a bit.

“Oh, I’m not the one that you need to thank.” Jamie smiles and you think nothing of it, assuming Katie’s told him you have to come.

She usually does that when she’s invited somewhere anyway. She really likes taking you out with her and sometimes out of your comfort zone.

Katie calls you over to the fridge in the communal area where she asks you what you want to start the night off with. You’re shocked as to how much alcohol is in the fridge, there’s got to be at least 30 cans of beer and there’s also wine in there. Bottles of red are left on the side beside it too.

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe they get this much stuff every night.” Your eyes go a little wide seeing the fridge.

Katie laughs at that, “I know they are greedy, I’ll have a route to see what there is.”

You watch her astounded at just how much alcohol is in there. But your attention moves to the scouser who’s just walked through the door.

“Y/N.” Miles calls your name from across the room and you grin when you turn to see him.

“Course they had you come for their home shows.” You laugh, throwing your arms around him.

You adore Miles. He’s been a good friend for a long time and you feel really comfortable around him. Unlike his best friend, Miles seems to listen to what you have to say and he’s interested in it.

It meant that you’d been close for a long while and he always makes an effort to check in with you every month which you love him for. He’s honestly such a good person and you think the world of him.

“I’ve been here the past two days and I’ve been asking for you.” Miles informs you, “I was going to text you but Katie said you were busy?”

“Yeah sorry, I’ve had some planning to do for work and had to see family the last few days.” You shake your head, not wanting to think about all that right now. You grin at Miles, clearing your head, “So glad to be here now.”

“Ooo Y/N/N,” Katie gets your attention and she has a big grin on her face as she tells you, “There's a full bottle of Amaretto in here. Not seen this before.”

“Oooo amazing.” You grin, selfishly loving the fact you won’t have to pay for your own drinks until the after party later.

Miles traps you in another conversation whilst Katie makes you your drink. Before she pours your drink though, she can’t help but wonder why the bottle is there in the first place.

“J?” Katie calls her husband over and when he’s standing beside her, she asks him, “When did you add this to your rider?”

“I didn’t know we did.” Jamie frowns in confusion looking at the bottle of Disaronno. He knows no one in the band drinks it so he asks his wife, “Why? Who drinks it?”

“Y/N does.” Katie tells him, ”It's her favourite.”

“Well, happy days then.” Jamie smiles and shrugs it off, thinking nothing of it.  

Drinks flow for a while after that. Now you’ve had two glasses of your favourite, you really feel like it’s a Friday night and you can finally have a bit of fun.

That thought slowly dies though when Alex comes into the room with Matt in tow. You’d seen him a few times since the night you couldn’t get an Uber home from the Cook’s house and he walked you home but he still wasn’t all that chatty with you.

It was a little easier but you were still the one making all the effort and actively trying to make conversation with him. You can’t imagine anything different happening tonight, christ, you’ve still not mentioned to him that you like his new buzzcut.  

In fact, you imagine he’ll be a little worse because he’s got everyone who he wants around him and you’re just Katie’s plus one. Thankfully you’re distracted for a minute by the bubbly man that is Matt Helders.

He’s a gooden too. You do love him but you can’t lie, he made a questionable decision with his love life. Why anyone would leave Breana you have no idea.

Like Katie’s rants about Alex doing the dirty on Taylor, you heard the same rants for her about Matt cheating on Breana. Once again, it wasn’t really your place to have an opinion so you just let her rant at you.

But Matt had always been lovely to you, so obviously you wouldn’t bring the things you heard about him into your dynamic. You chat to the drummer for a few minutes and he makes you laugh countless times at how tipsy he is.

You genuinely don’t know how he can perform for two hours when he’s like this before. But you can’t blame him, and he seems to be having fun and you know he’ll put on a good show.

Matt wonders off to grab himself another drink leaving you alone at the side of the now busy room. But you don’t mind people watching, it’s quite a good pass time for someone like you who doesn’t like awkward encounters. Anything to keep you from rambling on like you always do when you’re drunk and nervous.

Your eyes mostly roam over the people you don’t know, you find them more interesting to try and figure out. Guess which members of the band they know and how they’re friends.

But your people watching hobby fucks you over royally. As you eyes glance over at who Alex is chatting too, the singer's eyes connect with yours and you avert your gaze immediately.

You honestly just can’t deal with the awkwardness today. You need more alcohol to deal with that. Being drunk was the only reason you survived that walk home with him.

But turns out you’re not so lucky, because when you glance back, Alex is on his way over to you which almost makes you spit your drink out. What the fuck?

Miles, your absolute saviour, runs into his best friend though and wraps him into a hug which you can’t help but laugh at. He kisses his cheek which makes Alex laugh and the smile lingers on his face after Miles tells him whatever it is he needs to tell him.

They chat for a minute and you just find yourself watching them. They chat so easily. It really makes you wonder what you’ve done to piss Alex off so much that it seems like he couldn’t care less if you were in the room with him or not.

If you had to bet, it would be your nervous rambling. But that’s not your fault. That’s your shyness taking over and your hatred of awkward silences.

Your jaw almost falls open though when Alex smiles at you from over Miles shoulder, and even more so when he moves around his best mate as greets you, “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey,” You say, a little surprised that he’s stopped his conversation with Miles to come over.

“How’ve you been?” He asks, which makes you want to pinch yourself.

Did he really just ask me how I was before I asked him?

You just about manage to smile as you say, “Yeah I’m great, how are you?”

“Good thanks, excited for the gig.” The singer smiles, and you can’t help but find it unnerving that he’s giving you his undivided attention. Alex follows up like he’s curious, “I didn’t think you were coming to any shows?”

“Oh no.” You shake your head, thinking Katie must have forgotten to tell the lads she invited you. “What's better than a gig, right?”

“Right.” Alex smiles, and it shocks you because it actually seems genuine, “Glad you could make it.”

Is he drunk? Why is he talking to me? He’s glad I could make it????? What now?

You smile at each other then. But your brain is all too aware that after two seconds there’s nothing more to say. So as you try to stop yourself from getting skittish, or making it more awkward.

“You been enjoying the tour?” You ask him, but you don’t give him any time to reply because you start your nervous talking, “I’ve seen a few videos and they’ve been good. Four Out Of Five seems to really pop off. I like that one, might be my favourite off the new album actually. But I really like One Point Perspective too.”

“Good choices.” Alex chuckles and you can’t help but silently scorn yourself for being awkward.

God, you wish you could have one normal interaction with him.

“Oh,” Alex’s eyes seem to light up for a second before he tells you, “Follow me a second, got something for you.”

You frown at him, not believing what he said in the slightest. You ask in confusion, “Me?”

“Yeah.” Alex nods and turns with a gesture for you to follow him.

The shock of it is what actually makes you move. You can’t help but whisper a small, “Oh.” though.

He surely has to be drunk?

But what’s mind-boggling is that he really isn’t. On the way out Miles asked him if he wanted another drink and Alex responded yes and added ‘this is only my first, definitely need one more before I go on’.

He leads you out of the room everyone was in and around the corner to where a group of the crew guys are. There’s a quiet word exchanged with who you assume to be the main crew guy and you watch from behind Alex as the guy nods at him and a second later he hands the lead singer something.

You shake your head as soon as you see Alex turn back to you and hold up the AAA pass that’s hanging from the lanyard he’s trying to give you.

“Oh Alex, I don't need that.” You shake your head, “I like watching from the arena.”

Half of them in that room watch from a box which is where you expected to be watching from. It’s no issue to you where you are in the arena, it’s nice enough you were invited by Katie to come tonight for free. Christ knows you wouldn’t have been able to get a ticket on Ticketmaster.

“Come on,” Alex presses on, “I’ve never seen you back here.”

Because you really like watching from the arena. You’ve never been at the side of the stage and you’re not sure if you want to be. You’ll just feel like you’re in the way.

You try to argue your point, “But-”

“No buts,” Alex smiles as he puts the lanyard over your head so it falls around your neck like a necklace. The singer continues, “You can’t be leaving Katie on her own. She’s been missing you for the last two weeks. I’m sure Jamie will like you being at the side of the stage too.”

He gives your shoulders an encouraging squeeze and the smile on his face makes you believe that you’ve swapped bodies with Katie for a hot second. He’s never talked to you like this before.

“Thanks Alex.” You smile sheepishly, not really knowing what else to do other than accept in this situation, “You really didn’t have to do that.”

The singer shakes his head like he doesn’t need your thanks. He just smiles at you and says, “It's nice seeing you here.”

It goes silent for a second then between you and your mind scrambles for something to talk about so this surprisingly good interaction doesn’t take a turn for the worst. You’re thankful it’s not your rambling that ends the conversation though.

Someone from the crew a bit further down the hall shouts Alex’s name then which makes the both of you turn to look at where the voice came from. You both see someone wave and then they tap their ear at the same time they almost do the Asda Price bum tap thing.

Whatever it is goes straight over your head. But Alex seems to understand because he nods and holds up a finger telling him one minute.

“Sorry to be a pain,” Alex says as he turns back to you, “They are shouting me for something about my mic pack.”

“It’s okay.” You smile.

Alex smiles back at you, and he says, “See ya in a bit Y/N, hope you enjoy the show.”

“Always do.” You smile and as you turn back around, you say, “Break a leg.”

The singer just smiles at you and you head your separate ways.

Great. Now you just sound like a fucking suck up. Go and get another drink Y/N/N. For fucks sake.

~*~*~*~

Surprisingly, that isn’t your only interaction with Alex tonight. During the short interval between the encore, when they came off stage both Alex and Matt came over and talked to you whilst Nick and Jamie spoke to their wives.

You were tipsy at that point so you started chatting their ear off like you usually did and Matt of course entertained you, but what surprised you most is that Alex was actually smiling. He actually seemed interested in what you had to say - even if it was just nervous bullshit - and he didn’t try to look for someone else to talk to which was very surprising to you. But that was probably just because Matt was there though.

Expecting that to be it, you didn’t give the singer much thought other than that. Knowing that you’re all going into town after this with quite a lot of people settles your nervous energy. You’ll probably have Katie and Kelly to yourself for most of the night because of their men interacting with everyone who wants to speak to them.

And for the most part you’re right about that. Katie gets you drunk, to the point where you’ve had to stop drinking for about an hour so you don’t throw up in the toilets. But the party is still in full swing and you - along with everyone else - have had a nice night.

You’ve just come back from the toilet and you’re looking around for Katie who has now disappeared from the table you were previously at. Kelly had gone home a little earlier, leaving Nick here to have his fun, so you and Katie had been chatting the night away and you’ll be getting a taxi with her back home because you live a 10 minute walk away from her house.

You just take your seat back at the table you were previously sitting on and pull your phone out. The last thing you wanted to do was interrupt anyone else's conversation so you were happy waiting for Katie to find her way back to you.

Sitting there, your still tipsy mind is paying no real attention to what you’re seeing on Instagram. You do find yourself singing along to the Tame Impala song that's playing in the room which you can just about hear over the noise of the busy chattering.

“Hey,” Alex's voice startles you out of your thoughts as he comes and sits himself down next to you with a smile on his face as he asks, “You enjoy the show?”

“Hey, yeah,” You nod, taking a deep breath to stop your shocked heart from giving out. Smiling, you tell him, “Well done.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Alex grins back at you, and he places a glass down in front of you, “Got you a drink.”

“Oh,” Your eyes go a little wide looking at the whisky glass he’s put down in front of you, “Thank you.”

You pick it up and swirl the liquid around the two ice cubes and initially you thought it was whisky like he’s currently drinking, but you notice the liquid is lighter and a little thicker. Is this your favourite liqueur?

And the singer confirms that it is your favourite drink when he must notice you glancing at your drink. He brings you out of your thoughts and you look back at him as he speaks.

“You drink Amaretto on the rocks when you’re out, right?” Alex nods down to your drink like he’s worried he got it wrong.

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod, completely baffled that he knew that about you, but you smile nonetheless, “Thank you, you didn’t have to get me that.”

Christ, what a good guess on his part.

Alex smiles, “Least I can do.”

You take a sip of the drink and you can’t help but love the taste of it. And after not drinking for an hour or so, the taste is lovely and refreshing on your tongue.

“Did you enjoy your show?” You ask to fill the silence between you.

Granted the noise in the busy room makes his absence of conversation not as bad, but you hate the awkward feeling in your chest. Talking always makes it feel better and your tipsy self can’t control what you say anyway.

“I bet you don’t hear that a lot, or I guess you might.” You ramble, “But I imagine, with performing like that, you just get a lot of people telling you that they enjoyed themselves despite you maybe not feeling it was your best or whatever.”

You notice his lip twitch up at that and you feel like you’ve just shot yourself in the foot. “Sorry, that made it sound like I’m saying you were shit. I’m not. You weren’t. I’m just saying, bet you don’t really get asked a lot. So yeah, um, sorry.”

After the singer takes another sip of his drink, he smiles, “You don’t need to apologise… Yeah, I enjoyed myself. It was probably the best night this week.”

You nod at that, taking another sip of your Amaretto before you open your mouth again, “That’s good. I guess it makes the home shows more special. Has anywhere ever beaten home shows? I imagine all the UK ones are pretty special with you all literally travelling around the world.”

“God, big question.” Alex chuckles a little, before looking at the ceiling as if the answer was written up there. He comes back with, “I think home shows are the rowdiest and loudest which is fun. I think the best ever was Glastonbury though.”

You grin, “Which one? First or second time?”

“Full of good questions.” Alex smiles before he swirls his glass around as he thinks which reminds you of something else entirely.

“Oh,” You practically giggle, which brings his attention back to you, “You make me laugh when you do that ‘losing your train of thought’ thing on stage. Wasn’t aware that an Arctic Monkeys show is actually shitty stand up comedy these days.”

“Offended you think it's shit.” Alex scoffs which makes you drunkenly giggle.

As you finish laughing you shrug and tell him, “Was better in the days that you did the kung fu fighting thing still.”

“Damn,” Alex shakes his head, “Need to step my game back up. Any other suggestions?”

You think about it for a second and you’re just about to give him a long spiel of awkward suggestions that probably should never leave your mouth. But they thankfully don’t because the most gorgeous wife in the world comes back over and grabs your attention.

“Hey Y/N,” Katie grins at you with her coat folded over her arm and she asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” You nod, grabbing your coat from just beside you, “Yeah.”

As you slip your coat on and finish your drink in a quick mouthful, Alex keeps Katie entertained.

“Mrs Cook.” Alex grins, taking a sip of his beer after calling her out, “You lightweight.”

You have an amused grin on your face as she frowns at him, “Some of us have kids to look after in the morning, Turner.”

“I’m so glad I'm not you right now.” You laugh honestly.

The last thing you’d want was to be hungover and then have to get up early to deal with kids in the morning. Definitely not happening any time in your near future.

“You and me both.” Alex chuckles before he glances back at Katie. “Did you have a good night Mrs Cook.”

“Stop calling me Mrs Cook, you make me feel old.” She playfully scorns him.

“You are old.” Alex fires back just as cocky as she was, pointing out some fair points, “You’ve been married for half a decade and you have a child.”

Katie scowls at the singer then, and she fires back, “Well at least I don’t have a fucking ugly orange settee where I choose to live.”

You have to laugh at that. You’ve heard about how weird and wonderful this sofa is. You know she’s hated it ever since she’d seen it when he moved in, but Alex apparently likes how his furnished flat came. So he’s not changing it.

Alex argues back, with a look of determination, “It matches the blue walls.”

“Your flat looks like a pop art painting.” Katie fires back, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You’re just jealous because you can’t have pretty things like that because your kid will draw on it.” Alex defends himself with a grin, before adding his final joking remarks, “And you’re boring because you have your Mum brain on all the time.”

“At least she’s a milf.” You grin at her, “It’s very lucky Jamie is away so much. Get her all to myself.”

Katie burst out laughing at that and you hear Alex chuckle at you too. Not that you’ll remember any of this tomorrow, you can practically feel the memories already leaving your mind.

Christ, that one extra drink has really done you over. You feel just as drunk again. God you already don’t want the hangover tomorrow.

Katie tells you that she’s going to go and find a few people to say goodbye to and that she’ll meet you over by the door in a few minutes. So you politely ask Alex to let you up from the booth you’re in and he does so without any argument.

As you stand in front of him, the singer wonders aloud, “You’re coming tomorrow, right?”

“Oh I, um,” You don’t really know what to say other than, “I didn’t know I was invited?”

The last thing you wanted to do was be in the way again. Because god knows at some points tonight when the crew was running around you, Katie, and Kelly you felt like you were in the way. And you never want to outstay your welcome anyway.

“Course you are,” Alex tells you, and he says as if it’s obvious, “You’ve been on the guestlist all week, Y/N.”

“Oh.” You say, a little dumbfounded because you really didn’t know and his gaze still makes you feel a little uneasy.

Well if Katie had told you she’d done that for you you might have been able to come a few dates earlier. Or maybe not considering it’s still been a little awkward tonight with Alex, you’re grateful for the conversations you’ve had though.

But you won’t remember your discussions with him because you’ve had so much to drink. And tomorrow you’ll blame your hangover on Katie for more than likely asking Jamie to put the Disaronno in his rider.  

“You don’t have to,” Alex backtracks a little, but it’s nonchalant and you think nothing of it anyway. He follows it up with, “Just thought that you usually spend your saturday nights with Katie and she's here anyway. You’re welcome to come again.”

How kind of him. He must have been abducted by aliens and this is a nicer clone. There's absolutely no other explanation to your tipsy mind.

“Thanks, yeah,” You nod and the singer smiles at you when you confirm, “I’ll be there.”

Because you won’t be turning down free live music or alcohol any time soon.

You glance at the door and notice Katie giving Jamie a kiss so you figure it’s time to get going yourself. You look back at Alex and he smiles knowing what you must already be thinking.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N/N.” Alex grins and you give him a smile and a small ‘bye’ as you turn to leave.

But the singer shouts your name after you take a few steps away, so when you turn back to him, he answers your earlier question, “First time. First Glastonbury blew my mind.”

All you seem to be able to do in response to that is grin. You nod a little before saying, “See you tomorrow Alex.”

~*~*~*~ 20th August 2018 ~*~*~*~

“I want to cry, the Uber cancelled again.” Katie whines, pouting slightly as she looks out of the window at the rain.

“Just our luck for not booking a proper taxi in advance.” Jamie sighs, scorning himself for not thinking better of it earlier.

Tonight you, Katie, Jamie, and Alex had been out separately but you’d all convened back together at the Cook household so Jamie’s parents could be relieved of babysitting duties. You and Katie shared another bottle of wine and gossiped for another 2 hours whilst the boys drank their beer and chipped into the conversation now and again.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Alex tells them, “We don’t live that far away.”

“Yeah, I’ll just brave the cold.” You assure Katie, and add in a little jest using air quotes, “At least it’s ‘summer’ and not snowing.”

“But the rain.” Katie points to the window.

Yeah walking home at the end of the night in the rain can be a little shit. But it was nothing you’d not done before. Granted you were like 21 the last time you’d done that but it’s really not the end of the world.

“It’s not heavy, I'll be okay.” You promise her to try and ease her worries, “At least I’ll go home looking like a drowned rat and not the other way around.”

You grab your coat from near the door and Katie follows you saying, “You can’t walk home on your own at three am, Y/N.”

“I’ll be fine.” You tell her as you slip your shoes back on.

Alex shocks both you and Katie to your cores when he says, “I’ll walk her home.”

Katie mustn’t be able to believe her ears because she asks, “What?”

You almost laugh, because she sounds like she’s as shocked as she was when Alex walked in on your wine night with Jamie and Nick the other month and she first saw his buzzed hair cut.

“We live the same way with about five minutes between us.” Alex points out, and he looks at you and nods, “I’ll walk you home.”

So that is how you’re currently walking from the Cook’s house to your own with Alex by your side.

Since Jamie’s party when he came up to you and asked why you didn’t think he liked you, the singer had surprisingly been a little better with you. He said hello to you and he seemed to engage a little more.

He’s still quiet around you, but you’ve noticed now that he goes like that around most people he doesn’t really know that well. You guess you can’t really change that though considering whenever you start asking him questions he doesn’t really give you much of an answer.

You’ve come to terms with that thought which is why you’re biting your tongue as you walk beside him. The urge to start asking him a bunch of questions is really strong but you’d rather not have the sinking feeling in your chest when you just receive one word answers back.

To occupy yourself as you’ve been walking the past few minutes, you’ve been running over the lyrics of your favourite song in your head. Alex seems to be in his head as it is so you don’t feel too bad as you walk despite the strong urge to rid yourself of the awful silence between you.

All you really focus on is making sure the umbrella that Katie lent you keeps you dry. Alex had a coat with a hood and even when you offered to share the umbrella with him he told you it was fine and that was the last thing you said to each other.

Or that was until Alex speaks up and asks you, “Am I right in thinking you were married?”

“Yeah for four years.” You nod, glancing over at him, and chuckling a little, “If you can believe it.”

Thank fuck he spoke up. The silence was eating away at you.

Alex’s eyes go a little wide, “Really?”

The poor man probably shouldn’t have asked, because the floodgates you were holding shut have just burst open and your nervous chatter just comes out. And considering you’re drunk, there is no chance you can stop it.

“Yeah, together since we were sixteen. Married at twenty one and stayed together for four years. But we just didn’t love each other anymore. Well, not in the way that qualifies you still be married to someone.” You ramble on before continuing, “Don’t get me wrong I would be devastated if something happened to him. Touch wood nothing does. But we just lived separate lives, went to work, came back home, and went to bed. Half the time he did shifts so I never saw him.”

You carry on to explain, “My life was just boring and I thought to myself I shouldn’t be feeling bored aged twenty-five. I wanted to travel and see the world but I just got a mortgage straight away so the only travelling we ever did was when we went to Vegas and got married.”

“So I got divorced, and how sad is it that I've got to tell people I'm a thirty one year old divorcee.” You finish off with.

But then you realise who you’ve said all of that to. And that he doesn’t like chatting to you at the best of times. So he probably didn’t care about anything you just told him, or appreciated the amount of rambling you just did.

You feel the need to say, “Sorry.” and you glance at Alex as you sheepishly say, “You didn’t really ask that, did you?”

For fucks sake Y/N. A ‘yes’ would have done!

“It’s okay.” Alex assures you with a small smile.

“No, it's just me rambling when I'm drunk and nervous.” You scorn yourself, hating the uneasy feeling in your chest. Unable to understand why you do it, you still end up saying, “I’m sorry. I’m a chatty person in general and getting alcohol into my system just makes me worse. Not to mention if I'm nervous too… Can never stop me going then.”

You guess getting it off your chest and him knowing that about you may make you easier to understand. Maybe he won’t find you as annoying because the last thing you want is to annoy him. You’re close with Katie and Jamie so you’re bound to run into each other more now he’s going to be living in Sheffield.

The singer frowns a little then before looking back to you to curiously ask, “Why are you nervous?”

Because you’re the most awkward man to talk to possibly ever?!!??!??!?

Course you can’t say that though. So you give the other true reason.

“I don’t like walking home in the dark usually.” You tell him sincerely, because it does freak you out. “I don’t know, bit of an irrational fear at this point but someone followed me home when I was younger and it really freaked me out. So um yeah… Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s really not a problem Y/N/N,” He smiles at you in what seems like a genuine way then, “I wasn’t going to let you walk home alone.”

You can’t help but think that’s really kind of him considering he really doesn’t know you very well. You tell him, “You’re a gooden, Alex.”

The singer just smiles a little at that, but you can see he’s being completely genuine when he says, “Sorry that happened to you.”

You give him a small smile then, appreciating how sincerely he said it. But you don’t really want to dwell on that whilst you’re walking in the dark so you change the subject.

“Do you prefer being back in Sheffield after all your time away?”

Alex wonders in what context you’re on about, so he questions, “You mean like over tour?”

“No, I mean like from living in different places because you were in New York when I first met you. Then you were in LA and you’ve got a place over there, right?” You double check, looking to him for assurance.

Alex nods and you continue, “Then you were to and from LA and London, right? And now you decided to come and stay back home? Or do you not plan on staying now?”

And you’re pleasantly surprised at the lengthy answer he gives you.

“Oh I'm definitely staying in Sheffield now… At least for a little while after the tour is finished.” He explains, “I think I just need time back where everything is normal and familiar again. Like Miles goes and stays back home quite often and I’ve not been back here for more than two months maybe since I was twenty two… It’s a long time away and it's quite nice to just come back and feel normal.”

You understand what he’s saying completely, but you can’t help but jokingly add, “Well… As normal as you can, being the front man of Sheffield's pride and joy.”

Alex laughs a little at that which shocks you because you never expected to make him laugh. But he does remind you, “You’re forgetting about Pulp.”

“You’re forgetting Pulp haven’t released anything since 2012.” You raise your eyebrows at him as your defence.

“Fair dos,” Alex laughs a little and you take what joy you can out of the fact that you made that happen. “But yeah, I like being myself back here and I like that I’m with most of my good friends and I get to be a proper uncle to the kids over here now.”

“They talk about you all the time. It's funny.” You can’t help but grin at the thought of your little god children, “Katie blames Jamie for being gone on you so when Katie has Kelly and Nick’s kids round too they complain like ‘Why has Uncle Alex taken Dad away again?’” You mimic in a whiney voice that again makes Alex laugh.

Alex chuckles, “I need to have a word with that Mrs Cook. She’ll get me into trouble with them.”

You promise him, “It’s nothing a chocolate bar wouldn’t solve.”

“I must owe them so much chocolate.” Alex grins.

You nod and begin to slow your walking down because you’re about to reach your house, “Oh yeah, you definitely do.”

“I’ll get Katie to invoice me.” The singer says as he notices you glance to the houses just beside you both and you slow down.

Matching your speed, you both come to a stop just in front of your house and you smile at the singer, “Thank you for walking me home.”

“Not a problem, Y/N.” Alex smiles back and you’re really glad that

You start slowly moving closer to your house as you say, “I hope the next leg of your tour goes well.”

“Thank you.” He says as he watches you get closer to your house.

“See you soon Alex.” You say with a smile as you unlock your door and push it open. “Thanks again.”

Alex smiles, “Bye Y/N.”

~*~*~*~ 24th November 2018 ~*~*~*~

Chaos. That is the only word to describe the current situation that you’re in.

The Cook household is manic, Forrest is running round like a mad man as any toddler who’s just been given sweets by his uncle would be doing.

Toys are everywhere and Jamie is running around too as he’s been tasked with tidying them before the grandparents get here to babysit. Katie scolded Alex for giving Forrest sweets before they were due to go out before she went upstairs to get ready.

Katie’s Mum wasn’t here yet to babysit Forrest for the night whilst you were all going out and that added to the stress because the taxi was due in about 25 minutes. So you’re trying your best to be the good Auntie that you are and calm your godchild down before you all go out, but your good nature results in a causality.

Alex catches your arm as you almost fall over a mountain of toys Forrest decided to pull you through, but as you tried to salvage your footing you must have caught the leg of the table your shin smacked into as well. It didn’t hurt too much, the initial shock of it got you and the fact you almost fell over, but then you hear the awful sound of fabric ripping, it makes you wince. You know what's happened before you even look down to check.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” You mutter under your breath before you quickly glance at Alex and say a small, “Thanks.” as he stopped you from going arse over tit.

Alex asks slightly concerned, “Are you okay?” and that’s the first interaction with him since you walked in the door ten minutes ago.

You could blame that on the fact the Cook’s household was fucking mental, but it’s more than likely just normal that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You’re just glad he caught you if nothing else, the last thing you need is to fall and bruise yourself.

“Yeah, thanks,” You nod, letting go of his arm you were still grasping to perch on the back of the settee so you can get a look at the damage done to your tights, “Can’t say the same about them, for fucks sake.”

They are beyond salvageable. There’s a massive hole in the calf which is that big it almost fully reaches round to your shin. Theres now a massive fucking ladder up the side of them which makes them more transparent and you can feel it’s gone right up to your arse too.

“I can’t go out like this.” You sigh, wondering what you can do but it also pisses you off because you literally arrived a matter of minutes ago in your taxi feeling really good about yourself for a hot second, but now that’s all fucking disipated.

Jamie shrugs, suggesting, “Take them off.” as he watches Forrest play with some toys across the room.

“Oh yeah,” You roll your eyes, and your sarcasm rings clear telling him that you’re not in the mood for such a simple comment like that. You wore them for a reason, and that reason is because it’s fucking freezing outside, “And get fucking hypothermia because I’m shivering all night? I don’t think so Jamie.”

You’re only wearing a skirt tonight because Katie asked you to anyway. She wanted you to wear the skirt version of the dress that she had which you were fine with doing.

Katie was wearing a really cute red tartan dress with a long sleeve black top underneath whereas you opted to buy the dark green high waisted tartan skirt and you paired that with a white long sleeve top and you had your tights and ankle boots on.

You’re bloody freezing as it is, the last thing you want or need is to be taking your tights off. It’s a strong no from you.

“I mean you wanted a quick fix.” Jamie holds his hands up in innocence and you just ignore him for a second before walking out of the lounge and to the bottom of the stairs after hearing your best friend begin to walk down them.

“Katie, do you have tights I could borrow?” You ask her as she gets to the bottom of the stairs.

“I binned all mine the other day and ordered more but they haven't arrived yet.” She tells you and your once jolly mood plummets further, “They all had holes in them… How come?”

You show her your right leg and you turn slightly to pull your skirt up a little, making sure the lads don’t see but Katie can see just how high the ladder runs up.

“Oh.” Katie winces at that, feeling bad she can’t help you.

“I’ve got stockings you could wear?” She offers as the both of you walk back into the lounge, “They’d come up to your thigh?”

You almost want to slap her. You know exactly where those items of her clothing have been, which is why you give her a disgusted look as you say, “I’m not wearing stockings that you’ve been wearing whilst Jamie’s railed you.”

“They’ve been washed.” She scoffs.

“Thanks, but no. I can’t wear these though.” You sigh as you both walk into the lounge. You stick by the arched frame though and after a second of deliberation, you say, “Whilst you're sorting yourself out, I’ll walk home and change.”

Katie looks at you with concern filled eyes, “But the taxi is due in twenty minutes.”

“Exactly, and you don't have the time to be messing about.” You say as she’s clearly still got things to sort out. She’s only just now plugging her straighteners in and she doesn’t have her shoes on yet either. You continue with, “And your Mum isn’t here yet to look after Forrest. If you can pick me up on the way out, that’d be grand.”

Katie nods at you through the mirror as she starts parting her hair so she can style it, “Yeah that’s fine.”

“Right, I’ll go now then.” You tell the room before turning to grab your coat from the bannister.

But you almost stop dead when you hear Alex say, “I’ll walk with you.”

Did those words really just leave Alex Turner’s mouth?

They clearly did because he’s pulling his jacket back on and taking a step towards you. Not wanting to be a burden, you shake your head, “You don’t have to, it’s not that late.”

“It’s okay, I’ll walk with you.” Alex insists, giving you a look that’s assuring but he makes it lighthearted by saying, “Gives them more incentive to come and pick the both of us up from yours then, right?”

You assume he must remember from your walk home a few months ago that you didn’t like walking home in the dark. You see no other reason for him as to be so kind to offer. So you don’t argue with him further, even though you already feel nervous to have to spend time with him alone.

“Right.” You nod and avert your gaze from his. You look back to Katie and Jamie and say, “See you in a bit.”

~*~*~*~

The walk home was uncomfortable to say the least. Despite your speed walking, it really did seem to take forever to get back to your house with silence between you and the singer.

You’ve got past the point of trying to start a full conversation with him at this point, so you just opted to repeat the lyrics to your favourite song, Not fair by Lily Allen, to yourself three times knowing that by the time you finish the song in full for the third time you should be home. And when you’re correct, you’re very thankful.

Unlocking and getting into your house leaves a new sense of anxiety in your stomach though. You’ve left the place a fucking mess and you hate that when someone new walks in. Especially someone like Alex who hasn’t always been the nicest to you in the past, so you start rambling again as you let the both of you in.

“My house is a tip so sorry about this.” You tell him as you quickly slip your boots off so you can change your tights when you get a second. “Please ignore everything you see. I’ve really not had any time to clean up today. I was out this morning and then by the time I got back katie was mithering me to get ready for tonight which is fucking comical because she wasn’t ready even before we left.”

Alex closes the door behind and walks into your home and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s already looking around at your possessions. Most people do when they walk in anyway considering the back wall of your lounge displays your ever growing record collection.

You’re unsurprised when you hear him say, “Christ, that’s a lot of records.”

“I know right,” You smile and walk the both of you further into your home.  

And because you can’t handle silence as you start searching your shopping bags for a new pair of tights, you give him another anecdote, “My Dad gave me all of his from back in the day. Couldn’t believe it when he said I could have them all. I’d only just started my collection at the time and I probably had about twenty of my own and then he gave me all of his because he said it was old technology and he’ll never have any use for them anymore. And then my grandparents followed suit and they gave me all theirs too. Couldn’t believe my luck.”

“Three generations worth of collectors then?” Alex smiles and you nod.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You nod, not bothering with the bag you were currently routing through anymore because you’re a little bit taken aback by the fact he’s pulled your favourite Gorillaz album out.

Abandoning your search for replacement tights for the moment, you carry on your story as you watch him, “Been fun adding to the big collection though. I love just putting on a record to pass the time. It’s why my Spotify unwrapped is always so shit because I always listen to my LPs and not on my phone so at the end of the year it’s like ‘you listened to two thousand minutes of music this year’ and it’s bullshit because I just listen to so much more but it’s all on my turntable unless I'm walking to work.”

Alex hums with a smile on his face as he continues searching for more records. He’s pleased to see all of his own up there, including his EP, the TLSP albums, and the Submarine soundtrack. And when he pulls out Miles’ latest album Coup De Grace, he can’t help but chuckle seeing that Miles had signed it and written a message to you saying, ‘Y/N/N, my biggest fan in the world. Love you loads and I hope you enjoy the new tunes. All my love, Miles x’.

When you notice the singer looking at that, you laugh and tell him how Miles had given you a lovely message on the front of all his LPs.

“Bless Miles, he always writes me a nice message on each album I get sent.” You start to ramble as you search for new tights. “I don’t really remember when he started doing it… Oh yeah I do, I think it may have been when I mentioned when I first met him how much I liked Age of the Understatement and we were talking about it for ages. And then like a month later I get the record in the post and he’s signed it and it had the sweetest message on the front to go with it and he’s never stopped. He’s a gem.”

You stop talking about Miles when you get baffled for a moment how your tights weren’t in the shopping bag from the shop you thought you bought them from. So your search persists as you carry on routing in other bags you’ve yet to take upstairs.

As you do though, your nervous chatter persists. You really hate that you can’t stop it, and you’re sure you’re annoying your guest but he doesn’t stop you, and thankfully he doesn’t look annoyed by them today. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take you by surprise today by actively starting a conversation with you.

Just as you’re about to run upstairs to your room, you hear Alex ask, “Can I ask you a question?”

If Katie would have asked you that, you’d have said ‘You just did’ but because it’s Alex and you’re certain he doesn’t get your humour, nor would he tolerate it, you just say, “Yeah, of course you can.”

And you walk back into your lounge so you’re not being rude as you wait for his question. Alex looks as relaxed as possible as you feel like your heart is going to start beating out of your chest despite him still plucking records from your shelves.

His brown eyes linger on you as he asks, “Do I make you nervous?”

You certainly weren't expecting that question.

“What do you mean?” You find yourself asking, not understanding where that’s come from and you feel like you’re frozen in your spot.

Alex seems to think about his words before they leave his mouth next. And your heart that's thudding ten to the dozen in your chest doesn’t feel like it’s able to cope for much longer so you’re very thankful when he says what's on his mind.

“Well when I walked you home in the summer, you said that you ramble when you're drunk or nervous. And yes, on a few occasions we've seen each other lately we’ve been drunk, but you’re not now and you’re exactly the same.” Alex points out as he looks between you and the track listing on the back of your Brian Eno LP.

“You’re really chatty and jumpy when I come near you and it's like you’re flustered and jittery... Like the way a fan usually is but you’ve known me for too long for it to be that, so that’s why I'm asking,” Alex repeats himself, “Do I make you nervous?”

“Erm, yeah.” You nod, unable to say much else, “I guess you do.”

“In what way?” The singer asks you as he puts the record back where he found it before giving you his full attention and starts making his way over to you.

“I’m not scared of you or anything… You just really stress me out. I can never read you, never read what mood you’re in or even whether you like me as a person or you just think I’m Katie’s annoying friend that never shuts up.” You struggle for your words because you truly don’t know how to tell him without offending him. The last thing you’d want is for him to dislike you anymore.

But Alex’s gaze and increasing proximity makes you say more, “I don’t really know why you make me nervous after all this time. But you definitely unsettle me.”

You want to curl up into a ball and hide. You feel fidgety with the closer he gets and you want to avoid his gaze. But because he’s pointed it out, you don’t allow yourself. You stay strong and keep his eye contact despite his teasing.

“When you’re around me you talk like you- I don’t know how to describe it… You almost act like someone who's addicted to the E-numbers in sweets.” Alex grins, almost like it’s a little inside joke with himself. You try to keep yourself calm when he reaches his point, as he stops a few feet in front of you. “So that's why I’m curious if I made you nervous or not.”

“Well I guess the simple answer is yes.” You nod, but now with him so close, you try to look anywhere but at him.

This is far too awkward for your liking. Alex hums in response to that and he plucks another record that you recognise to be Histoire de Melody Nelson from your shelf that’s just beside you.

You think you’ve escaped the conversation now and you pray you can just go back to being awkwardly silent with each other and never relive that again. But apparently that’s not the plan.

Just as you were turning yourself around again to head upstairs, Alex leaves you shell shocked when he asks, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Instantly your eyes are the widest they could possibly get and you’re sure your jaw falls open. Looking at him intently to try and make sure you’re not dreaming this, you deadpan, “Excuse me?”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Alex asks, putting the record back like it's the most casual thing to ask someone he barely speaks to, “Is that why I make you nervous?”

This should be the easiest response you’ve ever given him.

“I-”

But your words fail you. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

Wait… Do I want to fuck him?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: So... What did you think??? What do you think is going to happen next??? Did you enjoy it? I really hope you did! 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist x

Taglist: @alovesreading​ @kennedy-brooke​ @ohladymoon​ @hazskillerqueen​ @more-multifandom-of-maddness @thereisaplaceintheheart​ 

[midnightsunnyday]

With Good Intentions (Chapter Three) ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) Masterlist A03

➥pairings: MC & Everyone, MC/Everyone ➥content warnings: Not Beta Read, We Cook Our Stories Like Solomon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Some Humor, Explicit Language, Not Canon Compliant, Though Sometimes It Is, Fighting, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Emotional Manipulation, Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lesson 016 Spoilers, Post Lesson 016, Other Additional Tags To Be Added. ➥summary: after the events of chapter 16, MC learns three important lessons: one, that Diavolo is an asshole. Two, as it turns out, being immortal doesn't make you smarter, wiser, or mature, it just gives you a thousand more chances to be a fuck up and not learn and damn thing from it. And three, that there are no therapists in hell. Though they could really all use one. Or in which MC suffers an existential breakdown and Diavolo and the brothers learn that maybe throwing a party wasn't the best response to someone dying. ➥A/N: hello everyone, it's good to see you again. I hope everyone is doing well and whether you're a return reader or just getting started, thank you for your interest in my story. Work has been kicking my ass, but still we persevere! Anyway, until next time, take care and enjoy this very long chapter.

He could tell his brothers grew tired of it. That whenever the topic of their sister was brought up, Belphegor always felt an underlining exasperation, as if they’d all been over the subject for some time and were only waiting for him to do the same, as if she were nothing more than a ghost who’d overstayed her welcome in the rebuilding of their lives.

Or maybe they were just tired of him. Tired of his whining about her. Tired of his disgust for Diavolo’s ideals. Tired of his hatred of all things human. He barely smiled, barely ate, and slept for most of the day. He wasn’t the “sweet, innocent Belphie” they knew and loved. The one who found wonder in everything around him and whose laugh, though rare now, lit entire rooms. No, something within Belphegor was broken and they’d have to accept that it would never be whole again. Not without Lilith.

But who said death was pleasant? That it was something one should simply get over? Loss never leaves one gentle. It doesn’t decide to remove itself after a month, a year, or centuries after. It stays with you, becoming part of you. Some days it gives you the illusion of respite and on those days you go through life barely noticing the quiet, emptiness of it all.

Yet on other days, it breaks you, leaves you shaking and crying, wishing for your thoughts to cease so you can finally be “normal” again. Grief, also like loss, never comes when the moment is decent, does not give you warning. Grief strikes when it chooses to, replaying the moment of your loss ad nauseam, until the whole of you becomes nothing but a shell of memories, wading away to the tides of time.

Most days Belphegor remembered Lilith. Sometimes it seemed he was the only one who did. He remembered her in lunchrooms when the desserts were particularly sweet. He remembered her in corridors, the kind they’d both raced down as fast as they could. He remembered her in dreams, luring him into the forests they used to play in, with trees as high as the sky and where the wind swept through and made waves of shimmering sunshine. In the distance would be Lilith, the years waning upon her memory, yet she waved as she always did, an insult to every petal, every ray of sun. He would run to her, feel the tears wetting his cheeks, his tongue tripping over her name over and over again: Lilith. Lilith. I’m here. Please.

He remembered blood. Too much of it. The kind that no matter how much you scrubbed yourself raw, the stench would remain clung to you like death. The fall was not a pleasant one; they did not streak across the skies like beautiful jewels, they were burning, dying. The landing nearly killed them, sent the earth running each and which way in disgust of them.

How through it all even the Father, no matter how hard they prayed, was always silent. Maybe he too, saw what was to become of them, and closed his heart and ears to it. It was easier, at least for Belphegor, to believe that he’d simply abandoned them, rather than knowingly allow the pain that would scar them for centuries to come.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The Celestial Realm had no seasons, but on days when the light was mild and winds smooth for flight, Belphegor and Lilith would sneak amongst the forests, finding shelter under the tall, dense trees. For Raphael, who’d come to search for them in time, the siblings were abandoning their duties, but for Belphegor and Lilith, it was simply a break, albeit a long one.

“Oh, Belphie, he’s simply divine."

Divine. An odd choice of words for a mortal, yet Lilith thought otherwise, not that Belphegor knew enough to object. After all, he’d just learned of the man’s existence a few moons ago, and what he knew was only through her words of him. He wasn’t rich by any means. His family tended animals and sold what they could in the town market. There was a time when the family lived well, but some of the animals were stricken with disease or killed by wolves, and they suffered greatly for it. Even so, this man had “a spirit worth more than all the wealth in the world,” she exclaimed. That despite his awful predicament, he made a way for his family, taking on various forms of labor to keep them fed.

"He's very skilled with his hands." Lilith winked, to which Belphegor pretended to gag. Relations between humans and angels were not unheard of, but ones with the image of his sister he'd rather scrub from memory.

In any case, this man could "literally do anything" and Belphegor sat in awe of this. If all this were true, then Lilith found someone beyond any human he could think of.

Belphegor watched as she twirled about, nearly skipping in her joy, her long hair unfretted and chasing the wind. She was led by a tune only she could hear, her dress gathering at the thick of her sun-kissed legs.

“He’s so polite, a true gentleman,” said Lilith. “He picks me flowers, opens doors, and by Father is he handsome.” She sighed lovingly and clasped her hands against her flushing cheeks. “He could give Lucifer a run for his money, you know?

Belphegor snorted. "A man as beautiful as Lucifer is surely a sight to behold."

"It's true, you know," she said, ignoring his skepticism. "That and he’s strong. Can tend a whole field before sundown without breaking a sweat. Why, I saw him raise two goats on each shoulder and…”

Belphegor rolled his eyes. Though he had no reason to doubt her, his sister found ways to bolster the human past the point of believability, at times. Extravagant. Amazing. Beguiling. Was it even possible that so many adjectives could describe one person? Yet Lilith went on, singing the praises of this fabled man she’d found such importance in.

“He’s just so…so…you understand, don’t you Belphie? How interesting and unique they can be?”

He did. Belphegor loved humans. He found them special, more than most creatures. It was their mundane everyday ways. It was the way they sought purpose from them. It was how they loved and celebrated and burned away life until none was left. Compared to angels, who were created and bound to fates unchanging, mortals were born with the blessing of choice, and it fascinated Belphegor what they did with it. So he watched and soon enough, went to gather in their joy. However, it wasn’t long until his curiosity prompted Lilith’s own, and the young angel began to visit the human realm of her own volition.

While Belphegor didn't fully understand his sister’s ways, he couldn’t help but be drawn into her joy. She’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow, trapped in an endless spring. It’d been beautiful to witness, and while such things didn’t strike him as important before, Belphegor couldn’t help but think of his love, whenever or wherever that might be.

“Belphie, are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm?” He said, led from his thoughts. “What was that?”

“I said Lucifer plans to meet him.”

Belphegor shrugged. “Well, so much for that.”

“I’m serious, Belphie!” She stamped her foot, pouting. “You know how big brother is.”

“Maybe he’ll like him,” Belphegor assured, swallowing his lie. Lucifer wasn’t the best at being impartial, especially when it came to Lilith. She was the youngest, barely new to the world, and he’d sooner have her wrapped up and tucked away than allow any harm to come to her. This man she’d found, without his or any of her sibling's knowledge, was an anomaly, a blind spot in Lucifer’s ever-watchful eye.

“Honestly, he’s always so worried. I told him there was no need, but he insisted.” Lilith’s face fell, eyes widening to some unfounded fate. “What if he doesn’t like him? What if he forbids me from seeing him? Tries to lock me away, key and all? Then what am I to do? I’d have to change my name, hide amongst the humans. We’d be outlaws. Fugitives!"

“Lilly!” Belphegor laughed. She always had a flare for the dramatics. “It’s ok. Lucifer is strict, but I’m sure he’ll come to see him as you do.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I’m sure of it…probably.”

“Oh, you!” she swatted at the air between them. “But you know, maybe you’re right. After all, Lucifer would never do anything to upset me, considering I’m his favorite and all,” she said in a snobbish tone. Lucifer spoiled her. They all spoiled her, really, and it seemed to be rubbing off.

But there was one question Belphegor failed to ask. The most important of them all. “Does he have a name?”

Lilith smiled. “Of course he does, silly. H̵̸̷̶̸̨̡̘̯͇̾̀͋̓̍i̶̴̷̶̷̥̠̬̖͖̋͐̄̎͆s̵̶̷̵̵̢͈̟͕̝̊̌̅̾͒ ̷̵̶̸̵̱͕̦͕͕͑̓̀̍͠n̴̸̸̴̶͈͍͍̯̳̎͛͂̄̏à̵̷̷̷̴͚̟͈̲̃̑̍̾͜m̷̵̵̶̷͉̗̜̗̻̓̀̽̀͝e̴̶̸̷̵͔̻̜̳̣̽̃̋͑͠ ̴̷̵̶̸̧̰̲͙̺̀̃̐͗͑i̶̷̴̷̴͎̪̳̫̬̔́͐̈́͝ş̵̴̴̶̵̠͕̰͕͗̅̅͋̕…̴̷̸̶̵̯͚̲̯̺͐͌̑̔͠

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“Lucifer! Please, tell them. Tell them they can’t do this!”

Belphegor turned to his brother, who looked as if the world was ending and there was no way to prevent it.

The Father spoke through Michael: Lilith had committed the unpardonable sin, one in which there was no forgiveness. She would be wiped from the face of existence, never to be a part of the cycle of creation again. All this for stealing a fruit, though it was said a simple apple led to Eve’s downfall; what difference would there be for his sister?

Belphegor dug his nails into his palms, neck burning with heat. The Father had refused them council, choosing to lay His judgment through the only other angel he abused more than Lucifer. Did He truly not care for them? Was fighting His battles and upholding His will all they were good for?

“The Father’s word is final,” Michael’s voice was calm, yet short. “Lucifer knows this as well as I do.”

“So you expect us to stand aside and allow our sister to face a fate so cruel?”

“Belphie, please,” Lilith cried, shaking. “It does not matter my end—“

“—But it does matter. You matter.” Belphegor pointed at her with angered assertion. “Not some mortal who was fated to die sooner than you are to blink.”

“Our brother is right, Lilith.” Leviathan shook his head as if trying to unravel what was happening. “Your actions…they make no sense.”

“No,” Lilith spoke, “what makes no sense is a Father who would sit and watch while death and sickness run rampant throughout his creation while having the power to prevent it.”

“How dare she’s” and “heresies” spiraled into the air, forming a tornado of indignation that grew louder and more violent with the need for retribution. Belphegor sneered at the angels who formed a ring of judgment around his sister. It was hard to believe that at one time any of them could be called his brothers and sisters.

“Enough.” It was Raphael, who, unlike Michael, held little reservations in his approach to an otherwise dire situation. “You stand amongst the divine court. Your blasphemy will not be tolerated.”

“Ah, can it,” yelled out Mammon. Someone gasped from the crowd. “You threaten the life of our sister. You better believe we’re gonna cause more than just a ruckus.”

Belphegor looked to Lilith, his eyes imploring her, though there was no answer she could give that would make any sense to him. “Even if he didn’t die today,” he said, “he would’ve died regardless. What then? Why risk your eternity for something so finite?”

Lilith parted her lips as if to form some half-uttered verb. Then she began again, though her mouth did not quiver. She stilled her face, hardened her lips, and spoke her words simply, “For the life of the one I love, I would do anything.”

Belphegor winced, his sister’s words a slap in the face. He would be angry if only there wasn’t so much to go around. What about their love? As if theirs hadn’t outlived kingdoms for her. What love could a being of such little potential possibly give?

It was Beelzebub’s turn to speak, pain shaking his voice. “But…what about us? How could you be so willing to leave us here to grieve you?”

Lilith was quiet, her face turned to some far, distant place. Belphegor wanted to shake her, to wake her from this eternal dream of love that did nothing but harm her.

“There has to be something we can do,” Asmodeus spoke, looking desperately at Michael. “It can’t end like this.”

“And just what do you plan to do to avoid her judgment?” Raphael’s eyebrow rose with his question. “Are any of you willing to take her place?”

They all looked at each other. Not in fear of Raphael’s words, but because neither of them could see themselves as the Father’s children, the remains of their allegiance shattered and pooled in the pit of their stomachs. In the end, what they gained for their loyalty was death, but they would not go without a fight. Finally, Lucifer stepped forward. It was clear to Belphegor that something inside his brother shattered, too. Not broken, but free.

“If the father’s word is law,” he said, “then maybe such laws should be challenged.”

“Be mindful of your next words, brother.” Michael stood with all the caution of a vigilant lion. “Think of the lives of your siblings. Of what you’re sacrificing.”

Lucifer stood, clearly battling himself. Belphegor only wished to know what his brother and Michael were thinking then. Both were close, so much so that they could be mistaken for twins. Maybe they both wanted to see something in the other that was no longer there. By then, Belphegor and his brothers gathered beside the morning star, unwavering. It was clear where their loyalties lay and always would.

As if in understanding, Michael sighed, and drew his blade as if the entire issue were a mere inconvenience. “Don’t make us do this, Lucifer.” Raphael, however, had already summoned his spears.

“You all still have the chance to repent in front of the Father. This will not go without punishment, however.”

“And Lilith?” Asmodeus said, his voice almost hopeful.

“She will leave this plane in peace.”

The once favored son of morning yanked his blade from his sheath and with it t̸̵̵̵̵͙̼̫̗̥̉́̇̈́̈́h̸̶̸̴̴͚͖̥̗̖̊̾̄̒̕e̶̶̸̸̸̻͈͍̗̱͒̆͊̋̒ ̸̵̶̵̵̜̥̭͎̝̑̓̓̀̾h̷̸̶̴̸͓̠͙̹̤͌̄̈́̂̚ḙ̷̸̷̷̸̢̯͖̄̂͂̾̾͜ȧ̴̶̷̴̷̩̯͓̤͋̄͊̍͜v̶̷̸̶̷̧͙̺͇͔̓̇̽̆̔e̴̴̸̴̶̢̖͍̰̫͊̍̔̉̉ņ̶̶̷̴̵̻̣̹͗͊̉͆̎ͅs̴̵̴̵̴̝̻͚̟̖̆́̇̇͠ ̶̸̵̸̶̨̩̞̗̖͒̊̀́̓c̸̴̶̶̶̬̼͎̱͔̈́̏̑͂̑r̶̷̷̴̵̯͚̫͕̳̓̽͂͐͝ĩ̶̶̸̶̷̺̙̠̰͖̏́͆͘e̸̴̸̵̷̹̰͉̫̠̓͌̆̃͂d̸̴̶̶̵̨̻͉̮͕́̈́̈̽̈́.̷̷̵̸̴͓̱̲̘͖̑̓͒̾̕ ̴̸̸̷̴̙̬͉̱͗̉͂̀͂ͅ

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not once had Belphegor known the smell of blood until that day. It ranked of rusted metal, and it took all within him not to vomit in the middle of battle. An angel he once played with amongst the lilacs of the Celestial Garden fell limp, a sword thrust through his chest. Mammon had done so without hesitation and proceeded to chop the head of another, his strokes quick like thunder strikes.

A scream, this time from his right. It was Beel caked in a thick carnage of blood and feathers. He’d torn through their attempt at a flank, their weapons barely grazing him as he ripped wings from flesh, bodies spiraling towards the earth.

“Look out!” Asmodeus yelled, his shield snapping against metal. Belphegor leaped to the side, a beam of light zipping downward where his body would’ve been, leaving a hole of ozone in its wake. Belphegor raised his bow in return, his arm unsteady. Shakily, he aimed, barely managing to wound the angel who’d gunned for his head.

The realm was drowned in chaos. A frenzy of limbs and wings dancing to the tune of annihilation. He’d only seen Lucifer once, his body burning white as he bathed the battlefield with righteous fury, sending angel after angel toward their doom. Belphegor had only heard stories of Leviathan’s skills in battle; it was another thing to see him flay a throne alive.

“Lilith,” he heard Mammon cry.

“I’m ok,” she called back. A twang of metal after. “Just focus on yourself.”

So many voices, Belphegor thought. It was hard to keep his bearings. He was nowhere near a child of war. He’d never honed a weapon or raised it against another. His purpose was that of a virtue, to spread the word that with faith and hard work, one would gain ever closer to what was promised. But his life had been so easily tossed aside, his diligence made nothing. And now that one was threatened and the other gone, what then would become of him? Of his brothers? For a moment, he stilled, unable to focus on the battle at hand. It was as if all the air had left him, his breaths jagged and choking.

“Belphie!” Beelzebub’s voice rumbled. Belphegor squinted his eyes toward the sky. It was hard to make them out at first, little glints of sunshine that they were, yet as they drew closer, Belphegor saw the sharpened hatred of a thousand arrows bearing down towards him. He turned.

“Lilith,” Belphegor wailed. She’d been near him, maybe trying to call out to him, for that he’d never know. By then the first arrow struck her wing, then another, piercing through her flesh as her body flailed unnaturally. Beelzebub leaped towards him, tucking him deep into his grasp as they fell downward.

From above them rang a cry so loud that it shattered the noise. Lucifer broke through the sky like a roaring flame, barreling downward towards his sister. It was then Mammon who fell after him, then Leviathan, then finally, Asmodeus. Belphegor’s ears filled with a humming static, the world becoming focused and pin-like. He willed his head to gaze at Lilith. She hurdled downward, specks of ash trailing the air as her wings caught flame. With arm outstretched, he reached for her, ţ̴̶̸̷̶̨̛̠̖̤̈́̔̋̌ḫ̸̷̶̴̵̬͉̞̗͑͋̈́̅͝e̵̶̵̷̷̼̮̝̿̀͑̓͗͜͜ ̶̶̶̶̴͓̘͓͎̼̾̋͒̏͝w̸̸̴̷̵̨͈̼̯̞̉̆͆̒̌ơ̶̵̸̷̶͖̠̬͈̻̈́̓̎̽r̴̸̸̴̵͕̘͚̬̩̾̍̑͒̕l̷̵̷̶̸͕̱̜̯̙̑̈̂̎͠d̵̴̶̶̷̡̰̼͇̊̑́̒̾͜ ̵̸̶̷̸̳͙̭̱̂̍͋̓͘͜f̵̶̶̸̷̙̪̘̟̙̊̽͂̾̕ǎ̵̴̸̴̶̪̰̣̳̫̌̓͛̚d̸̶̸̴̴̻̪̘͇̻̒̅͆̀͛ḯ̷̶̴̴̵͙͇̞̲̜̽̈́͆̔n̶̶̴̵̶͇̲̭̰̻̍̾̑͂͘ǧ̷̶̷̶̶̡̺̪̻̦̃̃͌͝ ̶̵̶̶̴͇̗̠͉̣̍̀̆̂̐

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“What?”

"̸͓͛W̴̻̒ẖ̵͝a̴̖̓t̴͔͝?̸̢̓"̵̢̒ 

“Come again?”

“I said have you calmed down yet?”

Calmed down. As if he were a child who’d thrown a tantrum and was placed in time-out.

“What do you mean?” Belphegor gazed at Lucifer through hair-draped eyes, annoyed at being interrupted by what would’ve been a critical moment of his performance. He’d begun talking to himself. Wasn’t sure when it started, yet if only to break the monotony of his current tenure. In his mind, Belphegor was the sole performer on a brightly lit stage. In front of him, his audience, cheering for his one-night, one-man show.

Ladies and Gentlemen, he’d say, on behalf of the entire circus troupe, I welcome you to one of the most astounding shows you will ever see! I promise you, it will be something truly special, like a wonderful, fleeting vision—“

“--Belphie?” Lucifer called to him.

Oh, right. This asshole. “What?”

“What is it with you in needing things repeated?” Lucifer said. “I told you to use your time in here to calm down and rethink what you said earlier.”

Belphegor spat, rolling his eyes to some corner of the room. If one were to ask his brother, locking Belphegor away was done for his protection. That it was love, not pride or sick devotion, which forced his hand that day. If not by Lucifer, then Diavolo, and if the rumors regarding the castle’s torture dungeon were true, therein lied the many ways of subjecting the seventh born to a fate worse than boredom. If anything, he should be grateful that the only current threat to his health was the admitted lack of ventilation and an idle mind.

Yet if one were to ask Belphegor, he would’ve gladly accepted torture just to spite him, the unyielding screams of the forsaken a welcomed company compared to the horrid solitude of being trapped in a fucking attic.

“In that case, I’m going to be stuck in here forever,” Belphegor said. “Because there’s no way I’m ever going to take back what I said. No way am I ever going to change my mind.”

He was adamant then, on his hatred of humans. The day he learned of Lilith’s death, from Diavolo of all people, was the day any ounce of empathy he had died with him. Once again, the prince would prove to be a never-ending red stain on his sister’s life. Even after death, he found ways to dishonor her memory, if not through the subjugation of his brothers, then through the announcement of his shitty exchange program, one that Belphegor vehemently denounced. Yet Lucifer, being the boot licker he was, had other plans. It was hard to tell how many days passed since then, let alone how long Lucifer planned to keep him here.

Lucifer sighed and gazed over at the canopied bed. Belphegor had found a few Christmas ornaments packed amongst the attic’s boxes--a nutcracker, a gingerbread man, and a tiny reindeer--to act as his makeshift audience. In noticing Lucifer’s quizzical look, Belphegor hissed, literally hissed, at him in embarrassment.

“Oh, calm yourself,” Lucifer said, stifling his amusement with a cough, remembering that the moment was supposed to be serious. Hell forbid it was anything less. “Regardless, we’ve gone ahead and chosen the second student from the human world.”

“Really…Well, that’s awful news,” Belphegor said, stomping over to his bed and smothering his audience with gathered sheets, his skin heated.

“This time it’s not a powerful, elite sorcerer like Solomon, but a regular, average human.” “And why are you telling me this? I’m not interested in hearing about any hu…”

Belphegor’s smile was wide. “Actually, wait. Maybe that’s not true. Bring that human to me right away, Lucifer. I’ll tear them to shreds so tiny that there won’t be anything left of the body or soul when I’m done.”

Maybe being tucked away inside that large castle of his made the prince a bit dull-minded. Solomon was deemed one of the most powerful magic users in the world, one who—without even raising a hand—could turn even the strongest demon to ash.

But a regular human with no power and no way to defend themselves? It was as if the universe simply hated this human, one that would surely shit themselves after being summoned out of thin air to a realm, as far as they knew, should not exist and amongst beings that only lived amongst the pages of their various religions and stories. It was a tragedy waiting to happen and one Belphegor, with quivering hands, planned to bring forward.

“If this precious student from the human world were to meet an end like that,” Belphegor went on, “it would bring this little exchange program to a screeching halt, wouldn’t it? And what’s more, there’s no telling what it might do to Diavolo’s reputation.”

Lucifer observed him with a sort of veiled heatedness. It was clear his tantrum held little weight, but would end it if needed.

“Oh, I know. If you refuse to bring that human to me, then I’ll call them here myself,” Belphegor clasped his hands together, pleased with his plan. “I may not be able to get out of here, but I can certainly lure a single human half-wit to me without much trouble.”

“Impossible,” Lucifer spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And why’s that?” Belphegor raised his brow, his unease growing.

“The door to this room can only be seen by demons. It’s invisible to humans. Also, I put a curse on the stairs leading up here so that no demon other than me can climb them. No one will ever find you, and no one will ever know you’re here, be they human, or demon, or any other creature.”

Of course. Leave it to Mr. Kill Joy to take the fun out of homicide.

Belphegor’s face slumped, sucking his teeth. “You’ve taken quite the precautions, haven’t you? I’m touched that you’d go to such lengths for me, your good for nothing brother.” Lucifer was taller, about a few inches so, but Belphegor met his gaze all the same. “What exactly are you so afraid of Lucifer?”

“I’m afraid of losing my brother,” Lucifer said, quickly and without a hint of dishonesty.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Belphegor said. He wouldn’t allow it. To feel sympathy for the devil. Not after losing what mattered most, and what may’ve been his only chance to correct it. He needed to be the one hurting in this situation and needed Lucifer to be as one-dimensional as possible. “What scares you is the thought of disappointing Diavolo, isn’t it?”

Lucifer was…silent. For what, Belphegor wasn’t sure. Was the answer truly that complicated? Maybe there wasn’t anything more to his brother. Maybe he had become nothing more than a loyal lap dog.

Belphegor pounded his foot against the attic’s ancient floorboards, them rattling as if to collapse. “Say something Lucifer,” he yelled. “The old Lucifer wasn’t like this. He wasn’t afraid of what someone else thought of him. He wasn’t pathetic like that.”

“You’re free to think whatever you want, Belphegor. Also…” Lucifer turned towards the attic door, his voice low and solemn, “I’d say you changed as well.”

“Lucifer!” Yet Lucifer would never turn. Never question any part of himself that held weakness.

As the bars to the attic room clanked shut, Belphegor heard his brother’s footsteps trek down the towering staircase and into the house. Once again, he was left alone, spiraling into the silence of the attic.

He wouldn’t mind being tortured at all. Not at the glint of the blade as it sliced his flesh. Not at the blood that pooled from his wounds. Not even as his limbs were torn from his body or flayed alive. The rush of pain and paranoia would keep him, startlingly, sound. At least then he could see what harmed him. Give it a name, his fury. Tell himself that logically, it was ok to cry, scream, and lash about as he was now, smashing mirrors and ripping pillows to shreds.

But in this attic, this fucking horrible attic, there was no one to blame, and it left Belphegor with only his thoughts, screaming over and over: It’s your fault. It’s always been

your fault

YOUR FAULT

It’s always been

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not my fault. It’s not my fault!

It was a lie, of course. Your death was in motion the moment you appeared in front of him, doe-eyed and disturbingly lax for someone in your position. For all Lucifer’s scheming, he’d forgotten one fine detail: that idleness didn’t weaken sloth, but enabled it.

But it is, Belphie. It's what you did.

He didn't think you were dumb enough to believe his story. A human "just like you" who'd been captured and trapped by Lucifer, yet you proved otherwise. Even when his true identity was revealed, you continued to help him as if the threat hadn't shown itself. Things were moving about too easily; the universe truly did hate you.

No that's not...I did it for you. For us.

Admittedly, he'd wrestled in the corners of his mind about it. Argued until there was nothing left to argue. A part of him had grown to like you, strange, dull-headed thing that you were, but if he weren't to kill you, what then? Would he live his life, seeing you coddle up to his brothers? Eat from their plates and take part in their celebrations? Would you somehow charm Diavolo and have the rest of your ilk invade here? Hell forbid the fools began to fall in love with you, then he’d have to bear witness to some half-assed love story, and that he couldn't live with. So he stilled it down. Beat back the part of him that doubted his conviction. This was for Lilith, always for Lilith, and nothing more.

Oh Belphie, you knew I never wanted this. This was always about you. This was your revenge.

How he killed you was deliberate, too. Strangulation was one of the more intimate forms of death one could give. To do so was to be conscious of your victim’s suffering and to take pleasure in it, having the power of life and death weighted within one’s grip. Humans were fragile. Anything more than disembowelment would be too quick and he needed you to feel it. To know how little your life meant as he wrung every inch of it from you.

Please, I'm sorry. I didn’t know. Didn’t know what they were to you.

He admits enjoying it, laughing as the confusion mangled your face. It didn’t take much to knock you on your back, even less to pin you down. You were so weak. How you managed to survive this long was merely incompetence on his brother’s part. They were fools, too cowardly to do what needed to be done. But not him. He’d end your life and soon any hope of continuing this miserable sham of a program.

It’s not about what they were to me, Belphie. You took a life. And you can never take that back.

You withered and flailed beneath him, trying to lift yourself to no avail. A numbing high swept over Belphegor as he took it all in. The beating of your heart, the sound of wheezing lungs, the sweat that drenched your brow, the bright red of your blood. All the colors and sounds bled into a final point until he was overcome with it, twisting, clenching, enamored in the hues of your dying face. Your eyes bulged and the quakes of your death throes rumbled the floorboards. You clung to him, nails scraping the skin of his wrists. When that didn’t work, you clawed for his eyes. The desperation. The fury. He could laugh, so he does, slamming your head into the floor when you attempt to swipe at his face. Your head bounces forward, then goes limp, throat giving way to a sick crunch. He squeezes tighter, breaking through bone, through artery.

Finally, you stilled and so does he.

He assumed your death would be less monotonous, the fires of euphoria dwindling into barely an ember. A cold realization sweeps over him, sending his body to chill and his empathy to reanimate. No, he won't allow weakness. Not a moment for remorse or sorrow. He shakes them from his mind, putting it up to shock and nothing more.

He gazed at his hands, flexing them, feeling like an outsider in his own body. He sits in silence. The attic does not answer with its usual hum of wood. The house does not creak. Instead, it engulfs him in a sea of quiet, and for a moment he wades in it. Hearing his heart, his breathing, the tiny hiss of air that escapes you. For some reason, he cannot will himself to look at you longer. Your face is uncannily calm, though your neck is twisted into unrecognition, the flesh bruised and mangled.

Now, there was nothing left, but still so much to be done. He wrings you by the collar of your shirt, and it seems an eternity before he reaches the attic door. The attic steps feel smaller and out of focus, the house halls a labyrinth. He’d almost forgotten where the main entrance lay until he heard his brothers, their voices joined in a chorus of "where are they?" and "They should be" and "could be." It's the only time he smiles. Not for his brothers, though it was Beel he missed most, but because he finally, finally would have his audience.

Slowly, as he reaches the landing of the stairway, a thought inches forward. Yet this one he couldn’t shake away. Over and over it repeats itself, almost pleading:

Oh, Belphie.

Belphie.

J��̸̷̷̴͔̪̗̱̊͑͋̈̚͜ J̸̗͑u̸̼̎s̴̬̔t̴̗͌ ̵̅͜w̵̪͘h̸̥̀a̶̮̓t̵͕̅ ̷̱͊h̸̼͝a̴̛̪v̶͕͆e̷̫̍ ̵̩̈́y̶̲͝o̶̫̕u̷̞̍ ̷͉͌d̵̦̐ọ̸́n̸̪̽e̷̫̓?̸̡́

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Belphegor lurched forward, sweat chilling him to the bone. His dreams were becoming too vivid for his liking. In the corner of his eye sat a large figure, blanketed in the cover of darkness. He blinked. Was he still dreaming?

“What...I...Beel?” He spoke, gasping for breath. How long had he been sitting there?

“It's ok,” Beelzebub said. He sat on the edge of Belphegor’s bed, stroking his shoulder as if to still the chills away. “You had a bad dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Belphegor choked, words rushing from his mouth,” I did it I did all of it I killed Lilith and then I killed them and I…I…“

“Just breathe, Belphie.” But there was nothing Beelzebub could say or do, only wait until the torturous spell was over.

Belphegor placed his hand to his chest, heart beating as if it were going to burst from him and go running off into the world.

In and out. In and out. It didn't help his breathing much, but it made him focus on something other than the panic. Everything felt so heavy like the sky had fallen upon his shoulders.

"It's all...my fault," Belphegor heaved, “my fault.”

In a way, he should be grateful. Lilith lived a long, happy life and that’s all he could ask for. Still, it all felt like a dream and in that moment, he’d forgotten where he was. That the Devildom, despite its idiosyncrasies, was a punishment. That they were damned and whatever fate held for them was often cruel and rarely giving. He knew they were uncomfortable at the party, could feel their quickened breaths rising in an off-tune chorus of sheltered panic. He should’ve helped them, walked them through their spell. Instead, he froze, feeling the judgment heavy in the room, the waves of anger and disappointment hitting him in a heated haze. He watched you run away and with it, his redemption.

“That’s not true, Belphie. Don't blame yourself. If anything...” Beelzebub paused, and Belphegor listened between breaths for the words that never came.

He was about to blame himself again, he thought, yet he could not will himself to assure him otherwise, his breaths still too quick and sharp. Instead, Belphegor buried himself into his twin. If he could not use words, he’d use his actions. Surely Beel, who wrapped his brother in a tight hug, would understand him. Beelzebub, after all, was but a wall to Belphegor’s emotions. Allowing his tears and agony to fall upon him, but never breaking himself. Instead, Beelzebub sat in silence, and together, they rocked each other through the darkness, waiting on the morning hours to break the curse that was Belphegor’s anguish.

Surely, you’d forgive him, he thought. That night at the party meant nothing. That disgusted look you gave him meant nothing.  

[ilovearthur-morgan]

She Keeps Me Up | Chapter 1

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem/afab!reader

Plot summary: Modern AU, John Marston is in a band, you're in the band. (as the bassist). One day, Arthur is dragged to one of John's gigs and sees you playing and develops a lil crush

warning: very slight nsfw themes if you squint, and I mean squint but other than that there are none

authors note: this is my first fan fic so constructive criticism is welcomed! can you tell what instrument I play? ;) can't tell if this story will turn into anything so this might be abandoned.... sorry!

The mashup mentioned in the fic, is this one below. My band plays it, and it is very cool.

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

The bar was dingy. Why did John even bother to book this place? Arthur wondered to himself as he stumbled in. The band was still setting up as John wondered over to him. "You excited, Arthur?" John questioned.

"No" Arthur replied bluntly. John expected this. His band only played covers and mashups, and that was not Arthurs scene. "Well even so, I hope you enjoy it" John said to Arthur. He just shrugged as John walked back to his band. Arthur walked over to the bar and ordered himself a beer as he waited for the band to start.

The lights dimmed, casting a red hue over the bar. It must be starting soon. Arthur wondered to himself. Almost as soon as he thought that, the opening notes of Seven Nation Army could be heard throughout the bar. The lights shone up on the band, and that's when he saw it. You. There you were playing the main riff to seven nation army. As basic as the song choice was, Arthur couldn't help but think to himself how well you played.

He was surprised, as he was getting into the song, John sang a different song? it was not seven nation army, but sweet dreams are made of this. He actually enjoyed it. Usually he didn't like the music John played but here he was, tapping his foot and humming along. Maybe it was you? the way your fingers worked sent him into a trance. He wondered what else those fingers could do....

He shook his head. He couldn't be thinking this! You were John's band member! But then it happened. You looked at him from the risen floor, which was a pathetic attempt of a stage. You looked at him with those peircing eyes of yours, sending him into a blushing mess. This has never happened before? he was blushing over someone looking at him! He was thankful for how dark it was in the room because he was certain he was bright red.

He stood there in a trance throughout the whole gig, only looking at you. You had hypnotised him as if you were a sorcerer holding a watch in front of him and rocking it back and forth.

Before he knew it, it was the end of the gig, and the lights were turning on. He slowly, hypnotically dragged himself over to John. "Well done, that was actually decent" he congratulated him. "Thanks, Arthur, means a lot" John replied.

"Let me introduce you to the band!" John takes his arm and drags him over to meet everyone. "That's Taylor, our drummer, Kaylee is on rhythmic guitar and you know I'm on lead guitar and singing" He then points you out and says your name "That's our bassist". You wave and smile at him. Arthur can't speak, he can't do anything but wave back. You finish packing up your instruments and walk over to John "Alright, I'm out" you say, patting his shoulder and waving goodbye. He couldn't believe it, your voice was softer than butter, as airy as a sponge.

John turned to Arthur as he followed your form leaving the bar. "We're getting drinks here same time tomorrow, you up for it?". Arthur only nods.

Same place, same time he'll get to see you again. Of course, he'd be there. He couldn't wait

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notes: thanks for reading! I hope everything was decent and pls lmk if people want another chapter! chapter 2 available now

[riacte]

hope you don't mind me asking, but how do you write/characterise ren?

Hi, thanks for the ask!

For me, Ren has a very distinct character voice, so usually I put in a few words from the Rendog language post and it does like 70% of the work if it's nothing too serious. Hit the dialogue with the Rendogification beam! I know there's a post of people Rendogifying DSMP quotes and it's hilarious. Add a "my dude" before/ after his dialogue and it'll usually work. And maybe pepper in some "get in line"s. Or "outrageous!", "geez", "freakin'".

For HC Ren / Ren in general, I put him as like... a friendly, enthusiastic, charismatic guy who's very supportive of his friends and he's always eager to help. He is kind and sees the best in everyone. He's also very dramatic and unashamed of his dramatic tendencies (singing out loud, posing, twirling). And of course he flirts. He flirts with everything. He's probably flirted with someone's houseplant. He wants everyone to get in line for him. He makes a lot of inappropriate jokes (check my #the rd difference tag) which is greeted with complete silence.

But underneath that, I think he's a guy who tends to look down on himself / self deprecating and he is soooooo self sacrificial. He's gonna be good at something then go "I've never been good at anything 🥺". And he is genuinely so eager to sacrifice himself at all times; he'll probably throw himself in front of his friends to save them. And I think Ren is terrified of being lonely which is why he's clingy. If you leave him to his devices for too long he'll literally burn / blow up his base (Last Life, HC 7). Ren is fantastic with words, he's optimistic and naturally good at bringing people together, but he's also just a doggy who wants company.

Ren is quite talkative and he can ramble about random topics forever. But he also occasionally asks questions to his friends so they can contribute to the conversation. And I think he's fantastic as a storyteller because not only is he a master at "yes, and", he also likes including his friends and subtly inviting them to roleplay with him.

Ren is highly sentimental and remembers a lot of memories. He's not afraid to go sappy and sincere and vulnerable, but then again there's his fear of being a burden. Ren has a tendency to trail after competent, snarky, and mildly intimidating people (insert Ren's greens: Doc, Iskall, Martyn, False, etc) and enjoys being lovingly bullied and lovingly used as a punching bag. He lovesssss being a pathetic lil guy. He loves acting sad and soggy. And he kinda loves being beheaded and beheading his friends.

Ultimately, I think Ren greatly values company and loyalty, and always desires a tightknit group of people to belong to, maybe to even lead (Knights of the Square Table, Dogwarts, etc). And he wants to be useful and not be a burden, leading to his self sacrificial tendencies. He is so eager to serve and offer his services to the rest of the server— in HC, he likes selling / providing food in the early days (HC 4 he made a farm, HC 9 Gigapies) and then proceeds to build infrastructure for everyone to enjoy (HC 6 Hermit Railway Network), or come up with detailed "game" systems (HC 5 Hermitron (?) and HC 9 Hermit Quests). In that way, despite his theatrics, Ren is quite practical and down to earth. Give the man something to manage and he'll be happy.

I don't read a lot of HC fics nowadays but I don't think I've seen like, really severe mischaracterisation of Ren. Probably because Ren RPs a lot so he can RP as a lot of characters which decreases OOC-ness, maybe? Ren's a bit pathetic but he's not a coward, he will literally die for his friends. And while Ren might be a bit of a "derp", he has decent strategies (sometimes) which is mostly him accumulating resources + building a secure fortress (evident in Life series).

For Life series Ren, it's similar but more... guarded and cautious. Still desires a tight knit group of allies (usually his top priority). Still loves gathering his resources and building his defenses. Is kind and forgiving to the point he's taken advantage of (this behaviour decreases in latter series). And he loves his allies with all of his life and would die for them.

Oops, this got long lol. Hope this was helpful! :D

[usmsgutterson]

Hi! Can I request a kenji x fem!reader where kenji is always confident and bold but with the reader he’s always nervous cause he likes her and she’s oblivious, plus a fluffy love confession. Thank you so much!!

Coffee- K.K x fem! reader

hi! I am SO SORRY for how late this is releasing--I had a really shitty august in terms of motivation and then the first day of september devolved into the worst day of the past few months very quickly, but I am determined to write all of my requests and give myself a bit of downtime before the fall event releases three fridays from now!

I did end up doing part of this in the headcanon format because it's just easier on me mentally right now, but I did turn the love confession into a fic because doing that in that way made sense to me where describing the lead up didn't, which I hope makes up for the fact that I chose to write it the way I did! I hope you enjoy and again, I am so sorry for the delay with this.

Fic type- this is just. there is so much fluff.

Warnings- hints at a coffee dependency, a mention of the reader constantly feeling the need to be productive even on days off (the reader says that they need to learn that days off can be used to rest, and says that it's not funny anymore) and a mention of Elton Johns book "Me" if that also counts.

okay, so!

Juliette notices it first

She sees how Kenji becomes around you and then she and Warner compare it to how he is with other people

there's a lot of "he's a dick when he's around everyone else," and "He likes her! That's really sweet! Oh, we should get them together."

Juliette Ferrars would be the ultimate wing woman and you cannot convince me otherwise

Meanwhile, every time someone points out something nice about you Kenjis entire attitude is like: "yeah she's pretty. like really pretty. like effortlessly pretty. and I love the sound of her voice. and the way that her eyes look in the sun. and what of it??"

and then he's like "am I falling in love?? is this what love is??" five or six weeks into the crush

Ten or eleven weeks and he's accepted it but has moved into the "she'll never like me back," stage.

Meanwhile, every damn time he smiles at you your heart starts racing and you just kind of freeze up a little, but you're at the same place he is--you don't think he likes you back and that he never could.

there's even a point where, standing next to you and able to sense your emotions, Warner just goes "hm. You and Kenji are looking at each other and feeling the same lovey-dovey feeling."

to be fair to you, you were a few glasses deep into the white wine and every time you looked at Kenji all you could focus on were the depths of his eyes. we're blaming the drunken haze for your obliviousness in this instance

There comes a point, as there always is with falling in love, where Kenji feels like he'll be single and forever alone unless he tells you how he feels, so he decides to do it.

Kenji finds you in the living room of your townhouse early on a Saturday morning, the townhouse having been a spot you'd coveted as it had belonged to a relative before things took off with the Resistance and everyone was still living within the sectors and under the rule of Aarons father. Juliette and Aaron had insisted you take it with the return of democracy and, selfishly, you had.

You were in a sweater that Kenji had forgotten he'd given to you at one point or another, a pair of sweatpants, and had a throw blanket draped loosely over your legs, a book in hand and the lamp on to allow yourself a bit of light to read.

"Hey," Kenji had greeted, the nerves kicking in before he'd had the chance to stop them. "Catching up on some reading, I see. What's the book?"

"A memoir by a guy who used to sing a lot?" You said, glancing at the cover again. "Elton John. His autobiography. It's a decent read so far, so I'll be sticking with it, which is nice. Loads of books were burned by the Reestablishment but I found this one in the physical library."

"The libraries are being reopened? That's incredible," Kenji said. "Also, how on earth can you be tired right now? It's barely seven in the morning and you're typically up with the sun as it is."

"I am allowed to be tired," you said defensively, throwing a throw pillow at Kenji and letting the book sit, somewhat forgotten in your lap.

"Did Juliette and Warner ask you to look after their dog yesterday?" Kenji asked, catching the pillow and throwing it back at you with a laugh.

"Gardening," you said. "I was gardening during the morning, and then Juliette and I took a walk that ended up being three fucking hours long, and then I offered to walk their dog. I need to learn that days off can be used to rest. It's not funny anymore."

Kenji laughed at you lightly, coming to sit next to you on the couch. "I have something to confess," he said.

"Do all of your confessing," you responded. "As long as you promise to make me coffee and give me a--strictly platonic, as Winston would grudgingly point out if he were here, while Brendan looked at me like I was an oblivious fool--forehead kiss."

Kenji laughed, wrapped an arm around you as you pressed your head against his shoulder.

"I'm in love with you," he said. "I am so in love with you, in fact, that every time I see you I become a bashful idiot, to use Warners words."

You grinned, part of yourself giving way to disbelief as you looked at him.

"And you came here, and you told me this at seven am?" You asked. "I mean, I love you too, Kenji, so much so that thinking of you while I'm meant to be working renders me nearly useless--seven in the morning? When I'm tired and I spent a solid fifteen seconds complaining about how yesterday was, when, aside from the foot pain from all of the walking, it was actually an amazing day?"

"Yep," Kenji said, popping the p with a shrug of his shoulders. "I love you and your complaints."

You grinned a bit more, let your eyes flutter closed as Kenji pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to make us coffee," Kenji said, his lips ghosting near your forehead. You decidedly didn't care about the coffee anymore--just wanted to be with him, but you didn't say it. On days like that one, Kenji was typically just as coffee reliant as you were.

You let Kenji go, opening your eyes and going back to your book as you realized that you were still grinning.

You found yourself unsure that you'd ever stop, but when you felt another kiss dropped to the back of your head and an "I love you," whispered near your ear, you found that it was something you didn't mind as long as Kenji was with you.

[chiriwritesstuff]

Meet Me at the Farmers Market - A Christmas Special - 🎅 Santa's Baby ❄️

A Farmers Market! Joel AU x Confident! Plus Sized! F! Reader

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What does a Contractor do in his spare time? Sell his wood carvings at the Saturday Farmers Market, of course! A Grumpy x Sunshine Joel Miller series collective of one shots

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 1.4K

Chapter Warnings & Notes: Explicit language, Miller Family Hijinks, Joel's in a costume, Ellie's in a costume, everyone is in a costume!, Naughty Santa, Tommy just can't help himself, One big-time jump into the future!, Joel is a girl dad through and through, Merry Christmas ya filthy animals!

Summary: What happens when Joel is forced to be the market's resident Santa? This story takes place five years after Pt. 6

A/N: ... and the Miller Family Hijinks™ are back!

In all seriousness, I want to thank everyone who has read, shared, liked, and loved this little series of mine. What came from an insane idea one day working at the farmers market to where we are now, I am so thankful for all of you that has supported me and my silly little series this year! I am so so so happy you all love Farmers Market Joel, and I can't wait to write more for you all! Here is a little Christmas treat set a few years in the future. I hope you all enjoy! Merry Christmas, everyone!

Dividers by @saradika

“Tommy, you fucking owe me… big time.”

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the cheap polyester of the ill-fitting Santa suit clinging to his bare skin, leaving him itchy beyond belief.  Thank god it’s decently cold in Austin this time of year, he thinks to himself- if I had to do this in 90-degree weather… he pulls at the offending white beard strapped on his face, “Tell me why I’m being held against my will being Santa yet again-“

“Oh, come on, Joel, no swearing in front of the kids!” Tommy teases, slapping his brother's back as he fiddles with the digital camera fixed in front of Joel, making sure that it sits steady on its tripod. “Besides, you certainly look the part, you know. Maybe you could lay off on the after-work beers once in a while.”

“Go fuck yourself, asshole-“

“I thought we were going to try not to bicker and cuss each other out this year?” Sarah suddenly interjects, an elf hat fixed on her head as she smooths out her elf costume. She smirks, turning to a not-too-pleased Ellie in her costume, muttering to herself about getting paid to endure the torture of volunteering for the annual Christmas festival at the market. “Oh Ellie, you look so-“

“Stupid? Because I feel like a moron-" she chides, stomping next to Tommy as she fiddles with the camera. Tommy whacks her hands away as he shoos her off. “This is so fucking embarrassing! At least Joel doesn’t have to wear a pillow under that suit-“

Three of the four Millers burst into laughter, Joel glaring at them as he shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, glad y'all are having a blast at my expense… next time Maria asks for a Santa, you-“ he points at Tommy, his face still red from laughing, “as her husband, should volunteer yourself-“

“… but you wear the suit so well, brother! Besides, I’m sure Sunflower would love for you to climb up her chimney…” Tommy interjects with a mischievous grin, sending the group into another fit of laughter.

“Oh gross!” Ellie shrieks, “Please tell me you’re going to burn that suit afterward!”

“Okay Millers, are you ready?!” Maria claps her hands together as she approaches, a wide smile on her face as she pushes Tommy aside, settling herself behind the camera. “Got all of the swear words out of your system? Let’s get into our places, there’s a lot of antsy kids waiting for Santa, we can’t keep them waiting, can we!”

Joel adjusts the too-big Santa trousers once more and gives her a thumbs up. “Okay, Let’s get this shit over with!”

“Dad, your beard is crooked,” Sarah laughs, reaching over to fiddle with the fake beard and kissing his cheek. “For the record, you are the best Santa the market has ever seen…”

“… and yet, this doesn’t mean that you’re getting a new car-“

“… she’s going to love it,” Sarah cuts him off, a small smile on her face. “Besides, don’t you think she’ll be happy to see you all dressed up?”

Joel smiles at that, nodding. “I hope so, I’m doing this just for her, you know?”

“Yeah, Dad, I know.” His eldest daughter laughs, “You’re going to kill it!”  

After what feels like forever, families keep streaming in as the day goes on. Kids of all shapes and sizes take their turns on Joel's lap—some looking terrified, others just thrilled to meet Santa. Thankfully, the line finally starts thinning out as the last hour of the festival approaches.

Joel, finally catching a break, stands up to stretch. He twists his back, and you can practically hear his body protesting in agony. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he sighs, frowning.  

"Excuse me, Santa," a little voice calls out from behind. "Is it my turn?"

Joel can't help but smile as he turns around, facing a little girl, no older than four, her head tilted to the side. She sports a wide grin and a pink beanie atop her head, her brown hair fashioned in charming braids, holding her mother's hand. "Sure, baby girl. Come to Santa!" Joel exclaims, settling back into his sleigh. He pats his thigh invitingly, the girl's mother giving you a knowing wink as she carries her onto Joel's lap.

“So, have you been a good girl this year?”

The girl beams at him, bouncing up and down as she nods. "Yes! I water all the plants at my mommy’s stand-" she points off into the distance, "and my daddy said that if I’m a good girl, he’s going to teach me to carb animals too!" She exclaims, "Just like my sisters! I’m a big girl now, that’s why!"

"Is that right? How old are you now?"

She holds up four little fingers. "I’m FOR!"

"... and what’s your name, pretty girl?" Joel asks with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’m Anna Miller!” she replies, her hand raised in excitement. “You can call me Annie! My mommy and daddy sell stuff at the market, do you know them?”

“I might,” Joel replies knowingly, giving her mother a wink. “Your daddy tells me that you have been very good this year!” Joel plays along, a conspiratorial smile shared between you and him. The enchantment of the moment continues as Annie beams with joy at the confirmation from Santa himself.

“Really?” she cries, “I’m so happy, I want to learn how to make my favorite animal, my daddy promised! He’s not here today,” she pouts, “it’s just me and mommy! I miss him. Mommy said he’s busy working his other job, do you think daddy is going to come to the market before it closes?”

“Well, baby girl,” Joel smiles as he winks at her mother once more, “as Santa, I can promise you that he’s going to be here, I’ll make sure of it. What’s your daddy’s name?” Joel continues the charade, eager to sprinkle a bit more magic into his daughter's day.

“Joel! My daddy’s name is Joel Miller! Do you know him?!”

“I sure do!” Joel replies, patting her back as Maria takes a photo of the two of them. “We are really good friends, you know?”

Anna turns back to you as you stifle a laugh. “Mommy, did you know Daddy is friends with Santa?! All of my friends are going to be jealous! Can you call Daddy and tell him his friend is here?” She leaps off of Joel's lap, running to you as you hike her up onto your hip. Joel hurriedly rips off the Santa costume, leaving him in his undershirt and jeans as he smirks at his wife and daughter.

"Sure, baby," you coo, looking over your shoulder as you laugh at Joel, giving him a nod, making sure the coast is clear.  

"Hey, baby," he says from behind, his daughter squirming in your grasp.

"Daddy!" she shrieks, wiggling herself from Sunflower as she barrels into Joel. "You're here!" She frowns as she takes him in, her lip wobbling as she starts to cry.

Joel looks at you in horror, turning his attention back to his daughter as she cries in his arms, moving her back and forth as he attempts to console her. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Daddy, why do you have Santa's beard on you?" Annie innocently replies, pulling on the cheap beard as Ellie erupts in laughter from behind, Sarah whacking her sister as she tries to get her to settle down. "Are you old like Santa?"

"It's okay, baby," Tommy suddenly appears, his smirk as wide as Tim Curry's from Home Alone. "He's older than him, don't you know? That's why they're such good friends!"

"Oh, go fuck-"

"Language!" you scold Joel, covering your daughter's ears as you approach him, kissing him on the lips. Joel attempts to take off the offensive beard, your hand suddenly halting his movements. "Keep it on," you whisper in his ear, "Maybe Santa might let me sit on his lap later, do you think you can ask him, being that you're such good friends and all?" you tease, pinching his ass. 

"Oh, I think I can convince him," he winks, slapping your ass as you jump in surprise. "Have you been a good girl this year? Or have you been naughty? I think Santa likes them-"

"Gross! Get a room ya filthy animals!" Ellie yells, ripping off her elf hat as she throws it at Tommy, "This is the last time, you hear me?"

[nelkey]

Since I read orv, the song Say Uncle by Vienna Teng has been assaulting me with feelings because my mind kept changing the lyrics to orv-relevant ones until I recorded it, and honestly, I'm quite happy with the result, so I'm sharing it with the rest of orv tumblr!

These are the changed lyrics that just give me too many feels

Everyone agrees it came too soon It was only meant to be an intersection You kept fear of death in the back pocket of your jeans In the palm of your hand, affection It came like a sudden gust of wind Leaving them, bewildered, to ask how I recall each time you left you said we'd meet again The irony is only bitter now These days everyone cries, "say old dream" They want to tell your story lest it die For this your sons and widow gather with us at the table To form a healing circle for our new demise These days everyone cries, "say old friend" I write down the memories quickly as I can Add them to the ending we all dream in our minds Your soul dispersed, we shall keep the man I close my eyes and hope they do not fade These remnants of a voice and of a smile Pages of memories written down in ink Like your life unfolding line by line A fierce embrace, a word of thanks A cheerful whistle and your gaze upon our heads Somehow these pieces must bring back the man you were Though the world, it claims your stories in the sky These days everyone cries, "say old dream" They want to tell your story lest it die For this your sons and widow gather with us at the table To form a healing circle for our new demise These days everyone cries, "say old friend" I write down the memories quickly as I can Add them to the ending we all dream in our minds Your soul dispersed, we shall keep the man These days everyone cries, "say old dream" They want to tell your story lest it die For this your sons and widow gather with us at the table To form a healing circle for our new demise These days everyone cries, "say old friend" I write down the memories quickly as I can Add them to the ending we all dream in our minds Your soul dispersed, we shall keep the man

This is my best attempt at making the recording sound decent using bandlab

And this is the original song by Vienna Teng