#live laugh love drag art

[heeyizzy]

Dawn ✨️🌙

[oversized-artist]

Meet Cloak Graves! The unfortunate park ranger that Juno has taken a bit much of a liking to.

He’s not exactly happy with her making his life a lot more difficult.

[tonycries]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - G.S.

Synopsis. He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, wild west! AU, cowboy! Satoru, mayor’s daughter! Reader, Satoru is SO DOWN BAD, angst, kinda slowburn, friends-to-lovers, bartender! Nanami, cunnilingus, oral sex (female + male receiving), unprotected sex, gun violence, pet names (m’lady, my love, + others), tumbleweed bandits, reader and Satoru are both going through stuff, Gege cameo, swearing, author’s daddy issues come out.

Word count. 12.1k (I’m scared)

A/N. You know how hard it was to make this all cowboy-y. Anyway that’s off the bucket list.

Art by @_3aem on X.

“So, you itchin’ for a beating from me or yer’ wife?”

Glowering down at the drunk old pervert as he waddled away in fear, you sigh as you dust down your heavy skirts. Typical. The sun beats down on your face as you look up at that familiar faded banner.

Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon

The only bar in your little town of Rustcliffe, and by default the only one around for miles. You hated this place - not the saloon, no, the handsome bartender there was always a sweetheart. But at some point, the comfort of your quaint old town had become too comfortable.

But that’s a story for another time. Right now, you were here to drag your father back home - per usual. 

Rolling your eyes at the cacophony of drunken voices carrying from inside, you step through the dust-bitten swinging doors. 

What hits you first is the stench of cheap alcohol, and then the inebriated camaraderie of the men around you. In the dim lighting of the saloon, you squeeze through the crowded tables and make your way to the bar. 

Not a hair out of place, as usual, Nanami lights up when he spots you. “Well, it’s been a while. Here for the mayor again?” he speaks over the boisterous laughs around you. 

You flash him a smile, “Yeah, you know my father. Fraternizin’ with the voters and all that.” you wave off your father’s excuse to come down here. 

“Certainly takes his job very seriously.” Nanami chuckles, “You’ll find him over by the window, in the back.” he points. 

Tipping your head in thanks, you walk the treacherous track to take your animated father home. When you come in view of his table, you find that he wasn’t alone. Damn, it was always harder to convince him to go when with other people.

You know your father has spotted you by his lively laugh and gleeful shouts, “Ah, my daughter! My beautiful daughter! Whatcha doin’ here? Come come! There’s someone I wan’ introduce you to.” 

A smile slips out unintentionally at his almost-endearing pride. You mentally prepare yourself to say some awkward hellos to some of your father’s old drinking buddies before dragging him home. 

Upon reaching your father, he immediately pulls you into a drunken embrace, wrapping his slightly rocky arm around your shoulders. “This is the daughter I was telling ya about! Prettiest girl in town! Hell, maybe even the country, knowin’ ma girl.” he prattles. 

In his jovial state, he abruptly turns to face whoever he was drinking with, unsteady on his two feet. Probably another old geezer, you assume not taking your eyes off your father until you could make sure he won’t collapse on the bar floor for the third time this month.

Finally, you look up. 

Your eyes meet blue. 

Blue, blue summer skies. 

To Satoru, you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you menacingly threatening that creep outside through the window, every word the mayor said went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the other. Too entranced. 

And when he introduced you as his daughter? Shit, it might just be fate.

“C’mon now boy! Cat got yer’ tongue? What happened to that sharp mouth of yours?”

The booming voice of your father snaps Satoru out of his captivation. Damn, he must’ve been staring for too long. 

Mentally praying you weren’t spooked by his speechlessness, he finally speaks, voice slightly shaky at your presence, “Ah- Good day m’lady. Apologies for my impoliteness, the name’s Satoru Gojo.” he tips his crisp white hat. Gently grasping your hand in his, he places a delicate kiss, looking up at you as he awaits your response.

You gaze, slightly awe-struck, at his ethereally beautiful white locks and the impish grin from where he held your hand. His lips were so soft.

“Oh!” you startle at the clap of your father’s hand on your shoulder. Shit, you were definitely staring too long.  Rushing to introduce yourself, you quickly interject a “Nice to meet you, Satoru” before your father starts leading the conversation once more.

“Satoru here is a traveler, arrived jus’ today! Told him people like us could never, I mean imagine, right?” he slurs. 

Your ears perk up at this piece of information, “Oh? Are you really a traveler, Satoru? How admirable.” you gush, previous bashfulness forgotten. Was that…a blush spreading across his face? Couldn’t be - your town's whiskey was known to give people rosy cheeks on occasion.

“Thank you, m’lady. It’s nothing special really, jus’ staying here a while.” he barely gets the words out before you father bellows a tangent - “Don’ be shy, boy! How wondrous traveling is, kids these days could use some toughening up!”

Both of you rush to catch your father as he sways with a passion seen only during election rallies. It takes the two of you to steady the man. As he continues babbling half-lucidly, you cock your head sweetly at Satoru, “Help me take him outside?” 

Satoru thinks his knees might give out then and there.

The air is chilly by the time the three of you step outside, sun making its way below the horizon. Despite your father’s protests that he can ride home on his own, he knocks out as soon as Satoru gracefully mounts him on his horse. Carefully saddling behind him, you try to make sure your father doesn’t fall off of Satoru’s beautiful white Quarter horse.

“You really don’t have to escort us home, Satoru. My ol’ man wouldn’t even feel it if he fell, I swear.” you insist as Satoru holds onto the reins from the ground, feeling bad for bothering him.

“It’s no trouble. After all, Gege seems to like him very much, hm?” Satoru remarks as he turns to his stallion, who attempts to bite him in response, “Can’t say the same for myself.”

“Hmm, how can I be sure yer’ not a serial killer?” you tease, reveling in the sharp laugh it draws from him.

“You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me, m’lady.” he hums, eyes sparkling with mirth. There’s a lull in the conversation as Satoru pulls on the reins to start walking you down the road, the rhythmic clip-clop! of the horse filling the still air.

“So you travel?”

“This is a nice town.”

Both of you speak at once, anxious to fill the silence, only to sputter self-consciously.

“You can-”

“No no, it’s only customary for a lady to go first.” he hums, looking up at you. 

“Tell me stories of your travels.” you breathe out, eager for any crumb of escape from your little town. 

As you made your way home to the sprawling family ranch, the night adorned itself with twinkling stars that matched the mischievous glint in Satoru’s eyes as he told you bizarre tales from his life on the road. 

“IN MY DEFENSE, it was dark an’ that tumbleweed was shaped suspiciously like a lowly bandit. Hey- don’t laugh- it was a very heated standoff!” Satoru exclaims animatedly as you cackle. 

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Even bandits woulda run away from your clownery.” delighted at the way the moonlight illuminates the blush that tinges his ears. 

Making a fool of himself, Satoru’s stories have you laughing until your cheeks hurt, wishing you could experience them too. You almost forget about your father’s deafening snores and the bite of the wind. 

But Satoru does not. Brows furrowing as he catches your slight shiver, he mentally berates himself for forgetting his manners. How dare he let a lady suffer the cold while he still had his fuckin’ coat! What a sorry excuse for a cowboy, this is worse than that time he accidentally lassoed a rattlesnake.

Hastily shrugging his coat off, he passes it to you with a sheepish smile on his face. 

Face heating up against the cold draft, you breathe in the smell of pine, amber, and something so Satoru. Clearly not as affected as you are, Satoru launches back into his stories.

If Satoru thought his knees were going to give out before then he knows they’re about to now. He aims to keep his eyes steadfast on the road as he recalls his endeavors, because he’s aware that even one glance at you all wrapped up in his coat wouldn’t be too good for him.

Making out the warm lights in the distance, his heart falls as he realizes his time with you is drawing to an end. You seem to share similar sentiments, as you sigh silently.

Once again, a silence falls upon you two (well, three if your slumbering father counted) - but this time, it was serene. You could almost drift to sleep if it wasn’t for your mother’s frantic calls for you from the front porch. 

“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried! I didn’t think it would be so late out!” she frets as Satoru helps you get down from his horse. Hands on your waist searing into your skin. 

Clearly awoken due to the commotion, your dad stumbles his way down and towards your red brick villa. 

“Ah, honey! I’m home…somehow…you know, I met the most interesting fella Something-toru. A wanderer, real interesting.” turning comically to Satoru, he exclaims in delight “Something-toru! How didya get ‘ere?” 

Stifling his laughs, Satoru backs away, claiming he had to leave before your father roped him into more rounds of drinks. Which clearly didn’t work because your mother approaches him, “Stay, Satoru, stay! Can’t have you sleepin’ underneath some tree when you escorted our darling daughter all the way out here.”

Any refusals are immediately blocked out by your very inebriated father yelling out in agreement, claiming he wanted to listen to more of Satoru’s “funny lil’ stories”. Your parents head inside - well, more like your mother heads inside with your father in tow - having taken his speechlessness for agreement.

As you follow, you turn to Satoru, a strange part of you gleeful at the fact you won’t have to part with him for now. “We’ve got an extra room, and it’s got yer’ name on it. The stablehand will stall Gege, c’mon, it’ll be a lot better than the ground.” you grin.

“Hey! The ground can be very comfortable.” Satoru declares defensively, yet follows you inside anyway.

It’s only rushed goodbyes and promises to talk tomorrow morning as the housemaids fuss around Satoru. “Goodnight m’lady.” he’d winked as your head housekeeper clutched her pearls at his dirty boots on her recently polished hardwood floors.

That night, as you lay in your childhood bed, you realize that you still have Satoru’s coat on. Whether from his coat or something else entirely that you did not want to explore, you felt so warm inside.

---

Morning dawns with the symphony of the Western meadowlark that nudges you gently awake - usually. Today, it’s abruptly shattered as the door bursts open and someone barges into your room. Judging by the thud of hefty boots, you knew very well who it was. 

“Rise n’ shine, m’lady!” Satoru’s voice - way too cheerful for six in the morning - chirps out. 

It’s been a few days since Satoru has been staying with you. Now more a friend than a guest, you expect he’s come to wake you up for a morning ride with Gege, watching the sun rise as you exchange silly banter. But it’s so early…

“What do you want, Something-toru.” you grumble out from in-between your comfy covers. You secretly delight at his whines of “How dare you not remember my name, I even told you about the rattlesnake lasso!” 

The warmth of your bed and the melody of Satoru’s voice has you sluggishly falling back asleep - that’s before he promptly sits on your bed. The force of it bouncing you both, making you sit up with a laugh.

Satoru was on your bed.

Satoru was on your bed. Shit, after what your father told him this morning, he wouldn’t blame you if you kicked him out with a punch to his pretty nose right this second. Mentally slapping himself a million times over, he hurriedly gets out the reason he was sent in to wake you up in the first place, “Ah- Um, the mayor is meeting with…someone important, wanted you to come down and meet him. Well, if tha’s all then I’ll be going, Gege won’t brush himself, sadly.”

And before you could get another word out, he’s swiftly out the door. 

Satoru was on your bed. Your cheeks slightly heat up as you realize you didn’t mind?

His words ring in your ears as you get ready for the day - if it was someone important, then you might as well dress to impress. Impress someone else too. Shaking off these strange thoughts from your mind, you make your way downstairs, nose wrinkling at the smell of tobacco that greets you.

You’ve always hated the stench of the overpriced tobacco your father brings out to impress guests. “There she is! My daughter!” your father smiles, beckoning you over. “There’s someone who’s here to see you.” 

Grimacing at the cloud of smoke, you take a seat on the plush sofa beside your father. He gestures at the man seated in front of him, “This here is Naoya.”

Despite his sharply handsome features, you shift uncomfortably at the way he watches you like a predator appraising his prey, eyes following your every movement. Apparently approving of what he saw, his lips curl into a smirk, “Your future husband.” he says saccharinely sweet.

What the fuck?

“Father?” you panickedly turn to him for answers, voice strained at your attempt to keep it even. But your father merely guffaws out a laugh, “Well well, nothing confirmed just yet. But you know with the way things are going with the re-election, might as well get to know a suitor and...” his voice trails off as he takes another puff of his cigar. 

“My apologies sir, I refuse.” you drone out, looking straight at Naoya. You don’t miss the way his smirk grows leeringly as he mutters “You don’t have too much of a say in this matter, sweetcheeks.”  The audacity.

Apparently your father doesn’t hear, a more grave expression taking over his face, “Now I’ve talked with Naoya, you’re of marriageable age. And as young as I feel, I won’t be around forever. You need someone to take care of you, dear. We’ve talked about this.” 

Tears prick at your eyes as you abruptly stand up, disturbing the smoke around you. “I can take care of myself.” you spit out venomously, storming your way to the heavy front door in an attempt to run away from this situation.

In the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, Naoya watches in amusement as you stomp out of the room. Hilarious, the feisty ones were always the best. 

Over the mayor’s ramble of apologies, he grins “No don’t worry about that. She’ll be mine either way.”

The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as you slam it shut, echoing your frustration. The brisk air is a temporary relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.

“Talked about this” your ass. Every conversation - if you can even call them that - was a heated warning about being married off before you end up a spinster. You couldn’t care less about ending up alone if it didn’t mean living life with a man that talked to you like that.

Your thoughts block out the crunch of the gravel beneath your boots as your feet subconsciously lead you to the stables, where you used to play hide-and-seek as a kid. More recently, though, it has become an escape from conversations like these. 

Approaching its familiar wooden doors, you catch a glimpse of Satoru, back turned and meticulously grooming Gege.

Sensing your presence, he turns with an easy smile that quickly fades as he notices the deep furrow of your brows. “Hey there, m’lady. Everything alrigh’?” cerulean eyes flit across your face worriedly.

“Oh yeah, everything’s great. Just got introduced to my absolute asshat of a future husband.” as if Satoru’s concerned expression makes something in you snap, the words tumble out along with your tears.

“I don’t even- The way he looked at me- Can you even believe?”

Satoru was about to rip apart whoever this load of horse manure was that made tears streak down your pretty face. Throwing his brush down - which Gege didn’t quite appreciate - he quickly envelopes you in his arms, letting you muffle your sobs.

“Hey hey. It’ll be alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, m’lady.” he consoles. 

Eventually, as your cries die down, you look up to see the rising sun casting a soft glow on Satoru’s features, illuminating the sincerity in his gaze.

The determined glint in his eyes emboldens you, “Yer’ right, I will not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Naoya. I’m not anyone’s property.”

A subtle warmth is present in Satoru’s gaze as he utters, “Tha’s my girl.” before reeling back and backtracking immediately, “Ah! I mean- good for you m’lady. Naoya ain’t the one. Anyway, tell me about this ‘asshat’.”

You raise a brow teasingly at his rapid change of demeanor, before plopping down on the hay, launching into your first impression of Naoya and why the rumors downtown of him making babies cry were probably true. 

The sun shines high in the sky as you lay there in peaceful silence, only to be broken by the doubt weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m scared.” you admit.

Satoru turns from his place beside you from the hay, “It’s alright, you got Gege and myself beside you. If Naoya ain’t the one then he ain’t the one.” 

Your eyes meet his twinkling gaze, “Yeah, he’s not the one.”

The air grows charged with something unspoken as the silence stretches out. Satoru can feel the tips of his ears burning at your words - stop it Satoru, she didn’t mean anything by it. As always, he retreats into humor to break the crackling silence. 

“I’d help you hide the body, y’know. Then you can have a shotgun wedding with whoever you want to share your days with.”

“Oh yeah? What if he turns out just like that asshat?” you challenge. 

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always run away with me. Fightin’ tumbleweeds together.” Satoru makes light of the situation, in an attempt to etch that beautiful smile on your face once more. It works, as you throw your head back and laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” you get out in-between giggles. 

If someone looked at you like Satoru did, you probably wouldn’t mind marrying them. A voice whispers in the back of your mind, sending your brows furrowing once again.

Meanwhile, Satoru finally had a name for your future not-husband - Naoya.

Urgently getting up and removing the hay stuck to your clothes once you hear your housemaids calling for you, you leave Satoru with a grateful smile that had him swooning out loud immediately after the stable door shut - to the very visible judgment of Gege.

It felt like a knife in his chest when the mayor tittered secretly to him about your future husband this morning, thoughts of you getting married plaguing his mind all morning. Well, if you were happy then it’s fine, isn’t it? 

He was halfway through imagining you in a beautiful dress of white when you’d arrived with a cloudy expression covering your gorgeous features. If Satoru had thought hearing about your fiancé was like being stabbed, then the despair on your face made him feel like he was completely cleaved in half. 

You deserve someone that deserves you. Probably not him. Certainly not Naoya.

Walking back to the house to fetch his riding gloves, he’s lost in the thoughts of standing off against a faceless man calling himself your husband when he bumps into somebody.

“My apolog- Asshat?” Satoru blurts out at the man testily raising a brow at him.

“Excuse you, barn boy?” he fumes, at the nickname that slips by. Ah, he’s done it now. Lips tweaking into a forced smile, Satoru grits out, “Ah, apologies, sir. Cowboy tendencies.”

The air is tense as Naoya mutters, “Keep those to yourself.” He moves to walk past Satoru, before stopping close enough to utter words meant for only him to hear, “And stay away from my future bride. I saw the hay on her skirt, yer’ insane to think you’d have a chance, barn boy. Go back to wanderin’ around.”

Satoru stands rooted to the spot as Naoya walks off, too many emotions he can’t name whirling inside him. That morning, he stalks off for his longest ride since arriving at Rustcliffe - not coming back with Gege until well after midnight. 

---

To Satoru, long rides always mean interesting dreams. Right now he was in a tap-dancing competition against a one-eyed alligator who looked suspiciously like your father. It’s a shame - he was winning too - that the competition is suddenly crashed by an angel calling for him. 

“Satoru…Satoru!” 

An angel that sounded like…you?

“Satoru if you don’t wake up I’m feedin’ your boots to Gege.”

His eyes shoot open, yet his sleep-addled brain still struggles to process you standing over his bed, soft hands shaking his bare shoulders lightly. “Angel?” he rasps out. 

You huff out a laugh, “No, I’m here to drag you to hell - or close enough at least.”

Face burning at already making a fool of himself before noon, he sits up in bed, blanket sliding off to reveal his toned upper-half.

Shit, it should be illegal to casually have a body like that. 

Trying your best to avert your eyes from the dips and curves of his sculpted body, you continue, “My father’s holdin’ Rustcliffe’s annual Harvest Hoedown in a few weeks, the whole town’s gonna be there. You made it just in time for some dancing lessons.”

“What makes you think I need dancing lessons?” Satoru raises a brow playfully. You take a brief moment to admire the way his sleep-tousled hair curtains his alluring eyes, before replying in an ominous tone, “I need dancing lessons.”

Wow, you really did need dancing lessons, Satoru notes as he stifles a laugh when you step on the poor instructor’s foot for the fifth time this afternoon. 

Locked in the stuffy studio, he recalls the way your father demanded that you not step one foot outside until you mastered the upbeat waltz for the hoedown - putting Satoru in charge of making sure you don’t slip away. “It’s stupid really, he’s never had a problem with me sitting out before. All because that asshat will be there…” you’d muttered hotly on the way.

Ah yes, that asshat. Sleep weighs heavily on Satoru’s eyes from riding all night long, yet his words still ring painfully in his ears. Who did he even think he was to have a chance with you? 

Well, it’s alright, Satoru will be out of this town in a few months, and you’ll marry some man of your choice that could give you everything you could ever want.

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his overthinking tirade is the abrupt pause of the music and the heavy sigh the dance instructor lets out - clearly having taken a break for his own sake rather than yours. You shuffle sheepishly across the polished floor to where Satoru stands, “Was it worse than you thought?” you grimace.

“Well, you always do find a way to surprise me, m’lady” he teases, chuckling at your dramatic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the instructor rushing outside for a smoke. Hopefully not because of your dancing…

You scoff in defense as Satoru’s cackles grow louder - having thought the same thing. “Well, I’m sure the great Something-toru is much better on his feet.”

Instead of retorting, he steps one heavy boot onto the waxy dance floor, holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“But, there’s no music?” you raise a brow, yet you place your hand in his much larger ones. Soft, his hands were surprisingly soft. And so warm.

“Did I mention I was a great singer too?” he grins, a small dimple at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer. 

Shit, it was way too hot to be cooped up in a dance studio. Or maybe it was just Satoru’s hand around your waist, making your skin burn through your heavy skirts. They flow around you as he glides you gently across the floor. 

You train your eyes steadily on your feet - partly out of necessity, and partly out of fear of meeting Satoru’s intense gaze.

The only sounds filling the small studio were the squeaks of your boots and Satoru’s soft humming of a nonexistent tune. It was beautiful, his voice. It reminded you of calm summer days. 

“Ah- sorry!” you panic as you step on his toe, only for him to pause his melody and huff out a laugh.

“Step on them as much as you want, m’boots are thick.”

You’re sure he meant this only to bate your embarrassment, but something about his words and the warm endearment in his gaze have your cheeks heating up. You focus on your steps in silence as he guides you patiently, tenderly.

Pride grows in your chest as you start stepping on his boots every six steps instead of two. Satoru seems to have noticed too, “Hey! You’ve improved, m’lady.” he whispers, as if afraid to break the stillness in that humid room as you two continue your silent dance. 

Loud clapping from the doorway makes you two jump apart, shattering the serene bubble you’ve found refuge in. “Brilliant! I thought I’d come across my first hopeless case, yet you’ve worked absolute wonders Mr. Satoru!”

Your escape is quick, you urgently drag Satoru out the door before he can be forcibly recruited as a dance teacher. 

You heave out a sigh of relief at your freedom from the treacherous clutches of the dance studio. Merciless sunlight stinging your face, you begin to make your way through the dusty hustle and bustle of Rustcliffe in the afternoon. 

Now, all you had to do was avoid bumping into your father for the rest of the day and you should be fine!

Speed-walking by Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, you’re confused when you’re faced with a few more drunken stares than usual. Surely your new skirt can’t be that flattering?

With a jolt, you realize you’re still grasping Satoru’s warm hand in his. Dropping it as if it burned, your cheeks heat up at the mirth on his features. “Not that I’m complainin,” he grins, “but warn a guy next time you manhandle him. S’not good for the heart, m’lady.”

Rolling your eyes at his joke, you begin pointing out the things to see as you walk the familiar old roads of Rustcliffe, detailing the town gossip.

It really was not good for his heart, Satoru was sure he’ll drop dead very soon one of these days because of you. 

He couldn’t rip his eyes off of you as you animatedly talked about granny Wei wrestling Mrs. Davidson for her secret brownie recipe. 

Shit, he was really getting in too deep.

Night falls fast, a deep shade of blue. 

Saying your goodbyes to Nanami at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon - at a time you knew your father wouldn’t be around - your heart swells as Satoru excitedly rambles about “Good ol’ Nanamin! What a chip off the old block, we became fast friends y’know?”

You didn’t expect your mission to avoid your father to turn into an impromptu Rustcliffe tour. But watching Satoru’s face light up as you told him silly little stories of your childhood, you wouldn’t have changed it one bit. 

Sent off with a cheery “Come back soon deary!”, you’re exhausted by the time you say all your goodbyes to the people of the town.

“You’re loved, y’know?” Satoru speaks up out of nowhere as you steady yourself behind him on the saddle. 

“Hm?” you ask, fatigued from spending the day walking around town. A large hand caresses your cheek to rest your head against his back, tightening your arms around his waist.

Lightly snapping the reins, he repeats, “You’re loved.” 

You drift on his words gently to sleep, the clip-clop! of the horse matching the deafening beat of your heart against your ribcage. If only you could be like this forever.

SLAM! 

You wake up with a start, only to find yourself…hovering? Surely there must be a valid explanation - you really didn’t feel like doing an exorcism right now.

It takes a while of your nonsense to realize you’re being carried by strong arms supporting your back and legs. 

“S-Satoru?” you ask blearily. 

“Shhh, forgive me, m’lady. Didn’t think that damn door would be so loud.” he responds, bed creaking under his weight as he softly sets you down. 

Smiling down at your incoherent mumbles, he whispers softly “It’s alrigh’, you can rest now. Goodnight m’lady.”

Struggling to rip his gaze from your gracefully sleep-addled one, it’s only the thought of someone in the house catching him in this position that makes him stand up. 

A hand - uncharacteristically swift - grasps his wrist, stopping his tip-toeing to the door. “Satoru…” your groggy call of his name sends shivers down his spine. Hesitatingly following the gentle pull of your hand, he kneels beside your bed.

“Yes, m’lady?” he breathes.

You surge forward, sleep hazing the practical side of your mind. Acting on pure instinct, your soft lips meet his. 

Satoru freezes in surprise as a beat passes. One. Two.

He stays in the same position when you flop back onto your pillow, soft snores filling the otherwise pin-drop silence. His lips burn as he brings up a hand to touch them in disbelief, stifling an euphoric laugh.

You startle awake in the middle of the night, after some questionable dream about Satoru carrying you to the bed and you kissing him.  

Imagine. Ha! 

Settling back into where you were carefully tucked into bed, you snuggle the warm coat at your side. 

Wait. Shit.

---

If either of you remembered what happened that night, neither of you mentioned it. 

Oftentimes, you questioned whether it was a dream. The only thing keeping you from fully believing so being the intensity in Satoru’s stare whenever his eyes briefly flickered to your lips and the hasty retreats whenever it seemed like you would bring up the topic. 

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

In fear of messing up the comfortable camaraderie you two had, you continued this magnetic dance of normalcy. But honestly could you really consider it “normal” if each gaze was charged with something neither of you could describe?

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

You could only imagine the worst.

Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.  Well, probably a bit below heaven, because - ideally - there you’d be his wife and Gege would actually like him. 

It’s alright, even if just for a sleep-hazed second, he was yours. And he didn’t want to hear you apologize for it.

Still riding the euphoria of that brief kiss, he goes about life as usual, sure that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels.

---

“WELCOME ALL TO RUSTCLIFFE ANNUAL HARVEST HOEDOWN! WE GOT HARVEST, WE GOT HORSES, WE GOT SOME HOE- Oh- what? yes, dear that was on my script…” your father’s voice bellows across town from the loudspeaker. 

You breathe in the warm, candy-scented air, fairy lights illuminating the colorful stalls selling everything from candied apples to binoculars (“Spy On Your Neighbors Without Worry!”). 

Place ringing with the bustle and chatter of the town, you think it feels like something out of a picture book.

A warm smile finds its way onto your face, you’ve loved the Harvest Hoedown since you were a kid. Here, you can forget the longing for something more, the rows at home about your looming engagement, and most of all - you can almost forget Satoru.

Ever since that kiss, you’ve found it hard to face him. Sure, the banter and half-joking schemes to murder Naoya are the same. But your heart clenches every time he looks at you with a tender melancholy, losing the words to apologize for taking advantage of his kindness.

“Come come! It’s startin’!” you hear gleefully from your left. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re pulled into a circle of bodies dancing to an upbeat tune. 

Laughter bubbling out of you as you lose yourself in the song, you turn to your right and see…your dance instructor, who is very visibly (and audibly) praying for his feet. Dramatic. You’ve learned a lot recently with Satoru’s help.

Oh, there he is again. For someone that leaves place so swiftly, he sure is set on living permanently in your mind.

Hidden amongst the audience, Satoru cackles at the distress on Mr. Dance Instructor’s face. Little did he know, with a bit of Satoru’s magic you’ve improved - stepping on his toes only once every fifteen steps! 

He was so proud of his girl.

Ah, except you’re not. You’re so much more. And he’s reminded of that every time you averted your eyes from his during dance lessons, the proximity of your bodies doing nothing for how out of reach you felt to him. 

He rips his gaze from you, walking away from the growing crowd. Where was that damn drinks table again?

It’s past twelve as the townsfolk start pairing up for the hoedown couples dancing. You’ve usually sat this one out, not one for the complicated steps nor the intimacy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy your parents waltzing in their own world. How nice it must be. Your supposed asshat of a dance partner was over by the drinks talking with some men, barely looking your way.

Guess the dance lessons were for nothing. Frustrated and slightly tipsy, you move to make your way off the dance floor. 

Suddenly, a large hand blocks your view of the exit. Who the- 

Satoru.

Ears tinged a pretty red, and eyes slightly dazed, he hiccups over the rich music “Would you- dance with me, m’lady?”

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way his face flushed your favorite delicate pink - but you slide your hand into his warm one, “I’d be honored to, Satoru.” 

A strong arm pulling you flush against his body, faces only inches apart. His hot breath fans you as Satoru murmurs, “Looked s’beautiful tonight. Best dancer in town I’d say.”

“Only cuz’ of you, Satoru.” you chuckle at his genuine tone as he steers you across the dance floor. Feet in perfect sync, the waltz fades into the background as you look into his tired eyes. 

“Nah, tha’s all you, m’lady. I’m nothing much.” he grins morosely. 

Your brows furrow at his words, clearly something was wrong. And this wasn’t the place to talk about it. “Come with me.” you utter, pulling him along with you to a place you knew he’d love. 

Little ol’ Rustcliffe wasn’t called that for nothing. 

The air is tense, the chatter of crickets fill the silence between you two as you guide him to your haven, hand still tightly in his. It’s a steep walk uphill from the outskirts of town, a place you’d stumbled upon during one dashing attempt to escape from this town as a tween.

“Finally here.” you exhale as you reach your destination, fireflies lighting the way. 

“Hah- If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to murder-” Satoru’s voice dies in his throat as he drinks in the view before him. 

The twinkling lights of the entire town of Rustcliffe reflect in his eyes like constellations. Townsfolk barely discernible from this distance, yet the soft jovial music carried over. It was beautiful. 

Satoru looks at you in awe as you lay down on the ground and point upwards, “Tha’s not all, cowboy.”

Quickly getting on the ground beside you - albeit at a safe distance - his mouth gapes wider at the perfect carpet of stars above him. A celestial version of what he saw below. He turns his head to see you bathed in the moonlight. This place was beautiful.

“Satoru, are we okay?‘ you voice out in concern. He’s taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. You cut off his scramble to make a joke, “I’m serious. Please talk to me.”

He can never win against you.

Heaving out a sigh, “Maybe. Who knows. But whatever it is, please don’t apologize for that kiss, let me have it.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, “Let you have it? Satoru, why wouldn’t you have it?” 

“M’lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re like fireworks. Captivating and fierce. That kiss was a mistake, and soon enough you’ll find a rich, handsome-”

“I only want you.”

“I’m leaving soon.” he retorts. 

“I only want you.” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I’m leaving m’lady.” he argues.

“No- Satoru-”

“And I’m childish. I’m insecure. I’ll never be able to provide for you the way you deserve.” he plows on, emotion cracking his voice.

“Satoru, I love you.” you breathe out. 

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, the silence was deafening. “What was that?” he turns, voice quiet with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, cowboy, but you’re like blue summer skies. And I just so happen to love blue summer skies.” you huff out, finally understanding the reason for his behavior these past few weeks. 

“I don’t expect a huge mansion, or some enormous ranch, or even a cowboy that knows the difference between a lasso and a rattlesnake. I just don’t want anyone else, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And…you’re sure? Really sure?”

“Yes.”

Silence punctures your conversation once more, broken only by a loud cackle. You turn in disbelief at his change in demeanor, “All cheered up now, Satoru?”

“Why would you have feelings for me? Was it the tumbleweed story that did it for you?” he gets out through laughs. It was contagious, and soon enough you yourself joined him, clutching your stomach.

In the thoughtful silence that follows, you find yourself inching closer to him until your faces are mere centimeters apart. “Blue summer skies and fireworks don’t go too well together.” he breathes. 

“We’ll make something work out, remember?” you hum. 

Your first kiss with Satoru was a sleep-addled mistake. 

The second was when his lips capture yours as if they were the source of life itself. 

Rolling on top of you, he’s careful to not rest his full weight as his lips don’t leave you, tongue caressing yours. Satoru tastes sweet - like hard candy and your father’s bottle of Baileys. Pulling away a hair's breadth, he whispers against your lips, “Let me be yours?”

“You probably say this to all the girls, hm?” you tease him, as revenge for making you wait so long. He softly bites your lips in retaliation, relishing in your drawn-out whine. “Yes, fine. If only you’ll let me be yours.”

Clearly approving of your answer, he continues his dance with your lips. Barely parting to breathe, as if it hurt to leave you.

And it did. A low groan sounds from the back of his throat as Satoru kisses you with the desperation from these past few weeks. His hands stayed firmly cupping your face, as if scared to move elsewhere. Yours, however, was wandering the expanse of his back, and it was driving him insane. 

“M’lady…” he breathes out at the feeling of your legs wrapping around his hips, a warning. 

You knew where this was going and you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything so bad. “Satoru, I need you.” you mutter, words punctuated by pecks to his swollen lips. 

Maybe that’s the trigger that sets him off. It’s not long before Satoru is kissing you again. Pinning down your arms with one hand, he rolls his hips into yours. You gasp as you feel the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers. 

He was so big.

Your pussy drips with anticipation and fear of what was about to come. 

Satoru thinks he might be getting whiplash, how was it that an hour ago he was moping in his loneliness and now he’s got you underneath him? Silently thanking whoever was up there, he wanders a hand down your body. Fingers trailing teasingly above where you wanted him the most.

“Tell me what you want, m’lady.” he rasps. Now Satoru is sure he’s getting whiplash when you grind your hips up into his hand, whining “Need you- on me.”

Skirts hastily pushed up, Satoru shuffles so his face is right hovering right above your pulsing core. In the cool moonlight, he can see the way you get wetter at each hot breath on your cunt. “Please Satoru.” 

You were not good for his heart. Surging forward so he’s nose-deep in your pussy, Satoru’s tongue flattens against your swollen folds. His eyes roll to the back of his at your taste. You tasted better than the candy at the hoedown.

Your desperate whines for more send blood rushing to his cock, twitching achingly against his trousers. Leisurely dipping between your folds, he watches with blown-out eyes as you grind your hips deeper into his face, keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. Using him.

Shit, if this was your reaction to him teasing you…

Your whimpers of pleasure and lewd squelches of your cunt  fill the night air as he plunges his tongue inside your clenching hole, fucking you at a merciless rhythm. His brows furrow as his tongue dips in and out relentlessly. He sinfully loves the burn of his scalp as you pull his hair to angle him just right. 

Thumb harshly circling your clit, Satoru thinks he loses a bit of his sanity at every moan of his name that leaves your pretty mouth. “You taste s’good. So perfect for me, m’lady.” his voice sends vibrations to your pussy that have you feeling your heartbeat banging in two places.

“Hngh- Satoru, don’ stop!” you mewl as his nose catches on your clit, clamping down on his tongue. He continues his movements, breathing you in so sinfully. Air was overrated - Satoru Gojo, famously daring traveler and devilishly handsome, dies here between your legs. He wouldn’t even mind.

“Cum in my mouth, m’lady. Please.” he begs, voice muffled by your dripping cunt. He locks eyes with your fucked out ones as he pulls you by the thighs impossibly closer to him. He never wanted to part.

The stimulation of his voice in addition to his fingers and tongue becomes too much. “Satoru! Hah-  M’ gonna cum-”

Tears spring to your eyes as you cum all around Satoru’s tongue. He doesn’t let up his harsh abuse of your pulsing pussy, groaning as he laps up your juices - your slick pooling at the corner of his mouth. 

He was so greedy for you. Shit, this is so much better than he’s imagined every night he’s fucked his fist in that lonely room.

As both of you attempt to catch your breaths, the chattering song of crickets and distant music from the Harvest Hoedown fill the air once more. Satoru looks at you with a devious glint in his eyes that has your cunt twitching once more. 

You’d felt his rock-hard length. And you wanted it now.

“Satoru. let me feel you in my mouth, please.” you murmur. Kneeling before him, you look up at him with eager eyes. At his slow nod, you give an experimental squeeze to the large imprint of his cock, thighs rubbing together at Satoru’s drawn-out hiss. 

“Oh, m’lady. You drive me insane.” he groans. 

Cursing the heavy trousers that cowboys wear, you fumble it down his legs. Muscles, creamy thighs come into your view, making your mouth water. 

In the dim lighting, you see the precum drip down Satoru’s flushed cock. The prominent vein down his side glistens prominently. Shit, he’d never fit in your mouth let alone your cunt. But you wanted it so bad.

Satoru’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base. 

It was filthy, it was debauched. You absolutely loved it.

Satoru lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, m’lady. You’re just hah- too good.”

Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as you speak about something that has been on your mind for a while now, “Satoru, don’t you think we’re past formalities now?”

“Well, I could call you my goddess?” he smiles. “Or my angel? Or-” Satoru chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth - partly because you needed him to shut up, and partly because you cunt ached with need.

“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper - nose meeting the snowy white hair on his pelvis.

Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your pussy drips once more at how desperate Satoru was.

His mouth drops open in a silent gasp as you move to take his tight balls into your mouth. You admire the dazed look in his darkened eyes. “Oh god- I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum in your mouth, m’lady.” he murmurs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continue your ruthless pace.

As soon as your lips are around his cock once more, Satoru comes fast and hard with a gravelly moan. Hot spurts of his seed dribble down the corner of your mouth as you take it all in. 

Ah, this wasn’t what you had planned when you brought him here - but you sure weren’t complaining.

Satoru just about passes out when you stick out your tongue to show you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he gave, cock twitching once more. He needed you in a way that would make a hooker blush. 

Finding his voice, “As much as I’d love to ravish you right here, m’lady, I think you deserve somethin’ a bit more comfortable.” He swats at a mosquito attacking him as you grin devilishly.

---

Gege has never flown across the dry ground of Rustcliffe faster. 

Wind in your hair and Satoru’s arms warmly around your middle, you feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your back - matching your own. You admire his moonlit profile, the light casting an otherworldly glow over his cloud-like hair. You could probably go anywhere if it was by his side. 

You’ve never been happier to see that familiar ol’ ranch.

Navigating your sprawling villa, you find, is close to impossible with a relentless Satoru pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. 

“Satoru…we gotta make it to the bed.” you giggle, drunk off of him rather than the liquor from before. He sighs impatiently, before promptly lifting you off of your feet. His hat and hip holster falling to god-know-where as he runs up the stairs to your bedroom with you in his arms.

The thud of heavy boot echoes throughout the empty house - your parents still at the Harvest Hoedown. It reminds you of the night you first kissed him. As he slams your door shut and pushes you against it, however, you never in your wildest dreams would have thought that it’ll lead to this.

Tongue tangling with Satoru’s, feet still not reaching the ground. You don’t think you’ll make it out of this alive. Nor will Satoru.

Satoru is definitely not making it out alive.

He’s barely stepped a foot into your bedroom before he’s got his hands all over you - groping and teasing every inch of your body he can find. Your legs wrapped around him, he holds you in the air, hands roughly squeezing your ass.

His lips don’t leave yours, tasting himself on your tongue - even as he bunches your skirts around your hips. Exhaling in relief as his hands meet your bare lips, he holds a finger to your pulsing core.

You whimper at the feeling, still sensitive from before. He drinks in your mewls of pain and pleasure, lips curling into a smug smile. “Still sensitive, m’lady? You poor thing. How will you take my cock if yer’ like this?” 

Your groan of impatience turns into a panicked whine as Satoru moves towards the bed, “Maybe we should tuck you in bed for now? Continue this tomorrow?” 

Reading the challenge in his eyes, you immediately free yourself from his hold. His confused gaze soon turns into a surprised one as you push him roughly onto the bed, straddling him after.

“You always do surprise me.” he laughs out between the magnetic kisses you leave on his lips. Buttons fling across the room as you rip his shirt in impatience - fingers too dripping in lust to work through them. You’re sure if the same could be done to your heavy prairie skirt, then it would’ve suffered a similar fate.

You run your hands along his sculpted body greedily, as you’d wanted to since the first time you saw him shirtless. He hisses at the friction and the impatience at wanting to do the same to you, fingers fumbling with your complicated clasps.

After much frustration and curses on whoever invented corsets, you’re finally exposed in front of Satoru.

Shit, he really should call you his goddess. Because in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he thinks he’s in heaven as you sit atop him, bare and needy for him. Fuck Naoya. Fuck any faceless suitable husband. Eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-bitten, you’re like this because of him. 

Grinding his now-bare hips against yours, a low groan rips from his throat at the feeling of your swollen folds spreading against his aching cock. Your dripping slick mixes with his as he continues rutting into you. 

“Ah! Enough teasin’, Satoru- Want you inside me.” you whimper sinfully. 

Your words make Satoru snap. Wordlessly, he sheaths himself inside you with a sigh of relief. Moans leave his throat unrestrained as he bullies his cock deeper and deeper inside your hot cunt. “Fuck. S’tight, your pretty pussy is suckin’ me in so good m’lady.” he hisses out, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Satoru could feel himself losing more and more of his sanity every time your plushy walls clenched down on him as he pulled out to fuck up into with harsh thrusts. It was so animalistic, the way your perfect cunt couldn’t bear to part with him. 

Your slick drips down his length and onto his heavy balls each time he rams into you at a merciless cadence. Soft yelps of his name leave your lips every time his tip kisses your cervix. 

Ah, this time he was actually going to pass out. Your pretty whines, your dripping cunt, the way your tits jiggled so enticingly at each thrust - it was all too much. 

Angling you slightly with his bruising grip on your hips, Satoru smiles with satisfaction at that one spot that makes you convulse on his cock. Abs burning at the pace, he hits it over and over. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder, moans of his name leaving you against your will. 

You were sure to be absolutely covered in marks tomorrow. 

But that was a problem for later you. Right now, all you could focus on was grinding your hips down to meet Satoru’s thrusts, eager for him to hit that spot even harder. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the painfully good stretch of your snug cunt. So full. 

“K-keep going, Satoru. Don’ stop, please.” Your rickety bed creaks in protest at each relentless thrust, overpowered only by the stinging smacks of his balls against your ass. 

It was so filthy. So debauched. And you absolutely loved it.

As Satoru’s hands sneak down to draw rough circles on your clit, you feel yourself getting closer and closer towards cumming. Leaning down to capture his lips with yours once more, you whisper against his mouth, “Satoru, I’m- Hngh-” 

He connects his sweaty forehead with yours, “Mm. me too. Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up. You want that, m’lady?”

Just the thought of being so full of Satoru sends you over the edge. You cum with a lewd moan of his name, cunt clenching so impossibly tight around his cock. 

“Ah! Shit.” Satoru grits out at the way your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly. Your whimpers as you gush around him sounds like music to his ears. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums. A part of his soul parting with him that night. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, strained whispers of your name leaving his mouth as if a prayer. As if you were his goddess. 

A feral part of him keeps bucking his hips into you, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper - claiming you as his.

You do the same in your own way - biting down on Satoru’s exposed neck. Hard. His strong arms wrap around you to keep you from moving away, letting you use him as you please. 

Cum drips down your legs, staining your blanket. 

As your highs finally bate, you blink out the haze from your eyes. Looking up at Satoru from where you were snuggled into the crook of his neck, admiring the innocent blush adorning his face and his glossy, bruised lips. Both of you so overstimulated and euphoric.

“Got any travel stories like this?” you chuckle out, half-delirious and exhausted from what just transpired in this room. 

“Not at all.” Satoru breathes out, pulling you closer to him, closing his hazy eyes to the sex-filled air. 

That night, squeezed into your warm single bed, Satoru tells you stories of before his travels. You’re unsure if your parents are home yet, and right now with Satoru in your arms - you don’t care.

You listen as he rambles about growing up in the quaint town of Summer Pass. How he was raised with beautiful parents, a wonderful life. Yet, since the passing of his best friend, he’d taken up what the two had been dreaming of since they were children - wandering the world. 

“I’m afraid, if I stay too long then it always ends up hurtin’.” he whispers into the still night. Caressing his hair, you pull him into your warm embrace. Your heart weighs heavy as the back of your mind pangs with the realization that Satoru will still leave despite this.

Both of you fall asleep reminiscing talks of your childhoods. In your exhausted state, maybe you misheard - but you could’ve sworn by the “I love you, m’lady.” Satoru whispered against your lips right before you closed your eyes. 

Limbs intertwined till you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts, you have the most peaceful sleep in a long time.

You’re unsure when Satoru snuck out of your room. The only evidence of last night being the washcloth on your bedside table that he’d tenderly cleaned you up with, and a singular button from his shirt at the foot of your bed. 

Cheeks heating once you catch sight of it, you make your way down to breakfast in your most well-covered dress. 

What you certainly didn’t expect was to be interrogated by your mother. “So…” she begins. ”When did you come home, darling? We didn’t see you at the hoedown after midnight.”

Ah, suddenly these scrambled eggs just did not want to go down your throat. “Jus’...went to see somethin’ interesting.” you respond, eyes meeting with Satoru’s amused ones across the table as he subtly plays footsies with you underneath.

---

Sneaking around with a secret cowboy boyfriend doesn’t just happen in books, you realize. It’s a lot easier since Naoya is around a lot more often than usual. The only thing he might be good for may be keeping your parents entertained…

Since then, Satoru, you conclude, really does not like L-words: namely, Love and Leaving.

Despite his breathless confession that night, Satoru hasn’t said anything more about his feelings towards you - nor when he’ll be leaving. 

It’s okay, you have time. You console yourself, as you lay in bed with him after he’d snuck into your room as per usual, pulling his warm presence closer to yours. But Satoru’s inevitable departure looms closer and closer like a dark cloud above your head. 

It’s only two months after that night, when you’ve retreated from another engagement conversation you shut down, that Satoru brings it up. Hands intertwined and watching the sunset on top of your father’s barn, he utters in an uncharacteristically grave tone “I planned to leave next week, m’lady.” 

Your heart pricks at his words. You knew this was coming. 

Clenching your fists in self-assurance, your words tumble out.

“Let me come with you.”

“Let me stay with you.”

The nostalgic lullaby of the world around you is deafening as you and Satoru reel back in synchronized surprise. 

“You- stay?”

“Wait- huh?”

Brow raised, you gesture at him to continue. “I just- I thought maybe I could stay here. Build a life with you, if you’d like, m’lady.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru - who smiles brightest when talking of his tales of travel - was offering to settle down?

“W-what? Satoru, why would you? You love traveling.” you sputter out in disbelief. His smile grows, as does the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve found something I love a lot more.” he murmurs, with a playful bite to the crook of your neck.

You crack a smile at his sincerity, though you shake your head in disagreement. “You should be out there explorin’ the world, Satoru. And…I want to be right by your side.”

“I thought you loved this place?”

“I do.” you sigh. “But I feel so trapped.”

Resting your head on Satoru’s shoulders, you admit how dear Rustcliffe is to you - although oftentimes you try to deny it - and how you want to leave just as much. 

The stars wink at you two mischievously by the time you’re done, a twinkle that matches the look in Satoru’s eyes as he announces, “So~ We run away together in a blaze of glory. End scene, credits roll, Gege win’s best actor.”

“Exactly. Although I prefer the term unannounced relocation.” you hum, relishing in his bark of laughter. “Now, c’mon, cowboy. We gotta get up early for that damn election rally tomorrow.”

Heading back home as inconspicuous as possible is always tedious. In addition to praying away your swollen lips, you head in innocently at different times. 

Hurriedly greeting your housekeeper, you attempt to make a swift escape to your room. Only to be blocked by…Naoya?

“We meet again, sweetcheeks.” he smiles, stepping closer towards you. Determined to stand your ground, you stare menacingly up at him. “Hello, my apologies for being so unavailable to meet these days. Business, y’know.” your voice steady.

“Ah, yes. I know.” he hums dangerously. Looming closer to your face, you smell the tobacco on his breath as he mutters, “It’s no matter, your father and I have gone through with our conversations. You and I will announce our engagement tomorrow at your father’s rally. That is final.”

“I’ve talked with you about this, I’ve screamed at you about this. I will not marry you no matter what my father nor anyone else says.” you grit out through clenched teeth. 

“Why? Got anyone in mind? Think it’ll be anyone else your father approves of?” he raises a brow, delicately raising the neckline of where your dress had dripped down - where Satoru had nipped before.

He knows.

“Not at all.” you smile sweetly. Not waiting for a response, you run upstairs. Seems like running away in a blaze of glory might have to hurry up.

Twisting and turning the entire night, you don’t get a wink of sleep, mind a whirlwind of how you’d get Satoru and run away before the announcement.

It was terrifying.

---

Parading around town in an itchy engagement dress under the boiling sun on your father’s collection of purebred Italian horses (+ Gege) wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend an ideal morning. But it wasn’t the worst.

You snuck glances at Satoru riding in front of you, looking devastatingly handsome as ever. 

Naoya had been terrifyingly quiet all morning. You could feel his penetrating stare on you, scrutinizing every movement and every conversation. He rides beside you - your soon-to-be husband.

As the procession ends at your father’s podium, where he proudly takes a stand. As he plows on with an inspirational speech that has the audience in cheers, your mind runs a mile a minute as you slip away from the stage. Even in your gauzy white dress, it’s easy to get lost in the animated crowds of Rustcliffe - which you and Satoru use to your advantage.

This was happening. You were going to finally leave. 

Heart clenching at the sight of your jovial parents onstage, you take a long look before turning away. It’s okay, it’s alright. This is something you’ve been wanting for years. 

Brain whirring at the letters you’d send them on your travels, you miss the harsh gaze following you. 

“Satoru!” you gasp at the blur of white and black that embraces you as soon as you step foot into Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon. The bar, empty for the first time in years since your father’s last rally, was your hastily chosen place of refuge.

Nanami, who wasn’t initially too keen on being involved, had sympathized once he saw the look on your face. “Alright, but if anyone asks - you two were never here. Not too good for business, y’know.” he’d stated, permitting you two to do whatever you please. 

Although, it probably was worth noting that he’d almost taken it back once Satoru tackled him into a hug with a joyful squeal of “Nanamiiiin~!”

“C’mon now. I’ve got our bags saddled on Gege. We’ll leave immediately.” Satoru voices, snapping you out of your reminiscing. Rushing to give Nanami a farewell hug, your heart lurches as he whispers “Goodbye. Promise you’ll write.” 

This was really happening.

Nodding in promise, you finally turn to the open door and step into the dusty sunlight. Satoru leads you to where Gege is impatiently waiting for your quick getaway. You could almost laugh at the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins. 

You were going to get out.

You grip onto Satoru’s shoulder for support as he circles his arms around you to lift you onto the seat, slightly shaking at the intoxicating adrenaline. 

You were finally going to be free. 

“Leavin’ so soon, sweetcheeks?” a chilling voice slices through the air. One that you know way too well. Your heart stops, as does Satoru’s hands in midair - before he sets you down slowly.

Body moving against your will, you turn to the deceivingly sweet voice behind you. Naoya.

A cold sweat breaks out across Satoru’s forehead. 

He stares down Naoya’s hand hovering over the holster at his hip. “I knew there was something off about you, barn boy. You think I’d be outmatched by someone like you?” he hisses, resentment poisoning every word.

Satoru does what he does arguably the best, “Oh c’mon asshat, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re just going on a little adventure.” he smirks.

“Don’t I know of these adventures.” Naoya spits out. 

Agonizingly slow, Naoya draws his gun. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the three of you stand frozen, searing sun casting eerie shadows across the desolate road. 

BANG!

Naoya’s first shot tears through the deafening silence. Narrowly missing the bullet, Gege whinnies in fear before running off to safety. Satoru skillfully maneuvers you two into the shadowy alleyway beside Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon.

In the blink of an eye, he presses you close to the dust-bitten wall as he pulls out his gun. “Stay here.” he gasps out.  

With lightning speed, Satoru retaliates - firing back-to-back shots at Naoya with a speed and precision that has him scrambling for cover behind a barrel. 

The gunfire echoes throughout the quiet town, these familiar streets becoming a battleground. Despite both parties shooting from their impromptu covers, neither are invincible. 

A stray bullet harshly grazes his arm, blood painting the ground a deep crimson. Fuck, this really burned like a motherfucker. But he was still alive - he still had to protect you. 

The standoff intensifies, stray bullets flying off in every direction. They splinter holes through the rustic shop banners. You could only be thankful that the town was at the rally, confident you’d never forgive yourself if anyone died on this road today.

Satoru fires off shots with uncanny accuracy, years of defending himself on the road coming in handy. Yet, he was losing blood. So much blood. He realizes with a jolt that his vision was slowly blurring. 

Breaths labored and slumping forward against the wall, he aims one last shot at Naoya. Fuck. Shit. Dear lord, if you’re up there, please don’t let my love die here. 

A finger pulls the trigger. The bullet flies through the air as if in slow-motion. 

It hits metal.

Naoya’s gun flies through the air, clattering onto the sun-scorched ground as he is finally disarmed. The beginnings of a grin curl Satoru’s lips before he heaves out a heavy sigh. Eyes closing and body collapsing forward, the last thing ringing in his ears being your harrowed scream.

“No no no no. Satoru please.” sobs wreck your throat as your hands frantically check for Satoru’s pulse. In your panicked state of mind, you barely register the crunch of gravel nearing towards you two. 

“Shit. The fuck is it that you even want?” that dreaded voice sounds ominously in your ears. “To travel? I can fuckin’ take you places.” 

Sagging on the saloon wall for support, Naoya clutches his bleeding side as he observes the two of you. In an instant, you’re in front of Satoru’s body protectively, hand steady on his discarded gun pointed right at Naoya’s head. 

“Leave, before I shoot your brains out..” you threaten, voice deceptively steady.

“I thought I could be the one to break you - the mayor’s wildchild daughter. But why the fuck do you put yourself through this?” he continues, voice strained with anger. 

“Because he is the one I want. I refuse your proposal, and I am not sorry for it. Now leave.” 

You were standing up now, the cool metal of the barrel pressed firmly to his forehead. Finger hovering above the trigger.

“I believe the lady said to leave.” Nanami’s voice startles you both. His normally stoic face was etched with anger. 

Despite his injuries, Naoya manages to glare at Nanami. But, realizing the odds are against him, he backs away, but not before venomously promising “This ain’t over, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves a bloody trail as he limps out of sight.

“Told you this wasn’t good for business.” Nanami sighs at the chaos. With Nanami’s help, you carry Satoru inside - body moving on instinct as your mind races to process everything that happened. 

The empty bar now serves as an improvised hospital. Laying Satoru down on a table that acts as a makeshift bed, propping his feet up in a desperate attempt to recirculate his blood. You desperately tear the intricate of your engagement dress into bandages, hurriedly wrapping it around his injured arm.

The atmosphere is taut, air once thick with the stench of alcohol now reeking of blood and the dusty antiseptic Nanami had brought to you from the very back of his shelves. The methodic ticking of the bar clock sounds like gunshots to your ears.

His reassuring presence is probably what keeps you sane as you stare unmovingly at your hands, stained a dark red from the blood seeping through Satoru’s clothes. 

You must have been sitting there for hours. Maybe even days. Or it might have even been just a few minutes.

All you know is a flash of blue, and you’re surging forward, heart racing. “Satoru?! Satoru! Please say something.” you cry out, tears streaming down your face once more. Nanami quietly makes his exit to the back, leaving the two lovers to their privacy.

“Satoru.” you breathe out, relief flooding your body and a smile forcing its way onto your face as Satoru’s half-lidded eyes meet your worried ones. 

“M’lady.” he whispers weakly. His uninjured arm shakily cups your cheek, and you lean into his warm touch. “I would never have forgiven myself if I left you alone, m’lady.” he rasps, eyes boring into yours. “Couldn’t have fought off the tumbleweeds yourself.”

You let out a watery laugh. There he is, the man you love.

“I love you, Satoru.” you speak in a hushed tone, as if anything louder will throw you back into your nightmare. His smile grows, blue summer eyes flooding with silent tears. 

“I love you, too. So, so much. Wherever you go s’ where I belong, my love.” he utters words meant for you - and only you. 

Your heart swells at the indescribable emotion on his face. “Then, rest well. We have to make our getaway in a blaze of glory, remember?” 

It wasn’t a blaze of glory, more like a teary trail of apologies and thanks as you embrace Nanami farewell - for the second time today. He hugs Satoru too, but only begrudgingly after he bemoans about being on the brink of death any second now. 

You step outside once more, hands shaky at what awaits you. 

In the distance, you hear a frantic call of your name. You turn, only to have your parents barreling emotionally into you. 

Word seems to have spread around town about what had happened, and your parents were first to come to you - your father running off midspeech. 

Through your hurried stream of tears and recollections of what happened, you managed to bawl out “I-I’m so-”

Words which are quickly hushed by your equally emotional parents. “Please don’ apologize.” your mother soothes.

“If anything, I should. I’m so sorry for tryin’ to coop you up here, my dear. I was a scared, insolent man. S’hard to not see you as my little girl, I hope you can forgive me, my darling.” your father sighs shakily. He looks a lot older than you remember him.

Grabbing both your parents into a tight embrace, you whisper out the words “I love you, and I promise to write.” 

With a final hug goodbye from your parents - to both you and Satoru, you take a seat in front of him on the now-calm Gege. 

“Ready m’lady?” you send a teasing glance at Satoru, who positively swoons overdramatically.

“Oh yes, Mr. Brave n’ Handsome cowboy.” he responds in a theatrically high falsetto. “Travelin’ the world won’t be all sunshines and rainbows, y’know? If you want a way out now then jus’ say the word.” he warns in his normal voice.

“Trynna get rid of me already, cowboy?” you raise a brow playfully. He wraps his arms securely around your waist. “Just sayin’, wouldn’t want you to regret a single thing.” he murmurs softly.

“I won’t. As long as we win against those tumbleweeds, right?”

Huffing out a laugh, “Can’t promise ya that, my love. You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me.”

The snap of reins. A last look at your waving parents, and your little town of Rustcliffe. You ride into the horizon with your white dress billowing behind you - on what you and Satoru would later consider blazing glory. 

---

“Didya hear about the mayor’s daughter? Last I heard, she was kidnapped by a rogue cowboy a couple years back, snatched her straight off her feet on her wedding day!”

“Hogwash! I heard she went quite willingly - the boy was quite a looker, you see. Stabbed her fiancé in his sleep before riding off into the sunset!”

Nanami stifles a laugh at the scandalized gasps echoing around the table as the old drunkards run the gossip mill. 

In a subtle motion, he discreetly tucks away a photograph, its back adorned with enthusiastic handwriting and a…hoofprint? 

Taj Mahal sprawling in the backdrop, two identical heads of white hair grin mischievously in the photo. 

Yet, yours takes center stage.

A/N. Did this in two days, anything is possible kids (I need to lie down). Reblogs are so so so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[scarletlizzard]

Inked Desires

Pairing: g!p Natasha x fem! Reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, Natasha has a dick, also covered in tattoos w/ piercings, buff out of this world, she's hot okay, cunnilingus, handjobish, unprotected sex, breeding yup, alcohol at the beginning

A/N: I'm cheating and putting these two requests together, oops! This is my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. Also, would really love some feedback on this so I know for the future to either write more like this or just tell me to stop now. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the requests!! 🩵

Masterlist

~~~

"Here, take this!" Your friend says over the loud music, handing you another cup half filled with a mixture of liquor.

You don't question her and take the cup from her, drinking it down in only two gulps. Kate laughs and cheers as you do, doing the same with the cup she held.

By now, you were a few drinks in, and the house Kate had dragged you to was full of people. This definitely wasn't your type of scene, but as you danced among the bodies in the lowlit living room, you couldn't help but feel grateful she had.

As your hips move against your friend, she leans over to your ear. "She's staring at you again," Kate laughs, and your eyes move to the corner of the room.

There was the stranger of the night, a tall woman who stood out, whose green eyes had been watching your every move since you walked in the door. Her muscular arms were covered with art of all kinds, disappearing up into the sleeves of her shirt. She brought her red cup to her lips again, her face mostly hidden from the light.

Instead of replying, you only continue to dance, this time keeping eye contact with your stranger. The woman watches as your hips sway, your hands traveling your own body as you move to the music. It doesn't take long after that before she's finally striding across the room, standing a head taller than most of the crowd.

When she reaches you, you can finally see the rest of her gorgeous face. Above her sprightly green eyes, you noticed a piercing on her eyebrow, a few on her nose, and one on the bottom lip of the smirk she gave you. As she stands in front of you, you literally have to look up at her, and you realize she was much more toned up close.

"I'm just gonna grab another drink!" Kate raises her voice above the music for the two of you to hear.

"I'll catch up with you later!" You shout back to which she only laughs and shoots you a "Yeah, right," before walking off.

You turn your attention back to the stranger.

"Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," you reply curiously.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" She asks. Her eyes shamelessly roam the soft features of your face and the curves of your body.

"Y/N... this is my first time here. What's yours?" You ask with a blush on your cheeks. She tucks back her red hair behind one of her ears, revealing to you even more piercings.

You don't know if it's the alcohol or the feeling the stranger ignited in your chest, but you feel compelled to step forward and rest your hand on her muscular bicep. Your finger traces the tattoos that littered the skin there.

"Natasha," she says with a smile. "Wanna go upstairs?" A cock of her eyebrow with the piercing sticking out is enough to get you wet.

***

As soon as the door closes, the two of you are on each other, kissing feverishly. Her hands are under your shirt, touching your skin as she lifts you against the door. Your legs wrap around her hips, and you smile against her lips at how easily she lifted you. She was strong. You could feel her muscles under her tight shirt, squeezing you impossibly close.

But when her tongue slips past your lips, you gasp and pull away, a string of saliva pulling between your mouths.

"What's wrong? Do you need to stop?" She asks with a concerned expression. You look at her with wide eyes.

"No - no, I'm fine, it's just. Is your tongue...?" You didn't know how to ask. She chuckles and ducks her head before looking back at you. Natasha lets her tongue slide across her top lip, and it's then your suspicions are confirmed.

"Split, and yes... it will feel better," Natasha says in a cocky tone, her lips attaching to your neck as she carries you to the bed. You feel your back hit the soft mattress, and she lets go of you to remove your shirt.

"I want to see them all," you breathe out and run your finger over the skin on her arm. She smiles and pulls back, taking off her shirt to reveal she was completely covered. "They're beautiful..." You let your eyes take in the sight of the art, your hands tracing the dark lines and over the grooves of her abs. Natasha is a God.

As she continues to undress you, she kisses as much skin as she can, her lips soft and wet with every touch. When she gets to your breasts, you feel her tongue spread, taking your nipple between the two halves and sucking it.

"Oh- oh fuck," you moan out, suprised at the unfamiliar feeling and how good it felt. Natasha hums and lays you back, kissing down your stomach. When she spreads your legs she looks at you with hungry eyes, seeing how wet you already were.

"All this for me, baby?" She asks, letting a finger move up and down your wet folds. Your body shivers with anticipation. The way she looked at you, the way she looked, you were willing to let this stranger do absolutely anything to you.

"All for you.." You husk back, watching her split tongue wet her lips again.

Natasha kneels down at the edge of the bed and puts your legs over her shoulders, her hands grip your thighs tightly.

"How fucking lucky am I then?" She smirks up at you before placing soft, teasing kisses on your thighs.

You feel her mouth attach to your clit, and the heat in your stomach burns hotter. She licks up your slit, groaning as she tastes you.

"Fuck you taste so good," Natasha moans and let's her tongue lick up to your clit. She let's the two halves spread and rub against you. The new feeling makes you arch your back, your head thrown against the comforter.

"G-God Nat, that feels so good!" You moan and try to squeeze your thighs, but her grip kept your legs spread as she continued to eat you out. The sounds of her mouth against your wet pussy were the most sinful sounds you had ever heard, and the moans leaving your mouth were sounds nobody had ever elicited from you before.

She groans against you, the vibrations causing even more pleasure. "That's it baby," she says in between licks, "Want you to cum all over my face." Natashas tongue moves in two different ways, the coil in your lower stomach twisting up.

Your hands grip the comforter as she moves quicker, and the coil begins to unravel as you come undone

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your back arches again and your legs tremble around her head as you let out a pornographic moan. Natasha hums agaisnt you as you come, her hands not flinching to hold your thighs apart.

She licks every drop, her tongue swirling around your sensative clit one more time before she lets go and stands up. "Come here," Natasha commands, and with a dizzy mind you sit up, trying to catch your breath. She bends down to take your jaw, kissing you rough and sloppily. You forces you to taste yourself, and her tongue pushes in your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue.

You can smell your own arousal on her face, feeling it wet your nose and lips. You blush, almost embarrassed with how wet this stranger made you.

"Now lets see how well you can ride my cock," Natasha chuckles and pulls back to remove her remaining clothes. Your eyes are settled on her breasts, unable to remove them from the piercings on her nipples. When you can pull yourself away from the sight of the silver metal against pink, you look down to see her remove her underwear. She was hard, painfully hard just from eating you out.

She tosses the boxers in the corner where other random clothes lay, and you gave her a curious look. "It's my room, don't worry. Didn't even know you were in my house, did you, love?" Natasha strides back to the bed and sits with her back against the headboard, pulling you closer to her.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry... my friend kind of dragged me out tonight," you say with red cheeks, and she kisses you desperately.

"Thank God she did," Nat mumbles against your lips. She lets out a groan as your hand reaches between the two of you to lightly grip her cock, and you could feel how she was already throbbing for you. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly as the kiss turns sloppy, her tongue sliding yours between hers. Natasha revels in the feeling of her in your soft hand, your delicate fingers moving along the veins of erection.

"Shit - that feels so good," she moans into the kiss as your hand movements speed up. Your thumb swipes across the tip, precum dripping out already. You smile at the low moan that leaves her lips and continue to jerk her as you kiss. "I need you, please. Fuck I need to be inside you," she begs, and the sound of her begging was something you wanted to hear again. You take her lower lip between your teeth, sucking on the piercing before letting go with a 'pop'.

"I wanna ride you so bad, Nat.. I'm so wet for you," you whisper and let your kisses trail down to her sharp jaw. You feel her cock twitch in your hand as you speak and she grabs your wrist to stop your hand movements, panting as she does.

Natasha turns you around quickly, groaning at the sight of your ass as you straddle her lap and let her hands guide you onto her thick cock. You slide down slowly, letting out a moan when you feel her filling you up.

"Just relax baby, you're so fucking tight," she mumbles as she watches herself slowly disappear inside of you. She let's out a low moan as she feels your hot cunt swallow her, the back of head hitting the headboard when she feels your walls squeezing her. The feeling alone was enough for her mind to sever ties with reality, the only thought was you.

The sensation has that coil tightening inside of you again. You rest your hands on her toned thighs for support, relishing in the way her muscles flexed underneath your fingertips.

Natashas' hands continue to guide you, and after you had adjusted to her large size, you begin to grind yourself down on her lap.

"Just like that baby, fuck... feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. You were just made to take me," she groans, her words only driving you to move your hips faster.

Her large hands move to your sides and up your body, groping your skin as she starts to move her hips up to meet yours. The two of you find a rythem together, and soon you find yourself willingly bouncing on her cock. Her hands moved to gather your hair, wrapping it into a fist in her right hand. She tugs on it and pulls your head back, a loud moan leaves your lips at the feeling.

"You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" She smirks, tugging your hair again.

"Yes - god, yes, Nat!" You whine as her lips find your neck. She bites down hard on your pulse point, surely leaving a mark, and leaves hot open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"I know you do, you little slut. Fucking dripping on my cock. You feel how easy I slide in and out of you?" She says and with her left hand she grabs your jaw. "Answer me."

"I'm so wet, you make me so wet," you whine again, feeling her fingers move between your teeth. You suck hard as you look in her eyes, your tongue swirling around spit dripping down your chin. When you bite down, it surprises her, but she only chuckles darkly.

In a second, Natasha had let go of your hair and pushed you down face first onto the mattress. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, but soon after, she's lifting your hips and sliding into you again. Both of you moan at the feeling of how deep she goes.

"Christ, it doesn't matter how long I fuck you. You're just - so - fucking tight," she grunts in between words, her cock drilling you into oblivion. With every thrust you can hear the bedframe hitting the wall, and you can't help the pitiful noises that leave your mouth.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum," You rasp out. A sharp slap on your ass makes you whimper as you feel it begin to sting.

"No, shit, hold it in," Natasha warns. You feel the pressure of her body move on top of you. The piercings on her breasts rub against your back with each powerful thrust, and her arm moves underneath your neck to hold you tightly.

Natasha grunts in your ear as she pounds into you, letting out a moan when she feels your slick cunt tighten around her length. "I'm almost there, baby. Are you gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock?"

You nod the best you can in her tight grip, only able to get out a "Yes," in between gasps.

"You feel so good, Y/N. You want me to cum inside you? Fuck- I wanna fill up your tight little pussy so bad..." She groans against you and her words send you over the edge.

"Oh god, Nat! Please fill me up, please," you beg her, and just the thought of it is enough to let go. Your orgasm ripples through your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core.

Natasha moans loudly as she feels you coating her cock with your cum, and she can no longer hold back. "Fuck- Y/N!" She groans and you whine as you feel her hot load spurting inside of you, her cock twitching as she slows her movements. "Take every.. last.. drop.." She pants as she thrusts a few more times.

The two of you stay like that for a while, her cock inside you as she stills above you. Your head rests against her arm as you attempt to catch your breath. When she removes herself slowly, and you wince at the soreness and empty feeling. Natasha lays next to you and you turn on your side to face her.

"Hi," she chuckles at the exhausted features on your face.

"You just fucked the life out of me and you're going to say... 'hi' ?" You laugh, suprised to see a blush on the strong womans cheeks as she laughs along with you. Your hand reaches out, resting on her stomach and tracing the lines of her tattoos again.

After the two of you clean yourselves up, you begin to dress yourself, feeling her eyes on you as you pull your shirt over your head.

"You don't have to go, you know. I'm not like that," she says gently, and you look up to see her pulling on a pair of jeans. You smile at her kind demeanor and walk over to her.

"I have to take my friend home," you say and lean up on your toes to kiss her cheek. She has to bend down for you to reach her lips, but she doesn't complain.

"Well, maybe I can take you out sometime," Natasha smirks and rests her hands on your waist. You nod as you look up to her.

"I would love that.." You reply honestly, wanting nothing more than to get to know her and count the endless tattoos that cover her body.

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ conflict ] | sylus

— summary: whatever they have is cosmic. which is why you quietly bow out, thinking you never stood a chance. — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, obligatory club scene, alcohol consumption, unrequited feelings, jealousy, sisterly love, self-loathing, suggestive, stream of conciousness, not proofread, mdni — notes: thank you for reading! [ part 1 | part 3 ] — now playing: bad girls like you - tobii

—of course, by unwinding, you assumed Ms. Hunter meant the celebratory clink of whiskey glasses together, with something murky and vicious sloshing around inside. Something to take the edge off, to dull your senses, and to assuage the ache in your muscles where the painkillers couldn’t.

A club was the last place you expected to be after blowing an arms dealer and his men halfway to hell. 

Then again, you’re not complaining, swathed in the subdued glow of red strobe lights and fog. You’re in your element, surrounded by sweat-slicked bodies and people just trying to feel. 

The club reminds you of Lux, minus the cheap upholstery and subpar drinks. You’re at least 1,000 miles from Linkon, settled on some floating oasis in the middle of glistening aqua waters. You’ve barely had time to enjoy yourself, your trio hitting the ground running as soon as Sylus’ jet touched earth. You’ll be leaving in the morning, swept back into the lonely, glacial abyss of the N109.

So you dance like tomorrow isn’t promised. Like you’re performing onstage, garnering the lust and envy of those around you. You always do, the art of seduction practically ingrained in your DNA after using it to your advantage for so long. Years of luring men to their demise inhabit every sway of your hips, every roll of your body, every sultry curl of your lips.

Besides, being here is also a nice little distraction from the cacophony of your mind, replaced by good music thudding beneath your feet, and your cheeks aching with a tipsy smile. You grab the hunter’s hips. Bring her closer until your chests collide, and she’s wide-eyed with parted lips, unsure of what to do with her hands. 

“Relax,” you soothe, your voice slurry as you encourage her to sway. To loosen up. She’s stiff at first but catches your drift, letting you control her with a wonky grin as her wrists cross behind your neck. That’s more like it. 

You fed her a few drinks to ease her nerves—it was her idea to come here. And after the three of you cleaned up and rested at the hotel, she suggested it over dinner. You and Sylus traded looks, your faces bearing different degrees of amusement. Ms. Hunter babe isn’t much of a social butterfly, but the pair of you relented, figuring you could use the diversion.

You’re playing up her allure. Whispering praise against her bangs, encouraging her to release her inner sexy. 

He’s been watching her from the VIP section since you dragged her to the dance floor. Scarlet eyes peeling through the smog, tuned to her every move. You wish it were you he eyed like that, but you shove those green-eyed thoughts onto the backburner, dancing, grinding, laughing. Losing yourself to the music. You’re on a mission to get her boned tonight. Living vicariously through her, knowing that it’ll never be you he beds. At least one of you can end the night on a good note. 

The song slides into something sultry. Ms. Hunter slips out of your grip, a giggling mess, stumbling towards the red velour couch where Sylus sits. You watch her plop down beside him, the cocktails slackening her grace. You can’t make out what they’re saying when he angles closer to hand her a drink. But he’s wearing that customary tilt to his lips, sweeping some hair behind her ear, where he eases in to murmur something against the shell of it. Whatever he’s on about, it makes her laugh, and she playfully smacks the devastating stretch of skin peaking through the slit of his silky button-down. 

Your lips twitch, smile falters. Everything around you morphs into a Gaussian blur, the music muddled as what’s left of your senses home into the scene. You swallow against the swell of feelings burbling up when Sylus pulls her closer, a long arm slung around soft shoulders. They exchange a look before the hunter glances up, shaking you from your trance. She raises her glass to you in a quiet toast. As if to convey, I’m alright in case you were wondering. Of course, she is. Why wouldn’t she be when he handles her like glass, the fondness in his eyes as palpable as the bitterness scorching your throat?

Sylus’ gaze tracks to yours. You offer a quiet smirk with a tilted brow, tamping down your envy. Wearing that playful front once more, turning back towards the dance floor.

At least your plan is working, you muse, swallowed up by the crowd of writhing limbs and lust. She’s definitely going to get some tonight if the idle stir of his eyes whilst he painted a triangle between her lashes and lips is any gauge. You did your job. Well at that.

So why do you feel so shitty?

A virile arm snakes about your waist, siphoning your breath as it drags you against a hardened body. You tuck your inhibitions away as the stranger who grabbed you grins, dark hair sweeping over manicured brows. You let him guide you into a slow wind, grateful for the save.

And you’re utterly oblivious to red eyes scrutinizing the stranger’s hand as it splays against the space between your shoulder blades.

—

It’s quiet on the executive floor of the hotel. Then again, it’s a quarter to 2 AM, and you’re sure everyone occupying these rooms is sound asleep. So, you shush your hunter friend for the umpteenth time, stumbling beside her as she giggles drunkenly into your ear. 

You can’t help the crack of a smile, her arm slung about your shoulder as you guide her towards her room, and she throws her head back, singing something that makes her voice crack and you wince. 

“Quiet,” you chide, your intermingled voices bouncing off the walls. You must be quite the sight. Two barefoot beauties stumbling down the hall, trying to make sense of the world. 

The embossed letters of her room pan into view. She laughs as you cautiously frisk her for the keycard after propping her against the door. She’s a little worse for wear. You feel bad, having overdone it with the cocktails. Not your fault you could hold your liquor while she couldn’t. So when Sylus left you to tend to “business,” as he so cryptically said, it was up to you to ensure Ms. Hunter made it back to her room without a hair out of place. 

So much for her getting laid tonight. 

Finally, you procure the card. You swipe it, taking the hunter by the waist before she barrels in. Instinctively, her arms snake around your neck, and she stumbles into you, nearly knocking you off kilter. She’s all sloppy-grinned, the alcohol on her breath pushed into your nostrils. She blinks sluggishly at you, and you bite back a laugh. Never would you have imagined seeing Ms. Hunter, all prim and pretty and carefully constructed, looking like this. 

“You’re pretty, you know that?” she breathes, tapping your nose. You scoff, maneuvering yourself to herd her into her room. She carries on spewing nonsense as the pair of you toddle beneath the dim lighting of the room’s entryway. The king-sized bed slides into focus. You let her fall onto the mattress, steadying her before she can slide off. Her hair falls onto her face, a new onslaught of laughter spewing from her lips.

You kneel to grab her ankles, almost losing your footing yourself. You might not be as trashed as she is, but you’re still a little loose-limbed. A little tipsy, teetering on that slurry edge, having tamped down your inebriation to play big sister. 

“You’re gorgeous,” she continues when you stand, positioning her legs on the bed as comfortably as you can. 

You tuck her beneath the heavy blanket, ignoring her dribble. Scoop dark tresses away from her face, beholding red-speckled cheeks and swollen lips. It’s no wonder Sylus fell for her. She’s a marvel, girl next door pretty, where you’re a sex symbol, molded to be used and envied rather than exalted. 

Ms. Hunter teeters in and out of sobriety, sleep beckoning to her with its ghostly croon. Before you depart, she speaks to you again, her voice abrasive with exhaustion.

“The prettiest girl around. No one could keep their eyes off you, not even Sylus. He was practically drooling. You see that?”

You stiffen, your hand closed around the glacial brass of the door handle. You cock your head towards your shoulder, something warm flushing over your skin. She talks a lot for someone under the influence. But it’s as if she’s read the inner turmoil coloring your mind, not like you do the best of jobs masking your feelings.

It wasn’t me he was drooling over, you want to say. It never would be. He’s too swept up in her. Their history, their past. You’re merely an afterthought in the grand scheme of things. Something disposable. Something pretty to further his agenda. Even if he was looking, it was probably to ensure you weren’t getting into trouble. 

He’d have a hell of a time finding someone on short notice to fill your shoes. His pretty little femme fatale. It just so happens you’re unconsciously grooming your replacement, treating her more like an ally than a rival.

You wait until her breaths even out. Until she’s sunken below the depths of unconsciousness before you slip out of her room, your chest heavy as if weighed down by an anvil and a bitter twist to your lips.

Before you can make your grand escape to your room to nurse your impending hangover, a familiar voice curls around the vowels of your name. Of course, he would have a room across from hers, and it is with bitter realization you look up at him from the floor, schooling your expression into one of indifference. 

Sylus leans against the doorframe, so very massive in comparison to it. You try to ignore what the playful cant to his lips does to you. How his pretty, scarlet-spun eyes dance when he studies you. Ignore how the tendons in his neck flex when he swallows, how his Adam’s apple bobs. The slither of tanned skin stretched over his pectorals calls to you. Your fingers twitch at your side with the need to touch. You stifle the feeling, barring your gaze from slinking lower. He’s devastating, and you don’t trust yourself not to make a move you’ll later regret right now.

“How is she?” he asks, the husky grit of his voice furling in your chest. Your heart sinks. Of course, he wouldn’t ask about you. You’re a big girl, more than capable of fending for yourself. To inquire about your status would be an insult according to him. You square your shoulders, sighing with that infuriatingly artificial smile to your lips.

“Hammered, but she’ll survive. She’s sleeping it off now.”

He snorts, shifting his weight between his feet. “Of course. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to go out after the day we had.”

You nod, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—your pulse thrumming in your ears. Your throat constricting. You toy with your fingers, taking this time to dismiss yourself before you spout out some nonsense.

“Gonna go get some sleep myself. See you in the morning, bossman.”

“Need some help getting back to your room?”

You peer at him from your shoulder, eyes slightly widened, mouth open, working around words that refuse to come. Something indiscernible lurks in his gaze. It’s as if he’s searching. Looking for something, though you’re sure you’re mistaken. 

“I’m alright,” you say with a sticky laugh, starting down the hall towards your room. All the while, your nerves scream through your inebriation, and you squint when you reach the door around the corner, inwardly admonishing yourself for turning him down. 

A delusional part of you believes there was more to his offer than what was presented at surface level. But you were too stuck in your head to read between the lines. After all, Sylus would never settle for someone like you. Not when you’re mere costume jewelry in comparison to gold. 

You throw yourself against the bed once you’re inside your room. Peer up at the ceiling, studying its texture until your vision slides into a vignette around the corners, and then you drift into the violet embrace of sleep, deciding to deal with this new swirl of feelings later.

preface | masterlist | rising action

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢʏᴀʀᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𝟸

yan gyaru who is your clingy bestfriend

Every morning, he made sure to time his arrival perfectly so that he’d “accidentally” run into you near the lockers. "N/n!~" He grinned at you as you opened you locker, twirling his hair.

“Kajiro,” you greeted, adjusting your bag. “What’s up?”

“Just waiting for my favorite person, obviously.” He grinned, stepping closer. “You know, we should totally hang out after school today. I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” He pouted, trying to convince you. "wait no, we should have a sleepover!" His face lit up like a Christmas tree, eyes sparkling with excitement as you stared at him confused

"Im bus-"

"Okay, ill be at your house at 3pm, baby!" He said as he waved at you and left, blowing you a kiss.

meanwhile ur friend next to you looks at u weirdly "how tf did you bag that" You js shrugged

yan gyaru who while during class, spams u

ᴋ𝟺ᴊɪғᴏʀʟɪғᴇᴇᴇᴇ ׂ

hiii n/n :3

lets meet uppp!!!!

i wanna see ur faceee ;3

babyyyyy cmonnnn

im SOOOOO bored in this class without uuuu

i need to see u before i go crazyyyy :(

ʜᴏᴇsʟᴜᴠʏ/ɴ

bruh no

last time we met up in the middle of class, u wanted me to js skip n go on a date

n stop texting im abt to get my phone taken by the teacher

ᴋ𝟺ᴊɪғᴏʀʟɪғᴇᴇᴇᴇ ׂ

:( n/n ur so mean!

n change ur username nowwww!!!!

im supposed to be the only hoe that loves u!!!

GASPPP

do u have other hoes?!?!?!??! Are u cheating??!?!?! Youve been playing hello kitty adventure with some other bitches?!??!!?N/n, i will rip their scalp off their head, and throw a table at them.

Y/n L/n, who are the bitches u call hoes?

y/n, if u dont block them now, ur gonnna see me on the news for murder.

yan gyaru who during english class, just writes poets about his love to you. In art, he draws you and him getting married. In math, he daydreams about the day you guys live in a cute cottage home with your 2 bunnies, and a cat.

yan gyaru who once the final bell rings, hes OUT that class, practically running out to go to your class so you wont leave him.

yan gyaru who finally found you, and was huffing and puffing from all that running before grinning at you. "Lets go, babe?" He said, grabbing your backpack from your shoulders and carrying it himself.

It’s Friday night, and you’ve somehow got dragged into having a sleepover with the guy who’s been obsessively crushing on you for ages—your bubbly gyaru friend, who just can’t get enough of you.

The whole walk to your house, he was gushing and nonstop talking about how fun it was gonna be. “Babe! This is gonna be so fun, I can’t wait!” he chirps, holding onto your arm tightly as if he has doubts that you were gonna run away.

yan gyaru who from the second he steps in your home, he’s a non-stop chatterbox. He’s talking about everything—school, the latest drama, his favorite new clothes, and of course, you. His eyes are constantly on you, lighting up every time you laugh or even just nod along, internally cheering that he made you laugh.

“Oh my god, Y/N, have you seen the latest episode of that show we talked about? We have to watch it together tonight! It’s gonna blow your mind!” He said as he played with your hair.

You can tell he’s beyond excited just to be around you, and his energy is contagious. He’s always smiling, laughing, and playfully bumping your shoulder whenever he makes a joke.

yan gyaru whose endlessly complimenting you. He just can’t stop complimenting you. Whether you’re dressed up or in casual sleepover clothes, he’s still in awe of you. “You look cute even in pajamas, Y/N. Like, how is that fair?” He pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together as he rubbed your arm up and down

He loves finding excuses to be near you—adjusting your hair, teasing you about how comfy you look, or even just admiring your smile. “You’re seriously too cute, I’m not even joking. I could stare at you forever, hehe~.”

"bro"

yan gyaru who inists on staying up late even if your half asleep by 10 pm. He’s full of bubbly energy, even when you’re eyes are starting to close. “We can’t go to bed yet! We have to at least talk about… everything!”

He starts asking more personal questions as the night goes on, his obsession peeking through. “What’s your favorite part of the day? Did you think about me at all today?” His voice is playful, but you can tell he genuinely cares about your answers by the way he intently listens

When you start to get drowsy and start giving mumbled answers, he gives a soft laugh. “You’re so pretty when you’re sleepy. Here, let’s get comfy,” he says, tugging the blanket closer around you both.

yan gyaru who the next morning,

yan gyaru who teasing you about how you slept, offering to make breakfast, and texting you immediately after he leaves

ᴋ𝟺ᴊɪғᴏʀʟɪғᴇᴇᴇᴇ ׂ

last night was soooo funnn! lets do it again this week yeah? :3

yan gyaru who is ur fashionista bestie who is a little too obsessed with you <3

[lyrefromthesea]

HEYYY IIDK IFHOU TAKE REQUEST BUTTTT HOW WOULD THE HASHIRA REACT TO A HYPER ENERGETIC READER WHO IS ONE SECOND DOING 1 THINK THEN THE NEXT A NEW THING LIKE THEY COULD BE PAINTING AND THE NEXT SKY DIVING

I love your writing style hehe

Male pillars x Reader - the art of being too energetic

author's note: i hope this request is to your liking. truthfully, i had trouble writing it at some points.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

where were you now? he swore you had been standing next to him a few moments ago. he looked around the streets, trying to spot you.

did you see a demon and moved forward without him? no, he would've heard it. he looked around the dark streets, not taking long to figure out where you went.

his feet dragged him towards the festival down the street. the area was filled with lamps and people wearing the prettiest kimonos or yukatas.

yet none of them stole his attention away from what mattered. you. you were in the middle of the crowd of dancing people. you spun around in fluid motions, a smile plastered on your face.

if it hadn't been for your uniform, you would've fitted right in. he moved forward without thinking, his hand soon grasping yours.

"now what were you thinking? we've been walking through the empty streets just a few seconds ago!" he said, his lips tugging up into a smile.

"couldn't resist, the music drew me in!" you laughed, twirling around him. he followed, both of you now dancing in sync. you didn't care for the eyes staring at the two of you. "are you mad?"

"you're too flamboyant to be mad at."

Obanai:

Obanai had been sitting on a tree, lazily watching you train. he didn't have anything better to do and you enjoyed his presence. however, when he looked down, you weren't training next to his tree anymore.

he looked to the side, flinching when you sat right next to him. "[name]!" he called out, looking at you surpised. he gave you a questioning look, waiting for your explanation.

"i found this." you answered, showing him a small acorn - or rather the rest of it. he looked at the cupule, you held it up by it's stem.

"and..?" he asked, still confused. it wasn't surprising to see you change your mood so quickly, but he found himself confused every time. especially now when you looked at Kaburamaru.

"and this!" you said, offering the snake to slither onto your arm. Kaburamu listened and Obanai watched in anticipation. the snake trusted you, just like Obanai did.

the cupule you held in hand was carefully placed on Kaburamaru's head, slowly pulling away to not knock it down. you blinked a few times and then looked at Obanai.

"it's a little hat! what do ya think?" you asked enthusiastically.

Obanai's eyes wandered between you and Kaburamaru, then back at you. "it's great. you should find him a scarf too."

"you're right!"

Rengoku:

"little flame? darling?!" he called out your name, desperately trying to find you. he had been sitting in the living room when he noticed the odd smell of smoke.

he had been worried sick, trying to find the source. his eyes widened upon seeing the clouds of smoke leaving your shared kitchen. however, when he ran inside, he was even more confused.

"darling..?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you. he could barely see it through all the fug, but he figured you were standing next to the stove.

when he came closer, he saw you more clearly - you were holding a bucket in your hand. his eyes fixed on the stove, hearing it sizzle quietly. it was wet and still slightly hot. he couldn't make out what had been in the pan, but it was burnt now.

"oh, Kyojuro!" you gasped, looking at the man. you hadn't heard him before. your eyes followed his gaze, your face growing red when you looked at the stove.

"i wanted to cook something, but then i remembered this book from a few years ago. i'm sure i had it somewhere around-" you babbled, stopping when you looked at him again.

you had expected him to be mad for nearly burning the whole house down, but he didn't look angry in the slightest. he took the bucket out of your hands instead, placing it to the side.

"let's clean this up first, we can search for the book later." he simply said, his motivated stance not leaving. you agreed, cleaning the kitchen together.

you only stopped when he suddenly spoke again, leaving you baffled.

"you know, i once burned my family's house down when i was smaller."

Sanemi:

Sanemi looked at you, your eyes staring back into his. his gaze hardened, daring you to move further.

"don't do it." he grumbled, his hands ready to grab you in an instant. if someone would've walked into the room, they would've surely questioned your sanity.

"i'm going to do it." you answered, giving him a mischevious smirk. his eyes narrowed, his body tensing up.

you had found a new hobby a few days ago, which happened to involve him. now he gave you his undivided attention when you were acting strange or gave him a knowing look.

in the blink of an eye you turned around and jumped backwards, Sanemi reacting immediately. he made sure to catch you in his arms, stopping you from falling and hitting the ground.

he let out an annoyed sigh, having caught you. again. he didn't even remember how many times it had been this week. "stop doing that!"

"you know you love it" you chirped, giving him a triumphing smile. he rolled his eyes, letting go of you.

but you were right, he did love it.

Giyuu:

"i want wagashi." you said, tugging at Giyuu's sleeve. normally, your request would've been completely fine, but now he was looking at you in disbelief.

"what?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. you came to a halt next to him, repeating what you've just said. "i want to eat wagashi."

he was at a loss of words. you had asked for daifuku nearly ten minutes ago. he had been walking to your favourite shop with you since then, knowing it would make you the happiest.

"we would have to walk in the opposite direction." he remarked, giving you a questioning stare. you blinked at him a few times, as if you were waiting for his answer.

he would've said no to anyone else, but he was used to your impulsive behavior. he couldn't explain why you made decision the way you did, but he thought of it as refreshing. he sighed, turning around on his feet.

"let's buy you some wagashi."

Gyomei:

"can i move now?" he asked. he had been sitting under the waterfall for about thirty minutes now. you had asked him to paint a picture of the moment, which he found himself agreeing to.

however, he hadn't heard anything from you since over fifteen minutes, making him question what was going on. the cold water of the waterfall hitting his back overshadowed most of the other sounds around him, but he managed to hear you stand up.

"Gyomei, i'm so sorry!" you apologized profusely, running towards the waterfall. he heard the splashs over your body pushing the water around you away, eventually feeling your hand pull on his.

"i completely forget about the painting. there was a cat and-" you stopped when you felt his head turn towards yours. you looked at him, wondering what could've made him forget about your mistake.

"a cat?" he asked, feeling you change the direction you were pulling him. it wasn't your strength to keep attention on one thing, but he couldn't care less.

besides, he shared your fascination over cats.

[betweenstorms]

Late night talks with Simon Riley

The balcony of your flat was surrounded by stillness, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the gentle autumn breeze, the distant hum of vehicles and the occasional hiss of your cigarette as you took a drag.

The city stretched out below you, its noise muffled by distance, streetlights glowing like indifferent stars. The cool air brushed against your skin like the lingering touch of a departing lover. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once and then fell quiet.

Simon Riley stood beside you, a looming silhouette etched against the night, the soft glow of a distant streetlamp tracing the edges of his massive frame. He leaned against the railing, arms crossed over his broad chest, his mask still in place even though you were alone.

He didn’t seem out of place, even in your silent little apartment, though his size and demeanour should have made him feel alien against the backdrop of your soft furnishings, pastel colours and faintly floral candle scent. Somehow, he belonged here in a way you didn’t entirely understand, just as he belonged anywhere he decided to stand.

And in that moment, you wondered if perhaps the truth was simpler—perhaps it wasn’t the space itself that had been shaped to make room for him, but you. You, drawn to his gravity, reshaping yourself to fit into his orbit without even knowing it. He belonged here, beside you, in the way that storms belong to the sea, in the way that shadows belong to the light. 

You tilted your head back, blowing a stream of smoke into the evening air, the grey tendrils dissolving into the sky that was kissed by ink. “Y’know,” you began, your voice quiet but steady, “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s muse.”

Simon didn’t move, yet you felt it—his attention turning toward you, like the faint pull of the moon on restless tides. He tilted his head slightly, a silent invitation, or perhaps a challenge.

You smiled at him coyly as you tapped the ash from your cigarette, scattering it into the night like fragile, burnt-out stars, lost to the endless abyss below. “I mean, like in art, poetry, music. I want to be the reason someone picks up a brush or a guitar, someone to feel something so deeply for me that they have to create.”

Simon exhaled sharply through his nose.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. It wasn’t vanity that spoke, but a quiet yearning to matter, to etch your existence into the soul of another as deeply as the stars carve their light into the sky.

“I want a love that hurts. The kind that rips you open. I want to feel it so deeply that it bleeds into everything I do. I want the kind of love that’d make me die for someone, kill for someone, and know they’d do the same for me.”

Simon grunted, the low, rough sound cutting through the fragile stillness like a stone dropped into water. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, more like the weight of disbelief, a scepticism carved from years of lived truths. His gaze shifted, leaving yours to trace the city below, where the streetlights bled golden, silver and ruby trails across the darkness. “You describe pain like it’s somethin’ noble,” he said after a beat, his voice low and clipped. “It’s not.”

You frowned, your brows pulling together as you turned to face him fully. “It’s not about the pain, Simon,” you argued, though your tone was softer than you’d intended. “It’s about what the pain means. It’s about knowing you feel something so deeply it’s worth hurting for.”

“Pain doesn’t mean love,” his voice was grounded in a pragmatism that felt carved from stone. “Pain just means pain. Doesn’t make it grand. Doesn’t make it art.”

You scowled, though there was no real heat behind it. “You’re no fun, y’know that?”

That earned a quiet snort from Simon, the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard from him. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing briefly as he inhaled.

“Better borin’ than daft,” he said, his tone almost teasing but still blunt.

“You just don’t get it.”

“Don’t want to,” he countered, his voice calm, unbothered, as if the subject held no weight at all for him. 

You didn’t answer straight away, letting the silence breathe between you. The smoke burned its way down your throat, sharp and biting, but there was a strange comfort in the pain, like holding a burning match too close to your skin just to prove you could, watching the flames die before they could hurt you. “You’ve never felt it, then,” you said at last, your voice quiet, softened by the weight of something unsaid. “That kind of love.”

There was no edge to your tone, no venom, just understanding, a threadbare truth spoken not to accuse but to surrender. It was a question in form but not in spirit, the answer was already etched into the spaces Simon left unfilled.

He didn’t answer, but his silence was a language all its own, louder and clearer than any words he might have spoken. You turned your head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, searching his face for something, anything that might betray the man behind the mask. The faint light from the street below brushed his face, catching the edge of his jawline and the downward curve of his lips, but the rest of him was consumed by the dark.

“I think you’re afraid of it,” you said, your voice barely audible, a whisper carried on the faint wind. “Afraid of what it might mean. What it might take from you.”

Simon stiffened, the motion a whisper of tension that rippled through his massive frame, so fleeting it could have been imagined. But you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the barely perceptible tilt of his head as though your words had struck a chord too deep to ignore.

His gaze flicked back to the city, his jaw tightening.

“Maybe,” he muttered at last, the word low and reluctant, spoken like a confession he didn’t want to make, scraped from some buried place within him.

The silence that followed was vast, an ocean of unsaid things swelling and breaking over the edge of the balcony. And yet, in the spaces between your longing and his restraint, there was something unspoken, a fragile truth suspended like the smoke curling from his cigarette.

Perhaps he didn’t share your desires, your romantic ache for love and creation, but maybe he recognized it. Maybe he knew the weight of it, the way it pressed into your ribs and made the world feel both painfully beautiful and unbearably empty.

But he wouldn’t name it.

Simon Riley wouldn’t meet you in the light of your confession, wouldn’t extend a hand into the soft vulnerability you offered. The stars above blinked just as faintly as him, indifferent to the weight of your conversation, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of laughter drifted on the breeze.

But here, on this small balcony overlooking a world too big to contain you, the silence between you was everything.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[kaaaaaaarf]

Sirius, who owns a popular nightclub in NYC, and Remus, who is dragged there by Lily one Friday night, but would really rather be drinking tea in his tiny industrial art studio apartment in the Bronx with his cat. Wolfstar hit it off, and Sirius takes him home—which happens to be a multi-story apartment in an old building in Tribeca that he paid for not with inheritance, but with the money he makes from his legitimate business. Remus has never been less comfortable in someone's apartment, feels like he's getting Punk'd.

Months go by and they keep seeing each other, but Remus has a panic attack every time he goes over because he is slightly afraid of the doorman at Sirius' building.

Remus, panicked and sweating: What if he doesn't let me in? It's after midnight!

Sirius: What, do you think he's gonna make you answer his riddles three before you'll be allowed in or something?

Remus: I dunno, maybe!!! Should I bring him a coffee to say sorry?

Sirius: Sorry for what?!

Remus: I don't know, existing???

He braves the doorman, though, because he's nervous about letting Sirius see his apartment, which in addition to being industrial and the size of a box, only has heat 45% of the time and has a shower rigged over the toilet. He's like no way can I take this fucking model-level hottie anywhere near this dump because it isn't meant to be lived in...but eventually, six months into the relationship he relents and brings him over. Remus is nervously pacing around his apartment, picking up clothes from his floor and Sirius is completely unbothered, more concerned with petting the cat than with how the apartment looks. It turns out that actually, Sirius lived in a very similar apartment when he was first disowned by his family and was starting up the club with a loan from Fleamont.

Sirius: Remus, sit down. My old apartment was way worse—there was actually a hole in the wall behind the bathroom mirror that lead into another apartment. I had to padlock the fucking thing so I didn't get robbed.

Nevertheless, they still spend most of their time at Sirius' place, so Remus starts baking so that he can give the doorman a peace offering for disturbing him so frequently, which turns out to be a hobby he can't really afford.

Remus, wringing his hands: Lily, I don't know if i can afford to be with this guy...I really like him, and he always pays for our dates and stuff, but I am really eating it with all the money i'm spending on the doorman. ☹️

Lily: ...I love you, but you're an idiot.

Eventually, Remus gets over his fear of Gary (the doorman), and they actually become friends. His peace offerings turn into weekly screenings of Bake Off episodes behind the security desk in the lobby. Sirius has no idea this is happening, just that Remus is always busy Tuesday nights at 7pm. He comes downstairs to walk Padfoot one day and has to double take at his boyfriend and Gary laughing about a soggy bottom.

When Gary retires a few years later, Remus actually sobs, but continues to meet him at the park on the corner on Saturday mornings with his and Sirius' daughter.

The end????

(This has been a co-production from me and @pain-in-the-riri who are both absolutely doing the work we're being paid for and not plotting the lives of wolfstar)

[babyleostuff]

˚ ༘♡ 𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨

― which members would be interested in watching their partner do their nail art/ ask questions and try to be involved in the process bc they're genuinely interested

joshua

because shua enjoys arts and crafts himself, he’s so so happy whenever he can watch you do your nails - it’s alway so much fun. actually, the second you say you need to do your nails, it’s joshua that drags you to the table and sits you on the chair and puts all of your tools, nail polishes, uv lamps in front of you. watching you do all of those crazy nail arts, there’s something soothing about it. and it never gets boring for you either, with joshua by your side - he will ask you about all of the details of why’s and how’s.

wonwoo

you could be doing or talking about whatever and wonwoo would still sit there and listen to you like a hypnotised man. bro is a simp and though usually he couldn't care less about nails and doing art on them or whatever, because it's YOU he’ll sit his ass down and watch every step of you doing your nails like it’s the most fascinating thing ever. wonwoo will ask about your nail polishes and why you have to apply this before that etc etc, not because he feels obligated to fill in the silence but because he’s genuinely interested. he loves listening to you talk about a subject that you’re so fond of. 

dk

please let him pick your nail polish colour!!! seokmin gets so giddy when you tell him that you have to do your nails, because that means he’ll get to spend at least three hours watching you and you won’t be able to do anything about it. he’s like a child that has to touch and ask about everything, so it’s kind of like entertaining a child, but you never mind him being so genuinely happy about you and your nail art. it’s cute how dk gets confused by certain steps, or why you have to do something this particular way etc. and he spends at least fifteen minutes after you finish, gushing about the beautiful designs you painted. 

mingyu

is he a six foot two giant or a princess? i guess the latter since he adores watching you do your nails so much and every time you do, gyu wants you to paint his nails too, at least one, but is too shy to ask. he always has to touch everything that’s laying on the table, so while you’re prepping your nails, he’s rummaging through all of your tools and asks what each of them is for. mingyu also gets so excited when you ask him if he could pass you *insert a nail tool* and he has to guess which one you’re talking about. 

minghao

i think it’s mainly because hao has done his nails before himself, he’d be eager to hear why you chose a certain design or why you put those particular charms on, you know - he likes knowing the reason behind something. and there’s something quite intimate about nails and nail art, he thinks, so getting to know the story behind your current set would be something very xu minghao.

seungkwan

one thing about seungkwan is that he loves being part of whatever you’re currently doing and making it the best time you’ve ever had. he lives for quality time with you, so it’s not a shocker that he enjoys watching you do your nails very much + a lot of the time he steals your nail polish and does his own nails at the same time you’re doing yours. you always have a blast laughing at his bad designs, and how he always manages to spill the nail polish over his cuticles and edges. boo gets so happy when you ask him about his thoughts on nail polish colours or which charms you should pick out and where to place them. no one could make doing nails as entertaining as boo seungkwan. 

vernon

vernon finds it so cool how you’re able to do all of these designs on your freaking nails of all places. he loves sitting by your side, not saying much in his vernon fashion, and following your every move from the beginning, when you prep your nail, to the moment when you’re attaching different charms or doing cool designs. it’s kind of hypnotising for vernon and he’s always able to relax and wind down when watching you do your nails. 

dino

are you kidding me? baby wants to be a part of everything you do. he is a puppy that follows your every step, so of course he loves watching you do your nails. it’s unbelievable to him how you’re able to paint on your nails AND make pretty designs on them and not just splotches of nail polish. he always talks your ear off about what tool does what, and why you do that before doing the other thing, etc etc, but gosh… it’s so endearing when he sits there with his sparkly eyes, looking at you like you’re the coolest person on earth   

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[faeryarchives]

hey chat! (first years x gn! streamer reader!)

summary: random but cutesy moments with your bf and brother ortho while being on air warning: modern au! fluff just fluff and rusty writing 🙂‍↕️ characters: twst nrc first years notes: platonic/familial section for ortho (you being the shroud's sibling) !! recently read some streamer au and it made me yearn and now im dragging you guys with me 😁 + longest one i've written ...

check out the art made by our lovley marj 🤍

divider credit goes to @cafekitsune !! her dividers are rlly cute check it out 🤍

✧.* ace trappola

being a streamer with a clingy boyfriend is really interesting

you are a pretty well known streamer mainly focusing on rpg games and movie reviews

and you also have a pretty good fanbase - they are pretty chill, encouraging and welcoming to newcomers especially in chat (maybe the chat do reflect the streamer)

they are pretty used to the times where you would start your stream with ace in the camera view sitting next to you

the loading screen finally disappeared revealing you on screen waving at the camera. "heya (fandom name) and non-(fandom name), welcome to the stream!" a laugh escaped your lips as the chat start to flood greetings, some were spamming hearts, some are getting creative with their comments and only one stood out to you. (name)clips: our favorite most beautiful wonderful (name) i hope you had a good day! please beware of red haired rats nowadays! and oh hi ace, i guess "oh you are worried for me? sure thing, i will look out for red haired rats, right babe?" "not you again (name)clips, i know you love my partner but they would pick me over you at any day!"

while they always joke around with you and ace, you `can see how they adore your boyfriend as much as they adore you

creates compilation of you and ace during your streams + ace is a regular watcher of your fandom clip channel

@ (name)clips uploaded a new video: when (name) is going crazy but their boyfriend is crazier @ thebestace: @ (username) SEE I TOLD YOU THAT U MISSED THAT ONE SPOT @ (username): i am kicking you out of our minecraft house 😡 NAWT MY FAULT YOU SAID LETS NOT CHECK THAT ANYMORE?

and he sees it all and leave comments (very supportive bf real)

especially when the two of you do streams together specifically horror based games and movie review

"(NAME) WHERE ARE YOU?!" while trying to escape the monster in front of you, ace's character suddenly blurred in and bumped into you. his screams echoing through your headphones. "ace i am literally in front of your character- why are you closing your eyes?!" "I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO LOOK!" "just move to the sid-" before you two could move out of the way, the monster grabbed ace's character and killed him along with his screams leaving you to run away from the scene. "i will live for the both of us!" ilikepringles: LMAO NOT THE CUT OFF SCREAM?! deuce spade 🔧: wow what a normal horror game day with these two cowabunga: never heard someone hit that note so high gloomurai 🔧: what a diva trying to salvage your gameplay (you both didn't save before the encounter), you didn't notice how the door to your room opened only for ace to lean to lean on your side while burying his head into your shoulder. and as if your body was on automatic mode, you leaned your head next to him and hummed. "i hate you." "i love you too, do you want me to finish this game?" "mmmm, we could play it another time with more people..." a dangerous glint appeared in your eyes with both of you letting out evil giggles. epel felmier 🔧: just got chills running down my spine should i be scared (name) (last name) 🔧: oh yes you should be

✧.* deuce spade

now before you even start your streaming life, deuce was the one who helped you with setting up and with the computer troubleshooting

that is why when you experience trouble during your stream, chat would typically expect him to come in your room with snacks for both of you while he fix your computer

while deuce is more on hands on, this man doesn't really understand most of the slangs your chat use that's why sometimes you include him in reading your fandom tweets

"this is a surprise video but we are going to read some of your tweets under my hashtags! and by i meant we, my boyfriend is going to join our stream today!" not even a minute in of scanning through the compilation of your fandom tweets about you, deuce looks so confused. "from @ ieattoes, not gonna lie, i would let mx. (name) (last name) to break my back like a glow stick. i'll stay on my knees for them." the man looked spaced out for a moment before looking directly at the camera with the most worried look you had ever seen. "... first of all, i don't know if i should be concerned with your username or the tweet. second, what the fuc-" "okay, next one!"

deuce is also one of your moderators! and let me tell you how he is so strict with people breaking the rules ESPECIALLY if there were mean comments about you on your chat

while he do want to uphold his running for honors persona, people disrespecting you, your viewers and friends is a different thing

randomuserjvsd: why did they just passed through that chest? its one of the most important things to do in the game? rebeccabot: aren't you that one streamer accused of hacking? fgsvklvbdhsv: LMAO SHIT GAMEPLAY WATCH (name) DRAMA CHANNEL INSTEAD it was a norm for you to receive such comments but who cares? your community knows you well and you know you did nothing wrong but to play the game. "hi to my favorite haters, thank you for viewing my stream! i don't know about you but tuning in live helps me makes money so..." through out the game, you notice how one by one those channel start disappearing in the chat, peaking your interests. "oh my, that is interesting." one and only ace 🔧: LMAO ONE TAP DEUCE STRIKES AGAIN deuce spade🔧: don't worry love, just continue your stream 😊

deuce's mom, dylla, knows about your hobby and fully supports you with it! even sending you some gifts to try on stream and promote them

pretty sure deuce and his mom are one of your biggest supporters in the fan base really - like mother like son (they are leading the fan war whenever someone drags you into a mess)

he knows he is not much of a gamer but man will go lengths for you in the game

(name) (lastname) @(username) guys 🥹 my bf went through multiple domain runs to build his characters and help me with the boss and explore the new areas in fontaine + liyue 🥹 (he suck at playing games) even in star rail so he could understand what i yap about 🥹 879 replies 11.5k retweets 1.2k quotes 90k likes @ thebestace - if my man isn't like this then i eon't want hiim @ (username) - GAY SPOTTED IN REPLIES?!?!?! @ cddiamond - HAPPY PRIDE 🌈🏳️‍🌈 @ jamilviper - congratulations @ spadecued - hey i don't suck that much at games :( @ (username) - remember how you died to a ruin hunter @ spadecued - that was when i start playing the game ??

✧.* jack howl

"... since we ended the game late and some of you don't want to leave yet, why don't we have a quick chat?" while you are having a small talk with your viewers after finishing your nth game run, your chat start to flood the stream at a fast pace ji9star: are my eyes playing me or something just passed through (name's) door? lightray: and it's 3am too... kreideprinz: how can you guys see a shadow when their hallway is so dark? "shadow?" curious, the viewers could only watch as you stood up and peeked out of your room. for a moment, you looked shocked and honestly the chat couldn't do anything anyways but what surprised them when that same shadow patted your head and urged you back inside. https.(name): A HAND?!?!?! (name)luvr: that is actually me scaratoes: stop the delusions ruggie bucchi 🔧: woah a mystery someone 🤭 "don't worry guys, it not a bad ghost. its a friendly neighborhood one! ace can prove it, right?"

being very open and active in your social media account, your viewers didn't expect you to be in a relationship!

sure as the kind of person who is hands on in academics and games, they didn't think you would still have time for a special someone!

its not like they are mad - they are happy !! but more like curious on who is the mystery guy!

"who is the mystery guy?" you stopped in your tracks to look at someone off camera and laughed, not wanting to spill the beans so early. the view count did increased once you reach out of the camera view only to show to the camera that you are holding someone's hand. cater diamond 🔧: oh you crazy 😭 "there is no fun if our mystery person got revealed so early, so why don't we start a game?"

in no time #friendlyneighborhoodghost start trending on twitter (not calling that app as X) - speculations about the mystery person

(name) (lastname) @(username) you guys are funny 😂 how are you so wrong about it? good luck guessing because he is also having fun with all your tweets 🤭 who knows he might be your mutual 1k replies 23.5k retweets 3.5k quotes 400k likes @ (name)clips - HOLY SHHIT WE GOT A CLUE ITS A GUY SPREAD THE WORD! @ (name)luvr - i am that mutual @ https.(name) - sweetie we support you but not with this one @ azulstan - no wait what if oomf is cooking something @ leonakingscholar - how are you two such trolls @ (name)bf 🔒 - whatever they say goes 🫡 @ jackloml 🔒 - ily 😘

its not helping them at all when you laugh at each speculations, because some of them were actually crazy

as if to add insult to injury, the mystery guy would come in your stream fully clothed and would randomly hug you from behind, - his face would always be out of camera's view and you made sure of that

it went on for months and finally, something happened

"... i don't think that was the best ending of the game, we could've save some playable character-" before finishing your insight on the game's ending, jack entered your room, his earphones on and probably just got home from training, not noticing how you were still on stream. "hey love, i am going to cook for our dinner, do you want anything?" at first there was silence, not noticing how you just froze in place and looking at him in shock. jack felt there was something wrong and finally removed his earphone, realizing that you were unmuted and your viewers probably heard it on live. "...oh." livelaughlove(name): THEY BAGGED THE ATHLETE?! jackstan: this is the best day of my life my two fave are together 😭 one and only ace🔧: LMFAO U STUPID ruggie bucchi 🔧: U HAD ONE JOB 😭 now i have to pay leona $20 thee leona kingscholar 🔧: hah told you i'm right "guess the secret is out now, finally!" you rolled your chair away from your chair to come your boyfriend and hug him from behind - proudly showing him on screen. "so yeah, this is our friendly neighborhood ghost! you guys may know him as the athlete but he is pretty active in the fandom too, right?" "i'm not subtle about being yours too, its not my fault no one believes me." scanning through his phone, jack showed a particular twitter account that sent the chat through more frenzy. white beast @(name)luvr told you guys i'm the real deal. love you @ (username) 259 replies 2k retweets 1.5k quotes 50k likes @ (username) - love u too 🤍 @ https.(name) - IT WAS REAL THE ENTIRE TIME? @ (username) - told you guys he was among you 😝

✧.* epel felmier

it was funny how you two first met because it was just on pure accident that you got to team up in a random 5 man team

and the two of you carried your team leading to more duo team up with each other

turns out you have a lot in common too, what a strange coincidence!

and now you live together 🥂

"how did you and epel got together? oh that's such a good question!" you twirled your gaming chair around - huge grin apparent with a mischievous glint in your eyes hayikeva: not the scary vibes all of the sudden 😭 jiminijipity: they were so waiting for this moment to come kandii783: LMAO ON THE OTHER STREAM EPEL JUST GOT SHIVERS "so funny thing! you guys already know how we met through valo and we got to know each other more through discord and collaborations with other streamers. while we only play fps and rpg games on stream, we play some game specifically for two players only!" epel felmier 🔧: ??? epel felmier 🔧: what r u talking abt epel felmier 🔧: R U BACKSTABBING ME?! bokuaka4ever: WHO CALLED HIS ASS HERE? (name)#1fan: what kind of games were you two playing? "oh hi epel, no i am not backstabbing you, it's the opposite - i am sharing how we got to know love! why don't you guys guess what kind of games we play?" teresita: roblox? randomuserh: GEOGUESSER epel felmier 🔧: get that away from me "don't mind him, we almost ruined our relationship fighting about the capital of australia." rook hunt 🔧: I KNOW THE ANSWER!! epel felmier 🔧: what are YOU doing here?! leona kingscholar 🔧: its not like it was a secret, it was obvious afterall mwishxr: WHOA THEE LEONA SPEAKS "hush you two don't spoil the surprise!" as the two streamers appeared on chat, more and more people start to appear too, mostly the familiar ones. ace trappola 🔧: real i have to agree w leona on this one ruggie bucchi 🔧: (2) deuce spade 🔧: (3) jack howl 🔧: wow this is surprising sukisuki: IJBOL DID THE WHOLE GANG TUNED IN TO EXPOSE EPEL? yuriified: this is the real power of friendship epel felmier 🔧: this is not friendship this is BULLYING "alright, i guess if he won't tell then i will - we often play sky: children of light. we play other games like minecraft or stardew valley but epel in this game is so amazing because he is guiding me throughout the game and everything." epel felmier 🔧: ihy 😡 epel felmier 🔧: i am taking tubby with me 😡 sleep outside tonight "wait. no, okay i'm ending the stream" and you really did end the stream on the spot

you apologized with tears that night (no not really)

both of your fandoms know about tubby - your adopted dog/child and he will witness his parents (mostly epel) screaming at random people in game to the point that he will bark along side your screams

but sometimes u have your off days too so there were times where you might have bad game plays -> getting trashtalked by your random teammates

as soon as you peeked at the corner, your character suddenly fell down after getting headshot by the enemy team. frustrated, you let out a groan before burring your head into the pillow next to you. "(nickname) do you wan to take a break?" "no i can still go for one game, i'm really sorry epel. after i told you we would rank up..." "it's oka-... what the fuck?" surprised at the sudden change in attitude and the sound of your boyfriend's furious typing ringing in your ears, you automatically looked at the team chat realizing why he suddenly became mad. randomnamehere: wtf if you are going to troll can you not do it here? randomnamehere: so much so for being a (username) fake randomnamehere2: that is so embarrassing get your ass off rank noob (username): have u seen your stats, been covering for your skill issue the whole game "if i wasn't a streamer, i would've talked back about his ass gaming very much." applelppa: why don't you get your ass off that pc and touch grass and have a touch with nature bc YOU TWO ARE THE ONES WITH THE MOST DEATHS?! **applelppa has been muted for 24 hours** "love, you got muted again..." "COWARDS I TELL YOU! YOUR MOM WILL NEVER BE PROUD OF YOU!" "epel-" "WHY DON'T YOU *BEEP* Y-" "BRO, WAIT CALM DOWN! I AM ON LIVE!"

✧.* ortho shroud

this little guy is a regular at your stream no doubt it!

it would be more surprising not to see ortho in one of your streams rather than being in it

ortho would entertain your viewers while you go try to tell idia to tone his screaming down (real)

"okay so do you think i should change furina's artifact or not?" leaning over your shoulder, your brother took a closer look humming, analyzing everything then shaking his head. "no, your build is actually perfect, i think you should focus more on-" "AHHHH I HATE THIS GAME!" a loud scream followed by a loud thud from the room above you cause a thousand of laughing emoji to roll in the chat. jiminijipity: lolololololo mamasita: the eldest sibling is back at it again lolololol ace trappola 🔧: did idia just died or something jamil viper 🔧: as someone who plays league, he is pretty relatable... "... not this again, ortho keep them entertained for me will you?" with annod, you left the room running and ortho casually twirling around his chair, waving excitedly at the camera. "hello everyone! how are you all doing?" orthofanreal: HI ORTHO petuniaaaa: hello ortho how are YOU doing? skibidirdir: its a miracle your neighbors haven't filed a complaint with how noisy your sibling gets in playing games "we are sure noisy, but the truth is we don't actually have any neighbors, it gets pretty lonely here at times." in the viewer's eyes, they can see ortho looking out of your window longingly before shrugging what ever was clouding his mind and smiled. "you guys might already know that our parents are really busy leaving us three to stick together most of the time. and i am glad that (name) and big brother idia would include me in their livestream so i won't feel lonely." https.shroudsiblings: oh no... who is chopping the onions :( jack howl 🔧: you know you can come over here evey once in a while right? yuu 🔧: ORTHOOOO 🙁 there were several crying emoji flooding in as well as the sound of someone crying behind him. the youngest shroud turned around to see his older siblings at the door way, holding in their tears - obviously hearing what he just said. "since when did you guys got here?" "*sniff* okay fuck league and genshin we are going to play mario kart."

it may come as a surprise but ortho is actually the best player out of the three of you

ortho being first followed by idia and you at dead last 😅

but hey who cares if you are last?! you could even play the most boring game ever but ortho will always make it like its made for fun

sometimes you would try to entice ortho with his favorite food just to turn on idia on voting what to play on game and movie night

(name) (lastname) @(username) i love my siblings very much (don't mind the ugly one at the right) 459 replies 2.5k retweets 1.1k quotes 40k likes @ orthoshroud: but isn't that big brother idia on the right? @ (username): exactly 🥰 dont mind him at all our youngest 🤍 @ randomuser: loolololol agreed @ (username): @ randomuser shut the fuck up only i can insult idia @ gloomrai: I SEE HOW IT IS I AM TELLING MOM @ mrsshroud: yeah about that idy... @ (username): IJBOL

✧.* sebek zigvolt

and if i speak - this man will get everything just to support you

and i mean everything: your channel subscription, merch, plushie, photo cards that he made and he will still support you by sending donations + gifting subs to your fandom

sebek is very proud of you real! he is very vocal about it and he really feels giddy when you invite him to your streams

(name) (lastname) @(username) okay new waiting room for you all <3 and donations are still off so it's a sign for y'all to save money I AM LOOKING AT YOU MISTER @ wanisama 😾 (insert twitch link) 233 replies 1.5k retweets 900 quotes 20k likes @ gloomrai: to those non (fandom name) its like putting a kpop stan on merch ban for their fave artist @ lilredbat: and i was about to sen you some too @ (username): SO YOU ARE THE ONE INFLUENCING HIM 🫵 @ wanisama: :( @ (username): oh don't you go all sad on me now mister YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH 😾

but it won't be too long until he would do it again - just like a routine 😭 that is just how he shows his love okay

other than that, sebek is a pretty cuddly person and pretty much let you do what you want

while you were streaming, you suddenly faced the man with your arms wide out. "sebek babe, come here." before his mind could even process anything, his body moved on his own and quickly wrapped his arms around you. even giving you a a kiss on the head. "what's wrong?" "hehe, nothing. can you sit next to me? we just finished playing." "sure, do you want me to get some snacks?" you cuddled each other, him wrapping you into his hoodie, until you finally finished the stream.

its funny how your viewers would comment on how you are endorsing more of sebek's hoodie rather than your own merch 😭

with your relationship being out in the open, it's no surprise that both of you would shoot some videos and post stories on instagram like cooking and this is where they realize sebek is more like a boyfailure disaster than the one they see on live

"sebek?" "...yes?" "... can you tell me what are you doing right now?" in the video, sebek was trying to hide something behind him, ribbons and papers scattered around his feet. sebek avoided your gaze, hand flailing in the air. "i-i thought you were streaming?" the more you step forwards the more he tried o hide that certain thing behind him "yeah but it got delayed because the game had a sudden maintenace... oh my god is that the one i wanted to buy the other day-" "OH MY MY PHONE JUST STARTED RINGING, I THINK WAKA-SAMA IS CALLING FOR ME. FAREWELL MY LOVE."

yeaaa and don't get him with the q and a because he has a one track mind if there are questions regarding about you

i think he knows you more more than yourself

sometimes though sebek would join his friends' games and content involving everyone asking each other questions and such (like 2 truths one false or a batsu game).

"okay, my turn!" after ace spin the bottle, it landed on sebek who looks like he was about to say something that would change the world. "ah, it's sebek. now this is hard." "give me your worst, trappola." the green haired man challenged, knowing he will emerge as the victor (man vs himself). "alright! if you could kiss anyone in the world without consequences, who would it be?" "easy, my wonderful partner (name) (last name)." "that shit don't count, you do that anyways!" "@ (username) in every social media platform." riddle rosehearts 🔧: never let ace interrogate anybody (name) (last name) 🔧: AWWW BABE <333 I LOVE YOU TOO (name) (last name) 🔧: and ace open up i'm at your door 😃😊

[bunny-jpeg]

hi hi could i possibly get an extra spicy s’more with a milkshake on the side for John Price 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

bakery menu

want to order something, take a look at the menu! always accepting orders! as for this, i am liking what you're thinkin'! the accent kink & the size kink, while that's something else! thank you for ordering and i hope you enjoy!!

s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + milkshakes (size kink) served by capt. john price (call of duty)!!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/40s), size kink, voice/accent kink, mating press, fingering, romantic

price was a lucky man, how could he not be? he had the most perfect wife in the world! you lived most of your life outside of the uk, only moving in your adulthood for work. while you bounced between jobs, you got quite comfortable working in the hustle and bustle of the cash of a bakery near your flat.

that was how you met price.

now years later, you two lived together. it was perfect little arrangement you two had. while the time apart was hard, price always came home to you. and you were happy.

sometimes you two would go out, other times stay in. when you went out, he always had an arm around you. you found him often checking around as you walked, at first you thought it was to take in the sights around you. but in reality he was checking, even if there was no danger lurking. the man had primed himself to check all angles, especially since his love was beside him. can't risk getting you hurt.

you enjoyed going one of the galleries in the city, price was more transfixed on you than the art. he seemed to follow you like a comforting shadow, he was always a few steps behind. covering your back from any danger.

it was quite the domestic little life you had. a sweet, comforting familiarity that you both craved. you were each other's home.

regardless, you forgot how big price was sometimes. he was well over six foot-two inches, he had to look down at you when he spoke to you. it was hard to slip past him in your small kitchen and if he wanted to he could pick you up and carry you around. even if you whined and said you were too heavy he'd laugh and say, "no such thing, love."

price took up a lot of room, he was just so strong. he was burly in a way that made your mouth water. he could easily lift the recliner he often fell asleep in, but there was a layer of fat to it. not to mention the hair, sometimes when you had his nose in his unruly pubic hair, you only got more wet.

those strong arms wrapped around you, his nose in your hair as he rubbed his clothed erection against you. when he was home, he was constantly around you. he just loved the feeling of you against him, the weight in his lap (or on his face). he was a loving man who made sure his girl had everything she needed. you'd never go without.

that was why he had you on your back while he rested on his side. and his fingers dragged in and out of your sweet pussy. it was a normal thursday night and you had come back from work smelling like burnt caramel from a mess up while helping in the back of the bakery. the scent was painfully sweet and it made your boyfriend only linger around you more.

he fingered you with slow drags, his voice was in your ear. he watched you get more excited the longer he spoke to you. he said, "oh such a good girl. tryin' so hard to keep it together. you really know how to get me goin' huh? pretty little thing, nice tight cunt all for my takin'. the accent gets to you, doesn't it?" he knew that he was riling you up.

you whined, "i hate that it had such an impact on me." you held onto his wrist as he played with your pussy, "it's no fair!"

"ah, don't be so sour, love. you know you say certain things that get me all worked up. when you call me your big bear or.. other names." he winked as he grazed your clit with his fingers.

you blushed, "oh c'mon, honey!" you squirmed a little and felt the pleasure lap at your gut.

price just thought you were so cute all flustered, it only egged him on to pleasure you more. he said in your ear, like a low rumble, "you're so precious." he slowly took his fingers out and got between your legs. he knelt between them and grabbed you by the hips.

you yelped a little as you were pulled a bit down the bed. you swallowed at the sight of price's cock. he really was big all over. even when he was soft, it still was something to swallow at.

that somehow fit in you quite often. price licked his lips as he got your legs wrapped around your waist. he groaned deeply when he pressed the tip up against your slit "this is it. this is heaven." he pushed in slowly.

you held onto the covers under you and felt him insert his cock snugly into your aching pussy. it was a good kind of feeling to have him so intimately close.

he hissed before he got a better grip on you. soon you were resting on your upper back with your knees up to your ears. he said, "there, up we go." his voice was tinged with lust as he got you into a proper mating press.

your love for price was strong, even though he made you feel smaller at times. he didn't make you feel small. less than. it was quite the opposite, he thought of you as his equal. his other half. the perfect woman he always dreamed about.

his thrusts were short, but they weren't painful. he wasn't trying to hurt you. he held your hips as he continued to move against you. he kept you pinned under him. he drank in the sight of you as his hips met your ass.

"pretty girl." he purred, "nothing could compete with you." his voice was low, but filled with a certain affection that was reserved for you.

"john, please."

"you can't make me stop. i'm very much in love with you and will be until the day i die. so you better accept it, love. i'm not goin' anywhere." he leaned over your further to kiss the tip of your nose as the tip of his cock buried against the back of your pussy.

you knew you could never convince price to stop loving. that was like asking him to stop breathing. it came naturally to him, it was an all encompassing force.

he continued to move, glad he had you pinned. the pleasure built up in his gut as he moved up against you. he wanted to kiss you once more, but he didn't want to crush you under his bulky weight.

he gave you sweet praises the made you core throb. his thrusts picked up a bit of speed, and you felt yourself get a bit more squished under the weight of your lover.

your whimpered and whined, you felt the pleasure in your bones as he moved against you. to feel your bulky, hairy lover on top of you was a feeling that made your body sing.

"i love ya." he purred.

"i love you too, so much john." you whined.

he promised to himself that he'd always protect you and love you. you were his heartbeat. and he'd worship you as long as he could. his pace started to stagger and you felt your own pleasure come to a head.

"mm, john." you whined.

"i got ya, love. always will." he promised.

you soon climaxed and squirmed a little as you did. it only made price sink further into you. you could feel his cock in your stomach as you clawed at the covers under your back.

price still held your hips up as he battered your pussy. you felt so good, a heat that made lust course through his body. "beautiful girl." he gave a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you. spilling inside with ease as he felt the dull throb in the back of his head. he continued to thrust a few more times before he stopped and put your hips down onto the bed.

he looked down at you, those sparkling blue eyes made something curl in your stomach. you reached for him and pulled him in for a searing kiss. his heavy body on top of you felt good, even his chest hair against your chest made your heart flutter.

soon you were lying together in bed with his strong arm slung over your hip as he admired your naked beauty. it was the kind of beauty that people made paintings of.

he purred in your ear, "you're so perfect for me. my perfect girl."

"only you could make me feel perfect." you responded.

he pulled you in as tight as he could and kissed the top of your head. his perfect woman, the light of his life <3

[solxamber]

The Rhythm of Us || Jamil Viper

Through parties, desserts and disasters, you and Jamil find a rhythm that's uniquely your own.

1k Masterlist ; Prologue

w.c. 4.5k

Jamil’s voice is calm when he answers your call, though there’s a slight edge of surprise that he can’t quite hide.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jamil,” you begin, already smiling as you sit cross-legged on your bed. “I was thinking about your offer earlier, and I’d love to get lunch with you tomorrow.”

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a soft, almost imperceptible intake of breath. “Oh. That’s great,” he says quickly, the surprise in his voice replaced by his usual measured tone. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say.

After hanging up, you can’t help but think he sounded a little pleased, even if he tried not to show it.

The next day, you find him waiting at a quiet spot near the botanical garden. The area is shaded, with a small table set neatly for two, and Jamil stands beside it with his usual cool demeanor. His uniform is impeccable as always, but there’s a certain ease in his posture that puts you at ease too.

“Hey, Jamil!” you call out, waving as you approach.

He nods, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re right on time.”

As you sit, you notice the spread he’s prepared: a beautiful array of dishes that wouldn’t look out of place in a high-end restaurant.

“This looks amazing!” you exclaim, eyes wide. “You made all of this?”

He waves a hand dismissively, though there’s a faint pink tinge on his cheeks. “It’s nothing special.”

“Nothing special? Jamil, this is art,” you say, reaching for a plate and immediately helping yourself. “You’ve seriously outdone yourself.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, shaking his head as you pile on the compliments. “Cut it out already. Just eat.”

But despite his words, there’s a small, satisfied smile on his face as he watches you dig in.

Lunch is lively. Between bites, you launch into a story about the latest chaos Ace, Deuce, and Grim dragged you into.

“So there we were,” you say, gesturing dramatically with your fork, “standing in Professor Crewel’s office, and Ace has the brilliant idea to blame the singed curtains on Grim’s ‘natural combustion reflex.’”

Jamil raises an eyebrow, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next.”

“Oh, it gets better,” you say with a grin. “Grim starts running with it, claiming he’s going through some ‘highly dangerous fire-beast adolescence.’ Crewel didn’t buy it for a second, but Ace and Deuce looked so confident, you could almost believe them.”

Jamil shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by their nerve or disappointed by their lack of foresight.”

“Probably both,” you say, laughing. “But hey, we survived, and no one got detention—this time.”

As the conversation flows, you can’t help but notice how at ease Jamil seems. His usual reserved demeanor softens as he talks with you, and he even offers a few rare chuckles at your antics.

By the time dessert rolls around, only one piece of a delicate pastry remains on the plate. Jamil nudges it toward you.

“Here. You can have it.”

Instead, you pick it up and hold it out to him with a sly grin. “You made it. You deserve the last bite.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard. “That’s not necessary,” he begins, but you cut him off by leaning closer, still holding the pastry.

“Come on, Jamil. Just take it.”

He hesitates, his composure visibly wavering under your teasing smile, but finally leans forward and takes a small bite. For a second, he’s silent, likely trying to process the fact that you just fed him.

“That good, huh?” you say, laughing at the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite in his words.

After lunch, Jamil insists on walking you to your next class. As you approach the classroom door, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I had a great time today,” you say, looking up at him with a warm smile. “We should do this again sometime.”

His gaze softens, and he nods. “Yeah. We should.”

As you disappear into the classroom, he stands there for a moment longer, watching the door with a soft, uncharacteristic smile playing at his lips.

You and Jamil are having a nice, peaceful stroll back from lunch when it happens. One moment, you’re chatting about something mundane, and the next, Jamil freezes like someone just hit him with a petrification spell.

“What—” you start, but his hand shoots up, silencing you.

“Don’t move,” he mutters, his voice low and intense.

Alarmed, you follow his gaze, half-expecting to see a monster, an overblot, or at least Grim setting something on fire. Instead, you spot… a beetle.

Granted, it’s a big beetle. The kind that looks like it’s been hitting the gym and maybe has a side hustle as a bodyguard for ants. It’s perched on a bush, twitching its antennae like it’s sizing you both up.

“It’s just a bug,” you say, cautiously glancing at Jamil.

“Just a bug?” Jamil hisses like you just insulted his cooking. “That thing has too many legs. It’s unnatural.”

Before you can reply, the beetle takes two slow, deliberate steps forward. Jamil, in perfect synchronization, takes two steps back.

“Jamil, seriously—”

“I’m handling this,” he interrupts, pulling out his magic pen.

Oh no. You see the look in his eyes, the slight glow of magic sparking at his fingertips, and you realize he’s about to go full Avatar: The Last Bugbender.

“Jamil, we’re not setting the school on fire over a beetle!”

“It’s me or the bug,” he deadpans.

“No, it’s me,” you mutter, resigning yourself to your fate. Sending up a quick prayer to the universe, you step forward.

“What are you doing?!” Jamil whispers harshly, grabbing at your sleeve like you’re walking into the jaws of a lion.

“Saving the school grounds from you, Pyroclasmus."

You approach the beetle, heart pounding as it shifts slightly, its shiny, armored body glinting in the sunlight.

“Shoo,” you say weakly, flapping your hand at it. The beetle stares at you, unimpressed.

“Shoo?” Jamil echoes behind you. “That’s your grand strategy?”

Before you can come up with something better, the beetle’s wings buzz ominously, and it launches itself directly at your face.

You scream. Jamil screams louder. And somehow, in the chaos, he practically climbs onto you like a human backpack.

“Kill it! Kill it now!” he shrieks, his voice breaking into a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible.

“MAYBE A LITTLE HELP?!” you yell back, snatching up the nearest object—a notebook—and swinging it wildly like a deranged baseball player.

With a loud thwack, the beetle goes flying into the distance, vanishing into the horizon like Team Rocket blasting off again.

There’s silence. You’re panting, clutching the notebook like it’s a holy relic. Jamil is still clinging to your back, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a death grip.

“...Did you get it?” he whispers.

“Yes, Jamil. I got it. The school is safe.”

He slowly detaches himself, his feet hitting the ground as he smooths out his uniform with a dignity that absolutely does not exist anymore.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “thank you for your… assistance.”

You blink at him. “Assistance? You were hanging off me like a terrified cat!”

“I don’t recall that happening.”

“Oh, you don’t recall climbing me like a tree? Want me to ask the security cameras?”

He glares at you, his face carefully blank, but his ears are redder than Riddle after someone breaks a rule.

“Fine. You’re my knight. Happy?” he mutters, turning on his heel and stalking off.

“Anytime, your highness!” you call after him, grinning.

The next day, you find a small, ridiculously fancy cake on your desk. The note attached simply reads:

For my knight. Do not speak of this.

You laugh so hard you nearly choke.

You’re not entirely sure how it came to this. One moment, you were enjoying a rare moment of peace, and the next, Crowley had materialized out of nowhere, looking dramatic as ever.

“Ah, my most resourceful prefect!” he’d declared. “I need your unparalleled skills for a mission of utmost importance!”

You hadn’t even had a chance to ask questions before you were handed your task: retrieve his hat, which was somehow stuck at the very top of a tree on the campus grounds.

So here you are, clinging to a branch like a very confused and irritated squirrel, glaring at the offending hat above you.

“This is fine,” you mutter under your breath, trying to edge closer to the hat without looking down. “Everything is fine. This is just my life now.”

A voice interrupts your inner monologue. “Should I even ask how you got up there?”

You twist around—bad move, the branch wobbles—and spot Jamil standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and wearing an expression that’s equal parts confusion and mild exasperation.

“Crowley,” you call back, as though that single word explains everything.

It does. Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Why am I not surprised?” He pauses, looks at you precariously perched above him, and sighs. “Stay still. I’ll help you down.”

You watch as he starts climbing the tree with an ease that feels unfair. Within seconds, he’s beside you, balancing effortlessly on a nearby branch.

“Give me your hand,” he says, extending his arm.

“I don’t know, Jamil,” you tease, even as you grab his hand. “Does this make you my knight in shining armor?”

He freezes for half a second, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, before recovering. “It makes me someone who doesn’t want to watch you break your neck,” he replies, voice dry but a little flustered.

With his help, you manage to climb down safely, landing on solid ground at last. You glance up at him as he dusts himself off, his expression as composed as ever.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remark, folding your arms. “Tree climbing must be one of your hidden talents.”

Jamil snorts softly. “Someone has to be prepared for situations like this. And by ‘situations like this,’ I mean you.”

You’re about to retort when something hits you. You stare at him, then at the tree, and back at him.

“Wait a second,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes. “You could’ve just used magic to get me down.”

Jamil freezes mid-step, a guilty flicker in his eyes before his calm mask slips back into place. “...And?”

“And you climbed the tree manually?” you say, incredulous. “Why?”

He shrugs, his tone carefully nonchalant. “It seemed faster at the time.”

You gape at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God. You wanted to show off, didn’t you?”

“I did not,” he protests, though the faint flush creeping up his neck suggests otherwise.

You lean closer, grinning. “Sure, Sir Jamil, whatever you say. Next time, I expect you to storm the tree with a sword and shield.”

“Please stop talking,” he mutters, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

As the two of you head toward Crowley’s office, a new question pops into your head. “Actually, now that I think about it—why didn’t Crowley just use magic to get his own hat back?”

Jamil goes quiet, clearly considering this. After a long moment, he shakes his head. “Who knows what goes on in his mind?”

“Maybe there’s nothing in there at all,” you muse, and Jamil snorts softly, trying to cover it with a cough.

When you finally deliver the hat to Crowley, he praises you with an exaggerated flourish, and you’re pretty sure Jamil rolls his eyes behind you.

As you walk away, you glance at him and smirk. “So, does this mean we’re even? You rescued me from a tree, I rescued you from...uh, your dignity?”

“Keep talking, and I might leave you in the next one,” he says, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes you grin.

The aftermath of Kalim’s latest impromptu party is, as usual, chaos incarnate. Streamers hang from every surface like overzealous jungle vines, discarded cups litter the floor, and a suspiciously sticky patch near the dessert table seems to defy all attempts at cleaning.

In the center of it all is Jamil, shoulders squared, looking ready to singlehandedly wrestle the mess into submission.

“You don’t have to help,” he says, not for the first time, as you sweep a pile of crumpled napkins into a trash bag.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, giving him a pointed look. “I like cleaning.”

The blatant lie rolls off your tongue so smoothly that you almost convince yourself. Almost.

Jamil pauses, giving you a look that clearly says, I don’t believe you for a second, but he doesn’t argue further. Maybe he’s too tired to fight you on it. Maybe he’s just glad for the company. Either way, you both fall into a rhythm, clearing tables, collecting discarded decorations, and righting toppled furniture.

It’s the final stretch, and the kitchen is the last battleground. You’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in soapy water. Scrubbing dishes isn’t fun at the best of times, but these plates seem particularly vengeful, coated in some unholy combination of caramel and glitter.

You’re attacking a plate with the kind of intensity usually reserved for mortal enemies when you notice Jamil glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His hands move automatically, rinsing a glass, but his gaze lingers on you.

“What?” you ask, not bothering to look up as you keep scrubbing.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, but his voice carries a strange, soft warmth.

You glance over and catch him staring. There’s something odd about his expression—soft, unguarded, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t expected.

“What?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“...You hate this,” he says simply.

Your hand pauses mid-scrub. “What are you talking about?”

“You hate cleaning,” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been glaring at that plate like it insulted your entire family.”

You scoff, but there’s no denying it—he’s onto you. “I do not!”

Jamil just raises an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug for someone who just spent hours cleaning up Kalim’s hurricane of a party.

You huff, realizing you’ve been caught, and turn back to your task. “Fine. Maybe I don’t like cleaning. But I wanted to help, okay?”

His hands still briefly in the soapy water, and when you glance at him, his face is unreadable.

“You stayed,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You frown, confused. “Of course I stayed. I wasn’t gonna leave you to deal with this alone.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingers on you a moment longer, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you standing there, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a plate you very clearly despise.

And then it hits him, like a tidal wave. He’s absolutely, hopelessly smitten.

His chest tightens, and for once, Jamil Viper has no plan, no clever rebuttal to distract himself. He’s just standing there, fully aware of how utterly doomed he is.

“What’s with the staring?” you tease, breaking the silence.

Before he can recover, you scrunch your face into the goofiest expression you can muster, sticking out your tongue for good measure.

Jamil blinks, caught off guard. And that’s the moment he knows. There’s no going back.

He’s absolutely, irreversibly fucked.

The basketball court echoes with the rhythmic squeak of sneakers and the thud of a bouncing ball as you step inside, Ace's notebook in hand. He’d left it in your bag—typical Ace—and since you were passing by anyway, you figured you’d return it.

But the moment you enter, your eyes are drawn to Jamil. He’s in the middle of a play, effortlessly weaving through defenders, his movements fluid and sharp like a dancer’s. There’s a precision to everything he does—the way he pivots, the way his hands cradle the ball before shooting. The arc of the shot is perfect, and when the ball swishes through the net, you realize you’ve been holding your breath.

You don’t even notice the whistle blowing for a break until Floyd’s voice cuts through your trance.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Shrimpy!”

He’s already striding over, towering above you and grinning like he’s just caught something interesting in his net. Before you can say a word, he leans down, practically draping himself over you.

“Whatcha doin’ here, huh? Come to watch us play? Or maybe—” he pauses, his grin widening mischievously, “—you’re here to cheer for me?”

“Actually, I’m just here to give Ace his notebook,” you deadpan, though you’re slightly thrown off by how casually he’s leaning into your space.

Floyd hums, completely ignoring your response as he tugs at your sleeve. “Y’know, you should stay. It’d be more fun with you watching.”

Across the court, Jamil’s gaze flickers toward the two of you. His expression is as composed as ever, but the moment Floyd leans in closer—laughing about something you didn’t even catch—there’s a subtle twitch in his jaw.

Jamil tells himself he’s not bothered. It’s just Floyd being Floyd, right? And you’re here for Ace, not… anything else.

But the longer Floyd stays glued to you, the tighter Jamil’s grip becomes on the water bottle he’s holding.

With his usual smoothness, Jamil walks over, casual but purposeful. “Floyd,” he says evenly, “coach is calling for you.”

“Huh?” Floyd tilts his head lazily, but his grin says he knows exactly what’s happening. “Didn’t hear anything.”

“Well, you won’t if you’re not paying attention.” Jamil’s tone remains calm, but there’s a subtle edge to it as he places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you away from Floyd.

“Ohhh,” Floyd drawls, straightening up but not stepping back just yet. His eyes dart between you and Jamil, and his grin becomes downright predatory. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” Jamil asks, though his voice is just a touch too sharp to be casual.

“Nothing~” Floyd sing-songs, finally retreating. But as he walks off, he throws a glance over his shoulder and mutters just loud enough, “Jealous, jealous, Sea Snake~”

Jamil’s composure falters for half a second before he fixes his expression. Jealous? Him? Absolutely not. That’s ridiculous.

“You okay?” you ask, clearly amused as you watch him struggle to maintain his usual cool.

“Of course,” he replies smoothly, brushing nonexistent dust off his uniform. “Floyd’s just being… Floyd.”

You can barely hold back a laugh. As composed as Jamil tries to seem, the faint flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes avoid meeting yours tell a very different story.

By the time Ace saunters over to collect his notebook, you’re grinning like you’ve uncovered the world’s juiciest secret.

“What’s so funny?” Ace asks, glancing between you and Jamil, who’s pretending to inspect his water bottle with far too much interest.

“Oh, nothing,” you say lightly, though your grin doesn’t waver.

Ace squints, then sighs dramatically. “You’re just gonna let him suffer like this, huh?”

“Maybe,” you reply with a laugh, already planning to put him out of his misery soon.

Kalim’s parties have a reputation. They’re always loud, chaotic, and somehow manage to defy the very laws of reality. Tonight is no exception—music booms, people laugh and cheer, and the smell of rich food wafts through the air.

You’re leaning against a table, sipping on some mysterious (and surprisingly good) drink, when Floyd suddenly appears out of nowhere. Typical.

“Shrimpy!” he drawls, flashing that sharp-toothed grin of his. “Wanna dance?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Uh—”

“It’ll be fun!” Floyd insists, leaning in closer. His voice drops into that playful, teasing tone that promises something is about to go horribly, hilariously wrong. “C’mon, don’t be shy!”

Before you can even attempt a polite refusal, another voice cuts in, firm and unmistakably annoyed.

“They’re already dancing with me,” Jamil says, stepping between you and Floyd with a smoothness that almost masks the sharp edge in his voice.

Floyd pauses, blinking at Jamil. And then he laughs.

“Ohhhh, really? I didn’t see you on the dance floor yet, Sea Snake,” he teases, his grin only growing.

Jamil doesn’t flinch. His face is calm, composed, but you can see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his hand clenches slightly at his side.

Floyd shrugs, backing off with a mischievous chuckle. “Guess I’ll just find someone else, then. Have fun, Shrimpy!”

As Floyd disappears into the crowd, Jamil turns to you, clearly ready to explain himself.

“I just didn’t want him to bother you,” he says quickly, eyes darting to the side. “You know how Floyd gets—”

You raise an eyebrow, not letting him finish. “Oh, so you were just saving me? That’s so sweet of you, Jamil. I don't really mind so I guess I’ll go dance with Floyd, then.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, Jamil Viper—master of control, unparalleled tactician—looks completely and utterly panicked.

“You—you don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically uneven as he grabs your hand.

You blink, taken aback by the desperation in his expression. He looks like the idea of you dancing with Floyd is physically painful to him.

You can’t do this to him. Not anymore.

“Come with me,” you say, tugging his hand and leading him toward the balcony.

The cool night air greets you as you step outside, the distant hum of music muffled by the doors. Jamil follows, quiet but tense, his hand still wrapped around yours.

You turn to face him, and he immediately starts talking, his words tumbling out faster than usual. “I just didn’t want Floyd to—”

“Jamil,” you interrupt, squeezing his hand gently. “Stop. It’s okay.”

He blinks, caught off guard.

You take a deep breath, smiling softly. “I like you, Jamil. I’ve liked you for a while now. And you don’t need to be jealous or worried or...whatever it is you’re feeling. Because there’s no one else. No one who even compares.”

His lips part slightly, and for a moment, Jamil Viper is completely speechless.

“You—you like me?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.

You laugh gently, stepping closer. “Yeah. I like you. A lot.”

His gaze drops to the ground, and you can see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. But then he looks back at you, his eyes warm and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

Before he can say anything else, you lean in and kiss him, your lips brushing against his softly. He freezes for a moment, and then his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch hesitant but firm.

When you pull back, he’s looking at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire universe.

“...You’re really something, you know that?” he murmurs, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face.

You grin. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

And for once, Jamil doesn’t have a single witty comeback. Instead, he just kisses you again.

The moment the words “Jamil and I are dating” leave your mouth, the reactions are immediate and chaotic—exactly as you’d expected.

Kalim is the first to respond, his eyes lighting up like you’ve just told him you’re planning a surprise party in his honor. “Really?! That’s amazing! I knew Jamil had it in him! Oh, this is great! We have to celebrate—wait, should I throw another party?”

Jamil, standing beside you, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kalim, please—”

But Kalim’s already planning out loud, “I’ll get the musicians, some fireworks, maybe even—”

“NO!” you and Jamil shout in unison, and Kalim looks momentarily sheepish before settling for bouncing on his heels in excitement.

The rest of your motley crew, however, isn’t as quick to jump on the “Happy Couple” train.

“Wait, Jamil?” Ace blurts out, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “You’re dating Jamil Viper?”

Deuce chimes in, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Isn’t he... I don’t know... a little serious for you?”

Sebek, always ready to yell about something, crosses his arms and scowls. “Jamil Viper, the ever-scheming right-hand man of the Asim heir? Human, are you sure this is wise?!”

Epel, meanwhile, tilts his head thoughtfully. “I mean, he’s kinda scary... but also kinda cool?”

Jack simply stares at you, his arms crossed and his tail flicking. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and cautious.

Grim, predictably, jumps in with his usual brand of over-the-top indignation. “Hold on a second, henchhuman! You’re dating that snake? What about me? Your most important ally!”

Before you can respond, Grim’s eyes narrow as if he’s about to deliver a fiery rant... but then he pauses. “Wait... didn’t he give me that plate of grilled fish last week?”

You nod slowly, unsure where this is going.

Grim strokes his chin, as if in deep thought, before finally shrugging. “Eh, he feeds me, and you seem happy. Works for me!”

Jamil, for once, looks both exasperated and amused. “Glad to have your approval,” he says dryly, earning a triumphant nod from Grim.

Meanwhile, Ace is squinting at Jamil like he’s trying to solve a complicated math problem. “Actually... wait. He’s not bad. He’s smart, he can cook... he did save my butt in Alchemy class that one time...”

Deuce rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah... and he’s pretty reliable. Like, way more reliable than Ace, for sure.”

“Hey!” Ace protests, but Deuce ignores him.

Even Sebek, though still frowning, grudgingly mutters, “He is competent. For a human.”

Epel shrugs, grinning. “And he’s good at keeping up with Floyd. That alone deserves respect.”

Jack nods in agreement. “As long as he treats you right, I don’t see a problem.”

You glance at Jamil, whose ears are faintly pink despite his calm expression. “Wow,” you say, grinning at him. “You’ve won them over. I didn’t think it’d be this easy.”

“Neither did I,” he mutters, shooting a pointed look at Ace and Grim.

Kalim, still practically vibrating with excitement, claps Jamil on the back. “See? I knew they’d all come around! Oh, I’m so happy for you two!”

Jamil sighs, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Kalim.”

Grim jumps onto your shoulder, wagging his tail. “Alright, henchhuman, now that this is settled, how about we celebrate with some snacks? Jamil, you’re cooking, right?”

Jamil gives him a flat look. “Don’t push your luck.”

As everyone laughs, you reach over and squeeze Jamil’s hand, and he glances at you, his expression softening. The chaos might be exhausting, but with you by his side, it’s a little more bearable—and, dare he say it, even enjoyable.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

Gonna pick up the pace with the milestone fics now! I'll be posting Riddle next, so after that:

[rebelspykatie]

Recently divorced Steve is roped into attending an adult summer camp with Robin. She thinks it’ll get him out of his funk, and she’s probably right. At this point, he’s mostly given up on love. He’s put off moving forward long enough and agrees that this can be his fresh start. When Steve has a chance encounter with Nancy in the airport, he thinks it’s destiny, them both going to the same summer camp. 

He has a vision of them together, the details of which he doesn’t reveal to anyone but Robin. It’s a fuzzy vision of curly brown hair, a bright smile, and a warm embrace. He fixates on it when they arrive at camp and Nancy is Robin’s roommate. It feels like the universe is aligning for him again, finally pushing him towards his destiny. Robin keeps setting up situations for them to be together, pushing them together for the team races, stepping aside so Nancy can be his partner on the ropes course. 

It also leads him to Eddie. They’re roommates for the week, and he’s Nancy’s best friend. Apparently they spent many years attending this same summer camp as kids before it reopened years later as a camp for adults. They butt heads at first, but he’s quick witted and funny, and makes Steve laugh when he needs it most. He works his way right into Steve’s heart. There’s this fearlessness that guides his every move, unafraid to look silly or be an outcast. He reminds Steve of Robin in a way that feels like home. 

They spend a lot of sleepless nights together, in separate bunks, talking across the darkness about all their hopes and fears. Eddie drags him to his thinking rock that overlooks the lake and Steve doesn’t think twice about pulling Eddie into the water and tangling their legs together in the moonlight. The paint smeared across Steve’s cheeks during arts and crafts is in the shape of Eddie’s fingers and the smile on his face feels permanent. 

Steve’s never taken a lot of chances in life, always going down the easiest path, never putting up much resistance when things felt less than perfect. Nancy feels like much of the same, and it takes him too long to notice that there’s no spark there. Sure, they fit together in a way that makes sense, but it doesn’t bring him to life like Eddie does. 

He doesn’t light up like Robin does around Nancy. He doesn’t elicit that coy smile or that fierce protectiveness from Nancy. After a while, he starts to think the universe was wrong. That his vision was about meeting Robin’s soulmate and how he wants her happiness just as much as he wants his. 

Nancy doesn’t challenge him to try new things, or face his fears. Eddie does, helping him gain the confidence to sing karaoke while Eddie plays guitar for the whole camp to hear. Robin and Eddie are the ones by his side when Steve’s parents don’t show up for family day. Eddie’s the one he keeps finding himself pulled to, a thousand missed moments where he could’ve reeled Eddie in for a kiss but didn’t. All for a vision that doesn’t even feel real anymore. 

And maybe Steve learns to let go of expectations. Accepts a part of himself that he avoided for so many years because it didn’t seem to matter when he was married and living the American dream. But now? He wants more. He wants to wake up from being a zombie in his own life. 

When he kisses Eddie in the mess hall in front of the whole camp on the last day because he feels time slipping away, he suddenly understands. It all clicks into place with his arms around Eddie, who’s pressing their foreheads together with a grin, that his vision was never about Nancy (and yes he has a type). It was always about Eddie and how Eddie could be his home.

[ckret2]

Chapter 82 of you can really tell the writer got a new art program this week and went apeshit with it instead of doing anything productive: the Mystery Shack is in terrible peril from the government and only one thing can save them:

Teaching Bill Cipher how to flirt with humans!!

####

The Stans explained the plan to Dipper and Mabel as briefly as possible—that Bill had to save them all by flirting with the head fed—and that was about as far as they got before Mabel started squealing. They wished her good luck with Bill, wished him good luck with Mabel, and beat a hasty retreat, with Dipper tagging along after Ford on the pretense of helping figure out how to get the flash drive out of Gompers.

"This is perfect!" Mabel slammed the door closed—and Bill had the sneaking suspicion she'd trapped him on purpose—then grabbed both his hands to drag him further into the room. "I can see it now! He'll fall in love with you, and then he'll realize that living in a small logging town is so much more emotionally fulfilling than his high-pressure fast-paced big city government job, and he'll see what a special, magical place Gravity Falls is and he won't wanna do anything that could change it, and Washington will call him like, 'Your report is late! Have you forgotten your mission?' And he'll go 'I have a new mission now: my WIFE!' And—"

"Hold on!" Bill pulled his hands back. "I think you skipped the part where you married me off to a government agent."

"No I didn't! Because he says that and everyone gasps and then he gets down on his knee in front of you and pulls out a ring and—"

"In your dreams, star girl." He dropped onto Mabel's bed and crossed his legs. "Think a little less cheesy Christmas romcom, and more noir spy movie with a double-crossing femme fatale."

Mabel measured that up against her limited spy movie knowledge, and asked dubiously, "You're gonna drop him in a tank of sharks?"

"Hey, if you have one...!" Bill laughed. "But, no. The plan is just for me to keep him distracted long enough for the nerd squad to get the flash drive, wipe any sensitive data, and leave it somewhere that'll make the agents think the goat dumped it naturally."

Mabel considered that. She inhaled deeply. "Okay," she said. "But. What if it's one of those movies where the evil girl spy has a change of heart because of the good guy's charm and you do fall in love."

"Do you remember who we're talking about?" Bill asked. "Fine! If we fall in love, you can be the ring bearer, best maid, and officiant—but don't start stapling together a white dress just yet."

Mabel completely skipped past his main point. She whispered, "You'd let me make your wedding dress?"

"I'd turn down every fashion designer in Milan, Paris, New York, and London combined."

Her eyes widened. "I've gotta start drawing wedding dresses." She rummaged around the floor for an unused piece of paper and the nearest crayon and/or marker box.

"Draw me as a triangle," Bill said automatically. "So there, you're caught up on the plan!" He slowly slid off Mabel's bed toward the door. "So if you'd let me out so I can prepare..."

"Ohh no. Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford brought you to me to learn how to flirt, and I'm going to teach you how to flirt."

He groaned, but plopped back down on Mabel's bed. "I don't need to be taught how to flirt! I'm a pro! While your universe was still gearing up for a Big Bang, I was fending off marriage proposals from lovelorn generation ships and sentient oceans."

"You're not seducing ships and oceans." Mabel had already flopped onto the floor and drawn a triangle with an eye, and was trying to figure out how to put a dress on it. "You're seducing a man."

"Which is even easier! You people barely last a century, you're desperate! Humans fling themselves at me left and right!"

"Then you'll have no trouble passing my love quiz."

Bill automatically frowned. There was a part of him that still tensed up at the word "quiz" even if he did know more about romance than the entire human race combined. "What, like the one you put the guys through on your dating show?"

"Yes, but with all new questions! So you can't just copy all of Soos's answers to get a perfect score!"

"Psh! Like I need to copy anyone's answers," said Bill, who had never taken a quiz in his life without copying someone else's answers and had been planning to do just that. "All right, hit me."

"Question one! Uh..." She tapped a crayon to her chin as she thought. "What's the best gift to give on a first date? Jewelry, chocolate, a wedding ring, or flowers?"

"Ooh, we're starting with bribery, huh?" When in doubt, the right answer was usually C; but "jewelry" and "wedding ring" seemed kinda redundant. Well—cheating had never failed him before, why stop now? "None of the above! I've got a better answer than all of them!"

Mabel lowered her crayon to give him a skeptical look. "Oh yeah? What?"

"Sneak into their dreams the night before, find out their heart's desire, and surprise 'em with that," Bill said. "That's not even a romantic move. It'll let you win over a human in any context! Birthday parties, baby showers, job interviews, criminal trials, hostage negotiations..."

"What if you don't know their heart's desire?"

"Then you're not me."

She set down her crayon, laced her hands under her chin, and said, "Okay, then. If you were trying to win me over, what's my dream birthday gift?"

"Replacing your bedroom with a bouncy castle with inflatable furniture."

"Ha! No it's n..." She trailed off. "Wait. Ohmigosh."

"Told ya."

"I've been dreaming too small," Mabel whispered. She shoved aside her first drawing and started drawing her fantasy bedroom.

Bill picked up one of Mabel's dolls—a floppy tiger—and started talking to it like he was lecturing it. Forget this whole "taking a quiz" thing; he was much more comfortable in the roll of the teacher than the student. "And if it's a blind date and I can't stalk 'em beforehand, nobody's ever disappointed by a solid gold brick," he told the doll.  "It's both practical and pretty, and it appeals to humans' natural greed without making them feel sleazy about accepting a wad of hundreds from their date."

"What's Agent Powers's heart's desire?"

Heck. He didn't actually know. He'd ducked in on the guy's life a handful of times, but he'd never needed to pay that close attention to him. What did boring people like? "A really nice leather wallet," Bill said.

"Okay, you're off to a strong start," Mabel said. "Question two: what's the ideal location for a first date?"

"What are my options?"

"Fooey to the options! I wanna hear your thoughts."

"Then that's easy: anywhere they can't escape from until they love you," Bill said. "Even better if you can serenade 'em."

Mabel nodded in approval. "Perfect answer, full points! Every Inkwell princess movie and vampire novel on the market agrees! Question three: best first date outfit?"

"Sexy."

"Okay—yeah," Mabel said, "But specifically, what does that look like?"

"Tallest hat you can find," Bill said.

Mabel waited. Bill didn't say anything else. Mabel said, "What about the rest of the outfit?"

"Bow tie. Outfit complete."

"That's just what you wear."

"And it's always sexy!" Bill insisted.

"Maybe in Flatworld, but this is earth! If you go out dressed in nothing but a hat and a bow tie, you'll be having your date in the back of a police car!"

"Fine," Bill huffed. "Fifty pairs of gloves—and the more of them you have hands to fill, the better! A dress made out of blank checks! Two snakes! A fur coat made out of live kittens!" Bill shook the stuffed doll emphatically with each point. "Good enough?!"

Mabel squinted thoughtfully at him. "The kitten coat has potential."

"Damn me with faint praise, why don't you."

"What about more traditional romantic outfits? Like... a red velvet suit with a leopard print shirt? Or short shorts that say 'too hot' on the butt?" Mabel asked. "Or a t-shirt with your date's face on it in a heart! That shows your date 'I'm here to focus on you!'"

"What if my date's face is ugly, did you think about that?" Bill asked, mainly to cover up the fact that he was chagrined he hadn't thought of the velvet suit himself. "Forget about fashion. Next question!"

"Okay, how would you prepare yourself for the perfect date? Aside from finding a tall hat and stalking your date's dreams."

"Hygiene's the most important thing," Bill said. "Humans are very attuned to pheromones. It's one of your base instincts."

A look of relief cross Mabel's face. "Yes! Good start. So we're talking a shower, or...?"

"Oh yeah, if you're going on a date in this country, you've gotta scrub that skin raw. There is no smell Americans hate more than the natural smell of other human beings." 

Mabel nodded enthusiastically. "Right!"

"And once you've gotten rid of your real scent you've got to make sure you smell appealing. And that means making sure you smell the most! Cover up any competing suitors' scents with your own!"

Mabel made an uncertain hum. "Okaaay, sooo... what would you call an appropriate fragrance for a first date?"

He wasn't sure he liked the sound of the hum. "First��date? You've got to make a strong impression, and set the mood for romance," he told the doll, so he didn't have to watch Mabel pass judgment. "So, I'm thinking... decaying salmon, deer pee, and ambergris."

Mabel was silent for an uncomfortably long time. Bill glanced at her. She immediately pulled her sweater up to hide her mouth. Voice strained with suppressed laughter, she said, "You don't think, maybe... floral scents...?"

Who did she think she was laughing at! He directed his attention back to Mabel's doll. The tiger didn't judge him. The tiger thought all his ideas were brilliant. "Is this guy looking for a garden or a girlfriend? I know ninety percent of the soaps and shampoos on the market are designed to make you smell like a fruit salad on the beach, but you humans don't know the first thing about what activates your own monkey-brained reproductive urges! Trust me: decaying salmon, deer pee, and ambergris! They reek of raw sex appeal!"

"What's ambergris?"

"It's a staple fragrance in the perfume industry! Some of the most popular scents in Hollywood have ambergris base notes!"

"Okay," Mabel said, "but what is it?"

"Okay so," Bill said, "when a sperm whale gets so constipated it kills 'em, the rest of its body rots off while the turd floats to the surface, and after it's bobbed around baking in the sun for a few decades—"

Mabel lay a hand on Bill's knee and gently said, "No." 

"Hey, I'm not the one who invented ambergris, that's your species's idea!"

"Bill, I'm sorry. But you've got the best and worst romance ideas with no in between, and you don't know the difference," Mabel said. "But I promise you're in good hands! I'm the best matchmaker in Gravity Falls! I helped hook up Soos and Melody, Robbie and Tambry, Waddles and Gompers, the Hand Witch and that hunky hiker guy..."

He threw Mabel's doll down on the bed, slumped back against the wall, crossed his arms, and sulked. Then he muttered, "But I've got the best ideas?"

"Oh yeah. You're like an untrained romance prodigy! You just need a liiittle help filtering out the diamonds from the coal."

He grunted. Then he grudgingly admitted, "Getting Waddles and Gompers together is pretty impressive. They have complete opposite political opinions."

"See? I'll have you date ready in no time!"

Bill heaved a frustrated sigh. "Fine. But I'd better at least get a killer makeover out of this."

"Definitely! I'm getting an expert on the case!" She pulled out her phone to send a text. Plus, whatever you're wearing tomorrow? I'm bedazzling the crap out of it."

"Good!"

"But first," Mabel said, "Let's talk about your technique."

####

"Lesson one of Mabel's Guide to Flirting With Humans: pick-up lines! First impressions are super important!"

"Pick-up lines are easy," Bill said. "I know a million of them!"

"That's great! Then this should be easy." Mabel pointed at the picture of Creggy G in the middle of her Sev'ral Timez poster, whom she'd designated as their attractive human for Bill's flirting practice. "Try one out." 

Bill sized up Creggy calculatingly, and said, "You know, your eyeballs are so beautiful."

"Yes!" Mabel cheered. "It's romantic! I love it!"

"—and they'd look even better in my mouth."

Mabel stared at Bill.

"What?" Bill asked. "Too forward? Should I save that for the second date?"

The flirting lesson quickly switched track from teaching Bill how to use a pick-up lines, to teaching Bill what pick-up lines not to use.

And from there, the conversation drifted to a list of subjects Bill wasn't allowed to discuss with the federal agent, which necessitated relocating to the living room so Mabel could set up an easel pad and record all the banned topics. Partway through, Stan drifted in and started throwing in his two cents.

The list of banned flirtation topics included: eyeballs; cannibalism; squid kings; dragonfly mating habits; mandibles; the time and method of living people's future deaths; the cold and lonely heat death of the universe ("Why?! It's a perfect excuse to suggest cuddling for warmth!"); fun get-to-know-you questions like "would you rather kill your mother or your father" or "which conspiracy theories would you most hate to be true"; which conspiracy theories were true; the agent's embarrassing middle school secrets that Bill shouldn't have known about but did; the agent's bald spot; cancer flavors; pending global disasters...

Bill flung his hands in the air. "So what does that leave to talk about?!"

"Anything else," Stan snapped.

"The Chuquicamata open pit copper mine."

"Anything normal."

Bill gave him a look akin to that of a vegetarian who'd just been asked to discuss his favorite cuts of beef. "Have you metme?"

"Try topics that get him in the right mindset for romance," Mabel said. "Like, 'what do you want your future wife's favorite color to be?' Or 'you look like dad material!'"

Bill nodded slowly. "So we're aggressively leading him on. I can work with that. I've never been a fan of subtlety."

"And call him charming," Stan said. "Guys love hearing they're charming. Oh, and tell him his jokes are funny."

"What if he doesn't tell jokes."

"All guys tell jokes when they're flirting! If he's not telling jokes, you're doing something wrong."

"It's true," Mabel said. "Watch any high school romance!" Bill gave them both a dubious look.

Stan glanced up as Ford and Dipper walked by the doorway with Gompers. "Tell 'im, Ford."

"What?"

"All men tell jokes when we're flirting! It's probably in our DNA or something."

Dipper thought about that, and nodded. "I tell jokes when I'm flirting."

Mabel shouted, "You try to tell jokes when you're flirting! Heyooo!"

"Hey."

Ford grimaced. "Usually when I'm flirting, I forget every joke I've ever heard and start asking as many questions as I can think of."

Bill said, "That's because you only flirt with things you want to add to your bestiary!"

"The point still stands." 

Dipper had leaned into the room to read the banned topic list. "Why are conspiracy theories off-limits? He came to Gravity Falls in the first place because he was looking for a paranormal conspiracy."

"Dipper's right," Ford said, "he'd probably be interested in the topic."

Bill flung his hands in the air. "Thank you! That's what I was saying!"

Stan shook his head, "Too close to discussing politics. What if they believe in different conspiracies!"

"Plus, watch this," Mabel said. "Hey Bill, what do you think about Flat Earth theory."

Bill groaned. "I was drunk, those statements were taken out of context, and I can't be held responsible if some idiot with a boat misinterpreted me."

Mabel looked at Ford and Dipper.

Dipper grimaced. "Got it."

Ford nodded. "Conspiracy theories are off-limits."

"This is why you're all single," Bill said.

####

Stan said, "And if you're gonna lie about your job—"

"Which you always should," Bill cut in.

"Obviously! But make sure it's not something too easy to verify. Like, you can't claim to be the governor, what if your date actually voted and knows who the governor is?"

"That's a good point! Margaret was not impressed."

"You're telling me! My suit smelled like broccoli cheese soup for weeks!"

"You shoulda suggested she get the house salad."

"Yeah, I—" Stan cut off. "Wait. How do you know about Margaret? That was twenty years ago!"

Dipper and Ford were in the kitchen, looking for every ingredient they could find that might coax Gompers to release the flash drive the old-fashioned way and listening to the discussion in the living room. Gompers nibbled at a dish towel, oblivious to the fate awaiting him.

Mabel trotted in and patted him as she passed. "Hey, you! You're giving us major trouble, you rascal!"

He bleated at her.

Mabel pushed up to the open fridge next to Dipper, and when he stepped aside to make more room for her, she stepped into his personal space again and leaned into him with her shoulder. "Why are you in the way, bro, jeez!"

"You're in the way!" He leaned against her in turn. "What are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be training Bill?"

"Grunkle Stan's taking the lead right now," Mabel said. "My talent is helping people find true love! But his talent is suckering someone into liking you for a day. So I think he's better suited to the task at hand."

"Oh, yeah." Dipper chuckled wryly. "His advice will get you a first date, but not a second date."

Ford muttered, "His technique hasn't changed since high school, I see."

Dipper found the bottle of prune juice he'd been looking for, pulled it out, and stepped back. Mabel yelped when her counterweight disappeared and stumbled sideways into the fridge door.

As Dipper emptied the juice into a mixing bowl, he said, "I'm not sure about this plan. Even with both you and Stan helping. I know Bill's good at tricking people, but... he's so annoying. And not in a lovable way."

"Don't undersell him!" Mabel said. She'd retrieved a pitcher of Mabel Juice and was dumping a full bottle of sprinkles into it—hardcore romance training required high stamina. "He has the potential to be a dreamboat!"

Ford muttered, "He's a manipulative, murderous monster." He was searching through all the cans they'd moved to the kitchen counter for beans.

"Those don't have to be mutually exclusive," Mabel insisted. "Serial killers get girlfriends. Sometimes after they're arrested!"

"I'mmm not seeing a dreamboat," Dipper said. "More like a shipwreck. I mean, when you were trying to come up with a list of romantic date foods, he suggested blood licked off your date's teeth."

"And he was right!" Mabel said. "Vampires, bro-bro!"

"Okay, but I don't think he was talking about teeth that were still attached to his date's skull!"

"He didn't say they weren't attached," said Mabel, with flagging conviction that suggested she hadn't considered that and was realizing Dipper was probably right.

"And five minutes ago you and Stan told him he should pretend to be a princess, and he told you he'd be great at that because he started an Internet dating service that matches up lonely widows with overseas con artists pretending to be deposed princes."

"Well," Mabel said sheepishly.

"And then he tried to talk you two into investing in a pyramid scheme to fund his dating service."

"But we didn't invest!" Mabel said.

"Only because you looked it up on your phone and discovered he'd made it up!"

"I mean, until then, it sounded romantic!" Mabel flung her hands out in a wide shrug. (Something about the gesture looked strange to Ford.) "Finding a second chance at love with a mysterious foreign criminal with a glamorous false identity? That'd be great if it was real!"

"Mabel, it's a scam," Dipper said exasperatedly.

"And do scam artists not deserve love, too?!" Mabel pounded a fist on the table emphatically. "What about Grunkle Stan! He deserves love! A rich overseas widow would be perfect for him!"

"That's not— The point is, Bill's not romantic!" Dipper said. "This plan isn't going to work!"

Ford set half a dozen bean cans next to Dipper's mixing bowl. "He doesn't need to be romantic," he said. "He only needs to be charismatic. And for all his flaws, he's certainly that." Planets will orbit stars and black holes just the same—and not even realize the difference. "He doesn't have to actually win Agent Powers's heart. He only has to keep his attention for a few hours. By the time Bill stops dazzling Powers long enough for him to see the red flags, we'll have the flash drive." He nodded toward Gompers. "If we get it before the agents return with a warrant, we might not even need Bill to distract him."

Dipper sighed. "Then let's hope Gompers likes prunes."

"Come on! Show a little faith!" Mabel said.

Ford muttered, "The last time I put my faith in Bill..." Dipper gestured emphatically at Ford in agreement.

"Not in Bill! In me! Mark my words, Grunkle Ford—I'll get this Cinderella ready to meet his Prince Charming if I have to summon every mouse in Gravity Falls to help sew his ballgown!"

"Please don't summon the wildlife again," Dipper groaned. "The last time you did that, huge spiders kept appearing in our room for a week."

Mabel's pocket vibrated; she pulled out her phone and gasped. She chugged down the rest of her juice in three sickly sweet gulps and bolted from the room. "Biiill! Your personal style consultant texted back!"

"My who?"

She dragged him out of the living room by the wrist. "Come on!"

Ford watched them run up the stairs, then started searching through their cereal boxes for the high fiber one. Tentatively, he asked, "Mabel doesn't actually think we're trying to get Bill and the agent together, does she?" The Prince Charming comment was concerning.

"I don't know," Dipper sighed. "A few days ago she started talking about trying to get Bill a love life? Maybe she sees this as a practice round."

"Really? Why, did he say he wants to date people?" If he wanted to get out of the shack to emotionally prey on the locals one-on-one without supervision...

"I don't think she's even told him yet. It's part of her project to... reintegrate him into society? She probably thinks the power of love can rehabilitate him." Dipper sighed. "She's setting herself up for disappointment. He's been conning people into thinking he's a good guy for billions of years, right? If being loved could fix him, he'd be an angel by now."

"Instead, he's just gotten better at pretending to be an angel," Ford said ruefully. "I'm inclined to agree with you." He found the cereal he'd been looking for and set it on the table by Dipper. "But then... we let him live, didn't we? Because we all hope we're wrong. I suppose that doesn't make us that different from Mabel."

Dipper shook his head emphatically. "Not me." He dumped one of the cans of beans into the prune juice a little harder than necessary. "I let him live for two reasons: because of Mabel, and because of that prophecy. And he doesn't have to change to fulfill some prophecy to save us—when it comes, he might just be trying to save his own stupid butt, too."

"I suppose so." Right—of course, even if he'd agreed to spare Bill, Dipper still didn't have any real hope for him beyond his usefulness.

Over the past month, Ford hadn't seen anything more sympathetic out of Bill than Dipper had. He wondered at himself for even being willing to consider Bill might change. When had Ford changed enough to consider it? Or was he just more susceptible to Bill's same old tricks?

"You don't remember the whole prophecy yet, do you?" Ford asked. "What if this is what it was about? Saving our family from the government because he's the only person the lead agent finds attractive enough to distract him?"

Dipper pulled a face. "I hope not," he said. "After everything he put us through? He owes us a fight to the death with an interdimensional eldritch god."

"Now that's a sight I'd pay to see."

####

MABEL: Heyyy Paz, can I ask for a small favor. I have a friend that needs a MAJOR MAKEOVER!! 😿 Like the FULL PRINCESS TRANSFORMATION treatment!! Can you help him?

PACIFICA: Can't, I'm suuuper busy today. I have the lunch shift AND grooming day at the ranch.

PACIFICA: Plus, why would I help some total rando? 😒

MABEL: Because it's my friend with the beautiful golden hair.

PACIFICA: asldkfggh

PACIFICA: OK fine come by the ranch after work

PACIFICA: and send me a picture of his skin next to a white paper so I can grab some foundations to try out.

####

Bill took a piece of paper and a marker, wrote "Make me beautiful!" and dotted the I and the exclamation point with hearts, flopped the least sunburned part of his arm next to the paper for Mabel to take a picture, and leaned away to keep his face out of it.

As Mabel snapped a couple pictures, she said, "Okay, before we visit Pacifica, I have to warn you. She can be a liiittle bit mean when it comes to fashion. So don't get mad at her, okay? It's how she shows she cares!"

"No it's not," Bill said.

"No, it's not," Mabel conceded. "But it doesn't mean she doesn't care. That's just... how she relates to other people! By insulting their fashion, style, and body. And family. And finances."

"Don't worry, star girl. I can take it."

"But I mean, she might be really, really, super mean about your looks," Mabel said. "And you cannot curse her or threaten to turn her bones into flutes or do anything Bill-ish like that. Promise me."

"Hey, bone flutes! That sounds like a fun arts and crafts project, right?"

"Bill!"

"Re-lax, it'll be fine," Bill said. "She's just your garden-variety pageant girl with an overly-critical mom who tried to relive her glory years through her daughter! I can handle a teenage ex-beauty queen. I'm an expert on those types."

Skeptically, Mabel said, "Really?" She was slowly coming to realize that, in Bill's opinion, he was the expert on everything.

"Oh yeah. I spent years eyelid deep in the pageant scene."

"You did?" she said, surprised. "How come? Did you try to trick a beauty pageant into building your portal or something like that?"

Bill stared at Mabel.

####

Outside the flat hospital, it was a beautiful, peaceful morning. The air was clear, the unseen sun was shining brightly from some unknown dimension, and some 2D equivalent to a bird was chirping in some 2D equivalent to a tree.

And then the hospital doors crashed open with such force that passing shapes momentarily suspected that someone had set off a bomb.

"—don't give me that look, if you'd hustled your hypotenuse and had your birthday yesterday, we wouldn't be in such a rush! You're just lucky you came out so cute, or—" An exhausted, dull pinkish triangle charged out the doors with a very tiny, squishy yellow triangle in her trembling arm. She turned to shout behind her—"Hurry up! There's only two hours until the Best Baby Pageant and he is not going to miss it!"

—and was followed closely by a horrified blue triangle carrying a hat in one hand and a cane in the other. "But Scalene, the doctors still have to do those tests to check for—"

"They can test him later! If he's got some horrible birth defect, he'll still have it after he's won a trophy!" Without slowing, Scalene turned and held the baby out toward the other triangle. The squishy new shape gawked at him in mild befuddlement. "Look at this kid, Euclid! Most newborn brats look like cranky raisins, but he's less than an hour old and he's already bright-eyed and smooth-sided! He was born with the face of a pageant winner—"

Not looking where she was going, she ran into a tree. The bird flew off in a panic, Scalene lost her balance, and she nearly dropped the baby. Euclid caught him, caught her, and held her steady while she leaned dizzily against the tree. "Lene. You should be on bedrest right now. Maybe we should just, you know, take a moment to process..."

"Process what! We have our little angle. Am I supposed to sit in a hospital bed staring at the afterbirth?!"

While Euclid stared at her in shock, she snatched the child back, pushed him away, and wobbled back upright. "What kind of a lazy mother would I be if I was sleeping instead of making my child a winner! You want him to start off life on the right foot, don't you?"

Defeated, Euclid said, "All right. I'll take care of the... the paperwork. At least bring your cane."

"I don't need it. I'm fine."

"Fine?! You just..." He gestured at her, gestured at the brand-spanking-new baby, gestured at her again, then flung his hands up in defeat. "If you drop our baby, I'm divorcing you."

She sighed huffily. "You're so dramatic." But she snatched the cane out of his hand anyway and stormed away, declaring loudly enough that shapes on the other side of the street turned to stare: "If the mayor doesn't declare my Billy the greatest baby in the whole godforsaken world, I'm grabbing the biggest trophy in the room and bashing his eye in!"

####

Bill shrugged at Mabel. "Sure," he said. "Something like that."

####

Gompers stared down at the bowl set on the floor in front of him.

It contained black beans, broccoli, coffee grounds, fiber-enriched whole-grain cereal, oatmeal, and an avocado and half a sweet potato mashed together into an orange-green mush, all stewing in a prune juice soup.

Gompers looked up.

Dipper and Ford were crouched across from him, watching expectantly. 

Gompers bleated balefully at them.

"Go on!" Ford nudged the bowl closer. "It's good for you."

Gompers knew a lie when he heard one. He turned his nose up at the mix.

"I don't get it," Dipper said. "He eats everything. What's wrong with this stuff?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Maybe it's the broccoli?" 

Ford gave him a quizzical look. "Why broccoli?"

Dipper shrugged. "I don't like broccoli, I don't know why he would."

"Hmm." Mystified, Ford propped his chin in his hand and stared into Gompers's eyes. Gompers stared back. Gompers stared into his soul. Gompers didn't blink.

Ford was dragged from this session of nonconsensual soul-searching by the sound of footsteps and Mabel's voice drifting down the stairs: "Listen, you know I love your sense of fashion! All I'm saying is everyone loves kittens, but snakes? That's a pretty niche fashion market! You're not gonna get a lot of takers."

"No, hey, hear me out," Bill said. "I listened to your professional matchmaker advice, now you've got to listen to my professional heartbreaker advice. You'll thank me for this one day! This is my number one romance tip: if you wanna impress a date, strap cobras to your arms and call yourself 'Johnny Cobra-Arms.' It works every time. Guaranteed."

(Dipper snorted.)

"Whaaat? No way," Mabel said. "Seriously, what?"

"It's true! I workshopped this! I've experimented across parallel timelines! It works."

"Quit messing with me, Bill."

"You think I would ever mislead you? No. Picture this." As the pair turned the corner on the stairs, Bill was spreading his hands in front of himself as though gesturing to the scene he wanted Mabel to imagine. "You see a guy, maybe a year older than you, kinda cute but nothing to write home about, maybe a 6/10. Got him in your mind's eye?"

A look of intense concentration crossed Mabel's face as she engaged her Imagination. "Yeah?"

"Okay, now imagine he—" Bill reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around. "Where are my shoes." He raised his voice, "Who moved my fisshoes! I left them right— oh, there they are." He disappeared into the living room. "Imagine your 6/10 has two big snakes wrapped around his arms. And he catches your eye from across the club, comes up to you, and says..." Bill's voice dropped to a pitch that was nearly in the range of an average adult human male, "'Hey. Name's Johnny Cobra-Arms. What's yours?'"

Mabel thought about it. Her eyes slowly widened in amazement. "Oh my god, it would totally work on me."

Bill re-emerged into the entryway, fish shoes donned. "See?" 

"It made him hot! What the heck, how did that happen!"

"See?! It works every time!" He shouted toward the kitchen, "Hey, we're leaving for Alpaca's! I'm taking the car!"

"No you're not," Ford said.

Bill spread his hands in a shrug. "Worth a shot!" He grabbed his umbrella and the magic friendship bracelets from the coat rack and waited for Mabel to open the door. "See, it's the best possible first impression. It shows he's got a sense of humor, he's quirky, he's a little bit dangerous, he's got a great sense of fashion, he's a world traveler, he's good with animals..." The door swung shut behind them. 

The way Bill had shrugged stuck in Ford's mind. 

In his true form, Bill didn't have shoulders. His arms extended out of his sides like the trunks of saplings extending from the surface of flood waters, and they glided around his perimeter in a way that defied conventional physical biology. No joints. 

When he shrugged in his human body, sometimes he'd bob his shoulders up and down in a deliberate mimicry of how humans performed the gesture; and lately, as Bill got used to moving his new body, Ford had seen him sluggishly raise a shoulder when he was too exhausted to gesture more expressively. But most of the time, he shrugged like he still didn't have shoulders. He'd spread his arms, bend his elbows, usually forming a W shape but sometimes when he was particularly emphatic forming a shape like football goalposts, and if he really wanted to make his meaning clear he'd twitch his upturned palms up the way a human would twitch their shoulders.

He did it all the time. He'd done it just now. The gesture was so natural on Bill that Ford had never realized how unnaturalit was on a human—until he'd seen Mabel make the exact same gesture earlier.

She was copying Bill's body language. He wondered if she knew.

He'd have to keep an eye on that.

"Hope Agent Powers is into snakes," Dipper muttered.

Ford laughed—then wondered whether someone pulling the Johnny Cobra-Arms trick would've worked on him. If by now nothing had made him take an interest in a basic, garden-variety human being, he doubted anything could... but, admittedly, he'd at least consider hanging out with Johnny. He sounded like an intriguing character. "If that's the worst thing Bill subjects him to, he'll be getting off light."

With a twinge of guilt, Ford realized just how true that was. Ford was no stranger to having to turn down the volume on his conscience for the greater good—and there were few greater goods than protecting his family—but...

He might not know Powers, but he did know that, whether Bill succeeded in seducing him or not, the man didn't deserve what he was about to be subjected to.

####

(Now that this chapter's finally out, may there be no further delays for a good long while, ugh.

Here's your "what was changed in the wake of TBOB" update: obviously, since we got five whole pages on Bill's beliefs about romance, a lot of that got incorporated into this chapter—the first and last scenes were basically written entirely in response to TBOB.

The scene with Scalene & Euclid, obviously, got their names & descriptions from TBOB & TINAWDC (and yeah, yeah, i'm eventually gonna go back to earlier chapters and edit out Bill's mom being a line so it matches up with canon), and it's obvious what the "best baby pageant" is a reference to (so you can guess whether Bill won)—but Bill being a pageant kid due to his mom was already part of the plans long before TBOB, so I just stuck a couple canon details into the story I was already writing. We were already gonna get into Bill's childhood this chapter & next (as you'll see next week).

Beyond that, most of the chapter was already in its present form before TBOB—up to & including Bill having a list of topics he thinks are acceptable for dates that no rational human would agree with—and all TBOB added was a couple tiny details (like... "mandibles".)

The fact that the list of things that were influenced by TBOB is so much longer than usual is part of the reason this chapter's two whole weeks late lmao.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed, happy new year, and I'm looking forward to (finally) hearing your thoughts on the first fresh chapter of 2025!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, 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: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: 😻.

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. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear your father in the garage. It’s a comfort knowing he isn’t in the house. You’ve learned to navigate so that you rarely run into him. The fact of your existence only ever seems to irk him. 

That day, there’s a low rumble between the clank and clunk of his tools. You’re not sure it’s the engine or something else. The last time you glimpsed inside the garage, the engine wasn’t even in that old Bronco he’s worked on for seven years. 

You rub smooth the lines in your forehead and give a long blink. You’ve been squinting at the diamond art for much too long. You sit up and roll your shoulders. You need a break. 

As you emerge from your room, you feel guilty. A break from what? Doing nothing. That’s what your dad always says. Then he laughs and finds something to throw at you. 

You take his lunch box from the floor by the shoe mat and bring it to the kitchen. You open it up and clean out all the containers. Those things you do, as small as they are, like cleaning and making his meals, aren’t enough. He doesn’t fail to remind you of that. 

You dump the uneaten crust from his ham and cheese sandwich as the door from the garage clatters open and lets in the smell of oil and dirt. You turn your attention to the sink as you put the container with the rest. It’s only as you flip the faucet on that you realise the steps aren’t your dad’s. 

“Scuse me,” Sy says. “Don’t mean to bother, but, uh, had a bit of an accident.” 

You face him as he holds out the front of his tee shirt. You gulp. There’s a smear of shiny oil across it, ready to drip onto the floor. Your eyes round. 

“I can clean it in the bathroom, I see you’re busy.” 

He goes to turn away and you put your hands up. The oil won’t come out if he just wipes it into the shirt. You would know since you deal with your dad’s stained jeans.  

He nears as you sidle down to grab the baking soda from the cupboard. He looms, his shadow moving in your peripheral, and you shift the faucet to off. You grab a paper towel and turn to him. You hesitate to reach for him, that seems too much but before you can make a move, he peels his shirt off. 

You flutter your lashes and point to the counter. He lays the shirt out and you open the box of baking soda. He stands back and watches. Heat trickles down your back as you focus on the task. You sprinkle the powder over his shirt. 

You let it soak up as much as it can then blot daintily. 

“You’re clever,” he muses. “Helpful.” 

You shrug. 

“How lucky’s that daddy of yours, huh? You out here cleaning all his mess. You make his lunch?” He peeks over at the sink and you follow his gaze. You nod. “Hm, think he’d be nicer then, wouldn’t ya? Well, I know him, he ain’t a nice fella.” 

You return your attention to his shirt. If your daddy isn’t so nice, why does he come around? You wouldn’t ask even if you could. You can barely concentrate with him exposed like that. 

Your eyes dart over in a fleeting peek. His chest is hair and his stomach thick, his arms too. You’re always aware of how big he is but at that moment, he seems even larger. You look at his shirt. It’ll need more time to soak and wash. 

“Could wash it with the hose, don’t wanna ruin your machine,” he offers as if reading your mind. 

You frown and shake your head. You hold up your finger and flit away with his shirt. You put stain remover on it and dump it in the machine. You set the cycle then hesitate. What will he wear now? 

Your dad isn’t as big. He’s a pretty small guy. He might have something... 

You hurry into the closet of old things and search around. There’s one of those tees he got from a case of Labatts. They always pack the XLs and nothing else. It has some sports team logo on it. 

You go back to the kitchen and offer it to Sy. He crosses to you and accepts it with a smile, “thanks, sugar. That’s mighty nice.” His fingertips brush yours.  

He unfolds the shirt and shakes it out. He pulls it over his head and your eyes crawl down his torso unintentionally. You back up a step as he tugs down the hem, though it hangs short of his belt. Even that is too small for him. 

“You’re not scared of me, are ya?” He asks as he curls his shoulders as if to make himself smaller. 

You shake your head. Shy is all. You’re not eager to mingle with anyone. Nor they, you. 

“You know, I might have a word with your daddy. He shouldn’t be so nasty to ya. ‘Specially all the work you put in.” 

You shake your head frantically and clasp your hands. You know better than that. Even if he’s trying to be nice, it’s the worst thing he can do. 

“What’s wrong? Huh? Just wanna tell him what a good girl ya are,” he crosses his arms and seems to double in size. 

You pout and press your hands together. You cower and takes another step back. His expression turns dire. 

“Sorry, sugar, hope I didn’t upset ya there. I was only... only bein’ nice, ya know? Seems you’re not used to all that.” He drops his hands to his hips. “Fine then, I’ll just have to save them sweet words for you, huh?” 

You look down and chew your lip. You’re not used to the attention. Your dad’s other friends, if you can call them that, just ignore you or laugh at his jokes about you. You nod and turn, gesturing to the sink. You walk up to it, clinging to the excuse to get away. 

“Yeah, I know, you workin’ hard,” he praises. “I’ll be outta ya way now.” 

You bob your head and turn the tap on again. You work at scrubbing the containers, waiting and listening for him to go. When he does, you can breathe again. You’re not so sure why he’s being nice. Not like you can do much but stare. 

💘

When your dad’s at work, you’re as close to peace as you’ve ever been. There’s still that constant restlessness that follows you. The gnawing reality that time is passing you by. That you have no purpose. No direction. 

You envy others. That they have a reason. That they have everything you don’t. They have other people, ones that care, not those burdened with them; they have important work to do; they have fun things to celebrate; graduations, new jobs, marriages. They have voices and you remain unheard. 

You busy yourself with the tidying when he isn’t there. If you try to clean with him around, he only antagonizes you. There’s a roast out for dinner. It will last a few days. Most times, you lose your appetite. You spend all day craving and making the food then lose all desire the moment it’s before you. 

The small pleasures you once treasured fade with each day that starts and ends the same. You can’t feel too bad for yourself. Your dad doesn’t have to keep you. You’re an adult now. Maybe he’ll never say so, or even show it, but he must care, right? 

You finish mopping and start on chopping up the potatoes. You arrange them in the roasting pan around the slab of beef. Then carrots and celery. You save the onions for last because they make you cry. You’re saved from tears by the rumble of thunder on the horizon. 

Curiously, you set the knife down and go to the window. Would your dad be home early? Some days, they shut down the shop when business is slow. 

It’s not him but you recognise the grating on the truck’s nose. The large truck sends up dirt and gravel as it cuts across the worn roadway. Your confusion floods to panic and you rush out the front door.

Is your father hurt? Why else would Sy be here? 

You hover on the top step as he grinds to a stop and shuts the behemoth truck off. The driver’s door creaks as it opens and Sy jumps down. Instead of his usual camo cargo shorts and sweat-dampened tee, he wears a button-up with short sleeves and a pair of brown slacks. It even looks like he combed his beard. 

Your face twists in a grimace. What’s going on? Why is he here? 

He reaches back into the truck and brings out something behind his back. You can’t see it as he keeps his arm bent behind him and shuts the door. He grins and walks up to the house as you watch. 

“How’s it goin’?” He asks brightly. 

You blink. You look at his collar, the top button straining against his thick neck. You lower your gaze to your loose blue tee and barrel jeans. You’re dressed like a laundry line. Your clothes offer no shape, nothing. They just do the job. 

“I, uh, I wanted to surprise ya, and uh, I was thinkin’ ya know, this place deserves a bit of colour,” he chuckles then clears his throat, “and you deserve good things, so, uh, here.” 

He reveals the flowers from behind his back and you blanch. You stare at the dainty petals, white with violet edges. They are pretty. Too pretty for this place or for you. Besides, why would he do that? 

“You don’t like em? Should I have got roses?” He asks. 

You flinch. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. You come down the steps and cautiously reach for the paper cone. He hands it over and you stare at him. Then you smell them. You think that’s what you’re supposed to do. 

“Smell good?” He asks. 

You peer over the petals at him and nod. You’re not sure how to react. What do you do now? You can’t just leave him out in the yard. You raise your thumb and point it over your shoulder and tilt your head. 

“Sure, I’ll come in,” he accepts. 

He steps forward, a bit too close, and you hop backward up the step. You barely keep from tripping. You get onto the porch and spin around, scurrying to the door. You open the door and step to the side to hold it for him. 

He laughs again, “now, I’m a gentleman, sugar.” 

He grabs the door and gestures you through. You take his directive without pause. You hurry inside and he follows. As he stops to take off his shoes, you continue on into the kitchen. 

You search for an adequate holder for the flowers. You find an old canister and set them in it with some water. His presence lurks behind you. You put the bouquet on the table as he looks around. 

“You cookin’ a fine dinner, huh?” He says. “Like I tell your daddy, he’s a lucky man. Any man’d be lucky to have that waitin’.” 

You shrug. He shifts. 

“I don’t mean to take advantage of your kindness but I was gonna ask ya a favour.” 

You look at him blankly. He reaches in his pocket. He pulls a length of silk. A tie. 

“Couldn’t figure this out,” he explains. “Thought maybe you might...” 

You stare at the tie. You remember tying your daddy’s for your grandma’s funeral. That was a long time ago but you think you could remember. 

You swallow down your nerves and approach him. You take the tie and he glances around. He pushes a chair out and sits. He leans his head back. 

“Just wanna make sure I look good for ya,” he says. 

You flip up his collar and bring the silk around his neck. As you do, your thumb brushes his coarse beard. He hums. 

“Don’t worry bout pullin’ my hair,” he scoffs. “Won’t bother me none.” 

You line up his tie, knuckles brushing his shirt as you go through the steps in your hand. You pull the tie snug and fix hit collar. You step back and he sets his head straight. You hug yourself and give him a questioning look. 

“Ya like your surprise?” He asks. 

You look at the flower then nod. 

“And what about the other?” 

You face him again and your brows draw together. 

“Me,” he snorts. 

You purse your lips and shrug. What does he mean? 

“We’ll wait for your daddy, huh? Then I’ll ask his blessing.” He rests his elbow on the table, “and you’ll have dinner all ready, won’t ya?”