#may it not join wip hell

[finniigan-fr]

if anyones wondering what ive been up to while im off work sick with a full on fever,, :D its attempting to 3d model a gaoler in blender lol. he's still missing most of his bodyparts and all his fur ofc, but ive spent all day on this as is - lets just keep our fingers crossed i actually finish this project sometime this year xD

[geralts-yenn]

Bonfire

Captain Syverson (Sandcastle) x reader (female reader, no race, body type or physical features mentioned other then blushing)

summary: After months you finally see Sy again. But how will he react to you after he cancelled his date before he left?

warnings:  fingering, oral (f and m receiving), protected p-i-v sex

word count: 6,7k

A/N: I had this in my WIPs for sooo long, probably wrote this three times, deleted, changed, wrote it again. Sy just didn't do what I wanted to. But when I stumbled over that gif I knew I had to finish this story and I think I am finally happy with everything. Hope you like it too.

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I'd love to get some feedback so please don't hesitate to reblog, comment, ask. Like all my fellow writers I long for every bit of interaction with my readers.

taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @deandoesthingstome @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @ylva-syverson @ellethespaceunicorn

(please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

You feel lost. Why the hell did you even come here in the first place? This was Sy’s coming home party. And you two aren’t really friends. Maybe you could have become. Maybe even more. But time wasn’t on your side. You look over to the man that held your mind and heart captivated in the last year, without even being near you most of the time. 

You were surprised when you first saw him today. The buzz cut and the beard were new and unfamiliar. But it made him even more attractive. You wonder how it would feel to be kissed by him. Would his whiskers be soft or would they rub your soft skin and leave red marks?

You take in how he pulls his upper lip into his mouth, licking the beer from it. The next girl is coming over to him. You have watched them the whole evening: Making doe eyes at him, playing with their hair. All trying their best to get his attention. Of course, he had this effect not only on you. They all wanted him.

Well, you wouldn’t stand in their way. If Sy had had any interest in you, you would have heard from him. But he never called, he never texted, he never wrote. 

All your friends are enjoying the evening, drinking, talking and laughing by the fire. No one seems to notice that you don't join them. You walk away from the bonfire into the woods. 

You sit down on a rock and think about what led you to feel so sad.

May, one year ago:

You were excited to go to your friend’s wedding. It was the first event in your new life. You’d finally be able to get to know some of the people here. You had moved from Chicago to a small town in Texas. Your college roommate Megan had got you that amazing job offer that you couldn't decline. And, because she moved in with her fiancé, she even offered you her old apartment, which you gladly accepted. But the first few weeks in the new job had taken all your time. And Megan didn't have time to show you your new home in Texas either, she was occupied with her wedding. So you didn't know a lot of people yet.

When you saw him for the first time at the wedding, you immediately knew that you would fall for him. He was not only attractive, he had an aura of self-esteem and authority that you couldn’t call anything but ‘big dick energy’.

You watched him striding over to the bar. He took his drink from the bartender and turned, letting his gaze wander through the crowd. You realized too late that his head turned in your direction and when your looks met, you dropped your eyes to the floor hastily. Surely he could see you blush even from the opposite of the room. You walked over to your friend, trying to look like you were very much busy with something else as that gorgeous big guy. But to your shock, only a few moments later, he came over to you. 

He bent his head down to you and whispered: “No need to turn away darlin', I like being eye-fucked by beautiful women.” And he winked at you and walked away with a cocky smile spread over his face.

Now you were sure that everyone in the room could see your cheeks glow brightly. Megan grinned at you, she was near enough to overhear his words. 

“That was Sy. He's quite the charmer, right?” You covered your eyes with your hand. 

“Doing my best to embarrass myself at the first opportunity,” you said, grimacing. But Megan insisted that he didn't want to embarrass you but he was flirting. 

Over the evening, every now and then your look met Sy's. And every time, he gave you a smile. But you were glad that he didn't come over to talk to you anymore because you felt like you would only be stuttering. Especially after the wine you were drinking made your tongue heavy.

When Megan and her now-husband Fletcher had left, you decided to go home, too. You got to know some people and had fun during the evening but you still felt a bit like an outsider and you were too tired for conversations anyway. So you grabbed your cardigan and your purse and headed for the door.

As soon as you looked up, you saw Sy’s eyes, following you the whole way through the room. He had gotten rid of his jacket and his bow tie. The first buttons of his shirt were open now and the sleeves were rolled up over his elbows. That man was a fucking tease on legs and he knew exactly what he was doing. He was standing close to the exit, so you had no other choice as to walk past him. And when you were close enough, he saluted you with two fingers. 

“Sweet dreams, sugar! Hope I see you again soon.” You gave him a shy smile, not daring to speak. Sitting in the Uber that got you home, you wondered if he was talking like that to all the women today, or if he was curious about the ‘new girl’, or maybe he truly was interested in you.

It was unbearably hot the last few days and you were so happy to finally have a free weekend to spend with your new-found friends. Megan, you and a couple of other people had planned a trip to the beach. When you walked down the boardwalk you got really excited. You were a summer girl through and through and you loved the sea.

You were lying on a blanket, sipping on your drink and reading, when you heard some of the guys cheering. You looked up, thinking they were playing a game or something like that, when you saw them waving at someone. You turned around and almost choked on your lemonade when you saw who was walking up to your group. He was wearing camo shorts, a red shirt that was probably a size too small for him and some dark aviators. Like the first time you had seen him, Sy strode along with an attitude of big dick energy that took your breath away. 

After the wedding you couldn’t get him out of your mind anymore and so you were really disappointed that you hadn’t met him ever since. You had tried to subtly ask Megan about him, but of course she knew right away. She told you that he is in the army and he was always quite busy when he was on leave, working on his house, meeting friends and family. But yet you always hoped he would show up when you were out. Three months later you had given up and almost forgot about him, and that's the moment he appeared in your life again.

You turned back to reading your book, trying to look unaffected. But Megan dropped beside you the next moment.

"Look who has time for his friends today…" she said to you playfully. You closed your book and sat up, but instead of an answer, you just rolled your eyes at her. Sy had reached your group and greeted everyone with a nod and a smile. One of the guys handed him a beer can and they started talking. 

Megan, of course, couldn't stop teasing you. "So, how do you like him better, in a suit or with that tight shirt?" She grinned at you. "Damn, I should have waited until he went swimming for that question, I guess. It would be an easier decision then." 

You smacked her on her shoulder but both of you were giggling. "I don't think it would be an easy decision at all. He looks damn fine in a suit, but this shirt is… uh… nice, too. I doubt it can get any better." Megan knew you were going to learn soon how wrong you were so she just let out a loud belly laugh.

Sy looked over to you two, probably searching for the source of laughter. And you could tell the moment when he noticed you were there, too. His eyes got slightly wider and his mouth fell open for a second. He turned his head back to the guy he was talking to, but he seemed to be distracted, fiddling with his fingers, licking his lips and every so often squinting over in your direction. You were surprised to see him like that. This wasn't the confident guy you had seen until now. 

Megan saw it, too.  "D'ahw, he likes you, girl!" she remarked. 

You tried your best to act normal and apparently Sy found back to his cocky self after a while, too. But when he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head, you couldn’t keep your composure any longer. 

“Fuck me!” you mumbled under your breath. Megan shoved her elbow into your side, grinning. 

“Told you so!” she sing-songed into your ear. You both watched how Sy stepped into the water, diving into a wave. 

Megan’s husband Fletcher dropped down next to you. “Ladies, you are staring!” he said amusedly. 

You decided that you should go back to reading when Megan and Fletcher got up to get some sandwiches. But the book you read lead into a quite smutty scene exactly now that you tried to stop thinking about that half-naked hunk in the water. That didn’t help at all! You rolled over to lie on your stomach. At least you weren’t able to look at him now. 

Two pages later, a shadow fell upon you and your book. Followed by tiny cold drops of water dripping down your warm skin. You let out a shriek and turned to see who it was that startled you like that. You had to squint your eyes due to the sun, but it was very clear whose wide frame was standing in front of you. Sy threw a towel into the sand next to you and sat down.

“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to make you scream like that.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a cocky smirk. "Watchu reading?” He nodded at your book. 

Oh no! You definitely didn’t want to tell him about that cheesy vampire smut. “Uhm, just a fantasy novel,” you muttered under your breath, hoping that this would be enough information for him. But you weren't lucky. 

“Fantasy? Really? I read a lot of fantasy stuff myself. What is it? Maybe I have read it, too.” Sy grabbed your book from between your arms faster than you could react. He turned it to look onto the cover. 

Sy amusedly raised an eyebrow when he saw the artwork and the title. “Hu, now that is probably still on my to-read-list,” he said with a deep chuckle. 

You wished the sand under you would just swallow you, so you didn’t have to look into these beautiful ocean blue eyes next to you ever again. You were mortified! As Sy noticed you not only blushing but also turning your head away from him, he shook his head. 

“Shush, hey, I’m just joking. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” He laid your book down again onto your blanket and instead put his hand onto your shoulder. 

That was unexpected. But it felt good and somehow it made you feel more comfortable again. You turned to look into his face again and you noticed that the cheeky grin had disappeared and was replaced with a warm smile. 

“I’m Sy, by the way. But I guess someone already told you.” He looked over to Megan.

You nodded and gave him your name. “But I guess someone already told you,” you parroted him, which he answered with a smirk. “But Sy isn’t your real name, right?” you asked. Sy raised his right eyebrow and pulled up one corner of his mouth. He probably had to answer this question way too often. 

“Benjamin Jacob Syverson it is. But since there were four Ben’s in our football team we had to get creative with the nicknames.” He drew quotation marks into the air with his fingers at the word ‘creative’. “And somehow ‘Sy’ stuck with me. Even my sister calls me Sy now, which is quite stupid if you think about it.” There was that deep chuckle again that gave you goosebumps despite you lying in the warm Texas summer sun. 

Sy and you got to talk and you soon realized that he not only had a hypnotizing appeal, but he also was smart and your conversation with him just felt so easy and relaxed. Damn, you were falling hard for him. It was the second time you saw him, the first time you talked to him and there you were, totally smitten.

When Megan came back to you and practically pulled you with her into the water you were almost furious that she had interrupted your talk with Sy. But then you saw him following you into the waves and you couldn’t be mad at Megan anymore.

The rest of the day felt like a summer daydream. You were swimming, drinking, laughing. And all the time Sy was somewhere around you. In the evening Megan and Fletcher asked you to join them for a beach volleyball match. 

“We need a fourth person,” you said, looking around. 

Megan's cousin Terry came over to you. “I could join!” he suggested. But then Sy stood up and stepped between you and Terry.

“No offense, but it would be kind of unfair teaming her up with you, Terry. You would look like hobbits playing against giants. I think she needs a partner that is a little bit taller than you.” And yes, Sy looked ridiculous tall next to Terry. And broad. And sexy. 

So it was you and Sy against Fletcher and Megan. It was no surprise to you that Sy was very competitive. He went all in, throwing himself into the sand, sweat running down his bare back. You enjoyed every minute of it. In the end you won and before you could think, you found yourself jumping onto Sy, hugging him like a koala. 

He grabbed you by your thighs and chuckled. “That was worth the fight!”

In the next couple of weeks you met Sy sometimes at the bar or at gatherings with friends but to your disappointment you never got that close to him anymore like you did at that day on the beach. You were tempted to ask Fletcher for his phone number, but somehow you wanted him to make the next step. Maybe you were kind of old-fashioned but you wanted him to woo you. And so you were waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

And then there was this day in October, the sun was shining and you were driving home from your office, singing loud and wrong to your favorite songs. Ahead of you you noticed a truck standing in the dirt beside the road. The hood was open and you saw a pair of jeans leaning against the front. 

Okay, you were taught to be kind and offer help. But you were also a woman alone on an empty road. You struggled if you should stop. Reducing your speed, you carefully approached the car. And then you let out a snort when you saw who was standing at his broken truck. 

“Hey Sy, need a savior?” you asked him with a wide grin when you stopped next to him. He looked up from under the hood and answered with a surprised huff.

"I'm not sure what kind of help I need at all right now, darlin'. I thought I could fix that goddamn piece of scrap like I usually do. But it seems this time it's not that easy." Sy scrowled while scratching the back of his head with his greasy fingers.

You parked your car in front of his truck and got out to him. You leaned against the fender and looked onto the engine as if you had any idea how cars work. Well, to be honest, you looked at Sy's arms and hands that rested on some parts of which you had, of course, no idea what they were. Somehow this grime look, greasy and oily, affected you more than you would have guessed. As if you needed to be more drawn to that guy as you already were.

Sy ruttled on some cables, according to his facial expression not with any success. "Sugar, can you get into the car and try to start it?"

You climbed into the driver's cabin and adjusted the seat a good amount forward so you'd be able to get to the pedals. You turned the keys but the car just spat out some sad noises.

Sy shook his head and worked on some other cables. "Once more, please?"

You tried again but there was no change. The engine didn't start.

Sy dropped the hood shut and kicked against the tyre. "That damn marten probably munched on my cables again. I'm gonna kill that little bastard!"

He got to the driver's cabin and held out his hand. "Can you give me a ride into town, darlin'?"

"Sure!" you answered, although your voice didn't sound sure at all. You put your hand in his and jumped to the ground. But you didn't expect that fluttering feeling that suddenly hit your stomach and so you stumbled forwards. 

Sy's arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush into his embrace. You didn't even feel embarrassed as you inhaled his scent while you stayed in his arms way too long for that accidental situation.

"You okay?" he asked you when you had finally managed to take a step back.

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Yeah, I'm just awful clumsy," you told him. 

Both of you got into your car, Sy looking ridiculously big in the passenger's seat of your Toyota Yaris. You turned down the volume of the radio and talked with him for a few miles. 

"You really care for your truck, don't you?" you asked him. You had noticed that although it was an old model it was very well maintained.

Sy gave you a strange look, somehow sad. "Yes. I really hope it's just that stupid rodent again and nothing more serious. The truck was my dad's! He gave it to me on my 16th birthday. It was old even back then but it was mine." He took a deep breath before he continued. "I lost my dad half a year later. He didn't come back from Iraq."

"Oh!" Your hand reached out to his and pressed it slightly. This time you were prepared for the sensation of feeling his warmth. "I'm sorry," you said in loss of other words.

A silence fell upon you that wasn't actually uncomfortable but after some time you felt like you needed to say something.

"So, where can I drop you off? Some repair shop?" Sy shook his head.

"No, I'm just texting my cousin to go fetch the car and I'll fix it on my own. Could you please drive me home?"

You nodded and continued to drive in silence until you made it to town. Sy cleared his throat like he wanted to say something, but didn't continue. At the next crossroad you turned left. Sy turned his head to you and finally started to speak.

"You know where I live?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, although he looked more amused than surprised. Heat crept up your cheeks and ears. You felt like a stalker. Probably because you were a stalker.  Megan had pointed out his house when you were driving by a few weeks ago. And maybe you had made a little detour sometimes since then, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. 

"It's a small town." You shrugged awkwardly and luckily he didn't seem to mind.

"That's true. How'chu like it here? A little bit different than Chicago, hu?" A grin spread over his face.

"Hell, yes, but in a good way. I know people are always talking about southern hospitality, but you know, it's really true. At least here in this town. I feel so welcome, I made more friends in these few months than in Chicago in half of my life."

Sy's chest puffed out proud when he listened to you, which was really kind of cute.

"And do you enjoy the southern hospitality of someone in particular?" he asked next. You weren't quite sure if you understood that question correctly so you just blinked at him.

"Are you seeing someone?" Sy rephrased with a wink.

"Oh!" You felt stupid. "No, not like that." You hadn't even finished your sentence when Sy's smile widened across his face.

"That's good!"he said, just to correct himself in the next second. "I mean, it's not good that you don't have someone. It's good because I actually wanted to ask you out."

You felt your heart race in your chest. He really wanted to go on a date with you? Yes, that's what he had said.

"I'd love that!" you told him.

Sy didn't say anything in response but grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your palm. Though you felt like you couldn't focus on driving any longer somehow you made it to his house shortly after. 

Sy let go of your hand and you both got out of your car. With wide steps, Sy circled around the car to get to you. 

"Thanks for the ride, sugar!" He leaned down to you and gave you a kiss on your cheek. It was so gentle you almost weren't able to feel it. What a shame!

Sy pulled his mobile out of his back pocket, unlocked it and gave it to you.

"If you give me your number I'm gonna text you later. If you really want to go out with me, it is, of course." The wink he gave you made sure that he was very well aware that you wanted to. So you added your number and gave it back to him. He held the phone up, silently asking for permission to take a photo of you. You gave him a small nod. But instead of taking a picture immediately, Sy leaned forward to kiss you once more on your cheek. This time his soft lips rested longer on your skin. And while he was kissing you, he took a selfie of you two.  

"Sy!" You were too flabbergasted to really enjoy it but the feeling in your stomach told you, you really liked him being so near to you.

Sy looked at his screen grinning and held it up for you. You looked absolutely ridiculous, eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh no, please delete this. I'm looking so stupid!" you begged him, but he just chuckled and shook his head. 

"No, you're pretty as a speckled pup!"

Over the next week Sy and you had texted with each other every day and when you really had a bad day at work, he had even called you and you talked for almost two hours, feeling so much better after. 

When you met with Megan on Friday for lunch you were starting to get nervous because of the upcoming date.

"I have no idea what he's up to. He told me it's a surprise but what the hell am I supposed to wear?" You shoved your salad from one side of the plate to the other, not really eating much at all.

"Girl, calm down. Just wear some tight jeans and a top. And nice matching underwear, of course." Megan giggled as you gave her an annoyed look.

You were under the shower when you heard your mobile ring. Hastily you grabbed a towel and went to answer the phone. It was Sy. 

"Hey, handsome!" You sat down on your bed, ignoring the fact that you were still dripping wet.

"Hey!" The hesitant, almost silent answer made your heart drop. This was the sound of someone knowing they'll disappoint you soon. He changed his mind.

"Sugar, I'm so sorry. I won't be able to go out with you." There it was. You gulped, not able to say something, so Sy continued.

"I got notice that I have to leave next week. I..  There's a lot I have to get done before that. I wasn't expecting to be deployed that soon."

You still just sat there. He was leaving in a few days. You won't be able to see him for months. And he chose to cancel your date. The last chance to be with you.

"Darlin', I'm sorry. I really am." 

"It's okay, Sy. I understand." You really did. But it hurt nevertheless.

You had hoped for some texts coming from him. Some sign that he was thinking of you. 

Then you thought that maybe he wasn't able to send messages at all. But when Fletcher told you that he had gotten text messages from him you knew that this wasn't true. He just didn't want to stay in contact with you. 

Well, it's not like you two were a thing after all. You barely knew each other. 

You tried to move on, tried to forget him. Megan even managed to persuade you to go on a few blind dates with guys she thought would distract you enough. 

But nothing you did was enough to stop thinking about him. Every night you lay in your bed, thinking of the few moments you had shared or wondering what he was going through right now.

After a while you hid your heartache from your friends, even Megan was sure you were over Sy. And so no one thought it would be hard for you to come to the homecoming party your friends organized for him. But it was.

You look up to the stars, blinking the tears away that gather in the corners of your eyes. The night sky in Texas is so beautiful. But it makes you feel even smaller and insignificant. Maybe you should just go home. 

You get up but instead of just leaving, of course, you have to glance over to him again. He leans over to Fletcher, talking and gesturing. Both men share another look and then Sy walks away. He moves into your direction. Fuck!

The whole evening you pondered what you would say to him when he would come over to you. If he would come over to you.

Now your brain just feels empty. You turn around again, looking up to the sky once more. You hear his heavy footsteps approaching. And then you feel his warm hands rub over your arms.

"Damn, you're freezing, darlin'. Why dont'chu get a little closer to the fire?" His hands don't stop moving up and down your arms and he even moves closer to you and you feel the heat of his chest on your back.

"I want to look at the stars. At the fire it's too bright." 

You feel Sy nodding. You two stand there for what feels like an eternity without talking.

"You didn't say hi," he remarks after a while. 

“You didn’t say goodbye!” is your answer and you can’t hide the bitterness in your words. 

Sy inhales deeply. “I didn’t,” is all he says. Then he pulls his Hoodie over his head and gives it to you. “Here, you are shivering.” 

You don’t want to accept it, but he is right. You really are freezing. And you need to talk with Sy, give it a closure, whatever it was that you two had last year.

So you put it on. And you realize immediately that this was a fault. You take in the scent it radiates. The scent that takes you back to the moments where you were lucky enough to be near him. When he leaned down to you at Megan’s wedding, that day on the beach when you jumped into his arms, the day you stumbled into his embrace and he kissed your cheek. 

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to sit there waiting for me when we didn’t even know if this is something worth waiting for. And to be honest, I wanted to protect myself, too. I was afraid I couldn’t make it through these months if I felt more for you than I already did.”

Sy sits down on the rock, his thighs spread wide. He pulls you down to sit in between them and wraps his arms around you. 

“Didn’t help anyway. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you the whole fuckin’ time. Every hour of every day of every week of every month. Was starin’ at the stars so often. Always thought that at least they are the same, shining down on me and you. That made me feel a little bit nearer to you. And I was lookin’ at your photo all the time.” You hear his deep chuckle, although it sounds a little bit different than you know it. It has some sad undertones this time.

Of all the things he told you, you pick the most stupid thing to answer him. “Noooo, not that stupid photo, I’m looking awful in it.”

This time Sy’s chuckle is brighter, the way you know and love it. “Nope, darlin’, already told you. Pretty as a speckled pup!”

You turn your head to look at him. And at the sight of him, looking at you so soft, the fire throwing light and shadow over his face, you know it’s going to happen. You lean into him, you can feel his breath and then finally he closes the last distance and his lips brush over yours. His whiskers tickle at the corner of your mouth but you decide immediately that you love it. 

Sy grabs you at your waist and pulls you sideways onto his lap. With the new angle, he is able to pull you closer and deepen his kiss. His tongue carefully licks over your upper lip and you respond to it by opening your mouth to let him explore it. You feel like the world around you fades away and it is just Sy and you. Both of you put all the love, all the desperation you felt in the last eight months into this kiss and so your hearts are racing when you finally part your lips again, gasping for air. 

Sy stands up, carrying you bridal style without any effort. When he moves you near the fire, you notice that everyone else is gone. Sy sees the confused expression on your face and grins.

“I asked Fletcher if he could make sure to give us a little more privacy.” Sy kneels down on a blanket next to the fire and puts you down. His wide frame leans over you the next moment and his mouth is on yours again. Soon his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, finally resting on a spot under your ear where his kisses and sucks made your whole body shiver. 

He pulls his head back, looking down onto you with his eyes dark. “Are you still cold?” he asks you. 

“No, I’m feeling as good as never before,” you whisper. Your hand travels to his jaw and you run your fingers through his coarse beard. Sy leans into your touch, closing his eyes.

“I can shave it!” he tells you but you shake your head. “No, I think I like it. Missing your curls though.” you answer him while running your other hand through the soft hair on the back of his head. 

“Yeah, gonna need to grow them out again. You will need something to hold onto.” He winks at you and you can’t hold back a laugh. That’s the Sy you missed so much.

You get back to kiss each other, and soon your hands are traveling over each other's bodies. The heat of the fire and of Sy’s body gets to you and you lean up to get rid of Sy’s hoodie. Sy mirrors you and pulls his shirt over his head. You gasp at the sight of his bare chest. His shoulders are even wider than you remember and you can’t help it, you want to bite into his pecs that heave with every one of his deep breaths.

You straddle him and kiss him passionately. Sy’s hands grab your ass and he pulls you impossibly close to him. You feel him pressing against your core, hard and big, and you moan at the sensation. Sy tugs on your shirt and you help him to get it off of you. You hadn’t bothered to wear a bra and Sy grunts in appreciation as his hands cup both of your breasts. Soon he repalces one hand with his mouth and he circles your hard nipple with his tongue. “Damn, baby you are gorgeous!” he tells you and sinks back into the soft flesh of your breasts.

Then he moves, laying you down onto your back and slowly he trails a path of wet kisses down to your belly until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. His eyes move up to your face as his hands go for the button. Instead of an answer you help him open it and pull at your zipper. Sy rolls down your jeans, tugging the tight fabric until you are finally laying in front of him, only in your soaked panties. His beard tickles you as he kisses you all the way up from your ankle to your knee and then further up your thigh and you squirm under him. Soon you feel his warm breath through the lacy fabric of your underwear. 

“Please, Sy!” you beg and he answers you teasingly with a chaste kiss onto your clothed mound. “Sy! Please!” you plead once more and he finally listens. He pulls down your panties and parts your legs with his shoulders. And then his mouth is where you wanted it to be. 

Slowly, way too slowly, he licks with his tongue through your folds up to your clit. A gasp escapes your mouth when he reaches your pearl. Sy keeps playing with it, drawing circles around it, sucking it into his mouth. With his tongue flattened, he laps along your entrance and then he gets back to your clit again. When you already notice the tension in your middle build up, you feel a finger push into you.

Sy curls it to find your most sensitive spot. And when he reaches it, he adds a second finger and pumps them into you. All the while he rolls your clit between his lips. You can hardly breathe over the sensation Sy's tongue and fingers give you. You press your hips up to his mouth when your climax washes over you and you feel your whole body melt under his ministrations. And even after you come down from your high, Sy doesn’t stop moving over your now oversensitive pearl.

You wriggle under his touch. „Sy, come here!“ you tell him and pull him up to you. Droplets of your juices fall from his wet beard onto your chest when he leans over you with a wide grin.

He sinks his head down to you and kisses you frantically, building up the ache in your core again. You start to fumble on his belt. You’re impatient and want to feel him in every way possible. You had waited so long for this to happen, now you can’t wait a minute longer. But Sy takes all his time to drag this out.

Finally, you manage to undo his belt and your fingers work on the buttons of his jeans next.

“Sy!” you moan into his ear. “I want this so much. I want you.” He just growls in response. His mouth is on your neck and his hand travels down between your legs again. You are still not able to free him from his damn pants and you let out a frustrated huff. 

“Will you just already get out of these jeans and fuck me?” you almost cry out. Sy chuckles lightly. 

“Oh, baby, I will. Trust me. Just give me one minute. There’s a condom in my jacket.” He gets up and your gaze follows him as he walks to his truck. You take in how the thin layer of sweat that covers his back glistens in the light of the bonfire. It’s the hottest thing you have ever seen. 

He gets the condom and then, when he turns back to you, you have to correct yourself. THIS is the hottest thing you have ever seen: Sy walks back to the fire, and when he is towering over you, his chest glistening of sweat all the same, he opens his jeans and lets them drop into the dirt. He’s been going commando under them, so he stands there in all his glory. And because it’s Sy, he’s looking at you with his signature cocky smirk and his eyes dark with desire. 

You grab his hand and pull him down to you. Sy drops next to you and the moment he’s on the ground, you take your chance and get on top of him. You kiss him, starting on his neck, then going down over his chest and stomach and then you follow the trail of dark hair to his hard and veiny cock. You pause your movement to lick your lips and then you finally sink your mouth over the swollen head of his cock. Your tongue circles around it and Sy answers with a loud growl. 

You can’t take him fully into your mouth but you do your best to make him feel good with your lips, tongue and hand. And you feel him twitch and grow on your tongue.

“Baby, please, you need to stop or I’m not going to last. It’s been too long.” He pulls back and puts the condom into your hand. You sit up and carefully you open the package and roll the condom over his dick. 

Then you straddle him, one fist around his cock. Slowly, you guide him through your wet folds to your entrance. You stop for a second, your eyes meet, and your heart is going to burst by the sight of him, looking at you hungrily but also so soft. You sink down onto him, inch for inch and you can barely breathe at the sensation of him stretching you out. When you are seated completely, Sy leans up to you and kisses you. You hook your legs around his hips, put your arms around his neck and pull him tight. Your lips meet again as you start to roll your hips in a slow rhythm. 

Your breasts brush over his chest with every movement. You kiss over his jaw and his throat, grind your core on him as you ride him. Sy's head sinks down to your breasts, needily he sucks on your nipples while he rakes his nails over the soft skin of your back. 

After some time where you move on top of him in a slow pace, Sy loses his patience, grabs your sides and starts to thrust up to you. Now your hips are crashing together roughly as you both chase your high. Sy lets out deep moans in the same rhythm as his thrusts. One last time he pushes his hips up to you and then he comes with a rumbling groan. He holds you tight against his chest. You follow him only seconds after, just by feeling and hearing his release you reach your high, too and you ride him slowly until the shockwaves that rush through your body cease.

Sy softens the grip of his arms around you and looks at you with hooded eyes. You climb off of him and you fall onto the blanket next to Sy. Panting, both of you look at each other and just smile like idiots.

“So, can I finally take you on a date, then?” Sy asks and you both laugh.

Sequel: Something like that

[alchamy34]

Why Wonderbat Works

Okay, so this isn't meant to offend batcat shippers, I'm am just talking about a ship I adore so much.

So Bruce and Diana may seem like oil and water opposites but they aren't. That's just what some shows want fans to think, and unfortunately I fell for it until I found out about wonderbat.

The reason that animated movies won't make it a canon relationship is because it will be healthy and heartwarming. They are both stubborn and believe in justice as well as sharing similar wounds. And that in their childhood they had the same goals. To fight evil and protect the people. Sure Superman had that kinda goal but he had a completely different form of motivation for it.

I like wonderbat because the dark brooding bat with the immortal strong willed justice warrior princess works.

Diana could help Bruce become better mentally, she isn't afraid of him with the costume on. She cares for him and inspires him.

Batman is terrifying to criminals, hell some of the other league members fear him. But Diana sees through that, and also through the billionaire playboy persona. So it can be difficult for Bruce to push her away. That just makes the ship even more compelling.

Obviously I liked Justice League unlimited because of the ship. It just has so much potential and even today fans are rooting for it.

Another reason why I love wonderbat is because Diana loved Steve Trevor, she later liked Bruce. Why? I know they're nothing alike but it makes sense in the DCEU. When Diana met Steve, she was naive, but determined. She knew very little about Man's World. But when Bruce came into her life, she was more mature and aware of society as well as mastering the skill of fitting in. She knew better. Past Diana needed Steve Trevor to learn and grow but present Diana is there for Bruce because she already became the woman that the dark knight needs in his life.

So the ship makes sense in the movies and the cartoon. It's cute, humorous and teaches the fans something. It's still so popular that I was writing a fanfic about it. It's still a WIP but I'm trying to be accurate on it. I really want to actually join the wonderbat community.

[pedrospatch]

wip wednesday

thank you for the tags angels 💕 @ezrasbirdie @mothandpidgeon @atticrissfinch @mermaidgirl30 @sawymredfox @janaispunk

i unfortunately have been distracted (and by a non fictional man no less) and none of my wips changed since the last game. but, after getting that photo of jackson joel earlier today, i was looking in my drafts and found an outline of a wip i never finished and i just might now that i have a sudden boost of inspo.

it’s called you never thought i’d run which is inspired by both better man and all too well (10 minute version), which are my favorite songs off of red tv. that album may have gotten knocked out of my top 3, but it still holds a special place in my heart.

*this is not fleshed out AT ALL, it is literally from an outline but it is all i have to offer for the time being lmao.

“Take the goddamn jacket,” Joel snaps, trying to thrust his khaki colored jacket into your trembling hands. “You’re gonna freeze to death out here in nothin’ but that little skirt.”

“And so what if I do? Why do you care, anyway?” you seethe, your heart pounding painfully hard against your ribcage. “Why the hell do you care about what happens to me?”

His eyes soften. He knows better than to say it, but he foolishly does so anyway. “Y’know I care about you, darlin’. I never stopped carin’ about you. I never will.”

And that’s all it takes.

Those words. That look on his face.

That’s all it takes to make you snap. 

You step forward and shove him with both hands, but you’re not strong enough to push him very far.

“Fucking asshole!” you shout at him. “You can’t fucking do that! You’re not allowed to do that to me!”

“Baby, calm down—”

Curling your hands into fists, you start beating them against his broad chest. “You can’t do this to me!”

Joel doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t even try.

np tags! @mrsmando @missredherring @ozarkthedog @penvisions @pascalssbabyy @freelancearsonist @cowgurrrl @pr0ximamidnight @thelightsandtheroses and anyone else who wants to join!

[bellaxgiornata]

Honestly I cannot believe that I've been on tumblr for just over a year now and somehow there's already so many of you wonderful people here that are reading, enjoying, and supporting my silly little fics. When I jumped over here from AO3, I had not anticipated how much fun I was going to have getting to chat with all of y'all while also sharing my stories with those of you who aren't on AO3. I've definitely made some wonderful friends this past year because of tumblr and I just want to say thank you to everyone for the support. I always mean it when I say y'all are the reason I keep writing these stories 💖

I could certainly get sappier but instead I'll just invite y'all to join me for my first ever celebration! There's a few fun things below the cut that y'all can pop up with in my ask box starting today May 3 through Wednesday May 8! I tried to think of some interesting things that I could realistically make time to do with everything currently going on in my life, especially because I'm also still trying to stockpile rough drafts for many of my stories so that I can still have updates during my upcoming "writing hiatus" (that I'll explain more about later). My plan is to answer things as they come in and hopefully have them all finished shortly after the celebration ends. And once the celebration finally ends, I'm hoping to give y'all an update to a story or a one shot!

Hopefully this will be fun for everyone!

Let's Chat! - Feel free to send me an ask about anything at all! No, seriously. You want to tell me about your day? An upcoming vacation or exciting accomplishment of yours? Do it! Or maybe you want to ask me questions about one of my stories or my writing process? Hell, feel free to ask me about myself, chat about coffee, music, books, pets, whatever!

Discuss Headcanons with Me! - Have any headcanons about Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, or Michael Kinsella that you want to chat about or share with me? Send them in! Or are you interested in a headcanon I might have about one of them in a certain situation? Feel free to ask! We can chat about the boys!

Send Me Fake FFTD Installment Titles! - Create a title name for an installment for my Falling for the Devil series (ex. "The [insert title]") and I'll write a couple of sentences about what I could picture that installment being about! You win bonus points if you can actually stump me on coming up with a plot for your title. But also who knows, maybe some title suggestions could spark an idea for future updates...

Let's Play a Game! - We can play would you rather, have you ever, or fuck/marry/kiss (or kill). For the record, f/m/k can be with anyone from Daredevil, Punisher, Defenders, Kin, or even any of Charlie's characters that I'm familiar with (Matt, Michael, Owen, Henry, Tristan, or Adam) or those of Jon's that I'm familiar with (mainly Frank, Shane, or Julian). If you can think of another game feel free to play it with me!

Ask the Boys! - Do you enjoy my weird internal dialogues with fictional characters that probably make me sound crazy? Great! Feel free to send me an ask to either one or all of the fictional men that live in my head (Matt, Frank, and/or Mikey) and I'll relay whatever they respond with in something of a short internal dialogue!

Request a Sneak Peak! - Since I have been stockpiling quite a few WIPs and rough drafts for a couple of months now, I am open to y'all just requesting a sneak peak. If you do, I will share a snippet from a fic I choose at random from something that's either a fully finished rough draft or still a work in progress!

**You're more than welcome to participate multiple times, but all I ask is that you (1) send things in separate asks, (2) are not rude to me or anyone else, and (3) are 18+ to discuss anything spicy (this is an 18+ blog anyway so I'd hope everyone here already is).**

[allmyocsarebritish]

Cello time

Pairing: Wednesday X Reader

Warnings(?): Soppy, I think it is a universal experience to almost cry at this song (linked at the end), I still haven't finished any of my wips so I wrote this instead

I actually love this sm lmao

It was no secret that the Hyde was playing on everyone's minds. The creature rampaged through the dreams of all Nevermore students; for no-one knew exactly when it would next strike. Living in pure fear was exhausting, and you didn't know how much longer you could go on.

Though it wasn't all terror, distress and sleepless nights. Life may have been a chore, but you did have one solace.

And her name was Wednesday Addams.

The raven-haired girl who swore she felt nothing had found her reason to live. She may have sworn to never end up like her parents, yet she was purely delaying the inevitable. The Addams curse was inescapable, no matter how stone-hearted she pretended to be. One smile from you and the walls Wednesday had solidified with layer upon layer of cement and mortar came crashing down, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

And she would protect you with every fibre of her being; to the death and beyond the grave. So truly, she did not know why you bothered to fear.

You would never tell her what really scared you. What made your blood run cold, lingering in the deepest, darkest corner of your mind. It wasn't the disturbing appearance of the evil beast, nor the paranoia that the creature was a student like yourself, wandering through the very halls you did. Hell, it wasn't even the thought of the Hyde taking you as it's next victim.

No, it was the thought of losing her.

Exactly one week before the Rave'n, you sat on Wednesday's monochrome bed, engraving the features if her side profile into your mind. She was the picture of elegance, a true gothic beauty. Her slender fingers glided over the keys of her type writer, as she began to round off her daily writing time.

You couldn't help a giddy smile pulling at your lips, for this meant only one thing.

Cello time.

This was your favourite pass time; feeling the cool evening breeze caress your cheeks as you tilted your head to the twinkling stars, serenaded by the passionate music radiating from Wednesday's instrument.

With a final click, the Addams girl turned to face you, flashing a small smile. A smile that made you feel as though you had swallowed an entire bowl of crawling spiders. You replicated it, albeit more emotionally, before rushing to open the window.

Your adoration for as you dubbed it, "cello time", made Wednesday's previously dead heart restart with an electric jolt. The fiery sensation was unbearable.

How she loved it.

Bringing her source of music, she joined you on the balcony, indulging in a long, romantic kiss before gliding to her music stand. She flicked through the sheet music, you peering over her shoulder intently.

"Which one would you prefer, Cara Mia?" She questioned, and you couldn't deny the addicting feeling of your heart bursting at the nickname.

You grinned, knowing she would have already presumed which one you would choose; hence why she paused on that sheet.

"This one." You clasped your hands together excitedly, hoisting yourself up and sitting on the wall of the balcony. Wednesday grinned back, extending her bow.

An overpowering feeling of pure, blissful love washed over you as the first few notes of 'Can't help falling in love' rang out into the silent darkness.

The love you felt for Wednesday was unrivalled, and as the song continued, your eyes became glassy, overcome with powerful emotion.

As the final notes rang out, you leapt from your seat on the wall, racing into the arms of your girlfriend.

"I love you. More than words can say, more than I can even comprehend. I don't know what I would do without you."

[rindecisions]

Something's Coming...

Join me!! 🤍

The AO3 collection is already live for you to post anything you make based on my work from now until forever

Join my Discord for more information and community. It's also the easiest way to get in contact with me.

Below are some scenes and ideas to give you jumping off points if you need them but I'd prefer you to use YOUR favorite!

Includes Sneak peeks!

(These were so hard to pick)

The Devil of Hawkins

I'd love to hear theories on this fic

First Kiss

Ceiling 69 🔞

Give Me Fuel, Give Me Fire

The Sunroof🔞

Stranger Tales

Something to go with the next chapter (Sneak Peek)🔞

You Know Where to Find Me

Something to the song Another Place by Bastile would be great. It's just such a fitting song for this story.

Their first goodbye

From Hell and Back

I'd love to see what one-shots you could come up with for my shapeshifting Demon Eddie

Mini Eddie

Tentacles🔞

A New Arrangement

What song should I base the next instalment on?

The teased kiss

Kiss in the rain

Steve's New Obsession

I'm torn on continuing this one. If I did what would you like to see happen?

Steve watching Eddie at the Hideout🔞

Beneath the Watch's Band

Where would you see this fic going?

Their first kiss

Billy 'The Freak' Hargrove

What do you think their other escapades looked like?

The proposition

Nectar

I bet you guys could come up with some impressive one-shots for plant cryptid Steve.

First kiss

Come and Get Me

To be released on March 20th. It's part of the @strangerthingsreversebigbang and will be accompanied by the incredible artwork of @waldos-art

A peek at one of my favorite scenes

The WIPs

These will be released on May 1st

Evil Things🔞

From Trashed to Treasured

Been working on this one with @madaboutmunson

Here's two scenes from the first chapter.

The Target 🔞

VERY DARK - DEAD-DOVE - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Demositter

What Next?

Unnamed Sex-Pollen One-Shot

[whatevertheweather]

Thank you @thewholelemon @moodandmist @run-for-chamo-miles and @youarenevertooold for the tags! I'm in love with everything y'all posted, what the hell.

In other news, it seems like my recipe for success is to have a Bad Saturday, unexpectedly write an unprecedented amount on Sunday, manage nothing throughout the week, then rinse and repeat. However, yesterday was a kind of okay Saturday, and I've still written a lot today, so maybe the point is really just Sunday.

In any case, what I've written today is from the same unexpected fic I mentioned in my last WIP post. But also like that post, that's not what I'm going to share, because it's not on my hit list for this year. Instead, I'm joining in with the CORB cheer by posting about, y'know, the one I started last year, good old Bait and Switch, because that's what I was getting all my words out for last weekend. Like, the next chapter is about 2 scenes away from done, when there had only been about 3 scenes in it when I started. So that's good?

Under the cut because this is already getting kinda long and I'm not stopping at six sentences.

I don’t know the answer to that. “Because I’m better than you. Now c’mon, get your head in the game. We have a plan.” “Do we?” “Here’s the plan. You give me a good zinger to make Simon go off—” “No.” “What?” “You think I can set him off with a zinger?” he audibly sneers. “This isn’t a one-liner trick. We build up to it.” “Fine,” I roll my eyes. “You long-con him, he goes off, I get my energy back. Easy-peasy.”  Baz is silent. Maybe being a dick and maybe asleep. I can never tell. Finally, he says, “And then you’ll let me out.” “Yeah,” I say. “Totally.”

The slightly difficult thing is that there's also rather a bit of angst being threaded through a fic that is at its core quite lighthearted, but I've received some comments in my time that suggest I may be good at writing things that make you laugh and then also hurt you in rapid succession, so hopefully I can pull it off without it feeling like we're switching genres.

Here's another that's a very little bit of both.

“I would not fucking say that!” Baz yelps. “Calm down,” I swat at him, but the tips of my fingers just slide through the edge of the coffin. I scowl at them. “I saw it in a film. It’s fine. It’s a totally normal thing to say.” “It’s not! It’s really, really not!” By the time he’s run out of steam screeching at me about it, I’m thinking there’s no way this ends up worth it. I don’t feel bad for doing it, but seriously, no one has ever yelled at me for this long. His voice is wearing down. Getting scratchier, which just makes him sound more violent, but then quieter. He ends by mumbling, “I hate you.” It hits weird. I mean, I don’t know. It just sounded sad. And it’s not true.  He doesn’t hate me. We’re helping each other.

Now, tags!

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @whogaveyoupermission

@mooncello @monbons @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart

@alexalexinii @rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife

@confused-bi-queer @iamamythologicalcreature @noblecorgi @forabeatofadrum @emeryhall

@hushed-chorus @onepintobean @raenestee

[inaconstantstateofchange]

don't come crying - a young!Raphael fic

An incredible rendition of young!Raphael by @shahs1221, here: please go check her out and give her some well-deserved adoration for it!

A/N: I'm gonna be so honest, I have no idea how to tag this in a comprehensible way, relationship-wise. Suffice to say, the Mephisto-lovers are... probably going to appreciate this more than I wish you would, and if you too are fifty leagues down the Niche Forgotten Realms Characters™ rabbit hole, you may also be enticed by the Baalphegor inclusion. 18+, please and thank you.

Summary:

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here. Or: Centuries prior to the events of the game, Raphael's return from a routine fetch quest on Mephistopheles's orders is interrupted by a summons to the throne room. His father has a lesson to impart to him, and he's going to ensure it sticks.

This is part of an ongoing story I've had in the back of my mind for several weeks now. Rather than another WIP longfic, I'll be posting additional segments from this 'verse in a series if/when I add more. If @sky-kiss has any say in it, I'm sure I will.

The only background info you really need is:

All characters are drawn from actual Forgotten Realms lore.

Raphael has recently been plucked from the Material Plane to join his father's court on Cania, in the Nine Hells.

Due to Raphael's stunted development, and an unwillingness to be shamed by his spawn's weakness, Mephistopheles has placed Raphael under the purview of his consort, Baalphegor.

Baalphegor's body is able to produce an empowering draught, too weak to hold much significance to true fiends, but sufficient to bolster Raphael's growth.

Finally, it is a pet headcanon I've incorporated into this 'verse that Baalphegor is the same individual later know as Haarlep, but you are welcome to use your own interpretation.

Raphael stumbles through the extravagant entrance doors to Mephistar, the flesh-shearing winds of Cania grabbing after him as he ducks behind the solid, enchanted stone. He’s done his best to cover all exposed skin, but there is always some that escapes his notice, leaving him bleeding out strength he can ill afford to lose. He loathes these “errands” his father sends him on, tasks purported to test his skill, devotion, and cunning. In reality, it feels more like busywork designed to keep him weak and subservient, reminding him of his contentious existence in the hierarchy and reinforcing his dependence on his father’s dubious goodwill.

The desiccated parchment that proved the focus of this most recent quest crinkles slightly, as he shifts his gaze up, the slight sound echoing across the cavernous hall as he looks with certainty for the being he knows to be waiting for his return, just as always. But — they’re not there.

He furrows his brow, an agitated and disquieting anger growing within his gut. He strides across the marble floor on frostbitten feet he can barely feel, shoving the parchment at the lone figure of Mephistopheles’s chamberlain Barbas, standing at attention at his post, and wearing his habitual sneer as he looks down at Raphael. Raphael ignores it for now, as ever, but files the snub away with all the other insults he will one day be strong enough to return tenfold.

“Where is m—the Lady Baalphegor?” He demands imperiously. They are almost always waiting for him upon his return to bestow his reward. That is the deal, the entire reason he engages in these banal fetch quests even though they are entirely beneath his rank and status. He pushes sharply at the errant thought of the pretty fiction it makes, knowing all the while that his true choice is to bow to his father’s whims or perish. True or not, it does no good to dwell on such matters, not when he will be changing them just as soon as he can manage.

Barbas’s sneer gouges even deeper into his face, growing a biting and nearly gleeful edge as he answers Raphael, “Well, young lord, as your august presence must surely have ascertained, the Lady is certainly not here.”

Raphael can feel his face going blotchy and red, and curses his mortal heritage once again for its constant betrayals. The ice-blue crystals in the eye sockets of the chamberlain harden and glint with glee at the sight. Raphael spins on his heel, marching furiously away, the parchment crumpling further within his fist. Barbas’s mocking voice rings out behind him, “Don’t forget to report to His Grace, little lord! He insisted it be done immediately upon your return.”

Raphael almost turns again to berate him, but manages to stop himself at the last moment, lest he lose even more face from the encounter. He’ll make his report as quickly as possible, then hunt down his wayward… Baalphegor, and claim his rightful recompense. The brilliant halls of Mephistar blur around him as he storms through them, focusing only on making his way to his father’s great hall with haste.

He doesn’t wait to be announced, merely pushes firmly on the doors, both with his physical form and, in a manner only recently attained, with the lashings of his own metaphysical aspect. They creak open, the sound like distant screams even on the well-kept mechanisms, and he steps through without hesitation, words of complaint already springing to his lips, when he stops dead in his tracks.

He’s found Baalphegor.

The succubus – and they are in full succubus form in this moment – is perched indolently on his father’s lap, where he sits on his ostentatious throne. But not just perched, no — impaled, as he finds when, with stricken eyes, he watches them move their body in a smooth, undulating motion up, degree by degree, before dropping back down, brilliant hair falling around them and catching the flickering hellfire-light as it glints off their red-brown skin. Soft, melodious moans are driven from their throat with each movement, as if pushed out by the — by the member within them. Their round breasts shift with the motion, the revitalizing milk within them welling up and dripping down their chest, squandered and disregarded.

He swallows, throat dry, his eyes and chest burning in stark opposition with one another.

His father casts an apathetic glance across the hall, and his eyes alight on Raphael, a cruel smirk curling at his lips. “Ah, the returning triumphant! What have you brought me this time?” His voice is nothing but mocking, no attempt made to couch his disregard for his unwanted and unloved spawn.

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. Everything within him is raging at the broken contract, even as it boils with jealousy at the manhandling of something that is his, and it is only the barest dregs of his staunch self-preservation that manage to keep him from attempting something truly foolish. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here.

He holds the parchment, now looking rather worse for wear, out before him on a finely trembling hand. He searches for the words he needs in a mind nearly whited out by rage.

“I… your cult in Waterdeep sends their obeisance, y–your Grace.” He curses his tongue for its fumbling, driving home further how well his father’s ploy is working to discomfit him.

“Oh,” Mephistopheles waves a careless hand. “That collection of rabble. You will leave it with my steward.”

Raphael ducks his head a bare inch, keeping his eyes away from Baalphegor as much as he can, and turns to leave.

His father’s voice rings out after him before he has completed even half his turn, sharpening with the first warning edges of his infamous temper. “Where do you think you are going, whelp? You have not yet been dismissed.”

Raphael turns back to face him, slow and careful, as the true danger of the situation sets in. He has rarely found himself in the presence of his father when these moods strike, and never without at least the tenuous support of Baalphegor behind him. And yet… he meets their gaze now, searching, and the barest fraction desperate, but there is nothing. Their red eyes meet his without flinching, cold as Cania’s glaciers. Trickles of the subtly shimmering draught spilling from their breasts have reached down to their hips now, soaking into the thatch of hair between their legs.

He tears his eyes away and forces his attention back to the far greater threat, scrambling for an answer that will satisfy his father.

“My apologies, your Grace.” The epithet comes easier this time, its passage eased by his awareness of his own precarious position. “I misunderstood your direction, and wished only to carry out your will with utmost alacrity.”

Mephistopheles rests his chin insouciantly on his hand, elbow propped against the arm of his throne. His voice, when he speaks, is sardonic and shows no signs of the ongoing actions of the succubus on his lap. “Oh very nicely salvaged, whelp. My wishes, however, are for you to remain just where you are, and appreciate the lesson I’ve prepared for you.”

Raphael swallows, the boiling heat within him growing fiercer, rage intertwined with other, less-savory feelings.

With little warning, Mephistopheles moves his hand to entangle within Baalphegor’s tresses, pulling the succubus fiercely down onto him as he wrenches their head back against his shoulder. A tremulous cry breaks from their throat, and Raphael only barely keeps himself from starting forward at the sound.

Mephistopheles brings his free hand forward and toys with Baalphegor’s breasts, pushed forward into the air from their current position. He twists pitilessly at them, prompting yet more cries as the liquid inside spills out in greater quantities, splashing, wasted, against the smooth skin of Baalphegor’s stomach. It runs in rivulets onto the throne, and down, to collect into puddles on the floor of the grand hall.

Raphael feels his stomach turn even as his mouth, well-trained by association, waters, unhindered by every other horrible aspect of this waking nightmare.

Mephistopheles wipes his hand dismissively on Baalphegor’s hair, leaving behind silvery streaks, then draws them up by their hair and hip, beginning to move within them in earnest as he continues his reproach. Raphael wants to close his eyes, his ears, every one of his senses, but knows such an admission of weakness would be worse than his undoing.

“You’ve prevailed enough upon my largess, and I am no longer willing to indulge your weakness.” Mephistopheles sneers. “You’ve proven more fortunate than any other cambion within the Hells, but from now on you will make your own way, or fail. Such is the way of Baator.”

The fires around the hall burn fiercer in alignment with their lord as he looks down at his unloved progeny. “Should you find yourself desperate for one last taste to stay your appetites, however, you may lap it from the floor like the whelp you are, and thank me for the concession.”

Raphael feels like he is become hellfire himself, the hatred he knew within him for his progenitor stoked to dizzyingly fierce new heights. Jaw aching with the effort of withholding the flood of vitriol within him, he grits out, “My thanks for your… beneficence. I would not dream of prevailing upon it further.”

Mephistopheles snorts, dismissive, then turns his attentions back to Baalphegor, by all accounts having forgotten Raphael’s entire existence.

Raphael stands, Baalphegor’s unfeeling eyes burning into his, until he is finally – finally – dismissed. All the while, the ambitions within him, already cast in carbon, are pressurized further and further, until they are as fearsome diamond, reflecting the blood and fire around him.

He will not remain his father’s lesser for long. He will see him deposed, and make him suffer for these indignities heaped upon his person.

By Asmodeus, he swears it.

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday & Last Song I Listened Too

Tagged by @skoll-sun-eater

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @noodlecupcakes @voidika @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @shellibisshe @direwombat @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries @nightwingshero and @lulu2992 (for the Last Song You've Listened To mostly) + anyone else who'd like to join.

Three songs for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles. You can listen to them under the cut:

You know... with the amount of similarities in trauma and certain points in their worldviews... I think Silva and the Seeds would have gotten along if the Voice wasn't fucking with everyone. Hell, after experiencing violence, confronting her traumas and having really confusing and mixed feelings with them, at the mid point of the story, Silva just wants to stop the war because she no longer wants to kill the Seeds (which may or may not have something to do with bonding with a captive John and whatever she and Faith got going on). Yes, Silva goes from "I'm putting all of you into the ground" to "actually you guys are too relatable to kill I need to stop this violence". That's pretty much how the first half of the fic goes. Anyway here's a song that describes it best:

"Wish we could laugh, play, joke all day Like good friends do But we can't get along, no (yea man) We can't get along, no." "We just fight, fight it just ain't right What we put ourselves through We can't get along, no We just can't get along, no (ohh, ohh)!"

"We can't stay the same and let this battle just go on We can make a change and prove everybody wrong

Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends?"

SPECIALS is a fun little not-plot-relevant-at-all future roleplay designed to celebrate all those holidays and seasons and is purely fun crack. Calvin Dearing being present does not mean it's relevant to his story or mental health. (But please someone get him out he's too hungover for this song...). Anyway when I imagine this is the song that makes the most sense for this WIP because it is pure chaos. Enjoy!

"This song's gonna get stuck inside yo' This song's gonna get stuck inside yo' This song's gonna get stuck inside your head

'Cause it's so catchy, catchy It's such a catchy song Gonna make you happy, happy Don't try to fight it, sing along

This song's gonna get stuck inside yo' (Head!) This song's gonna get stuck inside yo' (Head!) This song's gonna get stuck inside your head!"

Marissa "Ress" Bishop is one of the most optimistic characters who manages to build an upbeat worldview in spite of the suffering and pains she'll be going through (e.g. the death of her brother, outliving her mother despite seeming to be in her late twenties, the fact she'll outlive most of everyone she knows because of her long lifespan, etc). Her whole goal in the Commonwealth is to kill her father and just take time to live afterwards, just like Ore would want her to. Once the Commonwealth is liberated (from Maxson's Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel), there's a night of celebration before Ress, Nate and their companions go on to deal with the Institute and Arcane Urias. And yes, Ress is definitely taking Piper onto the dance floor. Besides this song definitely fits Ress:

"'Cause I got a feeling (woohoo!) That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good, good night A feeling (woohoo!) That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good, good night (I feel)

Tonight's that night (hey!) Let's live it up (Let's live it up!) I got my money (My pay) Let's spend it up (Let's spend it up) Go out and smash it (Smash it!) Like, "Oh my God!" (Like, "Oh my God!") Jump out that sofa (Come on!) Let's kick it off (I feel)

Fill up my cup (Drank!) Mazel tov (L'chaim!) Look at her dancing (Move it, move it) Just take it off! Let's paint the town (Paint the town) We'll shut it down (Let's shut it down!) Let's burn the roof (Woo!) And then we'll do it again Let's do it, let's do it, let's do it (Let's do it! Let's do it, and do it (do it!), and do it (Let's live it up!) And do it (Do it!), and do it (Do it!), and do it, do it, do it (And, and, and do it!) Let's do it (And do it!), let's do it (And do it!), let's do it, do it, do it, do it (Hey, hey, hey!)

Here we come, here we go, we gotta rock (Rock, rock, rock, rock, rock!) Easy come, easy go, now we on top (Top, top, top, top, top!) Fill the shot, body rock, rock it don't stop (Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!) 'Round and 'round, up and down, around the clock (Rock, rock, rock, rock, rock, I feel!)

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday (Do it!) Friday, Saturday, Saturday to Sunday (Do it!) Get, get, get, get, get with us, you know what we say Party every day, p-p-p-party every day

And I'm feeling (Woohoo!) That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good, good night A feeling (woohoo!) That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good night That tonight's gonna be a good, good night Woohoo!"

And the last song that I've listened to (recently) would have been:

Fiend Like Me - The Stupendium

[unknownwritersblog]

An Update on my WIP

A look into the WIP I have from a prompt I was given:

“Charles,” Edwin said, turning to the other boy. “Perhaps we can handle this with a conversation.” “Charles?” The Cat King asked, looking between Edwin and Charles. “Do you two have a special friendship?” Charles saw the confusion on Edwin’s face as he turned back to the Cat King. Charles connected the dots when he saw the heat in the Cat King's eyes as Edwin went to open his mouth. He did the only thing he could think of: he reached out and took Edwin’s hand. “Yes,” He responded, not elaborating. Edwin looked at Charles’ face before he looked down at their joined hands. Charles grabbing his hand wasn’t something that happened often, but it happened enough that Edwin didn’t pull away. Thomas took a step back for the trio. It was easy to see the anger, but something was hiding in the boy’s brown eyes. “Well, be that as it may, your friend still needs to be punished,” Thomas said, sitting back on his throne. With a wave of his hand, a bracelet wrapped around Edwin’s wrist. Edwin huffed, lifting his wrist to look at the bracelet. Charles maintained eye contact with Thomas, his grip still tight on Edwin’s hand. He could see the challenge in the cat’s eyes, the disbelief in the white lie. Charles never wavered, the hand on his bat tightening so he wouldn’t hurt Edwin. “What the bloody hell is this?” Edwin asked, unaware of the power struggle between the other two.

[inafieldofdaisies]

15 Lines of Dialogue Tag | Tagged by @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @direwombat @aceghosts @sofrosine @nightbloodbix @kyber-infinitygems @corvosattano @voidika @thesingularityseries

Deputy Sabrina Donovan | WIPs: In Hope of Tomorrow / A Trial of Errors (AU; Lines 9-15)

1. "Who the fuck ties a person to a chair on wheels. Did they rob an office?"

2. Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?"

3. "Yep. I'm still here, didn't teleport through the steel walls, ain't going anywhere, so you can fuck right off." She waited for his footsteps to recede, but they never did, "Like seriously, you're now gonna watch me while I sleep? Fucking creepy."

4. "It was either the radio or I start singing off-key, and I doubt you'd like that."

5. "I will have you know I've been throwing knives since I was 15,", she nodded towards the knife block at the counter, "keep talking and you would find out my actual aim."

6. "Your face is kind of hard to forget." "Was that a compliment, Deputy?" Sabrina rolled her eyes, "You wish."

7. "Are you taking us there?", she repeated, her voice taking an edge, "You have to know, I won't let you take HER."

8. "Didn't strike me as a lace type of girl, Deputy. Are you taking that one, too?", he cocked his head, eyes darkening as he examined the piece. "Oh, you know, I have to win the Miss Universe competition somehow."

9. Her hazel eyes shone as she let out a laugh, "If I had to bet, I'd say you'd be the one getting cold, Mr. Duncan, stolen clothes and all that. I feel like I can skip on asking to see what you're wearing." "Ouch.", he rubbed at his chest at the jab, "That one hurt." "Too soon?"

10. "And you're alone?" "No. A whole harem of guys is keeping me company, actually. They're currently fighting who will be sleeping on my tiny bed, and who's taking the ground, pillowless. A true form of punishment, I tell you."

11. "I'm dealing with a… situation." Her expression was unreadable, "I can see that." "Roughly estimated, how much did my chances sunk with?", [John] asked, flipping back to the view of his face. "Who says they did?"

12. "There's a bat.", he whispered like the creature would hear him and put an end to his game of hiding. "A rat?", she echoed incorrectly. "Sure, Detective,", he hated how his voice shook even as he spoke quietly, "but the type with fucking wings."

13. "Soo..", she began slowly, "why are you without pants? Don't tell me they got stolen while you slept… was it the bat? Should I call Stockton? Though, I think crimes committed by animals are out of his jurisdiction, you can probably vouch for that."

14. "What were you doing up so late?" "A girl has to have some secrets, John."

15. "You could always march over there and threaten to sue them for harassment… Your poor ears would thank you." "Don't tempt me. Because we might end up with a different situation on our hands." She raised an eyebrow, "Them asking you to join?", all he could do was blink as she laughed quietly, "Kidding. Oliver isn't rubbing off on me, I promise."

Deputy Calahan Hartley | WIP: In Hope of Tomorrow

1."I WILL GIVE YOU PURGE, YOU FUCKERS! What timing to be out of dynamite."

2. ["You ready to work?"] "As ready as I can be after crash-landing, almost drowning and getting shot at. Just another Monday, really."

3. "I'm not a leader, chief, hell, it's a miracle I'm still a Deputy. Fuck. Am I even one anymore?"

4. "Zorro will be on his best behavior, I promise. You won't even notice he's around. Plus… he gives mean foot rubs." "Rookie.", disbelief seeped into [Mary May's] tone. "Fine. The foot rubs were a lie. Though, I can take up on that task." "You ain't coming anywhere near my feet, Rookie."

5. "I couldn't leave him behind, gorgeous. He's my son." A huff escaped her, probably at the pout he followed his words with, "He's a raccoon."

6. "One day, you're gonna realize what you're missing, gorgeous. And I won't be looking for payback for these insults. Too much."

7. "Your plan.", Leslie corrected him, "That you devised after getting drunk yesterday." "Most of my plans are conconted that way, chief."

8. "Oh, Leslie, bold and brave, agree to march over to Johnny's GATEEEE…", Hartley sang over the usual lyrics, meeting Zorro's dark gaze, "He looks like John, right, my boy? Even the universe agrees, Parish."

9. "Good old Joseph, oh, how he'd lose his mind if he learns 'God' has been showing visions of his brother fornicating to someone else, he'd probably die from the shock before I have the chance to kill him."

10. "I'm having the worst time of my life here. Humor is what keeps me going, besides Mary May's hidden stash… and well, my anger."

11. "You have the hots for [John], and me… I want to turn him into a human creme bruleee. Two types of people, Gray."

12. "[John]'s been calling me daily, I'm leaving him some friendly notes in return. The start of a beautiful friendship."

13. "Hope you don't mind sitting in the back. Zorro loves riding shotgun."

14. "Go meet your God, tell Him I will send Joseph soon, too."

15. "You're in a bar in Montana.", Mary May rolled her eyes and set a new empty glass in front of [Sébastien], "Closest you'd get to me making you tea, even at lunch is serving you lukewarm water with some of my spit in it. Organic. So count yourself lucky." Calahan leaned in, whispering loudly, "Also known as blatant disrespect. Which I would advise against. Though, I'd take her spitting in my drink anyday."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @strafethesesinners @purplehairsecretlair @finding-comfort-in-rain @dumbassdep @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @simonxriley @wrathfulrook @shellibisshe @gearvmac @amalkavian @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @simplegenius042 @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @katsigian and anyone that would like to do the tag <3

[cookiesupplier]

DISCLAIMER: All the works linked in the list below are entirely fictional. While they are inspired from real people they are fictional in every way. They in no way shape or form reflect the actions or opinions of the people mentioned in the works themselves.

TAG LIST: to join or leave my tag list please see THIS FORM

💥 = le smut

MULTIPLE BANDOM INCLUSIVE

Motionless In White, Bad Omens, BMTH to be included so far... x-posted to ao3

Prison of Stone and Flesh (wip) (Multi-ship, check the link)💥

Bad Omens:

Hell-Verse Combined Masterlist

Nicholas Ruffilo

Say My Name (ofc) Say My Name - Part Two (ofc) 💥 Catch You When You Fall (ofc)

Noah Sebastian

First Tattoo (fem!reader) Thanksgiving Chaos (fem!reader) Watermelon (fem!reader) 💥 Hell Aint So Bad (ofc) 💥 Run A Dagger Through My Chest (ofc) Paris Headcanon (fem!reader)💥

Nick Folio

Motorcycle Ride (fem!reader) A Friend Down In Hell (ofc) Paris Headcanon (fem!reader)💥

Jolly Karlsson

Kristmas with Käresta (ofc) Käresta's NYE (ofc) 💥 Breakfast with Käresta (ofc) 💥

Motionless In White:

Ricky Olson

Every Rose Has Its Thorns (ofc) 💥 Out of the Rain Rip The Curtain Away (rickyxchris)💥 Drain the blood out from your veins (fem!reader) 💥

Chris Motionless

What She Needs (ofc) 💥 Every Rose Has Its Thorns (ofc) 💥 Rip The Curtain Away (rickyxchris)💥

CURRENT WIP's:

HELL AU SERIES: ON PAUSE CURRENTLY Nicholas Ruffilo x ofc

Catch You When You Fall Masterlist

COLLABORATIVE FIC, GARGOYLE AU - w/ @faceless-mirror Multi-Ship - Please Check the Masterlist

Prison of Stone and Flesh Masterlist💥

Currently requests are closed.

((Except for WIP -- if you have an outtake idea for MIW Soulmate or Hell Verse Series, feel free to message me, or inbox me about it!))

Updated: 2nd of May 2024

Dividers from @saradika-graphics, Header by Me.

[darcylightninglewis]

Good morning!!! Sorry to bother but since you are the most knowledgeable person I know about Hellcheer can I ask you if you have ever read a fic where Chrissy survives Vecna and then joins the group to defeat him? Thanks in advance and have a great day!!!

Okay, first off, you're never a bother, ever.

Secondly, I am honored by your ask. Sorry for the delayed response, it's...it's been a weird emotional exhausting few days but we're back!

Where my brain immediately went to

Chrissy and Eddie’s Infinite Mixtape by @little-scribblers-heart

What may be (to my reading knowledge) the most epic rewrite of S4, really can't recommend LovelyThings enough.

(sooner or later it comes down to fate) i might as well be the one by @majicmarker

Another great one and one of the best stream of conscious Eddie writers I've ever come across. Their fics always make me laugh.

someone reaching back for me by @enoughtotemptme

Okay, this one is gonna make you sad, but eventually very happy too! It was the first groundhog style fix its fics I read for season 4 and introduced me to the writer's work who I also can't rec enough.

EDIT

OMFG, I CAN'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T INCLUDE @hangon-silvergirl!! Thank you for pointing out my mistake, @majicmarker <33

Bonus Tracks by @hangon-silvergirl

Everything by her is amazing and this is no exception. I love it when folks use things we learn from con's in fic (like Chrissy's would be Vecna song), superb. A WIP, but off to a killer start.

Now below these are ones that have been on my Marked for Later list because I'm just in need of pure uncut fluff these days but come highly recommended.

the pleasure, the privilege, is mine. by melodicvinyl

I just love the starting premise of this one, I can see it being a thing Eddie does to make her smile or it's actually his mundane superpower that finally comes in handy. Also love their other fics too.

Linger by CircusBones

Hawkin's High 10 Year Reunion! Class of 86! Chrissy Cunningham has built a life in California, far from the demons of her youth, from her mother to Vecna. There's people who were always good to her, though. Healing might have taken her away from them, and coming back has its own challenges. This story moves between the events of 1986, and Chrissy experiencing Hawkins ten years later.

I've read their shieldshock fics and love them so I'm sure I'll love this too.

like hands that tick on a clock by theredhoodie

What if Chrissy Cunningham wasn't Vecna's first victim, but she survived instead? How would that have changed things for everyone? A ST4 shippy rewrite.

aesthetic chills by sloelimbs

"aesthetic chills" is the literal translation of frisson, which is the feeling you get when listening to a really good piece of music.

put your lips close to mine, as long as they don't touch by Percyjacksonfan3

Here's the thing about Chrissy Cunningham: she actually is the straight laced dependable good girl that everyone thinks she is. She's also, until she starts having these weird visions that make her feel like she's going out of her mind, insanely bored. Or, alternatively, the fix-it AU where Chrissy doesn't die and she and Eddie try and figure out what the hell is going on with her. And with them. Also, the usual gang is there. Eventually. Because these two need some serious help fighting demons and figuring out that they are not just friends.

If I missed an author's tumblr name please forgive me, I'm preeeetty brain dead. If I missed any fellow Hellcheerios, please drop them in the comments as I'm sure this isn't an exhaustive list. But hopefully enough to get you started babes!!

Hellcheer to canon:

[murfeelee]

D&D / Critical Role INSP: Bells Hells

"Bells Hells is an adventuring party that met and joined together...in the summer of 843 PD. They are the protagonists of the Third Campaign of Critical Role."

Left to right: Laudna, Fearne & Little Mister, FGC (Fresh Cut Grass), Chetney, Orym, Imogen, Ashton, and Dorian.

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

I TOLD Y'ALL I WAS GONNA DO IT!! 😈

Before, I had assumed that this time around I'd be able to have every occult in my household, but I forgot about Mermaids. 🤦

Laudna (vampire), Fearne (plantsim, witch, fae), FGC (plumbbot), Chetney (werewolf), Orym (human "halfling"), Imogen (witch), Ashton (simbot, genie), Dorian (genie, witch).

TBH I was tempted to make Dorian a Mermaid, even though he's an Air Elemental. I may still do it anyway, regardless. I definitely won't be able to cram in every occult for the Vox Machina campaign, as there's no mermaid or robot there, either. UGH. My bucket list~! U_U

CC CREDITS (WIP cuz sheer laziness):

Lot by @crowkeeperthesimmer

Laudna: skirt by @greenplumbboblover, shoes by @venusprincess-ts3, scissors by @danjaley, poses X X | everything else coming soon by me (hair is an edit I did of Gramsims' Stylus hair (X))

Fearne: Newsea hair X, leaves acc X, monkey | everything else coming soon by me

Chetney: ears acc by @departmentstoresimulator | everything else coming soon by me

Orym: armor at MTS, sword, pants by EA, shoes, tatts by Noah | everything else coming soon by me

Imogen: hair, shorts by EA, boots, scarf acc, stockings at LoversLab | everything else coming soon by me

Ashton: top from LN EP, pants, boots at TSR, bracelets by Haneco & AikeaGuinea, contacts at MTS | everything else coming soon by me

Dorian: hair (Vanilla), lute, boots from AMB EP, contacts | everything else coming soon by me

[prettyiwa]

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work anywhere. Do not mention me or my work on Tik-Tok.

Relationship: Ex!Semi Eita x F!Reader Content Tags: Bassist!Semi Eita, Post MSBY-Schweiden, Fluff, Past Relationship, Mentions of a Messy Break-Up, High School Sweethearts, Lingering Feelings, Awkwardness Summary: Throughout your relationship with Eita, there was only one song he never shared with you completely. He used to hum its melody while he worked, though its lyrics remained a mystery to you. No one expected the first time you'd hear them would be during a show following a surprise reunion years after your separation. Word Count: 2,390

A/N: I found this in my WIPs and decided to share what I had. I'm slowly coming to terms with sharing unfinished WIPs and the idea that I may never fully return to them. In the meantime, enjoy?

Ushijima’s question is forgotten the second you hear the opening chords of the next song. Your attention returns to Eita—as though he hasn’t been the center of it all evening—and all coherent thought escapes you. Your heart swells and your breath catches and all you can do is listen to the gentle bassline Eita provides before other instruments join in, one by one.

Suddenly seventeen again, you’re listening to this progression for the first time before he blushes and flusters, ceasing his playing before offering a proper greeting. But that swelling in your chest halts when you’re reminded that you’re not seventeen, that you’re twenty-four with years having passed since you two last spoke.

The song continues, its full form light and hopeful, melancholy if only to you because it viciously reminds you that you’re no longer the kids who believed they could conquer the world together. All the same, the smile that appears on your lips is completely involuntary, a reaction to hearing his lyrics for the first time.

It’s not until he looks away that you realize the hold he’s kept you under, that he’s undeniably aware of your presence in the back of the audience. While you remain uncertain whether Satori’s teases have merit or that Shirabu didn’t set this up for personal entertainment (or that, perhaps, the truth lies in either’s persistence), you are certain that Eita sees you now.

Your heart remains hopeful, willing you to see the yearning in his expression, but there’s that voice in the back of your mind telling you that you’re projecting, that he’s sung this song hundreds of times before for the attention of any of the women around you. The romance you two once had is dead and gone and this is nothing more than a reminder of what once was.

Hell, you’re only here because of a series of coincidences—your return to Japan aligning with Ushijima’s game in Sendai; a schedule change that made Shirabu unavailable to attend the MSBY v. Schweiden match; a passing comment made by Reon regarding Eita’s show tonight; Ushijima inviting you since it’s been years since he’s seen you and months since he’s spoken with Eita. At no point yesterday did Eita otherwise speak with you. He only stared as though confronted with a ghost while you were invited to his performance by the grace of your high school friends. If not for how deeply you missed everyone—if not for how easily swayed you are by all of them—you wouldn’t be here.

The truth remains that Eita wouldn’t have invited you, that he likely already had this song on his set list before your reemergence in his life, that you aren’t the one he intends for it.

Still, you’re both here. He’s playing with his band at his favorite venue and you’re in the audience to cheer him on. One of the first promises you two made each other, fulfilled, something you can cherish if all else is lost. It does nothing to temper your longing, but it soothes some of the sting.

Girls on either side of you swoon, enamored by the pretty men on stage offering prettier lyrics while you’re faced with the largest what-if of your adult life and all of the abandoned promises and sweet nothings that were once yours. What does it matter when the promises that truly mattered are being fulfilled?

The song finishes, its lovely melody coming to a close, but you don’t realize you’re crying until Ushijima offers his handkerchief. Eita’s gaze shifts away again as Ushijima says, “I haven’t heard him play that song since high school.”

“Have you seen Eita perform with this band before?”

“I have. Sometimes they play in Tokyo and if they have a show when I’m in Miyagi, I’ll attend.”

“I’m glad. That makes me happy,” you answer with a smile before returning your full attention to the band.

It means nothing that Ushijima has never heard the song any of the times he’s seen Eita play. It’s not as though he played it for you. Even if he did… it changes nothing. All the same, you’re glad you’re here and glad you were given the opportunity to listen to the finished piece.

With the performance over and the band retreating to the back, you’re about ready to call it a night, certain Ushijima’s feeling the same. Instead, he beckons you to the periphery, providing identification to security as he leads you both to the back of the club. It’s too loud for you to get a word in edgewise once you realize he intends to bring you to Eita, but you don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.

Heart racing, you can’t help but remember yesterday, remember how Eita behaved, deciding he doesn’t actually want you here. He’s never been one to hold back, always asking for what he wants—“the answer’s already no if you don’t ask,” he used to say—so for him to say nothing? Well… It’s easy to anticipate push-back.

“Ushijima,” you prompt once the hallway provides a buffer to the cacophony of the club, “are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t know if Eita wants to see me. Maybe it’s better if I just leave and let you two catch up.”

Stopping in front of the door, he turns to you with a furrowed brow before speaking. “He wants to see you. We were both pleased to run into you after my game.”

“I’m happy I got to see you, too, but I don’t know.”

“I can show you the group conversation if you don’t believe me,” he offers, pulling out his phone.

“Ah, no, it’s okay, I promise,” you say with a laugh, pushing his phone away. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“You still care for him, don’t you?”

“I never stopped.”

Before he can respond, the door opens and the drummer pauses upon seeing you. Sizing you both up, he calls back to the band, “Ushijima and some chick are here,” before pushing past you.

Ushijima enters, taking the space once occupied by the musician, waiting for you to join him. The back room is small, adorned with signed posters from bands who’ve performed in years past, cramped with a mini-bar and unnecessarily large seating, making it feel cluttered even without people.

Everyone watches as you enter, curious as to the identity of “some chick,” and you’re struck by the tension that hangs in the air, the obvious remnants of an argument. Your search for a quiet distraction isn’t in vain as you catch sight of Eita.

Painfully aware that you aren’t alone, that it’s getting harder to breathe under everyone’s continued scrutiny, that the temperature’s rising, that your palms are uncomfortably sweaty, you find that you… don’t care. Not when he’s no longer looking at you as a ghost but as a friend that he’s missed. He looks at you like that, smile stretching his lips, and you can almost forget that last brutal argument.

Offering an awkward little wave and sincere praise for their performance, you feel it more than you see it—the release of the tension in the room, a collective breath held being released. The groupies start gushing over professional athlete Ushijima Wakatoshi and the musicians greet him like they’re used to it. Meanwhile, Eita stands as you approach, disbelief still tucked behind his expression despite his smile.

“You came.”

“Of course I came. I always promised I’d see you here,” you remind him, returning his smile.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

“How could I miss this? I don’t think I have any right to say this, but I’m proud of you and your hard work. For whatever that’s worth.”

A steady flush starts to rise on his cheeks before his smile turns boyish. Uttering your given name in conjunction with his thanks, the other conversations stop and eyes are on you two again. Not until his guitarist repeats your name do you look away, surprised to meet the frustrated faces of his bandmates.

“Oh, so she’s the one you threw our set list out the window for?”

“I’m—what?”

“I already told you guys—”

“Yeah, yeah, you didn’t know what you were doing until it was too late. Doesn’t change the fact that you almost left us hanging in the middle of a set.”

“What are they talking about?” you ask, determined to not read more into the situation than you already have.

“Nothing. They’re talking about nothing. Can we—?”

“Nothing? Nothing except your boyfriend surprising us by playing a completely different song than the one we planned. He’s lucky we’ve practiced it before or we would’ve all been left in a lurch.”

Eita looks at you again and you’re reminded of a child being caught with their hand in the sweets jar. Your mind can’t seem to move past the casual use of “boyfriend” and the reveal that he hadn’t planned on playing that song.

“We aren’t—shit. Ei- I mean, Semi?” you ask, alarm audible in your voice as your cheeks start to burn.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he turns to you, eyes wide, mirroring your trepidation. “I told you guys that we aren’t together.”

“After that stunt tonight, you better be.”

“Semi, I can leave. It’s fine. We came back to say ‘hi’ and tell you that the band’s performance was great,” you say, pulling back. Ushijima starts and you wave him away. “It’s okay, Ushijima. I can call myself a cab. I’ll text you.”

Ushijima hesitates, not wanting to leave you on your own but wanting to respect your wishes, only relenting when Eita steps forward, closing the distance between you two again. He shoots a glare toward his guitarist and cellist before turning to you.

“Please don’t go. You just got here.”

“Semi,” you warn, guilt rippling through you as he deflates. “Listen. It was great seeing you and being able to watch you play, but I should get going. It’s been a long day.”

You can tell he wants to push back, that he wants you to stay—and what a wonderful feeling it is, knowing that—but he senses your discomfort and nods. “At least let me walk you out.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure to take her out through the back so your fan girls don’t get pissy.” The guitarist sports a scowl when you say goodbye to Ushijima, allowing Eita to usher you outside.

It’s hard to place what you’re feeling as you follow, hard to reconcile the way you find this comfortable despite the distance between you. Maybe the silence is as equally daunting, equally filled for him as it is for you. He waits until you’re both outside before saying anything, though he still hasn’t turned to face you. “Look, I need you to know that—”

“It’s okay, Semi. Truly.”

“Will you just let me speak?”

“Sorry. I’m just… nervous.”

“And you think I’m not?” he asks, turning and pinning you with his stare. “Shit. None of this is going the way I thought it would.” Hiding his face behind his hands, he takes a deep breath before bringing his hands up, smoothing over his hair.

“What’s not?”

“Tonight. You.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I thought I would’ve gotten over my nerves around you. Things between us… didn’t end on the best of terms.”

“To put it mildly,” you agree, remembering how vehemently he refused your proposal to split, how quickly concerns over distance were warped into insecure accusations until the argument destroyed any hope you had to remain friends.

“I miss you. It was like a dream seeing you the other night.”

Your heart hiccups at his uncharacteristic openness about his emotions and you look at your shoes before asking, “Didn’t Shirabu tell you I was coming? Or Satori?”

“You must be confusing me for someone who has a better relationship with Shirabu. And Tendō said he didn’t tell me because he thought it would be funnier this way.”

You can’t help but laugh, but let some of your nervous energy escape with the sound. When you look up again, you find the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry. Shirabu told me he planned on seeing the match with you and Reon, only for his shift to change at the last minute.”

“He told Reon, but Reon seemed to forget to pass it on.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize again, amused by their antics. Part of you wishes you had looked at the group chat when Ushijima offered. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Let me take you out for coffee.”

The answer comes a little too quickly and his familiar confidence starts to make itself known, but you hear that little seed of doubt that Eita’s always worked so hard to hide. Even still, you’re worried that it’s too much too soon, that you’ll both get caught in the illusion of “what could have been” rather than what is, that there’s nothing but pain waiting at the end of this road.

“Just coffee, and just as friends, right?”

“Of course.”

“Semi—”

“Just coffee. No surprises. No unwelcome guests. No songs that catch everyone off guard. Just coffee.”

“So you didn’t plan on playing that song?”

“I’ll tell you more about it when we get coffee,” he teases, flashing you a wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

Gods is this man beautiful. So easy would it be to fall into old habits, to give him whatever he asks for. There’s an undeniable pull for you to learn all the way he’s changed in the years since you last saw him, to discover who he is now, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating in such a way that only Eita could pull off.

Bowing your head in an attempt to hide your answering smile, you relent. “Okay, fine. Just coffee. Let me give you my number and we can figure out a time that works for us both.”

His fingers brush against yours as he hands you his phone and you don’t miss the way his smile grows and you know deep within your bones that there’s no way it’s going to be just coffee. Not that either of you seems to mind.

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