#mosey screams

[mosaic-marquise]

A younger pookie <:|

[revalito]

30 min sketch Monday with @mitchmotch ! this time, I drew his oc serene as an octoling from splatoon hehe. I ran out of time but the concept was sick as hell ok. thank you

[brokeniisms]

Me missing my harvest moon au, cause yes it would be fitting for cloud and he loves playing that game. I need to write it out but yeah, need to explore it more. CAUSE CLOUD IS A COUNTRY BOII AT HEART. I wanna write headcanons about that cause I’m having feels about Cloud and his love/connections to home♥️

[probably-not-sherlock]

Me: Oh yeah, I'm really excited I'm gonna be traveling tomorrow!

My body, staring at me with froth dripping from its mouth:

Travel? You said, travel???? Sickness for caretaker, sickness for 1000 years!!!

[crazyhickofftheirrocker]

Seeing Swarla developing has been doing absolutely nothing for my "in love with an older straight woman irl situation"

[shojizbae]

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: This is spicy! Use of alcohol, behind drunk/drunk sex, Oral fem! receiving, cowgirl position

Everyone could tell with just one look at you that you were Southern. That being said, anytime there was a case in the South, everyone knew to take a step back and let you lead. This time, there was a string of murders in Aiken, South Carolina, and the team knew that you were all over it.

"Weren't you from a Carolina?" Derek chuckles as we board the jet.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time on Camp Lejeune with my daddy, then I went south for college in Charleston."

"So that means Hotch has been demoted for this." Emily snickers

"No, I just know the South, and I'll get a little gun-happy when I'm back home. It wouldn't be no different had we gone to Chicago, Derek."

"Wow, mama's go home heat today." We settle on the jet, and Hotch and Rossi debrief us. I take a nap as we head south, and unfortunately, the power of the state takes me over. I march up to the sheriff and flash my credentials.

"So, how's it happen?" The sheriff speaks in an accent so thick it makes grits look like juice. I glance at the team, and they seem to sigh in relief when they realize I can understand him. Tirelessly, we worked the case for 73 hours. We met at a fresh crime scene every morning. The unsub seemed to be in a frenzy. He was dangerous and mixed with a high concentration of amphetamine addiction in this area. It was likely he had no clue he was killing.

But, due to the trace amounts of meth, we knew that he was unstable and would trip up eventually. We got some sleep after the fourth body, and there was a trip up in the morning. A fifth, but he had left some of his powdered sugar at the crime scene.

I put a glove on and lifted the little baggie, showing it off to Reid.

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

"Hey, I've been clean for years," He mopes

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," A detective approaches me with an evidence bag. "Here, swab it and run this through CODIS." Spencer and I kept sweeping the crime scene for any molecule of evidence. Nothing all that exciting. The killer left the knife in her this time. Indicative of the fact that they were out of control. I squat next to the body and ghost my fingers over the entrance wound.

"Hey Spencer," He perks up like a gopher, "If you were going to kill someone and you were going to stab them to death, how'd you do it?"

"Are you sure that's an appropriate question?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'd probably use something with a curved blade. It would do the most damage and be the hardest to remove." His eyes go kind of dead, as he explains. An awkward air hangs between the two of us as we survey the wound.

"Damn, Spence, that's messed up."

"You asked." He sasses

Not later that evening, a woman called to suspect a strange man was in her house. We move in immediately and find a man pacing in circles in the bathroom. He's violent and angry, and his nose is bleeding. He tried to swing a knife at Morgan, but I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his head into the wall. I use my hips to push him forward and cuff him while Emily helps the woman safely out of her house.

I march him to the car while he screams that I'm a bastard whore. Finally, I shoved him into the police car and muttered a good riddance. I even patted my hands like a baker getting flour off.

"I need a drink." I put my hands on my hips

"I could use something to cool off, too. This southern heat can be beat." Derek wipes his brow

"Hotch you think we have the leeway to spend the night here?" Emily asks

"That's all up to JJ, anything pressing enough that we need to get back to Quantico?"

"Well, nothing too scary that we couldn't cut loose after working for six days straight." She smiles at the team

Hours later, we showered, ate a full meal at a steakhouse, and put on the nicest clothes in our go-bags. The team was shocked to discover I had a cowboy hat in my bag. We moseyed our way to the bar, a small dive bar with a pool table. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, and my eyes light up at the memories. Rossie buys us a pitcher of beer, and we all unwind from the stressful week.

As we knock 'em back slowly and let college stories fly, the team starts to forget what we had seen. Rossi tells us some funny stories about going to college during the summer of love, and Reid accidentally brags about going to Cal Tech.

"Well, what about you? Didn't you go to school nearby?" Emily says as she refills her glass.

"Uh yeah, in Charleston, South Carolina." I clarify

"So you must have spent most of your nights like this." Derek motions around the bar, playing honky-tonk music. Pool balls clack around us, and there's a thin layer of dirt around the edge of the bar.

"Well, most nights I spent in my dorm or the library. Every other Saturday, my roommate and neighbors would go to a dive named Fat Daddy's. We would make bets with the alcoholic dads about being able to ride the bull, and if we stayed on longer than they said so, they'd buy us all a drink. I didn't pay for my own liquor for three semesters." The team stood in shock. Hotch's jaw was agape and Rossi just nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

"Well, now, baby girl, I have to see you in action." Derek almost commands

"No, I ain't dressed right. And ain't nobody betted me."

"I bet you won't last seven seconds on the mechanical bull," Spencer interjects "If you do, I'll buy you that coconut margarita that you've been eyeing."

"Alrght, there's my bet." I march up to the bartender "I'm'onna ride that bull." I point at it and he looks me hat to boot.

"Alright," The bartender seems disinterested. He hits a button, and lights around the bull flash like a carnival. I draw the attention of the whole bar as a pre-recorded announcer calls me a brave challenger.

Big men with fat beer bellies gather around, and I readjust my top. If I play my cards right, I might get more than a coconut margarita out of this. I'm not wearing anything too special—just one of my combat scoop-neck tees and low-rise daisy dukes. The bartender offers his hand, and I use it to mount the big plastic bull.

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

"Yes sir." I grip onto the handle at the 'bull's nape and a bell rings. Slowly the bull starts lurching forward and back while exciting music bounces around the bar.

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

'ride it, cowgirl!" Derek yells from the edge of the bull enclosure

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

I fake with my appearance that I'm struggling and readjust my grip

four Mississippi

I use my hips to grind with the rhythm of the bull as men whoop and cheer

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

The team cheers for me. I keep going, getting bold enough to grind more dramatically. I hear more whoops and hollers as I lift my arms and squee. Someone yells, and another man whistles. I hold onto my hat as the bull speeds up, and I feel my shirt lift.

'Yeehaw!' I hear, and the bar just erupts. I feel so full of life, and I jump up on the bull, riding it like a surfboard. I drop down and sit backward on the bull. I twist around and ride the bull until the bartender slows it down.

"You done broke our record. 39 seconds on the highest speed." The bar screams in glee, and the team closes in on me, handing out high fives. Reid hangs behind the group, and I see him ask Derek a question

"Did you know that (Y/n) has a stomach tattoo?"

"Wow (Y/n), that was incredible." Emily looks starstruck

"I told you I didn't pay for a drink for 18 months." I give JJ a hug, and Reid emerges from the crowd

"I guess I owe you a drink." He smiles, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt

"One coconut margarita, please, sir." He leads me to the bar, where the bartender makes one for me. I hold the glass up to his face, and Reid takes the first sip.

"No, that's fine," He pushes the glass from his cheek

"C'mon, you paid for it."

"Listen, you know that coercion isn't a great thing to do. Most serial killers are more coercive than a skeezy lawyer."

"Aw, you're using my metaphors." I coo and step closer to his chest

"When did you become so flirty?" he braces me on the hip

"All that shaking around must have got the beer movin' in me." I giggle and sip on my glass. "I saw you askin' Derek 'bout my tattoo. y' wanna see it?" I start to roll up my shirt

"No, no, that's fine," He holds my wrist to stop me. "Why don't we get you some water."

"No, this is yummy." I smile and down the cup. He grimaces at the action and tries to walk me over to our table

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna know why I'm so good at riding that thing?" I halt to play with the button of his shirt, and he stops, too.

"Uh sure," He swallows

"Ever the curious doctor," I slur. I'm good with the bull because I love riding," I whisper drunkenly in his ear. He swallows hard and tries to shimmy us back to our table. His hands shake as he grips my tricep.

"Why're you so nervous?" I ask the side of his jaw. My voice swings up an octave, but I snort as I survey the team.

"The liquor got to her quick. I'm gonna get her back to the hotel."

"Oooh, why don't you take me someplace fancy," I tease

"Well, make sure you use protection." Derek snorts as he lifts a brown bottle to his lips

"Aw, you ain't gotta worry. I've got an IUD." Spencer soothes my sentence with a pat on my shoulder, and I slide a hand down his back

"That won't be a problem. I'm just going to ensure she has water, Advil, and comfortable clothes." He jumps away as I make an attempt to grab his butt.

"You sure you don't want either of us to take her?" JJ offers and points between Emily and herself. I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my temple.

"You gonna take good care of me, Doctor?" I smile up at his concerned face

"I'm not that kind of doctor." He scolds. He helps seatbelt me into one of two FBI SUVs. Slowly and carefully, he drives me to the highway motel we were placed in, and he marches me into my room.

"Alright, are you sober enough to shower?" He sits me on the bed, and the mattress shrieks beneath me

"Yeah, so long as you help me get my shirt off."

"No, I won't be doing that," He finds a glass and fills it with water. He digs in my go-bag and finds the bottle of Advil. He drops two in his hand and gives them to me as well as the cup. "Drink this," he tucks some hair behind his ears.

"My feet hurt," I whine and put the pills in my mouth.

"Well, you're wearing those ridiculous boots," He stressfully tucks some hair behind his ears

"They ain't ridiculous." Stick out a foot and twist it to see the whole design, "Maybe a little flashy." I tuck my foot in and look up at him. "Will you calm down if you held me out of these sugar?"

"Yeah, sure." He kneels down and tugs each of my boots off, and lines them up with the rest of my shoes.

"Aww, you're so caring. C'mere sugar." Reluctantly, he finds me on the mattress, and I pat it next to me. He's hesitant, but he sits, and I lean against him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

"Really, because you keep glancing down at my stomach. I may be a drunk one, but I am a profiler. What about it? Gets you going so much?"

"What?" He scoffs in shock "It doesn't 'get me going'." I hold onto his arm

"Really? Because I'm pushin' my tits against you, and you're still lookin' at my stomach."

"I uh I'm not." He's distracted enough that I can swing my legs across his lap "(Y/n), this is really inappropriate conduct for coworkers."

"I ain't on the clock," I slowly drag my shirt up to reveal the design. Two big blossoms of overlapping lavender and olive flowers. Any protests he tries to make are halted as he studies the image.

"These ones, "I guide his apprehensive hand as hi pointer finger traces my stomach "Are olive blossoms, they stand for peace. and these are lavenders."

"They mean feminity and grace." He clears his throat

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

"C-can I see them?" He swallows. I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and pull it off, lifting the hem of my bralette.

"There's some text under my boobs."

"te amo para siempre." He reads without an accent, so it sounds stilted. "Did you get that for a boyfriend?"

"No, it's something my grandpa used to tell me." he runs his thumb over the cursive, "And on my collarbones." I guide his wrist to my right clavicle.

"'An eye for an eye,' I guided him across my chest, and he traced like he was reading braille.' leaves the whole world blind.' He connected his eyes with mine. His pupils were real big.

"Aw gee, I just realized I'm a little underdressed."

"Of course," he shifts around to encourage me to get off

"Uh uh, it could be you're just overdressed," I hold onto the knot in his tie

"No (Y/n),"

"You know, darling, your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes." I slide my hips forward and feel him suppress a shudder. I direct his head to look at me with blown-wide puppy dog eyes. "Maybe we should tell your mouth to let your body take over." I sink my lips against him, and he melts into me. Our lips smack as he pulls away

"(y/n), no, this isn't professional," he tries to disable my arms as I slide his tie knot apart

"Well, that's good. If I were professional, you get a hotel in a local jail for soliciting a prostitute." I get the knot loose and free his neck, making headway on the buttons. He shiftsbutI kiss his complaints away. Soon, sounds of complaint turn to moans as he succumbs to his body.

"Hey, Spencer," I pull away briefly and chew on my lip at the view. His hair is fluffed, and the top half of his shirt is flipped open. "I've got one more tattoo, and I think you'd really like it."

"I would?" he pushes his hair back "Why." I give him a peck as I reach for the button on my shorts. He grabs my hand and undoes the button himself. I guide his hand to the zipper, and he tugs it down. Instead of shimmying out of the shorts, I hook his finger in the elastic of my underwear. He pulls it down just enough to read the black text that slowly faded to show green.

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

"It's the chemical formula for sugar." He snaps the underwear back into place, and I jump at the sensation, "Why?"

"Because I'm so sweet." I dive back in and kiss him. Heated aggressively like he's got the last cup of water on his tongue. He reaches into my hair to steady me, and with his second hand, he grabs my hip. I continue to unbutton his shirt until he shores it off into the distance.

"Well, look how handsome you are," I watch him blush, but I run my hands up his chest and over his collarbones. He blushes but guides my hand to his belt buckle. I love the sound a belt buckle makes. Before I can get his pants off him, Spencer surprises me. He picks us up and twists us, so my back slaps against the squeaky mattress.

He slithers down my body, kissing down the various tattoos. Gently, he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He slides them down and separates each of my knees. Almost entranced he licks up the gray cotton panties I wore.

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

"Please, this is my favorite part." He pulls the underwear off and tosses it to the side. I don't protest any further. It's rare to find a guy willing to go down on me, much less one that initiates. He wraps his arms around my thighs and places my knees at his shoulders. He wastes no time diving in.

With every man I've slept with, I've never felt someone go down on me with such fervor and skill. I'm taken down. He clings onto my clit with desperation. He drops my right leg so that he can trace gentle circles around my pussy.

"Spenc- Uh"

"Sh-sh -shh, just relax." He soothes me and rubs my inner thigh. I try to look down at him, but as he continues his ministrations, I lose my strength and flop my head back. Slowly, he sinks his pointer finger in, and I take a sharp inhale.

"Spe-EUUh!" His skill is shocking as he slowly moves his finger in and out. Once I was acclimated, he pulled out and put both his pointer and middle in. I do my best to suppress it for the comfort of the surrounding guests.

"Don't hide from me." He comes up and looks my face over

"There's other people around, Spencer."

"Then let them hear." He places a kiss on my forehead and sinks down to continue devouring me. I don't hold back as much as I'm embarrassed. He starts a 'come hither' motion and I roll my hips up into his face. He braces a hand on my hip.

"Sit still." He commands

Steadily, I felt a climax rising in me. I felt the muscles in my stomach clenching and tensing. I feel like yellow waves of pleasure ripple through my body.

"SPE—Spencerr, I'm gonna!" I desperately reached around and threaded my fingers into his hair. With my other hand, I felt around for the disheveled comforter. I balled my hands into a fist around what I held: his hair and the blanket. I climaxed faster than I had expected. Accidentally, I locked Spencer in with my legs. Desperate to keep the pleasure close to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath. When I came to, I released my legs, and he resurfaced, wiping his mouth as he checked on me.

"How are you doing? Was that any good?"

"Good?" I gaped, and I saw him crumble a little in insecurity. Spencer, that was the best head I've ever had." He chuckled boyishly as I held his pants so he lay on top of me.

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

"Yeah," He kisses me on the side of the mouth

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I sit him up and unzip his pants and pull them down. His legs are ridiculously long, and it feels like an eternity to get him naked. I geek at his boxers. His cock is jumping against the fabric, and there is a small precum stain. I rub over the fabric, and he keens into my touch.

"Aww, so you're all talk," I tease

"S-shut up, you were just writhing under me." He leans back on his arms. The veins in his forearms are bulging, and I can see his stomach shift as he shifts under my pawing.

"Yeah, and now you will be."

I slide my fingers under the elastic, and he lifts his hips to help me free him. Gently, I stroke him, and he gulps back and moans. I mount him, letting Spencer guide himself into me. I sigh as I feel him slide in, and his hands gravitate to my hips.

"Woah," he grunts. It's probably the strangest reaction I've gotten, but I appreciate being such a stunner.

"How are you doing, Reid?"

"I-I'm sublime. How are you?" I shift my hips in contemplation, feeling my eyes pool in the back of my head.

"Oh, I'm doing-g just-" My sentence cuts itself off as the head of his dick kisses a sweet spot inside me. "Can you just give me a little boost?" He holds each of my hips and drags me across my lap.

"Oh fuck," I sigh, and I pick my hips up. We fall into a sensual rhythm as the world disappears around us. "Spencer, that feels so..." My forehead collapses against his collarbone. There's something about his dick that itches a scratch I didn't know I was feeling. Similarly, he mews below me.

"(Y/n)," he groans out below me "Don't stop." and I don't. Instead, I pick up the pace. I brace myself on his shoulders and slam my hips back and forth until my thighs burn. And when the sensation becomes overwhelming I keep fighting.

"Oh my- uh," He groans beneath me "(Y/n), (Y/n), I'm gonna cum." He sounds desperate. "(Y/n) you have to get off." He whimpers

"No, I'm gonna cum too. I won't-" I keep my hips galloping against his thighs, "PLEase- fuck, I'm gonna." I feel his cock twitch inside me, and warmth spreads through my thighs.

"Uh, nice and deep." I halt myself for a second," Spencer I gotta keep going."

"M'kay." I ride with such speed that I'm scared the legs on the bed will snap. Finally, I feel the point of no return—like watching a slow vase fall over, knowing you're too far away to stop it. I came. My knees buckled, and I fell chest-first onto Reid.

"Are you okay?" He holds my back steady and gently rubs my spine, and I catch my breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sit myself up, and Spencer tucks some frizzy hair behind my ear. "Probably some of the sex I've had in... ever." His face lights up. I use his shoulder to stand up, and I feel it slide down my thigh.

"I'm gonna need a shower, but there's always room for two." I smile and trot off to the ensuite. It's not long before Spencer is chasing me behind the vinyl curtain to wet his hair and press a kiss to the back of my shoulder.

[cmdrfupa]

You sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on your socks as the morning sounds kept you awake. An unusually early Saturday morning for the both of you as Toji hummed in the bathroom while you got the last of a large yawn out.

The sunlight slanted in through the half-open blinds and the early chill to the day filled your bedroom as you moseyed to browsed over what to wear in the closet.

In the bathroom with the door cracked open, Toji’s rich, gravelly voice drifted out over the soft hum of the electric razor.

“Gonna be a long day,” he says, the razor going silent as he rinses his face. “That realtor said we’ll see, what… four or five places?”

“Four.” You glance over a skirt and hold it up to you, contemplating before looking in the mirror hanging on the wall. “But you know how it goes. If we don’t find something, we have time. Housing market should remain stable for another 6 months. There’s no rush.”

“Right. But if we don’t start wrapping things up, Megumi’ll be in college and Tsumiki’ll be visiting with a grandkid before we settle anywhere.” He lets out a low chuckle, warm and amused.

It didn’t register just how much time had passed until Toji realized he’d hit the goal amount to buy a house. 3 years of playing house and marrying turned into being worried about if a house will have proper irrigation systems that will last.

There’s a brief clatter, then the faucet comes on full blast as he rinses off the last of the shaving cream. “Speaking of which, you ready for those college visits?”

You laugh, slipping on your blouse and buttoning it up. “Ready, yes. Prepared? Not a chance. You know he wants to tour every campus in this province and a few overseas. He’s keeping you on your toes.”

“Kid’s got ambition,” Toji says, amusement lacing his voice. “Wonder where he gets it from.”

You can picture him leaning forward to scrutinize himself in the mirror, the way he sometimes squints as he checks for stray stubble along his jaw. Groaning at the small patch of gray he shaves off first every single time.

It’s one of those everyday scenes you never quite get tired of. He’s steady, predictable in his habits, but there’s an ease in the familiarity.

“So, what’s the dream house, huh?” he asks after a pause. There’s a hint of something lighter in his tone, playful almost. “Big yard for maybe another kid to practice in, good schools, fancy kitchen for you?”

“A quiet neighborhood would be nice.” you say, tugging on your jeans. “And, yeah… I wouldn’t mind a spacious kitchen.”

Toji snorts, as the idea of him caring about school districts is somehow amusing. “Skipping over the yard part? Come on, what’s one more kid? A little mini me running around. Would be nice.”

You laughed grabbing your belt, pulling it through the loops as you stepped out in the bedroom. “Let’s get the house first. Then we can discuss having a kid with your big head and features. Sound good?”

“Guess we’re going full domesticated life now, huh? Yard sales on Sundays? Book club on Tuesdays? Starting to think you’re losing your touch, pretty lady.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes even though he can’t see it. “You’d love it. Don’t even pretend.”

A beat later, Toji steps out into the bedroom, adjusting the collar of his dark red polo. The sleeves were fitted just enough to hint at the broadness of his shoulders, the solid strength of his arms bulging. The deep red complemented his dark hair perfectly. His khakis hug his waist and tapered down, showing off the powerful lines of his legs and the definition there—he looks effortlessly good, a little rugged but undeniably refined.

He catches you looking, his lips curving into a sly, knowing grin. “Like what you see?”

“Your ass.. Jesus,” you tease back, though your eyes are unabashedly admiring. The camel colored pants fit him like a glove. The way they accentuated his thighs made you want to scream. “Since when do you go for khakis?”

“Hey, I clean up nice.” He closes the distance between you in two easy strides, dropping a casual hand on your shoulder. He gives a slight squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your arm.” I bought them from that wholesale store. You know the one with the family size peanut butter?”

“The one that you single handedly empty out for your thick ass smoothies?”

“That’s the one.” Toji squeezes your rear and winks. “Anyway, figured I’d match the high standards. Realtors are probably used to dealing with rich types. Gotta look the part, right?”

“Eh. If nothing else, you’ll charm them into knocking down the price.”

He chuckles, bending down just enough to press a quick, lingering kiss to your forehead then your lips.” I’m starting to think you married me for my looks and devilish charm.”

“For the last time, Toji,” you gently wiped his chest, loosening the wrinkles before. “Yes. I did.”

He picked you up with ease, laughing as he wrapped your legs around him. “You’re unbelievable. And I thought you loved me.” Toji laid you on the bed, kissing your neck and holding your waist letting your pleas and laughter warm him up inside. “Am I just a scary dog and eye candy for you?” He teased.

“You’re much more than that. Great support system, incredible cook, inhumanely patient.” You ran your fingers over the nape of his neck as he hovered over you. “Hefty wallet when you aren’t losing during horse racing season.”

“I don’t lose often… anymore.” His lips curled into a boyish smile as he helped you sit up on the edge of the bed. He grabbed your shoes, lacing them on you before helping you stand. “Now. Let’s go get your dream house, baby doll. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Let’s go get it, baby boy.”

There was always something grounding about the routines you had together. Those quiet moments where you planned for the future with the same unhurried certainty that he shaves with, that he presses his lips to your skin with.

The thought of the three of you wandering through endless corridors of empty houses, each one holding the promise of a new start, filled you with a gentle anticipation.

And no matter where you ended up, it was always going to feel home if you had one another.

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Epilogue

Ch.27/27 | Ao3

We've reached the end, my friends. Thank you for being here!

Early morning light cast bright, shimmering rays and deep shadows across the cobblestone of Velaris, the smell of jasmine and sea salt in the air. The shops were all opening for the day, bathing the streets in the sweet, spiced, and multilayered smells, the laughing and shouts of vendors filling Feyre’s ears. She had been here for nearly a month now, and once she and Rhys had been able to safely and appropriately leave the shelter of their townhouse, he had shown her the beautiful, sprawling city in more detail. 

People had been overwhelmed with joy to see their beloved High Lord back among them, none of them ever having known him as anything but the person he truly was. Velaris was Rhys’s escape, his permission to be free and kind. Watching him light up in the warmth and comfort of the place he considered home had been a joy beyond measure. 

Feyre had been immediately drawn to The Rainbow, the colorful artists’ quarter of the city. She’d spent most of her time there as Rhys reacquainted himself with the many aspects of rule that he hadn’t missed nearly as much in his time away. She was there now, moseying down the street that she knew would lead her to the bridge over the Sidra with the intricate stonework. She spent a lot of time here, too, looking into the river below and thinking. Luckily, they’d both slept through the night before. Some nights, the nightmares still woke her, sweating and screaming, convinced that she was covered in blood back on that shining marble floor. She dreamed of nails in her throat, in Rhys’s. She dreamed of being too late. And Rhys had the nightmares too, sometimes waking them both in a room draped with suffocating darkness. She’d kiss his brow gently, whispering reassurances to him as he came back to her. 

You are safe.

We are safe.

She is dead.

We are together.

Neither of them expected that being free from Amarantha meant that they were completely okay. It would take time, perhaps years or even decades of it, but they did have that time. For that, they were thankful. And for every uninterrupted night that they were able to sleep soundly through in each other’s arms, they felt peace beyond measure.

Today, Rhys had looked well rested as he’d gotten out of bed before the first rays of dawn to get started on the endless piles of paperwork, pressing a kiss to her lips and promising her a delicious breakfast in return. She was meeting him here at the bridge this morning, and the sounds and smells of Velaris waking around her made her stomach rumble.

Feyre loved when Rhys was able to show her around the town he so loved, sharing bits and pieces of his home with her and bringing her further into all that he held dear. There had been no sense of awkwardness or otherness in the transition. The day they’d landed on the balcony of the house of wind, Morrigan, Cassian, and even Azriel had all embraced her as enthusiastically as they had him, later claiming that in 500 years they’d never seen Rhys bring a female home, so they’d known she was important. And they’d held fast to that companionship since, even when Rhys and Feyre all but boarded themselves away after Morrigan desperately tried and failed to help her make a single hand pie to feed Rhysand to claim the mating bond. They’d cackled as she handed the half-burnt, half-raw creation to Rhys, who still took an enthusiastic if grimacing bite while Mor winnowed away, her twinkling laugh following her into the ether. 

Feyre had enjoyed that quick feeling of family more than she could put into words, her circle of loved ones expanding in ways that, a year ago, she never could have imagined. She loved it here, she fit here, but she also fit in Spring. She had been back only once since everything under the mountain, just earlier this week. Rhys had winnowed her down, encouraging her to go on her own this first time to see how things were, but reassuring her he would only be a call away by tapping her forehead and then kissing it before he smiled and winnowed off. 

Lucien had greeted her at the massive front steps, the feeling of being back in a place she also considered home overwhelming to her. It looked as it had before the night they’d all been ripped away, all the disarray from that night resolved and lovely again. Lucien himself looked much more lively, his skin deep and golden again, his body filling back out and his face etched with happiness at seeing her. He greeted her with an enormous hug, then looked behind her. 

“No Rhys?”

“He thought it would be best to see how things were on my own. He’ll come next time.” She was touched Lucien had asked after him, and his eyes showed he both appreciated and understood the sentiment. Getting Lucien and Rhys on the same page didn’t feel like it would be that large of a task for her. 

“How is he?” she asked as Lucien walked her into the massive manor, all of it causing her heart to clench with homesickness as he led her to the back patio. 

“As expected. Things have been…dark.” She expected it, but it still hurt to hear. “He’s managing, but he spends a lot of time in the woods, in his beast form. He’s working through it, and I am doing what I can. He’ll be glad to know you came.” 

Feyre guessed that’s where he was now, out somewhere in these deep, wooded lands. She was sad to miss him, but glad that he was finding ways to cope. 

“Send the word, Lucien. Any time that he needs someone else, you can call, and I will come. That goes for you, too.” Lucien’s eyes glittered as he looked at her and took her hand. 

“You’ve been a good friend, Feyre. The best.” She squeezed his hand back. They’d bonded here, then again as they’d faced the worst the world had to offer them. They’d been broken into pieces and shattered across the floor, then rebuilt together, the fragments all mixing up and entwining until they were all melded irrevocably together. 

“Come, I want to show you something while you’re here.” Lucien walked her past the chairs and firepits and stone steps she knew so well, down onto the lawn on the path to the training rings. She saw the great stone memorial at a distance, and was already weeping by the time she’d arrived. 

The base was large, a few feet tall and wider than that. On top rested the form of a great wolf, twining between the crossing of two greatswords. She traced the name on the marble plaque at the base. 

Andras . 

“This is lovely, Lucien.” 

“Without him, none of this would have been possible.” His words were hoarse, and she took her hand in his again. 

“Many sacrifices were made for this, and we will do our best to honor each one.” She had sent, upon their return to Velaris, the location of Calla’s memorial in the woods, should they like to see it. They were now ghosts among the living, Calla and Andras, and it was the duty of those who carried on to remember their names and share their lives, their sacrifices. 

She and Lucien had sat for an hour, sometimes talking, and sometimes sitting in silence. Tamlin didn’t return from the woods. By the time she was ready to call Rhys, though, something in her heart had felt settled. She hadn’t known how much she needed it until she had it. 

He walked her back through the foyer to the front. 

“Tell him I said hello, and remember about writing if you need.” 

“I will. Thank you for coming. It was good to see you, Feyre. Oh, before you go–” He ducked back through the doors quickly, then reemerged holding something out to her. It was a small slip of folded paper. 

“What is this?” 

“The first thing Tamlin did was bring Vilja home. She wanted us to give this to you the next time we saw you.” Feyre whipped around. 

“She’s here?”

“Well, sort of. Tamlin built her a house in the woods a ways from here. A sort of retirement for her, if you will. He said she’s been through enough, demanded she let him care for her now in repayment for all she’d done.” Feyre’s eyes burned again. 

“And she’s okay?” 

“Right as rain, annoyed that Tamlin is bossy. Said she’d just accomplished her last task in the Human Lands, so she’d agree to come home.” 

She laughed, then ran her fingers across the note in her hands. “Thank you, Lucien. Send her my best, will you?”

“Of course.” He waved at her off the porch, a nod of his head to Rhys, and they’d been gone. She’d nearly cried when she’d opened the paper to find a single sentence written on it. 

I knew I was right to bet on you. 

-V

+++

Now, on the bridge, she could feel Rhys’s presence before she heard or saw him. Something in the bond always let her know where she could find him, and she loved the constancy of it. It helped ease the ache she felt at needing him close, even when physically he was far. Eternally, he was a part of her now, and her to him, and for the most part, that was enough. 

“Hello, Feyre darling.” The words sent a rush down her spine as she turned to face him, a dream in his night-dark tunic with sparkling threads of embroidered silver, lilac, and navy. He was truly the Lord of Night, and he belonged to her. 

“Hello, Rhys.” She placed her hand in his, and he tugged her to him for a kiss. “How was your paperwork?”

“Delightful,” he deadpanned. “Are you hungry?”

She was. She loved the food here. Though everything she’d eaten since coming to Prythian had been delicious, something about the foods and spices of Velaris reminded her of her childhood, her father. 

She was sure he’d heard her thoughts as he spoke, “Azriel’s spies reported in just a bit ago. Your father is still on the continent.” 

Not surprising. All through her life he’d been gone, sometimes half-years at a time. “It would appear Elain is engaged.” This pulled Feyre up short. 

“ Engaged ? To whom?” 

“A young lord’s son by the name of Nolan. Do you know him?” She wracked her mind, coming up with nothing. Then, it clicked. The superstitious family that lived miles due east of where she’d grown up–another manor wreathed in stone walls, but behind it, bars of iron. They were notoriously unfriendly, shunning outsiders and wary of strangers. Rumors said that the mother had died at the hands of something in the woods years ago, and the lord hadn't been the same since. She wondered how the two had even met. 

“But Lucien…”

“Has never met Elain, and likely never will.”

“And you think we did the right thing by not intervening?” They’d had many discussions about this over the last month. 

“I think, in a group of bad options, it is the best.” He hadn’t changed his mind on that front. She supposed he was right. But she hated denying them the same chance that she herself had been granted. 

“I wonder how she managed to finagle an engagement.” 

“Apparently his father sent word to yours. He approved it from overseas and intends to return in time to pay for the wedding.”

“I mean how she managed it around Nesta. She was supposed to wait. In fact, that was one of the many issues facing them when I left…” 

Feyre noticed then that Rhys had faltered a bit in his steps. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but she had. She paused just long enough for him to stall too, letting him stop a few paces ahead.

“Rhys.” He turned slowly and with a light wince at her tone. “Where is Nesta?” 

“Now, don’t be mad, I am working on it. I fully intended to speak with you about it at breakfast.” He didn’t seem panicked, but something was definitely going on.

“Where is she?”

“Do you have a great aunt Ripleigh?” 

Feyre wracked her memory. “I don’t think I have any great aunts at all, actually.” The look on his face and the brief semblance of a nod told him that she’d confirmed his suspicions.

“So, sometime between when I laid the wards and when we visited, Nesta took off. She left a note telling Elain that she was visiting your great aunt, and no one has heard from her since. Elain doesn’t seem worried, and neither do the staff, but something seemed strange to me.”

“So Nesta is just gone? She’s been gone for a month ?” Her panic started to rise, and Rhys stepped forward to hold her by the shoulders gently but firmly. 

“Azriel already has the spy network searching for her, and I sent Cassian to the place where Elain believed your aunt’s house to be. We’ll find her, okay?” He didn’t seem worried, and Feyre let herself breathe. Nesta was fine, tough as nails and not someone Feyre liked to cross when she could help it. 

She would be fine. 

“Right. Okay. She’ll be fine.” 

Fine, fine. If she said it to herself enough, she might believe it.

“She will.” He turned to walk again, pulling an arm over her shoulders as they walked down through the artists’ quarter to the roads filled with restaurants and cafes on the river side. 

“What are you in the mood for?” she asked him as they walked, the sun feeling warm on their backs. 

“You.” He didn’t miss a beat. She shoved at him. 

“Incorrigible.” But she was happy, thrilled, to be here with him, laughing about something as trivial as breakfast. She hadn’t been sure they would see this day, and now that it was here, something so simple and mundane as a morning walk along to Sidra to get coffee and baked goods felt like the greatest gift that the universe had to offer. 

“The coffee smells good. I’m going to follow my nose.” He pretended to take a dramatic few sniffs as they neared the shops. 

It did smell good, the cinnamon and spices mixed with the morning-fresh bakery items making Feyre’s mouth water. 

The smell reminded her so much of Vincent and his shop that it made something in her physically ache. Her very first friend had done so much for her. She hoped, with the curse broken, he was finding some peace. Somehow, she believed that he knew she’d done it for all those who had been lost, for his Melusine, and that he was able to move on, to find somewhere he loved. 

And then, as if she’d summoned him from the ether itself, Vincent walked from the shop ahead, carrying a stack of chairs to put by the streetside tables at the cafe right in front of them. 

She blinked once, twice. Her vision coming in and out of focus and blurring with tears. She worried she was hallucinating, worried that all her fears about this being some sort of cruel twist of fate, a dream she’d conjured, were coming to life. But then Vincent looked up at them, hand covering his eyes from the sun, and he lifted a hand in greeting and smiled. 

She’d just opened her mouth to speak when Rhys beat her to it. 

“Vincent! You came back!” And Feyre’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Yes, well, you know what they say about birds always finding their way home.” They closed the gap between them and embraced. Feyre’s eyes were misty, and the shock had her gaping like a fish. The emotion choked in her throat, and she couldn’t find the words as he and Rhys embraced. 

Her very first friend, here, embracing her mate that he enabled her to find. He'd known all along. Somehow, he’d known. 

“Vincent, this is my wife, my mate, Feyre. She’s the one who set us free. Feyre, Vincent was Inara’s and my tutor for decades…” But Feyre’s feet were made of stone, her knuckles curled to her lip as she bit back the tears. Vincent’s eyes landed on her, the soft smile on his face widening with pride as he took her in. Rhys halted, seeming to notice something else was happening here as the sob broke free from Feyre’s chest. Then they were both moving, coming together in the middle to embrace. 

“You did it, my girl. I knew you could.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was something for you to figure out on your own. And you did.” 

Rhys chimed in. “I fear I’ve missed something here.” And Vincent chuckled. 

“A theme since the early days of your lessons, I fear.” Rhys pretended to be offended as Feyre laughed wetly and Vincent chuckled. Come in, we’ll catch you up.” And Feyre saw the familiar, wrinkled hand on Rhysand’s shoulder, Rhys’s comfort and recognition of the motion. She watched her two worlds collide together, finding harmony in a way that seemed so good that it must be impossible. 

But it was real, and it was here, and it was more than anything she’d ever dared to hope for. 

Vincent held the door for her after Rhys ducked inside. 

His grin spanned ear to ear as he looked at her. “Come in for a hot drink and a book, High Lady.”

So, with a smile, Feyre did. 

[THE ARCHERON SISTERS WILL RETURN]

This work is officially gifted to @popjunkie42 and @witch-and-her-witcher. They are not only the best beta readers in the world, but are also two of my very best friends. I am so, so thankful every day that I met you both. Thank you for all you did to help me bring this story to life. Love you guys.

Taglist:

@cauldronblssd @buttercupcookies-blog @yeonalie

[breakfastteatime]

And now, the final Survivor request is Twist for @believe-in-alderaan

If the knife in his thigh twists any deeper, Cal is going to be in real trouble. Serious trouble. Life ending trouble. He glares at the bounty hunter, their smirk radiating despite the helmet. It’s all Cal needs to find the strength to push out with the Force and send his would-be assassin over a cliff and into the raging river below.

Shifting his balance, Cal feels the knife twist even more. He can’t contain his cry of pain. He really, really wants this thing out.

BD hurries back to Cal from where he’d been knocked flying. He tells Cal not to pull out the knife no matter how much it hurts.

“I know, BD,” Cal says, trying to catch his breath. This is not the first time in his life he’s been impaled which is a weird thing to be able to say. Hopefully this knife is cleaner than that bit of rebar that jammed itself into his arm on Bracca. They’re not too far from the Outpost, and Cal is not looking forward to seeing Greez and showing him this latest injury. He tries to put his weight on it, sighing when it just about holds. “Okay. I can do this.”

He takes a step.

His leg holds.

A few more steps.

Leg holds…

Another –

His thigh screams for relief and his knee gives out. Cal tumbles to the ground, feeling the knife bite deeper into flesh and muscle. His howl echoes across Koboh’s plains. This is what he gets for helping a prospector – losing out on priorite and a bounty hunter’s knife in his leg.

Losing the priorite stings. There’s something about prospecting that takes him back to scavenging on Bracca, the spark of relief finding something he can exchange for the goods he really needs, and he’d prefer not think about that in too much detail right now, thank you very much.

BD skuttles around him, Cal’s ears ringing too loudly to hear what BD’s saying. He’d check in with the Force, but he’s too distracted by the pain and the hot blood rolling down his leg and staining his pants. Dammit, he liked these ones too. So rugged and practical.

Not anymore.

Digging deep – you know me; I’m persistent – Cal gets up and resumes his sorry shamble back to the Outpost. By the time he’s moving between the buildings, prospectors give him weird looks and wider births.

Except Turgle. Turgle sees him, shrieks and scarpers, massive feet flip flopping loudly. Eye-roll beeping (it’s a speciality), BD gives Cal all the encouragement he needs to just. Keep. Going and –

And Greez suddenly appears, Turgle struggling to keep up. Greez says nothing, looks terrified, and proceeds to act as a crutch so Cal can limp a little faster back to his basement room.

“Floor, not bed,” he manages to tell Greez. “Don’t wanna ruin your sheets.”

“I don’t care about the sheets, I care about your leg, you not bleeding out, and you not catching some horrific infection.” Greez takes a deep, meditative breath. “Okay, BD, go tell Monk I need the good kit. He’ll know what I mean. And if Mosey’s up there, tell her to wash up ‘cause I’m gonna need her. And – ”

Cal zones out. Or passes out. Either way, he comes to the moment the knife in his leg is untwisted and wrenched free. He cries out so sharply he feels the sound tear the back of his throat. There are voices and hands, liquids poured, bandages wrapped, and sometime after that Cal notices he’s not on the floor anymore, he’s in his bed, and he’s sporting a strange pair of long/short pants in which one leg is fine and the other has been cut into some kind of hot pant style that does not suit him at all. It might keep him cooler, but he’ll be torn to shreds by Koboh’s flora.

“How come your leg doesn’t have all those freckle speckles too?” Greez comments when he spots Cal is lucid once again.

Cal grabs a blanket and covers his legs.

BD answers for him.

“I do see the sun,” Cal mumbles. “Just not that particular part of me.”

“Humans are weird,” Greez announces.

You’re telling me, BD burbles.

[mosaic-marquise]

When folks out here change their damn name I don't know who the fuck is WHAT??? Is that there our good neighbor Ben?? HE DON'T LOOK RIGHT?! When did I start following this person!?!

[verdemoun]

timewarp at the bar on a friday night because i am being forced to leave the house against my will

it is always sean's idea and it's not just because alcohol he would just genuinely love the vibe and struggle to understand how people don't

sean buys the most expensive cocktails everywhere and thinks it's amazing alcohol can taste like fruit juice but lenny is a beer and whiskey purist as much as sean tries to get him to admit that sex on the beach is tasty (and maybe a good idea for later)

lenny never grows out of his loud silly drunk persona and is actually the life of the party he'll be standing on a table while staff scream at him but crowds are cheering as he balances a glass on a glass on his forehead. he has so many dumb party tricks like catching food in his mouth sean throws at him across the room and close up magic he learned from trelawney.

kieran shocks everyone by not hating going out. he has a sixth sense for finding the shes theys and sapphos and will get adopted before he's had two drinks. alcohol very much soothes his anxiety and he radiates so much genderchaotic the girlies drag him into the bathroom to be their hype squad while they fix their hair and makeup. he's just sitting on the sink merrily telling them they're pretty/handsome and they give him snacks

arthur never quite figured out not dressing like an outlaw or looking like he was sent to kill somebody but by the end of the night he'll have made a new friend like it was a side quest. he's the country boy version of a manic pixie dream girl the gays everywhere are left staring in awe as arthur casually 'welp better mosey on' and they never see him again

at least once isaac snuck into the bar with a fake id got caught by arthur who gave him a very firm lecture but then admittedly had a beer with his son before telling him he was grounded.

kieran sometimes gets to the classic wanders off/runs away for no reason level of drunk and the gang have come to speculate that's how the o'driscolls got him at jack's party. :c this is further supported by the fact he can get really panicky and disorientated when he's running. the positive is seeing almost any of the gang very quickly calms him down and he goes straight back to being giggly talkative drunk kieran.

arthur having caught kieran and trying to carry him home while kieran is giggling 'hey remember when you did this in colter' 'yes kieran i remember colter' 'i love you guys so much' 'you ain't so bad yourself' *delighted squee*

arthur, very drunk, trying to herd a very drunk kieran, sean and lenny home is hell. there's already buckets and towels spread out in the living room because none of them are making it to bed they're just sprawled out on the floor like there's been a shoot out hosea calmly steps over them to make his coffee the next morning.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

fat funny friend (jake seresin pt 8/?)

PART OF MY “WHATEVER THIS IS” SERIES WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE

PAIRING: JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN x Female Plus Size Bartender!Reader

NICKNAME: Sunshine

Warning: A bit of self-body shaming

It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.

PLOT: Penny Benjamin’s niece works at The Hard Deck, saving the money she earns to get out of the west coast and put herself through Graduate School. What happens when a pretty boy pilot ends up as her fake boyfriend?

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / PART ELEVEN / FINAL PART

Two weeks. It had been two weeks and the pain of Jake’s absence took a heavier toll on you than you had previously expected, and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle it. Your home had become a hollow and messy disaster of a landing zone, blankets everywhere along with half eaten containers of take-out food. You hadn’t showered in a few days, your hair now only spun up into lackadaisical buns as you wiped your mouth on your sleep shirt and closed your eyes to the sound of the next rerun of Law & Order: SVU.

In the days immediately following Halloween, you were sure he was going to call, apologize for his lack of communication. You had tricked yourself into thinking perhaps he had a horrifying call to action and had been on an aircraft carrier before dawn.

But days later, you ran into Phantom and Rooster while they were out for coffee. Bradley looked at you confused, a wash of a smile etching on his face. It told you he knew, somehow and that smile made all these fantasies crumble out of your head and sent you into a spiral of pain and rejection in a way you never thought possible.

You’d let Jake in, all the way. Something you had vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t do again without great sacrifice. Instead, you were met with resistance and insecurity that bubbled through your chest and burned your esophagus raw as you wept and screamed out into the abyss of your lonely apartment. You took a few days off work, Penny texting back with a knowing ‘Take your time.’ You felt sick, throwing up in hopes that the weight in your tummy would dissipate but to no avail.

            A knock on your door startled you awake out of a groggy fog, a numb vibration coming over you from your spot on the couch. You groan a little, turning away from the door to rest your face against the fabric with a heavy sigh. The loud banging continues on, and you grunt again, turning back to roll off the couch. You mosey over to the front door and check the window, only to pull the door open. “Nat, now isn’t a good time.”

            “What the hell happened?” she demands, stepping inside and past you without hesitation. Her harsh tone takes you by surprise and your shoulders push back as you find energy for the first time in weeks.

“What the hell happened?” you repeat with an almost mocking tone. “Well, let’s see,” you cackle with a bitter wave rushing through your body. “What happened is that Bagman did what Bagman does best. He hung me out to dry.”

“What?” the word falls out of Nat’s mouth in a way she can’t help. “That’s impossible.”

“Well, if you’ve come here to mock me Nat, you can fuckin’ go because I've had it with Naval Aviators fucking destroying my subconscious so,” you pace over to the front door and swing it open. You stare expectedly at her as her stance deflats suddenly, her gaze downcast as she starts to swallow down what you’ve just blurted out.

“No Y/N, I’m not trying to,” she takes a slow and heavy breath before glancing back up at you. “Hangman is miserable. He’s a hollow shell of himself...I figured you’d stomped all over his heart because I’ve never seen him like this before.”

The mention of Jake’s state should tug at your heart strings. It should make your heart flutter that he’s so lost without you, and he’s so desperately broken that the absence of your presence was the clear notion to Nat that something must’ve happened. But you’re too bitter. Too broken to even have the slightest bit of sympathy for the piece of shit. A heartless, venomous cackle bubbles out of you in a way you’ve never experienced before. This is what he’s done...look what he’s turned you into.

“That’s hilarious. He’s a fucking wreck? Serves him right,” you slam the door shut and walk past her to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, your mouth going dry.

It’s the first time that Nat is finally taking in your figure, taking in the state of you as you move to the kitchen and tug the fridge door open. You’re less round than she remembers seeing you at the Halloween party weeks prior. You’ve got dark circles beneath your bottom lash lip and your stomach isn’t poking out as much as it used to. It worries her. “Y/N,” she tries again, her tone much softer this time as she approaches you. “What happened?”

You chug down the entire water bottle, letting the flush wash away any of the burning hunger in your stomach. Avoiding her gaze, you lean against the counter for support and take slow and steady breaths. Underneath all the feminine rage and anger, there’s insecurity ripping through your veins and cursing every inch of your body. You wish it into submission of a quiet hum as you glance up at her, wet lashes distracting her from the sniffle you make.

“What do you think?” Your sour tone isn’t directly for her; Nat knows that now as she steps closer.

Her arms are slowly approaching you as she tries to gently collect you into her embrace as your knees wobble, so shaky that you crumble to the ground as your mouth quivers and the dam breaks. She’s cooing as your ass meets the tile of the kitchen, your loud wails filling the quaint kitchen as she tries to hold you tight enough that the pieces of your soul don’t shatter.

“He left Nat,” you whimper, “He left me after we slept together for the first time. It took me so long to let someone in and,” you inhale the wet snot dripping from your nose. “I feel so embarrassed and so ashamed.” Your voice came out in slow, aching weeps as you looked down at your thighs.

All the body positivity, all the confidence in who you were faltering at the loss of a man who you weren’t even in a real relationship with. You were angry at yourself for even letting the thoughts to climb into your mind and rot your empowerment. “The man saw my body and then left…it really can shatter a person’s self-esteem if they aren’t careful,” you admitted and suddenly, Nat sees red. Nat sees this beautiful and vibrant person withering away in her arms and she can’t handle that. She won’t allow it when she’s grown so close with you.

So, she calls for re-enforcements, hatching a plan for the next evening to re-introduce you to bar life and get your mojo back. At 6:30 PM promptly the next day, she shows up as promised with Gemini and Aries in tow. Bags are tossed over their shoulders, and they’ve got bottles of Patron in hand as they grin lovingly. “Let’s ruin the fucker’s birthday,” Aries smirks as she places her bag down on the couch.

            Hours later, Nat leads the way as you approach the porch of the Hard Deck and friendly, familiar faces greet you in excitement. “God damn Sunshine,” a kind firefighter from town hollers, eyeing your short black top and daisy dukes. Your toes are freshly painted, and legs moisturized, you’d felt like a real person for the first time since that night on Halloween. And now, three weeks later – you had just begun to smile.

            “Thank you so much Benson,” you tuck a loose curl behind your ear and keep moving, the momentum bringing you through the door and into the Hard Deck. It’s in full swing when you glance around, slightly hoping that you don’t even notice him for the night. There’s a knot, continuing to twist and wind itself up and you find it a bit hard to breath just as you get to the bar top.

            “There’s my girl,” Penny calls out, rushing around the opening to wrap you in the tightest hug she can muster up.

            “Hi Pen,” you mumble back, enjoying the warmth of her embrace and pulling back to smile genuinely at her.

            “Nat told me the gist of everything,” she pursed her lips with a nod to your friend, a mischievous glaze to her wise eyes. “You give me the look and I will ruin that man’s whole life, starting with his wallet.”

            “That won’t be necessary Pen,” you squeeze her arms and pull back, “But I’ll take a tequila sunrise instead.” She nods with a wink, returning behind the bar to mix up the cocktails for you. You slide into one of the stools beside Aries when you hear it. The hoot of a Texan man gone wild. Him. You take a heavy breath, letting your gaze wander to his usual spot. Scratch that…your usual spot. And you wished you hadn’t because there he was with the men of the squadron, arm draped lazily over some skinny brunette’s shoulders as he pressed up against her ear.

            “He looks real torn up Nat,” you seethe, turning back to your friend and pushing off your stool when she pushes you down.

            “He only found the girl after he found out we were coming tonight,” Nat promises, taking a sip of her beer. “It’s sickening but I’ve got something to keep your mind off him,” she nods in the direction of the booth again. The weight of your purse burns against your hip when you square your shoulders and ready yourself to vomit when you turn back to the table. But your view is blocked by the frame of another man walking toward you, bright pearly whites gleaming as he approaches with an innocent smile.

            “Just play along and watch the magic of a fury,” Nat’s voice trails off as you sit up a bit straighter and tilt your head.

            “Hey Fanboy,” you greet the man a bit louder than your typical tone and he picks up the pace until he’s in front of you. He doesn’t stop his momentum though, not in the slightest as he leans forward and collects your cheeks in his hands to tug your mouth to his. His lips are silky smooth against yours, fresh minty breath refreshing as you breath him in. You cup the back of his head, nails scrapping against his scalp as he situates himself between your thighs.

            Slowly, ever so slowly, he’s leaning back as he rests his hands on either side of you, caging you in. You’re left trying to catch your breath as you smile widely, enjoying the sensation of his mouth over the expanse of your neck. This is a show, and you are a reoccurring main character. You’ve played this game before and now more than ever, you need believability. So, you wrap your hands around his slender waist and giggle slightly as his teeth drag along the column of flesh. “Fanboy, stop mauling my niece,” your aunt quips playfully, in on the gag as you slot your hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

            “Sorry Penny,” he pulls back, gazing at you lovingly. “She’s just irresistible.”

            “Well, take your asses away from my counter. You’ll scare off customers,” Penny calls, her voice carrying easily over to the table in the back where there is a booth tucked away from the patrons. Your booth. Your booth that is now occupied.

            “Want to take this party out to the bonfire?” Fanboy’s voice is low in your ear, causing you to shiver slightly and nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Eat your heart out Jake Seresin.

            “Are you fuckin’ serious?” Speak of the devil. You peer around Fanboy’s shoulder to see the blond seething, fists balled up at his sides. His jaw is clenched so tight you though the muscle there would snap from any further tension.

            “Can we help you?” you ask slowly, blinking at the man you had hopelessly fallen in love with. The man who slowly gained your trust and then ripped everything you knew out from under you. Fuck him.

            “You serious Sunshine?”

            “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eerily sharp. Your tone forces him back, hitting him square in the chest and a small flash of hurt creeps through his green eyes. Fuck him. “You don’t get to call me that…are you fucking serious?”

            Anger ripples over Jake again and suddenly, Nat’s shoulder to shoulder beside you while Fanboy still hovers to your front. You feel their strength building inside of you as you stare at Jake’s strong and broad chest. “It’s my birthday.”

            “And?”

            Jake scoffs at you, his hands sliding over his sharp hipbones. His fingers flex and it takes every ounce of will power to not think about how they felt against your cunt. “And you are making out with Fanboy right in front of my face. On my birthday,” his hand goes up in emphasis as if it isn’t perfectly clear what the two of you had been doing.

            “You’ve got some nerve.”

            “Me?” he sounds shocked.

You scoff, “Yes, fucking you Bagman.” You’re shaking now. How dare he. How dare he show up to your side of the bar months ago and be charming. How dare he flirt hard enough and still be so sweet and unassuming that you let him take you on a terrible date and then save you from your horrible ex. How dare he take you to your favorite bookstore, let you share all your favorite tropes and stories with him while he just hummed along and happily held your selections until you reached the counter. How dare he told you about his home life, about his sisters. About his mom, about his tough relationship with his father and the vulnerability they’d earned from each other over the years. About his fears of flying in a tin can in the sky at trillions of miles an hour. How dare he let you down when you tried so hard not to let him in.

You slide of your stool, suddenly exhausted. Suddenly deflated and with no burning fire in you to fight back. You felt small again and you hated feeling small, especially here in public. You were tired of hiding, tired of pretending.

Maybe that was what got you here in the first place. And he sees it and he’s got this burning in his chest that feels like acid reflux but worse. He watches as you slowly dig through your purse, saddling up until you were right in front of him. You tug your hand free of the contents within the bag to reveal a small box, black leather smooth to the touch.

“I hate that I did this but I know how much you said you would only get a new one if it was the exact one,” your words are so gentle, he’s not sure you said anything really…not sure if he imagined it. You couldn’t be this gentle with him, not after what Jake had done. “I hate that you make me feel this way…and I hate that I still don’t hate you,” you confess, pushing the box into his hands with a mumbled Happy Birthday.

And then he no longer feels your warmth in his space, feeling vulnerable and insecure all over again. But this time, he’s in front of an entire bar of people who definitely prefer you to him and he’s feeling self-conscious, so he rushes to the bathroom, out of the view of patrons. His hands fiddle with the box, unsure if he should even open it. That burning in his chest is getting worse and he’s pretty sure it would be better if he just cut out his throat to save himself.

But curiosity is a killer and Jake Seresin is weak, so he pries the box open only to immediately let out a whimper at the contents inside. Nestled between the velvet material is a 1942 Hamilton WWII wristwatch, just like his grandfather’s that he lost on his last tour. The very watch he cried about the first time the two of you drank a bottle of red wine on his porch, wrapped up on the swing under a blanket. Fuck.

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[trailandkale]

august! “The light in the trees full of fury!” and humidity in the air full of impact! the last summer month. I’m not ready. I want to scream. I want to run around in circles. I want a good sunburn. A tall drink. I want sweat and aching muscles and happy smiles. A big storm, strange skies, cracking thunder. A big book and nowhere to be. I want a cool breeze and to mosey around outside like a kid out of school. I want my toes in the nearest water. I want to bike on an adventure with a friend and spend a day writing pages in my journal. I want to draw under trees and pick ants off my ankles. I want to eat an entire watermelon and a whole bowl of cherries, bloody, breathless and dripping. Count fireflies and wish on stars and play with flowers. I want to match the last summer month blow for blow. I want it to linger.

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 23: doomsday

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, violence, harsh reality check, Bethany Dutton is a warning personified

* Word count: 3,548ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all!

Author's note: Ugh this is the first chapter and I hate whats happening already. I got overexcited again (lmao) so I’m breaking my every third day posting rule. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! Just hold on for me, we’ll come through the other side of this storm. I promise.

Feel free to scream in frustration with me in my ask box or replies! I love hearing from y’all!

All the wranglers stood around ready to hop on their horses and get on with their day. Rip sat in his saddle, but he wasn’t giving any directions. He just looked at the ground. Anyone who didn’t know him would have thought he was asleep behind his sunglasses.

“Should we mount up?” Jimmy questioned and looked around at everyone for some type of cue.

Rip sniffed indignantly. “Not up to me, Jimmy.”

Colby looked at Ryan with his eyebrows pulled together. “What’s goin’ on?”

“No clue.” Ryan was just as confused.

Kayce and Stella showed up together. Both late, looking disheveled and flushed. Kayce led both the horses for them while Stella threw her hair in a bun. She pulled her hat out of her back pocket and slipped it on her head, pushing her bun through the hole she’d cut in the mesh of the back.

She took the reins from Kayce and whispered a soft, “thank you,” to him. She hopped up onto Abigail and joined the other wranglers, ignoring the looks from everyone. Her brother included, who squinted at her in uncertainty. Stella focused on Kayce and his father and she waited for instruction.

“The sooner you push it to a head, the sooner it’s behind you.” John told Kayce.

“You know he’s not gonna follow me. Just you.”

“Ain’t about his respect, son. It’s about everyone else’s.” John stood back and let his son take control.

Kayce got up on Tank and faced everyone to give them orders. “We’ll push ‘em up the valley, then over the saddle to East River Road. We’ll take that up the canyon. Ryan, you and Colby got point.” They looked pleased with that decision. “Walker, Cowboy. You’re on swing. Avery and Jimmy, you got flank. Rip!” He glanced around for him, but found him close by. “You and Lloyd are ridin’ drag. Stella, you’re with me. Let’s go.”

“Hope you boys got your wild rag. It’s gonna be a bit dusty.” Walker taunted Rip.

Lloyd came up alongside Rip. “What the hells goin’ on?”

“Oh, just a little reminder Lloyd. They might let us stay here and get old and rusted, but we’re just tools. And that’s all we’ll ever be.” Rip sighed.

Everyone moseyed along, sitting in their positions for a good chunk of the morning. For the most part it was quiet while pushing the cows. Everyone was busy concentrating on keeping the cattle moving. The space between Jimmy and Walker became too big and the cows saw their chance to make a break for it.

“God damn it Jimmy!” Rip yelled.

“It’s too big a gap!” Jimmy screamed back.

“You hold your spot or the whole herd goes!” Rip asserted.

“Here I’ll give him a hand.” Lloyd started to trot forward, but Rip stopped him aggressively. Lloyd’s horse squealed at the abrupt movement.

“I got it, god damn it!”

Stella watched as Walker took off after the cows. Rip was hot on his heels. “Kayce!” His head whipped in her direction. She hollered so he could hear her over the ruckus. “Rip’s out for blood! He’s gonna kill him!”

Walker legged his horse pleading with it to go faster. He looked behind him every so often to see Rip closing the gap. He knew he was in danger and he had to get the hell out of this place. Rip was right on his hind end.

He threatened Rip. “I’ll flip that horse right on you, you son of a bitch.”

Rip kicked his horse to bounce up right next to Walker. He reached out and shoved the hand as hard as he could. He flew off his horse and hit a nearby tree with such velocity he crumpled on the ground.

Rip trotted up to him. “Are you dead?” He smirked with a wild look in his eyes. “You’re about to be.” Walker watched him from the ground. Rip trotted around to get some distance and spurred his horse into a run. He was going to trample Walker.

“Hey!” Kayce pulled up on Tank in a hard stop in front of Rip and Dude. “Hey! What the fuck are you doin’?”

“You needed an excuse. Now you got one.” Rip yelled. Kayce started to get down, but Rip stopped him. “Nah, not here. We’ll do it in front of everybody, Kayce.” He pointed at the new foreman. “And I ain’t gonna take it easy on you either.” Kayce watched Rip leave. He had to figure something out and quick.

Kayce walked up on Tank to Walker. “You alright?”

Walker climbed to his feet. He picked up his hat and dusted it off. “Funny, how you can do somethin’ your whole life, and it just takes one man to ruin the whole fuckin’ thing.”

Stella watched the portion of trees that Rip, Kayce, and Walker had disappeared through impatiently. She gnawed on her bottom lip in fear that all three of the men had been successful in killing each other. Things had been going to extremes lately and Stella didn’t want to put it past the universe to play a cruel joke like that.

When Rip came out first with no one behind him, her heart stopped. “No,” she muttered. Kayce cantered out a few seconds behind him. “Oh thank god,” she heaved out a breath and her body relaxed.

Kayce trotted up next to her. She peeked over at him. “Is anyone dead?”

“No, but almost. Let’s go. We need to get back.”

Kayce led the charge back into the arena. Everyone trailed behind him. He came in hot, Tank skidding to a stop. Rip cantered in behind him, ready to get this fight on the books. Stella frowned when she found John standing at the fence line. He looked like he was spectating. Stella parked Abigail in between her brother and Colby. Kayce jumped down from the mustang’s back and marched to the center of the pen.

Rip dismounted and placed his hat on his saddle. He handed his sunglasses and reins to Lloyd. Stella landed on the ground and stepped to Ryan. “What the hell is happening?”

“I’m afraid to guess.” He replied.

Kayce stalked the last few feet up to Rip. Rip roughly shoved his gloves down on his fingers. Kayce ripped off his hat and they met in the middle in a ferocious explosion of fists and dust.

“Kayce! Rip!” Stella screamed. She leapt forward.

Ryan snatched her around her waist before she could get traction. “No you don’t!”

The two adversaries swung and dodged hits left and right. Stella winced when she heard fists connect to skin. Rip slid Kayce backwards and Kayce took Rip to the ground in a neck breaker. They rolled away from each other and gasped for air. Each man crawled their way to their feet. Stella watched as they each ripped off their jackets. She saw Kayce spit blood. She dug into Ryan’s arms and clawed hard against him. Colby snuck up next to her and helped Ryan keep her contained.

Rip slammed Kayce to the ground again, crawling on top of him. He let loose on Kayce’s face with a barrage of solid hits. Stella screamed in the background as she fought against her brother and Colby. She knew if Rip went too far, he would kill Kayce. When Rip was like this, it was hard to get him to see reason. “Rip stop!” Stella grappled with her brother and Colby. “For the love of Christ stop! You’re gonna kill him!”

Ryan struggled to turn and ask John, “you want us to get in there, sir?”

“No. This needs to happen.”

“What?!” Stella exploded and now her brother and his best friend had to hold her back from tearing John apart. Ryan was sure if she slipped out of their grasp, that’s exactly what would happen. She would tear him limb from limb like a badger.

Kayce had gotten Rip under him and he hammered down on him. Rip reached up and dug into Kayce’s eye and he wailed in pain. With the distraction, Rip tossed Kayce off of him. They huffed for air and traded more blows. They were losing momentum.

Rip stood and waved his hands at the youngest Dutton. “C’mon. Go on Kayce. Take it. C’mon.”

Kayce landed one final blow and Rip stayed down. Kayce sniffed and picked his hat up. He faced everyone, making sure they saw the carnage on his face. “There ain’t no fightin’ on this ranch.” Ryan still had a hold of Stella, who had stopped struggling seeing the fight come to an end. “If you wanna fight. You come fight me.”

Ryan let her slip through his arms. She took off running to Kayce. He caught her as she skidded to a stop. Her hands instantly moved up to his face. She pulled his bandana off and used it to wipe the blood away from his mouth.

Kayce frowned because she refused to look at him. “I’m fine, Stell.”

“No you’re not. I’m making sure nothings broken.” She prodded his cheeks and jaw.

Ryan, Colby, and Jimmy stood back and watched the exchange. Jimmy made a noise of realization. “I think she was lying when she told me she didn’t have a thing for him.”

Ryan promptly turned on his heel and stomped to the barn. That was definitely a conversation he needed to have with her. Colby tagged along behind him, shaking his head. Jimmy took in his surroundings and felt awkward watching the pair. “Stella, you need anything?”

“No, Jimmy, but thank you.” Stella glanced back at him. “Actually wait, would you mind putting these guys up for us? I need to get Kayce cleaned up.”

Jimmy pivoted and grabbed the horses for her and Kayce. He trailed along behind everyone else to the barn.

Stella’s next orders were a complete 180 compared to the sweet voice she had given Jimmy. “Lodge, now.” She pushed his shoulder to move him toward the house.

“My dad wants me up at his house.”

Once inside, Stella pointed at the dining table. “Sit. I’ll be right back. Then you can go to your dad’s.”

She weaved her way through the house to the bathroom. Opening a cabinet, she found some alcohol and bandaids and whatever else she might need. With her hands full she made her way back to the table.

Kayce gazed up at her from underneath his hat. Stella huffed, “what,” and firmly pulled his hat off and set it on the table.

“You gonna be mad at me for long?”

She frowned at him. “No, and I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation.” She rubbed an alcohol soaked piece of gauze along his cheek and moved down to his chin.

“I know, but it had to happen. You know just as well as I do.”

“That doesn’t make it any less barbaric and archaic.” She put her hand on his swollen cheek, running her thumb across his split lip. There was a moment where she forgot everything. “Well you at least don’t need any bandages. You should probably shower before you go to your dad’s. Change your clothes.”

Kayce rose to his full height and took her in. “Thank you. I appreciate you trying to help.”

“Yeah I guess.” She whispered back. He wrapped her in a hug and kissed the top of her head.

After Kayce left for his dad’s, Stella went back to the bunkhouse. Her foot was barely in the door before her brother pointed her back out. Ryan herded her out the door and into the barn. Stella made confused noises the whole way.

“Ry, what are you doing?”

“What’s going on with you and Kayce?” He demanded.

She stared at him, stupefied. Her mouth hung open. She couldn’t give herself away. The embarrassment would take her out. “Nothing Ry. Why?”

“Stella, don’t lie to me. I know you’ve been head over heels for him since we were kids.”

Her shoulders sagged and she looked down at the ground, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Ryan,” she griped.

“No “Ryan” nothing,” he mocked her tone. “What are you doing?! He’s married.”

“I’m well aware.” She grouched as reality smacked her upside the head. “I was blinded and I let it get away from me.”

“Stella!” He hissed her name. “You’re the other woman.”

“I’m sorry! Okay? I’ll work it out.”

“No you’ll stop whatever you’re doing and leave a married man alone. Whatever it is ends here. Right now.”

Stella wanted to scream. On the one hand she knew she was completely in the wrong. She shouldn’t have even let Kayce kiss her the first time. When his lips touched hers, every ounce of logic she possessed left her. Every sense of right and wrong flew away. On the other hand she was ashamed she had let it go this far.

“I know. It was stupid. I let it go too far. I’ll talk to him later.” It killed her to say those words. She had finally experienced the side of Kayce she always wished she would see. Yet, Ryan was right. She had become the side piece. “I,” she took a deep breath, “I need to go take a walk or something. I need some air.” She got to the barn door and said sullenly, “you’re right.”

Stella started walking. She didn’t know where she was going and didn’t know when she would stop. Wandering aimlessly, she made laps around the barn, bunkhouse, and round pen. Every once in a while nausea would hit her. She couldn’t believe she had fallen into the trap the world had laid before her. Couldn’t believe she had lost all sense of whatever moral compass she had. She had remained on the outside and respectful of Monica and Kayce’s relationship and marriage for years. Almost a decade. She never sought Kayce out, only bumping into him when he showed up at the ranch, which was few and far between. Only showing up at their house when invited. Except when Monica allowed her to move in with them. “Shit.”

She wound around the hill in front of John’s house and stumbled upon Rip sitting there. He spotted her and started to rise to his feet to leave. Stella held her hand out. “No, please wait.”

Rip dropped back onto the grass with a sigh. “I’m not in the mood for one of your tantrums, Stella.”

She wrung her fingers together, looking down at them. “I know. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t help, but I’m sorry John and Kayce kicked you out. I don’t know why he goes about things this way.”

“Because that’s who he is. And I am who I am and who I’ll always be and I’ll always be here. Whether he cares or not.”

“Rip, don’t say that. He cares about you. I don’t know if he’s trying to right wrongs or what. I think almost dying without fixing things scared him.”

“Yeah well, it’ll do that.”

“Just hold on. Things will turn out. They have to.” Stella glanced behind him and saw Beth coming over. “It looks like you have an appointment with your favorite Dutton.” She gave Beth a small wave. “So I’ll leave you alone, but thank you for listening. I have to go make something right anyhow. I’m just procrastinating at this point.”

Rip frowned at her and wondered what she was talking about. He didn’t have time to ask her because she whisked off down the hill toward the lodge.

Stella sat with Kayce on the back deck together. They were enjoying the silence. Well Kayce was enjoying it. Stella was trying to figure out how to bring up quitting while they were ahead. She didn’t want to be the other woman. She didn’t want to fuck up any more than she already had. She zoned out on the void of darkness in front of them. She prayed it had an answer for her.

Kayce turned and studied her. He could tell something was bothering her. He reached out a hand for hers. “What’s wrong, Stell?”

Annoyance rose in Stella. She didn’t grab his hand back. She was aggravated that just sitting here he knew something wrong. That he knew her that well. “Nothin’. Just thinking.”

Kayce sat up straight, about to dig for information, but he saw his sister come up out of the dark.

“So you’re the big man now, huh?” Stella stayed quiet, knowing if Beth figured anything out she would burn Stella at the stake. The darkness had answered her prayer, but instead of handing her mercy, it had given her savagery in its human form.

“Uh,” he paused, “couldn’t run the bunkhouse while I was livin’ in it.”

Beth pointed out simply. “So go live in the main house.”

“Grown men don’t live with their fathers.”

“Yeah, they also don’t kick other men out of the only home they’ve ever had.” Stella pursed her lips. It was exactly the same argument she had hit Kayce with.

“Well he could use some humility. He ain’t nothin’ but a bully. And that’s all he’s ever been.”

“No. He’s not a bully, Kayce. He is exactly what our father turned him into. What do you think he’s turning you into?” Beth growled and paced. She noticed them sitting closer together than normal, his hand still outstretched toward Stella. Beth saw the marks that lined Stella’s collarbone and snorted. “Boy, it sure was easy for you to walk away from a life you worked so hard to build.”

“Well, she doesn’t want that life anymore.”

“Let me guess. She left you because she was afraid that you would turn into him. Instead of proving her wrong, you come here, and you take the crash course in how to do it and you shack up with your best friend like some tragic romance novel.”

Stella spoke up, “cut it out Beth. Nothing is happening here. I was just keeping him company.”

Beth’s arms crossed and she cocked a hip. It looked like she was going for the execution. “Those fading hickeys on your neck and shoulder say otherwise. I know the look of a well fucked woman who hasn’t gotten any in a long time. You reek of the desperation of needing to be loved by something you can’t have.”

“Jesus Christ, Beth, knock it off.” Kayce scolded her.

“No, Kayce. You came home and lost your mind and roped in the little home wrecker.” She fixed her eyes on Stella. “Rip was right. You make horrible decisions.”

Stella shot up out of her chair. Kayce was half afraid she was about to launch at his sister. She had no idea how Beth had figured out it was Rip she was talking about that day, but she had to get this off of her quickly. “I’m not gonna defend my decision making to you. Not when you don’t know what happened. The same could be said for you anyhow, Bethany.”

“Oh Stella. You’ve always wanted my baby brother and have never had the opportunity. So you sought out attention and praise from anyone else. And when you don’t get your way, you throw a fit. Well we’re all going to make sure you don’t get your way this time either.”

“So what if I have! Fuck, Beth. It’s pointless to bring it up because it’s never gonna be a reality.”

“The way you want it to be.” Beth gloated.

“There’s nothing for me to pitch a fit over, Beth.” She ignored the razor sharp words. “I’m just the best friend. That’s all I’ve ever been and all I’ll ever be. So drop it.”

Kayce felt like he was watching a car wreck. The weight of what he had done by sleeping with his best friend smacked him. He tried to deflect Beth’s vitriol from Stella, knowing Beth was close to crucifying her. He didn’t want to give Beth anymore leading information to confirm the affair. “This place is all I have to give them. I’m just trying to protect it. That’s why I came back.”

Beth rounded on him. “I’m protecting it! I’m protecting it. You’re really gonna sit on boards and run for office and navigate the filthy fights that a place like this requires?! No you’re not. Kace, you’re gonna lose your temper and put somebody in the hospital, or worse, and go to prison, and get sued and lose this place. Just go home, Kayce. Go work on this. Stay far away from her.” Beth pointed to her heart and then Stella. “And you stay far away from him. When he dies, you can have this fucking place. I will give it to you.” She stormed off.

Stella stood there and trembled with rage. She couldn’t bear to turn and face Kayce after Beth’s attack. “Kayce, we shouldn't be doing this. Beth and my brother are right. You’re still married. You shouldn’t be fucking around with me.”

“Stella, I—,”

“I’m not gonna be the other woman anymore, Kayce. I don’t know what I thought I was getting into. I fucked up.” She sighed and stepped off the patio. She had to get the hell away from this place.

[florrysgf]

Hi! So I was rewatching Scream and it totally made me rerealize how much I love Stu. Those headphones on his neck right before the party scene are also cute... can I request a Stu x reader where they just chill and listen to music?? Doesn't matter what music but if possible can you write with rock music like Journey, Motley Crue, etc etc. Tysm and I love ur writing so much its so cute!! <333

SHARING SONGS! stu macher x gn!reader

A/N: tysm!! i too am obsessed with his headphones. the things i would do to listen to music with him…

WARNINGS: none!

WORD COUNT: 1k +

Your music taste really evolved after you and Stu got together. The two of you were very different in that sense, but that was just one of the things you adored about him. Not too long ago, the dainty, pale blue record player in the corner of your bedroom consisted of less than ten albums. Stu was appalled when he first saw it, and he decided he had to change that.

It was clear that the two of you had completely different taste in music, and that made him curious. He wanted to know more about what you liked and he wanted to let you know what he liked. So, every time Stu came round your house he would bring a record with him. Be it Motley Crue, Nirvana, Journey, or The Cure, he would bring it with him and insist the two of you listen to it together.

And then, of course, you would slip him a couple of your Fleetwood Mac albums in return. He claimed he didn’t like it but you heard him humming the sweet tune to Little Lies when he was walking you home. 

Now the shelf underneath your record player was a beautiful array packed full of both yours and Stu’s favourite albums.

“Nevermind or In Utero?” He asked, scanning his eyes across your shared music collection. He turned to face you whilst you sat cross legged on top of your bed.

You raised your eyebrows at him. As if he could ask such a question, you thought it was a no brainer. “Nevermind.” You told him, watching intently as he took the vinyl out of the sleeve, placing it down and lifting up the needle. Polly began to play throughout your room at medium volume.

He moseyed over to join you on top of your bed, lying on his side and propping his head up with his hand, facing you. He reached out with his free hand, swiping a handful of skittles from the bowl in your lap and popping them his mouth. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ at the boys boldness, and you soon scrunched your face up as he mocked your expression, showing off the mashed up contents inside his mouth.

“You know, Nirvana are criminally underrated. They do not get the recognition they deserve.” Stu nodded, once he’d finished chewing.

“Oh, please,” You playfully rolled your eyes at him, tossing a skittle in his direction and laughing as it bounced off his forehead. “You’re only saying that ‘cause you have a crush on Kurt Cobain!”

“Hey, easy.” Your boyfriend whined, bringing his hand up to his brow. “That’s not true. I just like his hair!”

Sure. You couldn’t help but smile at him. There were countless times Stu came to you with pictures, asking you if you thought he should grow his hair out the same way. You gave him the exact same answer every time. You loved Stu, you did, but you knew if he grew out his hair he’d become the spitting image of Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

The boy gasped as he heard the opening to Smells Like Teen Spirit. Almost immediately, he leaped up off the bed and ran towards the corner of the room, turning the little knob up the full blast. If he had to pick his favourite song off that album, it would have to be this one. Come as You Are would be a close second. Stu loved music. Although they can make a song better, he didn’t really care about lyrics so much. If he likes the instruments then he’ll buy the album.

He stood in the middle of your room, swaying his hips from side to side. He inched closer to you with a playful smirk on his face, holding his hands out for you to join him. You grinned from ear to ear, shaking your head at the boy. But he wouldn’t take no for answer, so instead, he bent down, hooking his arms around your waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

An gasp escaped your lips as he took hold of you, carrying you into the middle of the room and gently plopping you down in front of him. His hand grabbed yours, lifting it up and gracefully spinning your body around. The two of you danced about like utter idiots, singing along to every word.

Once it got to the instrumental part of the song, the tall, blonde boy began to jump around your room, doing his best air guitar. You watched as he played the hell out of the invisible strings in time to the music. The look of pure concentration on his face caused you to burst out laughing. “You’re such a dork.” You beamed at him between breathless giggles. It was true, but he was your dork.

Exhausted, the two of you collapse onto your bed as Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac began to play. You couldn’t help but smile as Christine McVie’s heavenly voice filled your room. You watched as the rising and falling of Stu’s chest slowed down. Once he got his breath back, he snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer towards him. You were probably biased, but in your opinion, Stu was the best at giving cuddles. ‘There’s nothing a good cuddle can’t fix’ he’d always tell you. You snuggled up to him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. Your chests meet, and your hearts begin to pace together simultaneously. It was a strange feeling, but one you would never get tired of.

You felt a content sigh emerge from Stu’s lips as your hands found themselves by his head, carefully playing with his hair. You cherished moments like this. When it was just you and him together, it felt like the rest of the world just melted away.

Stu looked down at you, the two of you locking eyes. You looked so beautiful and relaxed in his arms.

The two of you lay together in silence for the rest of the night. Just you, Stu, and your favourite song.

[ardenwritesegos]

Starlight

Warning: Verbal abuse

Another day, another bout of chaos. Dark should know to expect nothing less from the Ipliers. All the more reason for a daily evaluation. If he didn’t, the mansion would likely burst into flames. Hell, it nearly did at one point. Damn Wilford and his ability to summon flame throwers at will. No matter. There were far more important things to dwell on. Or rather, far more important people. 

The being continued through the halls of the manor, entering room after room. The Googles were searching their online systems for useful information. Dr. Iplier was organizing yet another stack of files detailing the egos’ medical accidents. Everything seemed to be in order. At least, for the time being. 

The creature was soon finished with his inspection, moseying down the hall to his office. As they did, however, one of the doors opened. Someone exited from it in a rush. Eric Derekson. The shy Iplier held a stack of paper tightly in his arms, muttering something to himself. In his hurry, Eric practically rammed into Dark. The documents flew out of his hold, scattering in different directions. As Derekson looked up, the being could see the terror in his face.

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Eric stuttered quickly. 

“I was trying to memorize my script for today, and–” 

“Stop,” Dark interrupted, attempting to be as calm as possible.

Typically, the being would have no issue striking fear into the egos to keep them in line. This one, however, wasn’t like the others. 

Derekson did not contain the outward confidence or fearlessness of an Iplier. He was fragile as an egg, flinching at the slightest sound. The ego could barely speak without questioning every word. It was almost a saddening sight. Almost. “No harm has been done,” the being reassured Eric. The mist of their aura picked up Eric’s papers, handing the stack to Derekson. “You should find them in order,” Dark explained as the other checked his documents. The shy Iplier looked on in confusion, not seeming to expect the kindness. Dark couldn’t blame him. Not with the demon’s reputation in the manor. 

“Th-Thank you,” Eric said quietly, a bit calmer. 

“You’re welcome,” the creature responded. “Now, go. Derek is surely waiting for you.”

“Yeah...right,” Derekson ran along to his errand. Dark couldn’t help but notice an extra shakiness from Eric at the mention of his father. Something about that was all too familiar to the being.

My Starlight

They shook it off, returning to his room. It wasn’t their problem to solve.

[Meanwhile]

The creature sat at their desk, sorting another week’s worth of incidents from Dr. Iplier. As usual, it was a mountainous pile. However, Dark didn’t find it to be too much. He could get through papers like this rather quickly, after all. Before Dark could continue, he was interrupted by yelling that boomed from across the hall. The being knew all too well where it was coming from. They made their way across the hall, stopping midway at a door. On it was a poorly-constructed sign, reading Derekson Studio. Screaming continued from behind the door. Dark focused, until they could see the inside.

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this!” Derek boomed at the timid ego. 

“All ya gotta do is say some lines for stuff that practically sells itself,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple for everyone. 

“What dontcha understand?!”

“I-I-I,” Eric stuttered, shaking harder than a leaf. “M-Maybe I’m just not-just not cut out for this,” he began to fidget with the orange towel in his hand. Derekson always seemed to have that cloth near him. None of the others ever knew why, nor did they care enough to ask. “ If you asked my brothers, they-they’d say the same thing,” Eric added. “Merrick would–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Derek interrupted, instantly silencing his son. “You think I wouldn’t rather have Merrick do this?!” he boomed. “But he ain’t here, so you’re the only option I got!” Eric cowered more with each word. “So just get up there and get it together!” At those words, Dark was sent into one of the soul’s memories. 

A little boy was with his father, practicing for a speech, his first as class president. Like Eric, the child struggled to get the words out. For every mistake, his dad forced him to start over. The father quickly became more aggravated with each stutter or lengthy pause. 

“Get it together, boy!” the parent barked. “How are you going to be a politician if you can’t speak to a crowd?!” the boy had previously voiced his desire to be a leader of some kind. He wanted to help people in any way he could. In his mind, politics seemed like the best way to do that. At the time, however, he felt as if he wasn’t cut out for it. 

“B-but, everyone will be staring at me,” the child stammered, hands restless in their folded position. 

“That’s the point!” the man’s voice could be heard throughout the house. Maybe even the neighborhood. Regardless, the boy knew nobody would say a word. The man of the house had to keep order, after all. “What about that do you not understand?!”

“I understand, but–” the child mumbled, on the verge of tears. 

“Then act like it and say the damned words!” the father swore.

With a shake of their head, Dark was brought back to reality. Noise like that could not be tolerated. It was a distraction that could lead the entire manor off-track. He opened the door, immediately silencing Derek. The man may have been too stubborn for his own good, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that this being was not to be messed with. 

“Hello, Derekson,” Dark greeted the father with his usual cold indifference. 

“Uh…hello there, boss,” one could practically see the sweat dripping off the salesman. 

“What brings you here?” 

“You have caused a bit of noise, Derek,” the creature folded their arms behind their back. 

“S-so sorry, sir,” the father apologized. “I was just,uh, trying to motivate my son, here,” he put an arm on Eric’s shoulder, causing the boy to flinch.

“I highly doubt that shouting is adequate motivation,” they said, matter-of-factly. 

“Well actually, it works quite well for–”

“Could you leave the room for a moment?” Dark asked, interrupting Derek.

“What?” Derek responded, face freezing in confusion. 

“I would like to speak with Eric, alone,” the being ordered calmly, yet somehow also firmly.

“But sir, he doesn’t do good on his own,” Derek protested, clearly trying hard not to burst out in anger. 

“He will not be by himself, Derek,” Dark reassured, voice still emotionless. “Now, run along,” the creature ordered. “A new shipment was warped in for you.” 

“Uh…Yes sir,” the father said after several moments of hesitation. As the door clicked shut, Dark made their way towards the boy. He remained in front of the green screen, shaking like a leaf, sure that he was in trouble. The being stopped in front of him. 

“You are not in trouble, Eric,” the creature reassured, able to hear Derekson’s thoughts. 

“I’m-I’m not?” he asked, as if he wasn’t used to such a statement. Dark feels a tugging in his chest at that.

“Derek was the cause of that...noise, not you,” they sighed, careful with their choice of words. The boy was already overwhelmed. He didn’t need to magnify the situation.

“But…he did that because of me,” Eric looked down in shame, hands repeatedly wringing around his orange cloth. Dark could see tears starting to form in the boy’s eyes. “If I hadn’t m-messed up my lines, he would-wouldn’t have had to–”

“You didn’t make him do anything,” the being blurted out, no control over their words. They wanted to move away, but found their aura keeping them in place. While they couldn’t see the color of it, they could tell which one it was. Dammit! Fully under the blue soul’s control, the being put their arms around Derekson. The blue soul then pushed a calming aura into Eric. All at once, the boy’s tension disappeared. His muscles eased. The mental swarming in his head went silent, allowing him to, for once in his life, think clearly. Eric returned the hug, wrapping the creature in a nearly choking embrace. He looked up at Dark.

“Why…” Derekson paused, sniffling away the remains of his tears. “Why does he hate me?” The blue soul remembered asking that exact question. 

A young boy clings to his mother, crying his little eyes out. Father is not around, so he can do so without getting disciplined. 

“Mother, why does he hate me?!” the child choked out. 

“Because he is a fool, starlight,” the woman, the boy’s mother, replied softly. “Anyone would be well-off knowing you,” she rubbed soothing circles into the boy's back. 

“But…he says I cry too much,” the boy weakly argued.

“Because he has the emotions of a doll,” the mother scoffed. Her warm gaze remained directly on her son. “You, my dear, are a wonder.” 

“Because he has the empathy of a mannequin,” the being responded, answer still out of his control.  

“It’s-it’s not his fault, though,” Eric stumbled out. “I mean, everyone else died-”

“That is no excuse for a man to treat his child like that,” the blue soul interrupted. The blue in his aura grew brighter with every second of rage. “His only remaining child, no less…” the soul took a calming breath, trying again to keep his composure in front of the already overwhelmed boy. Eventually, his light was no longer blinding. Regardless, it remained lit like a halo; a comforting, guiding light. Eric couldn’t help but stare. In that gaze, the soul saw the innocence of his past. The kindness. The plea for someone to listen. 

The weakness. 

The soul’s control was ripped from him in an instant. Dark blinked hard, blue outline once again blending with red and gray. The creature quickly but gently removed their arms from Eric, moving them behind their back.

“I will speak to Derek about his…” Dark paused, searching for a careful word. 

“Behavior. Mistreatment of employees, related or otherwise, will not be tolerated in this manor,” The being walked towards the door, but stopped before turning the knob. 

“And Eric,” Dark turns slightly to look at Derekson. 

“Yeah?” Eric forced the word out of his mouth. This Dark was drastically different from the Dark of moments ago. 

“If you should need advice on public speech, I have prior experience that could be to your benefit,” Dark suggested. 

“But be sure to advise me beforehand.” 

“Really? Uh, thanks,” Eric wrung the fabric in his hand like he was getting water out. This time, however, it wasn’t completely out of nerves. With that, the creature exited, on his way to have a few choice words with Derek.