#my music taste is so all over the place i cannot

[milflewis]

the way it’s a genuine question for me rn if i want to listen to 5sos or watch the race while i unpack and clean my room. checking the side effects list of my meds like did you do this to me

[blu-art]

No disrespect to my coworkers' alt rock faves and what have you but lol I am in a different universe half the time.

That week? International. Last week? Ludacris' discography apparently.

Who knows what's next.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[filthgarbage86]

I cannot stop thinking about Eddie calling you nicknames. Not even just the regular ones, like baby, honey, sweetheart, baby cakes, though those ones still make your heart race. Imagine the day he figures out you like other nicknames. And once he figures out one, he’s testing them all to see which one gets him the biggest response.

Imagine being at school, you’re sitting next to him in class and suddenly your teacher is calling on you to answer a question. You’re always fast to clam up when you’re called on but luckily this time you really did know the answer to whatever the teacher was asking. You give a clear, straight answer and your teacher commends you on your work, “Good work, y/n” and you just hear next to you, barely above a whisper “that’s my good girl”. You’re sure that you’re more red than a tomato.

Imagine you’re at hellfire club with everyone and you’re getting hyped up before a session and he is just sitting there in his chair, looking at you with big, bright eyes, noting how excited you seemed. When you take your seat next to him, he just comments “seems like my doll is ready to play. Let’s get started.” Again, you’re a mess and a half, red as can be but you’re still able to control yourself a bit.

The last straw is over the weekend, at a party at Steve’s with everyone around and you wish you could crawl into a hole when it happens. You’re having a great time, you’re chatting with the crew, Robin is sharing stories about this guy that came into the store today and was recommending the worst movies to her as though he had any taste. Everything was going really smoothly and then, Eddie comes over. He slides right next to you on the floor that you had been sat at in the circle. He’s laughing at something Robin said, placing a hand on your thigh and rubbing comforting circles to show his presence. He smells like weed, alcohol, and his cologne and you’re already gone. Then, knowing exactly what he’s doing, he just leans into your ear like he’s telling a secret - “hiya bunny, how’s my sweet baby doing?” and you all but whimper. Bunny. You don’t know why that’s gotten the reaction it did but you immediately regret it the moment it slipped. The music felt like it went quiet and you felt like you had multiple pairs of eyes on you. Eddie’s eyes look like a lightbulb just went off behind them.

“Ohhh what’s this, bunny? Do you like being called that?”

It’s the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. It couldn’t possibly-

“Awe what’s wrong bunny? You embarrassed? Don’t be. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. You’re so good to me, bunny, letting me know something like this”

You absent-mindedly are clenching and rubbing your thighs under his touch while he’s chuckling low and you wish you were anywhere else right now. You had been avoiding eye contact this entire time until he took your chin and jaw in your hand and with a gentle but firm touch, he turned your head towards him

“Just say the word, and we can get out of here baby. I’ll treat you like a good little bunny too. All you have to do is look at me in the eye, and say so.”

Before you can even respond, Robin let’s out a long sigh and groan “guys, come on, either get a room or get a clue”. You decide at this moment to finally look at Eddie. His eyes have a smirk behind them and you’re swimming in chocolate.

“Well sweetheart? What do you say?”

“i thought…” you weren’t sweetheart right now, you wanted the other name again. You needed to hear him say it again.

He lifts your chin up again to look at him, firmly

“Speak up, Princess? What do you want to do?”

“I want to be a good bunny-“ he’d be pulling you out the door in a spilt second and you know it.

I just- I want to be called names like that by this man so badly. And you KNOW he would.

[notjustjavierpena]

Five Minutes

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: As promised, y’all. Thanks to @strang3lov3 and @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for always helping me improve my work ❤️💖 Just to put it out there: The translations aren’t always literal but paraphrased to maintain context.

Summary: Lucien kisses you outside during your house party and puts his hand under your dress.

Pairing: Lucien Flores x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Teasing/banter, pet names, passionate kisses, groping, dirty talk, over panty clit stim, degradation, slight verbal humiliation, overstimulation, bit of exhibitionism

Word count: 1.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54514960

Five Minutes

Your head is swimming with how close Lucien is. His breath tickles your skin when he talks, ghosts over your ear as he noses along the side of your head. In the smoke-filled room where the floor shakes from the music playing, you can smell his cologne on him. He is velvety soft when he speaks, enchanting you, “Let’s get out of here, just for a second.”

“We can’t,” you turn your head a little and look up at him through your lashes, “It’s my party, baby.”

“I don’t care,” he nods towards the open screen door in your living room, “When everyone is distracted, we could slip out. Nobody will notice.”

“That their host is gone?” You tut in disbelief, “Luce…”

“Corazón (honey),” he mimics your tone of voice, “They’re too busy to notice us leaving for a few minutes.”

“Oh, it’s a few minutes now? It was getting out of here a second ago,” you tease him playfully. In reality, you have already decided to give in and all he has to do is drag you away from the crowds. You won’t protest.

“I feel like we’re throwing out a lot of terms about time on the table here,” he grins against your forehead, having moved slightly to hold you close. His arms rest along the small of your back.

“I’ll give you, hmm,” you pretend to think, “Five minutes. Is that satisfactory?”

“I’ll give you satisfactory,” he unwraps himself from you to grab your wrist. You giggle as he drags you through the loud house, slipping the both of you out of the half-open door to your backyard.

The air inside was oppressive; smoke-filled, hot, and with a distinct smell of alcohol. The air outside however is filled with mischief and adventure, your garden smelling of freshly-cut grass and blooming lilacs. Lucien’s hand slips down your wrist so he can entwine your fingers, his hand sure in its grip when he guides you past a group of people who are talking loudly. He hadn’t been wrong; no one seems to notice you passing by as they are all too invested in their conversations. Lucien would probably phrase it that they have their heads too far up their asses.

He leads you to the wall of your house that is enshrouded in darkness now that the sun is no longer shining. The chatter from your guests fades into background noise, replaced by the cicadas singing in the night breeze and a gentle rustling of the leaves on the trees.

As soon as you become your only witnesses, Lucien backs you up against the rough exterior of your house. He cups your face with gentle, calloused hands, and then suddenly, he kisses you deeply and forces you to do a sharp intake of air through your nose. It is like he tries to be soft and sweet but there’s something more behind the way his lips meet yours, and he easily slides his tongue into your mouth because you cannot help but moan at the taste of him.

His thumb goes down your cheek, settles on your chin to pull your mouth open so he can lick hotly into it. You place your hands on his shoulders to dig your fingers into the muscles there, then tilt your head to meet him even more while desire pools in your belly.

The hand that isn’t holding your mouth open for him slides down to rest on your shoulder. However, it moves quickly to grope obscenely at your chest over the fabric of your dress and you let him as his thumb brushes over a nipple. It stiffens immediately despite the indirect touch.

The moan you let out turns into a snicker that interrupts you. Lucien’s fingers have slipped under the dress strap on your shoulder and he tries pulling it off. You shake your head while laughing quietly, “No, Luce, c’mon.”

“But you have such pretty tits,” he argues with almost a raspy whine whilst you pull the strap back in place, “Necesito sentirte (I need to feel you).”

“That’s very nice and all but I don’t need the whole party to see my breasts,” you bump your head slightly against the wall when Lucien’s head descends to kiss your neck, “You’re gonna have to get creative, I’m not going to strip in my garden like I’m in my teens.”

As he noses along your pulse point, both his palms skim down your sides and eventually cup your ass with lewd hands. You think that might be it, but suddenly his fingers bunch up the fabric of your skirt only to pull it upwards so he can slide his hand underneath it. You gasp as he drapes his palm over your whole mound on top of your underwear.

“You’re certainly determined,” you say breathlessly as he grinds the heel of his hand into your clit. More blood goes south. You reach for his hair to pull his mouth to yours again, moaning as he guides two digits over your clothed slit.

“You’ve put me on the clock here,” he replies between kisses, voice a mere growl, “I don’t think I need much time though, do you? You’re sticky through your pretty panties already.”

He moves his hand to run his knuckle over the damp patch on the fabric, pulling away from the kiss to show off the shiny knuckle between your faces whilst he holds the skirt of your dress in his free hand to keep it from falling down again. He smirks in a self-satisfied manner and your mouth falls open in aroused surprise when he sucks the slick off his digit, “Tienes un coño precioso, mi amor, sabes tan dulce (You’ve got a pretty pussy, my love, you taste so sweet).”

“Lucien,” you breathe.

“That made you say my whole name, huh?” He grins boyishly but he is more filthy than anyone knows.

“Touch me,” you look down between the two of you briefly and then find his gaze again, your eyes becoming heavy as the anticipation settles in the evening air. Without a word, his hand finds its way down between your legs again. You widen your stance slightly, open your legs for him.

Your eyebrows scrunch together when he skims his palm over the soft skin right below your belly button. He teases you for a moment, dipping his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear before letting them remain on top once again. He finds your clit easily despite it being covered - it’s so hard that he cannot miss it - and presses his index- and middle finger on it. He rubs your cunt in torturous circles and suddenly, the whole world seems to close in on you.

You spread your legs as wide as this position will allow you. Lucien chuckles quietly at your desperation, covers your mouth with his own as you pant with each little pulse of pleasure that he beckons from you.

His fingers shift between featherlight touches to just the right amount of pressure, sending you through a rollercoaster of arousal. You know the white cotton underneath his ministrations is see-through by now, messy and wet from the way your whole cunt flutters and clenches in the absence of anything he is willing to give you. You gush every now and then, and he groans into your mouth each time he feels his palm soak.

“Put your fingers in me,” you beg when it becomes especially unbearable but he doesn’t.

“I don’t think you need the whole party to see this pretty pussy, it’s mine,” he mocks your argument from earlier and pecks your lips impossibly soft compared to how he is treating your clit, “You’ll have to make do with what I give you, mi flor (my flower). I don’t care if you start begging me like a wanton little whore.”

“That’s so unfair,” you whimper as the first tells of your orgasm approaches. Lucien notices immediately and pulls his head back a little to watch your blissed-out expression. He circles in on your clit even further to make you cry softly, biting down on your bottom lip so you won’t alert anyone nearby.

“Shut up and come for me,” he is too pleased with himself. He can probably feel your cunt throbbing against his fingers when you finally do, doing a sharp intake of air as pleasure starts flowing through your lower body. You let it wash over yourself, clenching walls pushing more slick out to wet the thin fabric. If you had time, you would have told him to have a peek.

“You are so fucking cheap and easy,” he reminds you with a sleazy grin but you are too lost to coming from his fingers that you fumble for the right retort and decide to say nothing. Instead, you try not to lose your balance as he keeps stroking your oversensitive pussy until you have to grab at his wrist.

He bites at your jaw, stronger than you ever will be, and keeps up his torture over your panties. You are forced to come again less than thirty seconds later, and now, you start to actually cry out to the point where he has to kiss you quiet again.

You cling to him when he finally stops. He is your anchor in this state of mind-altering dopamine rush.

“You don’t even know how hard you make me,” he whispers against your lips, “Should drag you to the bathroom and fuck you stu—“

In the aftermath, two guests, much younger than him, round the corner. They are deep in drunken conversation, all giggly and eager, and appear to be searching for a quiet spot to do the same thing as you have just done. With a rush of adrenaline that clears your mind, you push Lucien away and yank your dress back down, smoothing out the fabric to remove any evidence that it has been crumpled by desperate hands, something that Lucien points out is only visible to your eyes before the intruders are within earshot.

“Oh, sorry,” one of them says as the other kisses their neck. They try to bat the other away with an embarrassed smile, “We didn’t know you were out here.”

Lucien wraps his arm around your waist and leads you away with his cock shamelessly straining against the front of his slacks. He smiles at the couple and they offer their bottle of wine to him as an apology. He takes a swig from it but doesn’t give it back.

“That’s okay, how could you have known?” He begins the lie, “We’ve only been gone for five minutes.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[recklesssturniolo]

chris but he loves eating his girl out like he cannot get enough, overstim if you’re comfortable w that

Obsessed - C.S

As requested (: Lowkey not sure how I feel about this one but I HOPE you guys like it

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

Chris couldn’t help himself when it came to you, he could never get enough of you. Having you beg and moan for him was almost constantly on his mind, just as it was now. You sat beside him on his bed, both mindlessly scrolling on your phones. All you had on was a shirt and panties. You notice he places his hand on your thigh running his fingers in small circles, his eyes not leaving his phone. He continues to move his hand higher and each time his hand inches upwards you can feel yourself getting wetter.

“I know you want me to touch you princess, I can feel how wet you are” Chris smirks.

He was right. That’s exactly what you wanted, what you needed.

“You want me to make you feel good?” He questions.

You nod in response, but that wasn’t good enough for him.

“Use your words” He demands.

“Yes, please I need you to touch me” You tell him.

That’s all Chris needed, lowering himself on the bed he’s already hard at the thought of you coming for him. Taking off your panties he places kisses on your thighs, admiring his view of your pussy.

“Such a pretty pussy” He says. Wanting to tease you but wanting to taste you overpowers that urge.

Licking from the back to front of your pussy, you immediately let out a moan and arch your back. Flicking his tongue in all the right ways, and circling your clit.

“Fuck Chris” You whimper, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling.

“You like that? You like how good I’m making you feel?” He replies, the slight rasp in his voice only turning you on more.

“Yes please don’t stop, I’m close” You whine back.

Chris had you exactly how he wanted you. But he wasn’t done. Slowly putting two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out slowly while sucking your clit - he knew this drove you crazy.

“You taste so good, are you going to be a good girl and come for me?” He smirks up at you as he asks.

You moaned before answering, barely able to form a sentence due to how close you were, “C-Chris faster, please, yes yes”

Doing just as you asked, Chris watched as you continued to let out whines, slightly bucking your hips.

“I’m coming, god fuck” You mumble.

His eyes still on you, he watches as you come undone, continuing fingering and licking your pussy. He loved every second of it - but he wasn’t finished with you.

“Such a pretty girl coming on my fingers” He says as he pulls out his fingers, cleaning them off with his tongue.

“You’re so good to me” You pant out.

“I’m also not finished, sit on my face” He smiles at you.

“What? Chris I’m too sensitive to keep going” You reply.

“Come on baby, I want more of you” He says, adjusting himself on the bed.

You did as he said, trying to prepare yourself for the sensations you knew were coming.

Immediately once you sat on his face he got right back to it, flicking his tongue in the best way possible, tasting all of you.

“C-Chris I’m sensitive, I barely finished coming down from my last orgasm” You moan, while throwing your head back.

“Mm” Was all Chris responded with the vibrations on your pussy from that only adding to the pleasure, he knew you were over-stimulated, and he loved it.

Already feeling close you start riding his face, moving your hips forwards and backwards, letting out small whimpers which was music to Chris’ ears. Your legs began to shake causing Chris to place his hands on them, pushing you down harder on his face.

“Come on baby, come again for me, all over my face” He says. Once again looking up at you just waiting for you to come undone on him. Focusing more on your clit, sucking on it and flicking his tongue over it.

That was all you needed. As you came curse words and moans fell out of your mouth, your body shaking from the sensations, unable to control your movements.

“Such a good girl coming twice for me” He smirks. Helping you get off his face and back onto the bed. Admiring how your legs were still shaking, and that you couldn’t even formulate a response. Smirking to himself, proud that he could have you like this.

Leaving a trail of kisses on your neck, he continued whispering how good you tasted and how beautiful you looked coming undone for him as you mumbled out thank yous and telling him how good he was. Chris wanted nothing in return, having you like that was more than enough for him and gave him images to replay in his head until the next time - but that wouldn’t be long.

[dr-sunshinereid]

a cookie tester

Spencer Reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n); fluff

Between Christmas lights and stolen cookies, Spencer surprises you with a gift that perfectly fits your dynamic. Word count: 1,1k

a/n: hi. Firstly, English is not my first language, be aware. Second, this is my first fanfic in years and first written in English. I wish I could've done more with it but if I would keep it in my notebook a minute longer it would have never been posted.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅⋆⁺₊❅

The place was aglow.

The Christmas lights twisted around the curtain rod cast a warm, flickering glow across the living room, while the small Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner turned the whole room amber and red. Its ornaments blink softly, catching the light, and a delicate garland that you and Spencer spent the entire Saturday hanging, draped over the shelves, added an extra touch.

The flat was filled with the sweet, comforting scent of freshly baked goods. The kitchen island was piled high, boxes full of treats for the annual BAU Christmas. With Spencer catching up on paperwork at the office, you had an empty kitchen to work in. No one is stealing cookies fresh from the tray. No one stealing muffins behind your back, no lectures on how important it is to measure ingredients very precisely, and no curdled cream because someone started explaining why the metric system is always more accurate. Even if it was blissful, it was lonely without his ramblings. Just you and the music.

You hummed along to the Christmas music playing softly in the background, squeezing cream onto the tops of muffins. When Sabrina’s voice filled the room, you couldn’t resist.

“Why don't you just come over? You've been acting so cold. You were mid-spin when cold fingers brushed the skin on your waist. “So cold!” you yelled, your voice breaking as you nearly dropped the piping bag. Turning around, you found Spencer standing behind you with a smile tugging at his lips. “Spencer!” You gently pushed away his cold fingers, but he pulled you closer. “I haven't heard you coming in.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he said, but his tone suggested he wasn't. “Hi.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you could push him away.

“Hi,” you said, returning the kiss before turning back to the counter. “I was just about to finish up. Ten minutes, and I’ll reheat dinner.”

You focused back on the cupcakes and out of the corner of your eye you saw Spencer putting his satchel on the chair, standing and looking around the work surface. “I can do it,” he offered. And before you could've said something, he was already moving around the kitchen, trying not to disturb you. You paused, glancing over your shoulder at him. It wasn’t the first time he’d stepped in, but it still warmed you every time.

As you returned to the muffins, the sound of Spencer rummaging through the fridge and muttering to himself brought a smile to your face. Soon after, he was back at your side, his fingers dipped into the bowl of cream, stealing a generous scoop. You gave him an angry look. “What?” he said innocently, licking the cream off his finger. “I’m taste-testing.”

“You’re stealing.”

“Stealing implies I didn’t have permission,” he countered, grinning as he leaned on the counter beside you. “Are those shortbread cookies? With jelly?” He reached for a still warm cookie, when you pointed at him with a frosted-covered spatula. “Yes, but don’t even think about stealing one,” you warned.

“But they are my favorite,” he pouted and said it with that soft voice that always melted your resolve.

“Oh, believe me, we all know,” you joke, giving him a knowing look, and softly patting his belly. His brows furrowed for a moment as if processing your words.

You cannot act like you don’t notice the way his shirts hug him more tightly, the way his face had filled out just enough to soften his cheekbones. Living with you had done him good, and it showed. Not that you minded, of course. “But don't worry, I've baked extra because I knew someone would steal like a half of them before the party.”

“I am not a thief,” he protested. “I am your cookie tester.” You snorted softly, focusing on the last muffin.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him moving quickly, swiping a couple of cookies from the tray and eating a few before you could react. “Spencer!” you exclaimed, looking back at him. “They can still be hot!”

He froze mid-chew, swallowing hastily. “Eating cake while it's still hot isn't generally bad for your health,” he said, reminding you of your last discussion while taking another bite. “Yes, some people might experience some digestive discomfort, but I am not one of them. And these are cookies, not cake.”

You blinked at him, torn between annoyance and laughter. “But as cookies cool, their flavors blend, it allows the sugars and fats to solidify, making each bite more delicious,” you countered. “Also, you could've just burned your mouth on the hot jelly. Ever think about that, Dr. Reid?”

Swallowing his stolen cookie with a guilty smile, Spencer tilted his head and raised a finger, wanting to add more “Touché. But if I may counter…”

“You may not,” you said, throwing the pastry bag into the sink next to him and turning off the stove . You smiled, and he laughed at your reply.

The sound of plates being put down, and Christmas music, filled the comfortable silence until Spencer’s voice broke it again. “Actually, I have something to add.” He handed you the empty pot and walked away to grab something from his satchel.

“So, I may have… got you something,” he said, setting a box on the counter. You turned around, drying your hand.

“Are you trying to bribe me to overlook your cookie theft?” you teased, crossing your arms but unable to keep the smile off your face.

“Not bribery,” he corrected. “Bribery in most contexts has a negative connotation. It’s unethical, even illegal. But if you think about it in a non-monetary sense, like, say, gifting, then it’s technically just persuasion. And persuasion isn’t always bad; sometimes, it’s even thematically appropriate,” he said, his words tumbling out in one breath.

“Thematic?”

“Just open it,” he said, his voice softening, excitement flickering in his eyes.

Curiosity getting the better of you, carefully, you lifted the lid, and your face immediately lit up. Inside was a soft sweatshirt, embroidered with the words Christmas Cookie Baker. You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gift. "Oh, Spencer," you murmured, wiping your fingers over your shirt before brushing over the letters.

"But wait, there’s more," he added quickly. He raised the one you were looking at to reveal another that read Christmas Cookie Tester. He looked at you and his eyes sparkled with pride.

"You’re unbelievable, this is adorable."

He shrugged, a shy grin spreading across his face. "Garcia showed it to me one day and I thought you might like it. But if it’s too cheesy... "

"Cheesy?" Shaking your head, you held the sweatshirt up to your chest, feeling warmth bloom in your heart. "This is perfect."

He grinned, smiling proudly. "Totally fits our dynamic. You bake; I test. It’s a flawless system."

"Absolutely," you said, nodding. You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek before kissing him. "I love it," you said softly, and you meant it.

[ilypaigebuckets]

kate martin x competitive swimmer reader por favorrrrrrr

Someone Who Isn’t Me - K.M.

u cannot tell me i didn’t eat with the title right there it’s literally swim i feel like a genius. literally wrote half of this and went to finish it and i guess i forgot to save it bc it was all gone :(

pairing: reader x kate martin

plot: kate has a game the same day as your swim meet and can’t make it to watch you, which makes her feel like you need someone else who can make more time for you.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

you had woken up at 7 am sharp and had starting to get ready for your swim meet that afternoon. you were doing the 100 free and were pretty nervous for it. you tried to calm your nerves by playing some music and taking your time to get ready. you heard a ping on your phone and ignored it, trying to stay in the zone. you heard a second ping a while later and decided to see who was texting you. you looked down and smiled as you recognized the notification to be your girlfriend.

k ❤️

sent an image.

I’m so sad lovely 😔😭

you quickly typed in your password to see what the image was. turns out, it was an email from her coach to her team saying that her game’s start time would be postponed for 2 hours later.

y/n

awe :( i’ll miss you teddy bear

good luck at your game i love you!

you were going to miss kate and kate was going to miss you. it was hard when the two of you couldn’t make it to each others games and events. you knew it would be especially hard on kate, she had a tendency to overthink and think the worst of herself when she couldn’t show up for you.

on the court, kate was a mess. “kate!” her coach called to her, “whatever’s going on with you, i need it to stop. you need to focus on what’s on the court, you’re our glue.” kate nodded, absentmindedly and ran back to the court. in the end, iowa ended up losing 56-67. kate walked back to the locker room defeated. ‘great’ she thought ‘another reason this is the shittiest day ever.’

she got back to her apartment and saw you’d texted her again.

My love 💕

hi kate kat!! how was your game? do you wanna come over :)

kate smiled faintly at your message. you were so positive, even when plans didn’t turn out the way you two had expected.

Kate

i love you so much i’ll be over in 10 🤗🥰😘❤️

kate grabbed her backpack and packed some clothes and her toothbrush into it, she figured she’d spend the night at your place. you two had a tendency to have sleepovers a few times a week and she didn’t want to be alone tonight after this tough loss.

about 8 minutes later, you heard a knock at your door. you opened it and there you saw her. your beautiful girl standing there with a pout on her face. you grabbed her bag from her and stood on your toes so you could reach up to kiss her nose. you grabbed her hand and led her over to the couch.

“i missed you today baby!” you said to her as you sat down on the couch next to you. she groaned and pulled you onto her lap, wanting to be closer to you after a day apart.

“you aren’t close enough!!” kate whined as she hugged your body close to hers. “i was having such a hard day already and not seeing you just ruined it. i was starting to think that.. i don’t know maybe you need someone who can be there, who can show up for you. i feel terrible. god.” she buried her head into the crevice of your neck and inhaled your scent. “god y/n i was thinking maybe you need someone who isn’t me. but now i’m here and i can’t imagine not having you. we lost and i should be so upset about it, and i was, but it’s like now i’m with you and none of it matters anymore.”

you simply giggled and kissed kate soundly on her pink lips, tasting her chapstick as you did so. kate started to perk up and smiled too. her spirit seemed to brighten the more time she spent with you. she put her hands on your shoulders, shaking you, “how do you make me so happy, y/n? hm? how do you do that? tell me your secrets!”

in that moment you wanted to cry. you loved how you and kate could overcome seemingly anything, not letting a bad day come between you guys. “i hate seeing you upset, kate. you’re my person. i wish i could be around you all the time.”

[witch-hazels-musings]

Good morning, Hazel. Could I please have a protection ritual for Kaeya including evergreen, black tourmaline, and frankincense? Thank you

Evergreen (the unexpected), Black Tourmaline (safety, shielding), Frankincense (confidence) Kaeya x gn reader | Protection Ritual warning: alcohol mention, public displays of affection, nervous reader, kiss on the cheek

"Do my eyes deceive me? Surely they cannot be spying what I think they are." Kaeya's silky voice slithered through the voices of rowdy patrons but before you could turn to face him, his arm made purchase on your shoulder while he took a long, slow drink of his freshly made beverage. You could smell the booze, a stark contrast to the one you held.

"And what might that be?" you asked, your gaze fixed on those below you. The music floated jovially in the air and you watched a couple dancing lively to the rhythm.

"My, what else but a sad sort wasting away their evening."

"That's strange."

"What is?"

"I didn't think Angels Share had any mirrors in here," you said, smirking and peering at the Calvary Captain from the corner of your eyes.

Kaeya mirrored your expression before waving his hand next to your face, his arm still positioned on your shoulder. "It would seem rather foolish to do so. My face is far too blinding. Having multiple on display may just cause a riot."

"I guess you're right. Teyvat doesn't need more than one Kaeya."

"Truly it would be far too much to handle," he hummed in agreement, his lips curling into a sly smile near the rim of his drink. You chuckled at his expression and stared at his profile while he surveyed the lower floor. The dim light of the tavern made the rich shade of his hair deepen. Your fingers itched to touch it. He had let you once, play with his hair. He used it as an excuse to be late to one of the Knights of Favonius's meetings. You didn't mind and, besides, it wasn't like they could get you in trouble - you didn't work for them.

Kaeya took another sip of his potent drink and you watched the way his lips moved, how slowly and deftly he swallowed. His attention flickered to you so you looked away and found reprieve in your cup.

A wooden chair scraped against the floor and soon the pressure on your shoulder eased as Kaeya sat next to you, one leg resting on the knee of the other.

"So, did you do what we discussed?" he asked without looking at you, his uncovered eye darting from person to person in the tavern. He may be spending enjoying the tavern, but his work of collecting Mondstadt's secrets never stopped.

You swallowed. "I mulled it over -"

"So, no."

You stared at your drink. "I'm working myself up to it."

Kaeya sighed and turned his attention to you. From this distance, you could smell him, all of him. You leaned back in your chair. "You will forever remain in place if you do nothing."

"I know that."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Are you going to make your move?"

Your eyes trailed over his face, landing lastly on his lips before falling back to your nearly empty cup. You didn't like the taste of alcohol but you wished at this moment you'd gotten something stronger. "I'll figure it out."

"And what if this opportunity slips through your fingers? They may not be available forever."

"I know that."

"And, yet, you remain."

"It's not that easy."

"My innocent friend, everything is easy."

Friend. Kaeya's friend. The words cut so you looked away, down to the couple dancing closely to the music. Their faces pressed against each other. You wanted that - so desperately you wanted that.

"Do you really think if I asked them that they'd - that they'd chose me?"

"They'd be a fool not to," Kaeya answered, his voice steady, clear like crystal. You looked at him but he didn't turn away.

A nervous surge rose in your chest and you let it take over. The cup slammed onto the table next to you, the chair you had sat in - the same one you'd found all those months ago when you saw Kaeya enter Angel's Share for the first time - screeched in protest to your sudden movement.

You turned to him, hand shaking, and extended toward his face. "Then dance with me," you said.

Everything faded. The tavern, the music, the world. All that was left was you, your outstretched hand, and Kaeya.

"What is this?" he asked, the corner of his lips rising in amusement.

"Shut up. Do you want to do this or not because I'm two seconds from running out the -"

Kaeya rose to you, his body somehow towering even though the height difference wasn't that severe. You felt his cool hand take yours and sensed his presence as he leaned in toward your ear. "And here I thought I'd have to see you with another. How relieved I am to know that is not the case," he said, humming with a smirk so sharp you worried it might cut him.

He held you, even after you tried to pull away Kaeya held you there. "People are looking," you whispered, clearly aware of the others staring.

"Let them. Let them see what they can no longer have," he replied before placing a kiss on your cheek and leading you to the dancefloor to show off while you hid your face in his sweet-smelling clothes.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

[simplygojo]

Care Between the Chaos

Author's Note: Hey y'allll, guess what I'm doing...preparing for a super important job interview!! So guess what I wrote...? Pretty boy Suguru Geto taking care of the reader while she preps for a super important interview!!! LOL at this point I cannot deny the projection allegations. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this sweet oneshot. I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH <3

Also, as always, request are open and encouraged! Here are my request guidelines if you're interested, there are also some prompts on there if you need inspo!

Pairing: Modern AU!Suguru Geto x f!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Your heart will feel super warm and fuzzy...lol

The golden light of the late afternoon sun had long since surrendered to the deepening twilight, and the harsh, artificial glow of the desk lamp now lighted your room. Your desk was a chaotic battlefield of papers, textbooks, and highlighters, all surrounding your overheating laptop in the centre.

Every surface was cluttered—each corner of the room seemed to reflect the mounting pressure you felt. The soft hum of the old pot lights above you constantly reminded you of the hours you had spent, and the hours yet to come.

The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness as you pored over your notes, trying to grasp every detail and nuance needed for your important job interview. Your eyes were gritty from staring at the screen, and your mind was clouded with anxiety.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but the weight of the impending deadline felt almost unbearable.

This job was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you did not intend on screwing that up. You had been preparing for about a week, but with less than 24 hours until the interview, you felt as if nothing you did was enough.

The door to your study room creaked open, and your lovely boyfriend, Suguu Geto, stepped inside. A visible concern accompanied his usually effortless charm as he observed the disarray of your office. He moved quietly, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on you. The sight of you hunched over your desk, surrounded by the chaos of your preparations, tugged at his heartstrings.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, his voice a gentle balm against the relentless noise of your stress. His tone was soothing, almost musical, meant to cut through the fog of your anxiety. “How’s it going?”

You glanced up briefly, your eyes tired and red-rimmed. “It’s going alright,” you murmured, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “Just a bit more to do before the interview.”

Geto shook his head, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. He placed a wooden tray on the edge of your desk, positioning it delicately beside your chaos.

You hadn't even noticed him holding the tray as he walked in. It was a thoughtful assortment of comfort foods: freshly baked chocolate chip cookies with their edges perfectly golden, carefully cut slices of fruit, and a neatly wrapped sandwich. The sight of it was like a warm hug for your weary soul.

“Take a break,” Geto said, his voice carrying a tender authority. “You’ll need more than just caffeine to get through this—eat something y/n.” He said, moving to stand behind you, placing his large hands gently on your shoulders after running his fingers through your hair. You reached for a cookie, the rich, sweet aroma providing a momentary escape from the relentless pressure.

The gooey chocolate and soft dough offered a fleeting but much-needed distraction as you bit into it. You closed your eyes for a moment, savouring the taste and the comfort that came with it. “Mmmmm…This is delicious, Suguru.” You said as he leaned down, placing a loving kiss on the top of your head. You smiled softly and tilted your head back to look up at his pretty face.

“I will eat, I promise, you’re so sweet for this…but I can’t take a break right now, baby. I’m sorry.”

Geto watched you with a soft smile, his heart swelling with affection. He saw the tension in your shoulders, the furrow in your brow, and the way you continually rubbed your tired eyes. He knew that a simple snack was only the beginning of what you needed. “Do you need me to help with anything?” He asked, but he knew the answer you were about to say. “Sorry, but now, I just need to keep preparing.” He nodded and planted another kiss on your temple before leaving you to continue your interview prep.

—

The hours passed slowly, the light from the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. You continued working, your focus wavering as fatigue began to take its toll.

As if on cue, Suguru entered the room, carrying a soft blanket and a hairbrush, but you did not notice him as your face was buried in your computer screen.

He draped the blanket over your shoulders, its softness immediately providing a sense of comfort as you turned your head quickly to meet his gentle gaze. As he tucked it around you, he noticed the tension in your posture. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch both soothing and affectionate. “Mmm…thank you, baby.” You cooed, letting your body relax under the warmth.

“You should take a break,” he suggested again, his voice soft yet firm. “You’ve been at this for hours. I hate to see you so stressed.”

You shook your head, “I can’t stop now,” you protested weakly, your voice a mix of determination and exhaustion. “There’s still so much to do, and I don’t wnat to waste tim-.”

“Nonsense,” Geto countered before you could finish your thought with a playful firmness. “You need to take care of yourself too. I’m here to help.”

With that, he pulled up a chair behind you and began to work on your hair. His fingers were skilled and gentle, moving with practiced ease as he untangled the knots with his hairbrush and began braiding your hair. The rhythmic motion of his hands was both calming and intimate, each touch designed to ease away the stress that had accumulated from your long hours of work.

As he worked, you could feel the tension in your head and shoulders slowly melting away. The sensation of his familiar touch, combined with the warmth of the blanket was a welcome relief.

Your thoughts began to drift and your eyelids fluttered shut, momentarily distracted from the relentless pressure of your preparations. The soft, rhythmic motion of his hands was like a lullaby, drawing you away from the stress and into a state of calm.

Suguru’s was focused on making sure you felt cared for. He knew that even the smallest gestures could make a big difference in how you felt. His thoughts were filled with a mixture of concern and affection as he continued to braid your hair, each movement designed to bring you comfort.

Suguru’s attention to your needs was instinctive. He knew that even the smallest gestures—a touch, a word—could make a big difference.

His love was quiet, expressed not in grand gestures but in these moments of care, where he sought to lighten your load without taking anything away from your independence.

After finishing the braid, he leaned forward, his warm breath brushing your skin as he kissed the crown of your head softly, lingering just a moment too long.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his lips grazing your temple before planting another tender kiss on your cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words, gentle and sincere, filled the room like a warm, protective aura. You smiled despite the exhaustion weighing down on your body.

A part of you wanted to surrender to his care completely, to let him whisk you away from the burden of responsibility. But that determined part of you—the one that had carried you this far, wouldn’t let you rest just yet.

You turned in your chair to face him, giving him a tired but appreciative smile. “You’re too good to me,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his face. “But I can’t rest, Suguru. Not yet.”

He chuckled softly, the low sound reverberating through his chest as he held your gaze. His dark eyes were filled with warmth, a reflection of the depth of his feelings for you.

“I think you deserve a break,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips this time. His kiss was slow, delicate—enough to tempt you into abiding, but not enough to fully pull you away from your tasks.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of you seemed to disappear.

“Stay here,” you whispered, though a teasing smile played on your lips. “But… let me finish. Just a little longer?”

Geto sighed theatrically, though the fondness in his gaze never wavered. “You are impossibly stubborn, you know that?”

You chuckled, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “I know. But that’s why you love me.”

He smirked, leaning in for one more kiss, this one a little firmer, a little more insistent. It was a kiss that promised more, but also one that said, I’ll wait.

“You’re right,” he murmured against your lips. “That’s exactly why.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Geto reluctantly pulled away, though not without one last, lingering look that left your heart fluttering. He straightened up, his hands trailing down your arms as he rose to his feet.

“I’ll be in the other room,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with the unspoken promise that he’d return if you needed him.

You nodded, biting back another smile as you turned back to your work.

The desk lamp cast its warm glow over the papers once more, but this time, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter—knowing Suguru was there, just a room away, gave you the strength to push through.

You sighed contentedly, feeling the remnants of his tender living care wrapped around you like the blanket he had so thoughtfully draped over your shoulders. Suguru’s love was quiet, persistent, and steady. And in this moment, even in the midst of your stress, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have him.

—

The hours dragged on as the hum of your laptop filled the quiet room. Despite Suguru’s care and the warmth of the blanket over your shoulders, you continued to push through. The stress of preparing for the interview was like a weight on your chest, driving you to review every last detail of your presentation.

Fatigue gnawed at your senses, but you stubbornly ignored it.

Your fingers moved slowly over the keyboard, eyes struggling to focus on the words that had long since blurred. You barely noticed the dim light of your screen, and the quiet of the house settled into a calming lull.

Suguru, ever mindful, peeked into your office from time to time. He could see the way your head drooped closer to the screen, the way your back slumped in the chair, the exhaustion etched in your every movement.

After what felt like an eternity, Suguru decided enough was enough. He reappeared at the doorway of your office, a glass of water in hand.

As he approached, he saw your body had finally succumbed to the exhaustion you had been fighting. Your head was resting on your folded arms atop the desk, the faint glow of the laptop barely illuminating your peaceful face.

The screen had dimmed automatically, its light reflecting softly off your skin, casting long shadows across the room.

Suguru’s steps softened as he entered the room, not wanting to disturb you. He set the glass of water down quietly beside the untouched cup of tea he had brought earlier and knelt beside you, taking in the sight of your sleeping form.

The tension that had lined your features throughout the day had finally faded, leaving you with an expression of serenity. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

His gaze lingered, his heart swelling with warmth and affection.

You had worked yourself to the point of exhaustion, and as much as he admired your dedication, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for letting you get this far without insisting on rest.

He knew how much this interview meant to you, but he also knew that you needed sleep just as much.

Suguru rose to his feet, stepping behind your chair as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/n,” he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath. There was no response. You were too far gone in sleep to even stir. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Stubborn as always."

Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, careful not to wake you as he lifted your limp form from the chair. Your head lolled softly against his chest as he cradled you in his strong arms, the weight of your body nothing compared to the warmth in his heart. The blanket that had once been draped over your shoulders fell away—forgotten as Suguru began to carry you out of the office.

The hallway was dark, lit only by the dim light of the moon filtering through the windows. The soft sound of his footsteps was the only noise in the stillness of the house. He glanced down at you as he walked, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept soundly against him.

As he reached the bedroom, Suguru nudged the door open with his foot and crossed the room to the bed. He laid you down gently, his movements careful and precise, not wanting to disturb your sleep. Once you were settled, he pulled the covers up to your chin, tucking you in with the same tenderness he had shown all evening.

For a long moment, he stood beside the bed, just watching you sleep. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of you, safe and sound under his watch. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Suguru straightened up, brushing a hand through his long hair before glancing back at you one last time, soaking in your effortless beauty.

He smiled softly to himself as he quietly left the room, knowing you would wake up tomorrow feeling refreshed—whether you wanted to or not.

[sillylittleguytm]

Saccharine Kisses

(Papa or Cardinal) Copia x gn!reader

Warnings: Some intense smooches, sickeningly sweet fluff- literally, can be interpreted with Copia as Papa or the Cardinal but I envisioned the Cardinal when I wrote it

Word Count: 651

Love from Your Papas Day 1: Chocolates with Copia

In the dimly lit room, smooth, intimate music plays softly from a speaker. Candles make the scene all the more romantic and sensual as they burn on the end tables. Next to them lie nearly empty wine glasses. On the couch are two lovers, locked in a passionate embrace, their lips meeting and molding together perfectly. The sound of their kisses and laughter join the symphony of romance.

You pull away with flushed cheeks and a dopey grin. Your thumbs run softly over Copia’s cheeks as you admire his lovestruck expression. You take one hand away and reach for a chocolate from a box on the coffee table. Copia had gotten those for you as a Valentine’s day gift, and now you were taking turns feeding them to each other. It was a cliché scenario, overdone and cheesy, but you could see now why that was the case. There was nothing better than to be wrapped up with the one you love and enjoy the sweet, passionate atmosphere.

“Tell me what you think of this one.” You say, holding the chocolate to his lips. Copia chuckles and eats the chocolate you offer him. It’s a hardened white chocolate truffle filled with a deliciously creamy raspberry ganache. He lets out a noise of delight at the taste. He has always had a major sweet tooth. It’s almost like he got those chocolates more for himself than he did for you. But that's just fine with you as long as you got to give them to him

“Delizioso. Very sweet.” Copia comments, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “I cannot tell which is sweeter; the chocolate or your lips.” It's oh so sweet but so horrifically cheesy at the same time that it makes your heart flutter and your lips twitch up into a smile as you try to hold back laughter. Copia makes an equally amused face before pulling you into a kiss.

Copia's lips meet yours passionately, the line between chaste and heated becoming increasingly thinner– he so easily loses himself in you. As the kiss wears on, it only becomes more intense. His hands move down from your face to your waist. You tease him with your tongue before it enters his mouth and meets with his. You lick at his tongue and groan at the rich taste of the chocolate combined with the taste of him. He grips you tightly, grounding himself as your kiss gives him a rush of pleasure and elation. 

Copia is the one to pull away, his freckled cheeks flushed, lips parted, and panting for breath. He looks completely wrecked and you don't miss the look of utter longing he shoots you. “You are going to be the death of me, amore. You steal the breath from my lungs and the sense from my head.”

As he recovers from the fierce kiss, you take one of his gloved hands and press kisses to the warm leather. Copia becomes breathless once again as you slip the glove off his hand and onto the table, joining the box of chocolates. The same step is repeated with the other hand and more kisses are pressed to the bare skin. Copia catches his hands in yours and holds them, his thumbs running over your knuckles. His smile is warm and his touch is delicate. 

“I think I will be sick if I have another chocolate.” Copia laughs. “Maybe the chocolates are sweeter, but I could never get sick of your taste.”

With that, he lunges forward and claims your lips again. It was his rightful place– in your arms, lips moving fervently against yours, drowning in your touch, and taking in your scent. He felt the need to be everywhere all at once. With you, he lost the ability to take things slow.

Neither of you knew it was possible to feel so much love and need. 

[superblysubpar]

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

We'll Call It Love Masterlist | song inspiration

4.8k words | 18+ NSFW

Warnings: *This is a prequel to my series "We'll Call It Love" linked above | reader drinks wine and loves olives on her pizza | swearing | SMUT (PIV intercourse -wrapped before tapped /oral - both receiving and performing/dirty talk/ass slapping)

A/N: While this is a prequel to the series, I think it's actually kind of fun to read this after the first two parts and before the third, little easter eggs and what not. I hope you enjoy this and thanks for your patience in waiting for this story! 💛

“You’re laate,” you sing into your phone, smiling at Argyle across the bar as he motions to your almost empty glass of wine. Spinning on your barstool as you nod and Robin huffs into the phone. 

“I’m so sorry, but Joe was on a terror today and like yes sir god forbid you have raisins in your trail mix and no I did not watch the barista take the temp of your half caf soy bullshit latte because believe it or not I do actually do real work for this company other than wait on your hand and foot and-”

“Robin!” Laughing into the phone and shaking your head. Your own chest hurts from her lack of ending a sentence. “Take a deep breath. I’m just joking, I already ordered the pizza and…” trailing off as she becomes far too quiet on the other end, “You’re not coming at all, are you?”

Your new friend groans, “I’m so, so, so, sorry. I promise I’m not normally this flakey, but like I cannot afford to lose this job and I have that date tomorrow so if I leave now I may as well go and buy a plot at the cemetery because-”

“Oh my god,” laughing at her dramatic flare, you smile at Argyle as he sets your refilled glass back in front of you. “Stop, you’re fine. I’m more than content to just hang here at the bar. There’s a game tonight, besides, Argyle can keep me company.”

Batting your eyelashes at him, he winks and Robin laughs on the other side of the phone but it quickly turns to another groan. “Please get extra olives on the pizza for me? Dingus hates them and he’s a baby who always gets his way and oh shit,” she whispers into the phone, “Gotta go. Joe is back and asking where his steak is and I forgot to order it. And by forgot I mean he told me he didn’t want steak an hour ago. Please pray for my quick and painless demise. I love you.”

Robin hangs up before you can reply and you slip your phone back into your purse. Leaning onto the counter, you sigh as your chin rests in your palm. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, Argyle.”

He tosses a rag over his shoulder and leans against the wall behind him. “Hot date cancel on you?”

Shrugging, he was no stranger to the guys you’d picked up at that very bar in just the few short weeks you’d been coming there. You take a sip of your wine before admitting, “Nah, just Robin. Although, she is very hot.”

He squints, rubbing at his jaw before snapping, “Super talkative lady right? She’s nice, I like her.”

You laugh into your glass as you nod. “That’s the one.” Looking around the fairly quiet bar, you turn back to him with a fake pout on your lips, fluttering your eyelashes dramatically. “Could I persuade you to put the baseball game on?”

He groans, wiping down a glass, “You know Eden’s rule…”

Leaning forward on your elbows, exaggerating your pout as he trails off. He squints before throwing his head back, blowing out a long exhale, “Man, you’re going down with me if she gets mad.”

Snickering into your wine glass because the other owner is quite…particular about the restaurant. Argyle is the exact laid back balance she needs to run the business or she’d never get anyone in the place - there’s a reason it’s named after him. If it were up to Eden, every guest would need to answer a questionnaire about what music taste they have, toppings on pizza, and if they played sports in high school. Any sort of sports paraphernalia on your person would get you on the sidewalk immediately if she had her way. 

Which is why you’ve learned from Argyle that Eden runs the behind the scenes business side of things, and Argyle gets creative freedom on pizzas and drinks, tending to the customers, and earning the tips he rightfully deserves. He was not let loose on decor however. The pizza bar is decked out in nostalgia from the decades, various band’s vinyls covering the walls, black and white photographs of Eden and Argyle in front of their VW Van across the country. Candlesticks with dripping wax and soft lamps lighting the tables, gold and black accented decor, and a strict aesthetic to be met when it came to the music played and what was shown on TV. 

Making a crossing motion over your chest, “I promise your secret is safe with me, nobody in here will be paying attention, anyways.”

He hums, unconvinced, but pops it on. Rolling his eyes at your grin while making a show of muting the TV and putting subtitles on. 

The bar, aside from your seat, is empty, other patrons snuggled into booths behind you. Argyle brings you out your pizza and keeps your cab at a decent level throughout the first several innings, chatting with you as he gets orders done for others. Despite being bummed to not see Robin, you’re a tad excited to have a quiet night to yourself. You enjoy being able to sit at the bar, drink too much wine, eat the kind of pizza you like and-

“Shit.”

A whisper just over your shoulder has you turning, wine glass half suspended to your lips. 

Your eyes greedily take in the man in front of you. From his worn brown leather boots, up dark black jeans that fit him perfectly, to a striped shirt revealing thick chest hair just above the top button. Swallowing harshly when you spot the gold chain nestled there as your gaze climbs higher over the tanned skin of his neck, dotted with freckles and moles. Several pairings of two that lead you to a jaw lined with slight scruff. Your thighs squeeze together on the bar stool when your eyes finally meet his, a hypnotizing and enticing swirl of honey and moss. 

He runs a hand through his disheveled chestnut locks, causal and airy with his tone after he blows his breath out with a nod to your pizza, “I was about to come over here and throw out an incredibly smooth pick up line that I worked on for the last ten minutes,” his thumb hooking over his shoulder to where he must have been before he continues, “But I see you have olives on your pizza. So. Enjoy your horrible dinner choice.”

Your mouth drops open as he slides down two open chairs from you. He smirks into his bottle of beer as he leans back on the stool, eyes on the screen playing the game. 

Hating that you can’t come up with any sort of comeback, you snap your jaw closed and roll your shoulders back, facing the mounted TV screen as well. 

Watching out of the corner of your eye as he leans forward on the bar, eyes dancing across the screen and his fingers twitching on the bottle. His thumbs wear down the paper label as the home team lets two more runs happen. 

Argyle returns with the cardboard pizza box you asked for and he glances at the screen and you lunge forward, finger pointing in his face, “Aha! So you do like baseball!”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders, “Yeah, sure, when the Cubs are winning.”

You scoff into your wine glass, “Mm, so never.”

The olive hating man next to you groans, his forehead landing on his arms as his voice is muffled against the bar, “You hate the Cubs too? What is wrong with you?”

Your wine glass hits the bar top a little too harshly and Argyle winces, moving it safely from the edge as you turn to the adorable yet infuriating man next to you, “What is wrong with you?! I was having a perfectly normal night and then you came over here and complained about my dinner and my team preference and-”

“I’m sorry, I saw a pretty girl, alone at a bar, watching baseball and I thought I’d shoot my shot. Excuse me for finding the one girl who not only likes my least favorite food but also hates my team?!”

Rolling your eyes, you narrow them at the TV muttering to Argyle, “Why are the cutest ones always obnoxious?”

Olive man grins, catching his glance out of the corner of your eyes. His tone changes, amusement in it as his perfect teeth gleam in the low light. “You think I’m cute?”

Groaning, you rub at your temple and he keeps going, “Cause, you know, I think you’re still pretty, for what it’s worth. Even if you’re an olive loving Cubs hater.”

He sighs when you turn to face the TV again fully, arms crossing over your chest. Hearing his chair scuff against the dark hardwood beneath it, you’re a little disappointed he gave up so easily. But then, you watch Argyle smile down at the ground as a tapping happens on your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you practically growl as you turn around to see olive man standing there. “What?”

He extends his hand, leaning on the bar next to you, “Hi, I’m Steve. While I think your choice in pizza toppings is horrendous, I’m willing to look past this fact and your denial of rooting for an excellent baseball team because you’re super cute and I’d love to buy you a drink, maybe walk you home, could even kiss you goodnight.” He smirks as you look down at his hand, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting.

You laugh, because you can’t help it, there’s just something about him. Call it a cosmic connection, who knows. He’s cute, smooth, and able to make you laugh which is saying a lot considering what you’ve been dealt lately. Slipping your hand into his, you try not to focus on how it engulfs yours or how long his fingers are as you introduce yourself. 

“Very nice to meet you. And, great choice, by the way,” hand still holding yours, he leans forward, his mouth hovering just over your lips. Mint and beer hitting you and making you dizzy as he whispers, “The cutest ones are always the best kissers too.”

That’s how you ended up kissing him in your lobby, up the entire flight of stairs, taking a break to push you against the wall, back arching over the railing as his palms pressed flat to the brick on the side of your head. Breaking apart only when the door at the bottom creaks loudly and rudely interrupts you. Steve’s lips stay on you as you bump and fumble your way to your door, hot and quick gasps for breath against your lips as his fingers dig into your hips. Moaning into your mouth as you yank on the back of his hair a little harshly. 

“Keys,” breathing into him, nipping at his top lip as he pushed you into your door. 

Steve nods and you laugh, pushing on his chest so you can focus. Only spurring him on, his lips find purchase on your neck instead. He smirks into your skin at the little yelp you make at the feeling of his teeth grazing under your ear. Thighs growing sticky from his raspy tone as his nose skims over the shell of your ear, following the curve. “Keys?”

Your back arches, neck extending as his fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress. Eyelashes fluttering and mouth parting as his nose and lips drag down your neck. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, as you laugh breathlessly, “Yeah, you know. Those things that…fuck,” Steve’s mouth is back on your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as his knee slots itself between your legs and you sigh. Fingers dragging down his collar and into his chest hair as you continue, “Unlock doors?”

He hums into your jaw, smiling at the way your hips roll, searching for friction on his thigh and he pulls away, hands on either side of your head again. His eyes sparkle in the low light of your hallway, his lips twitching up on one side before he speaks, “So unlock the door. What’re you waiting on?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as your fingers pull the keys out of your purse slowly. Batting your eyelashes as you try to gain the upperhand again, “What’s the matter, Steve? Growing a little impatient?”

Steve’s eyes narrow playfully, he brushes a finger across your cheek, tracing it down your jaw. Soft and sweet in contrast to the way you were just making out. He leans in, lips hovering over yours as your eyes slowly fall closed, waiting for another kiss. 

That’s when his hands are on your hips again, rocking you over his thigh and you know you’re leaving a damp spot, whining into the air between your lips at his teasing. You aren’t winning this one, and you don’t really care. 

“God, fuck, I-” your brain is actually short circuiting from the way his nose brushes up yours, at the scruff of his jaw on your skin, his eyes darting down to watch the way you use his thigh shamelessly. 

Steve suddenly removes his leg, eyes growing dark at the pout your lips form, at the needy sigh that comes from your chest and huffs out of your nose. He smiles, voice a whisper and a warm breath across your cheek. Throwing your teasing right back at you, “What’s the matter? Growing impatient?”

Rolling your eyes, you spin, quickly unlocking the door and pushing inside. Steve can’t help himself it seems, hands on you immediately again. Keys and purse thrown somewhere to be dealt with later, he pushes you up against the door, his chest to your back as his nose brushes behind your ear. 

Your fingers search for purchase on the wood, back arching into him as he leaves a trail of kisses on your neck to your shoulder, his hand slowly pulling the zipper of your dress down. 

“Be-bedroom?” you gasp out as he spins you to face him, his eyes roaming over your body. His fingers gliding over the band of your underwear and snapping it, making your thighs push together. 

Steve only nods, lips dragging down your chest and stomach as he drops to his knees, “We’ll get there. Just need to taste you right now.”

“Oh, I…oh,” Your head hits back against the door behind you as his nose drags over your clothed slit. 

His fingers pull your underwear down and yours fall into his hair as his tongue licks a long stripe through you. Steve gently pushes your legs apart further, hooking them over his shoulders as his tongue swirls around your clit. Hands holding your ass, he pulls you closer to his mouth forcefully. Moaning into you as his nose glides through you, parting your lips before his mouth returns to them. Your fingers tug in his hair as you glance down at the way he’s devouring you like a man starved. Pleasantly surprised since most guys don’t even offer to go down on you during a hookup, and they definitely don’t find your clit the way Steve found it. 

His tongue prods at your entrance, teasing it before licking back up to your swollen nerves, sucking the sensitive bead between his lips. Your thighs are already shaking around his head, whines falling from you between curses and his name. 

Steve’s fingers slip through you while his tongue works at your clit under the vacuum of his lips. He pushes one finger into your entrance, squeezing at your hip when you whine. Quick to slip a second digit into you, they swirl easily, curling forward in a motion that makes you moan loudly, hand slapping over your mouth. 

He breaks away, only for a second and shakes his head no. Kissing your thigh quickly and tapping his fingers on your waist, “Come on, don’t be shy now. Wanna hear you.”

Mouth back on your clit, fingers pumping into you at a pace that matches the swirl and flick of his tongue, your hand falls back to his hair, pulling yourself closer to his face desperately. Steve nods into you, pace picking up until you’re whining loudly again. Heat radiates through your body until your thighs are squeezing on the side of his head, releasing over his tongue and fingers as your mouth falls open in a gasp, eyes pinching shut. 

Steve takes everything you’re giving him, slowly pulling his mouth and fingers away from you as yours relax in his hair. The sight between your thighs makes your arousal flutter again already. Stomach filling with warmth at the sight of his pink and glossy lips, rosy cheeks and rumpled hair. 

He smirks at you, shaking his head before sighing dramatically. “God, how can someone who tastes so sweet,” he pulls you closer to him again, kissing your thighs before continuing, “Like olives on her pizza?”

Your laugh bursts out of you, head hitting the door again, “Oh my god, shut up.”

Steve’s fingers flex on your hips, lips dragging across the plush skin of your thigh. Eyes glinting with a dare. “Make me.”

Moving to let your legs fall and do just that, he quickly grips you harder, standing. You yelp, grabbing onto his hair, your head almost hitting the ceiling. He lets your body drag down his, torturously slow like a scene straight out of Dirty Dancing, until his hands are under your butt, legs wrapping around him and your faces are close together. He’s grinning widely, tongue licking over the top row of white gleaming at you, breathless as he asks, “Bedroom?” 

You point wordlessly, swallowing at the way his muscles flex around you and the warmth of his fingertips on your spine. Your lips attack his again as he lays you on the bed. Your arms fall around his neck, pulling him to fall across you. The muscles in his forearms dance on either side of your head as he grinds against you. The denim of his jeans a welcomed friction on your sensitive cunt and you gasp into his mouth. 

It’s a flurry of wet lips over hot skin, clothes thrown to places neither of you care to pay attention to. Bodies sliding together, his swollen tip catching on your clit and you bite down on his lip at the feeling, fingers pressing crescent moons into the tight muscles of his shoulder blades. You roll, landing on top of him and working your way down his body. Lips kissing at every freckle and mole you find along his chest and abs. Nose dragging across his hips, you smile when he shivers underneath you. 

Your tongue licks up his length, tracing the curve of the vein, swirling around the tip. Pulling the mushroom head between your lips, Steve’s hips jerk as your tongue flicks at the pre-cum spilling out of him already. His fingers twist in your comforter, a strangled noise from his throat as your head sinks lower, cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper. You glance up under your fluttering lashes to find him looking down at you, wrecked, eyes wild as his tip hits the back of your throat, spit spilling from your lips around him.

“Fuck, fuck. Condom? Do you have a condom?” He gasps, pulling his hips down, his cock falling from your mouth as you nod to your dresser. 

Steve’s quick to slip it on as you straddle him, fingers dragging through his chest hair. He sits up, arms circling your waist and yanking you down closer, pulling a laugh from you. His teeth nip at your neck, voice raspy as he asks, “What do you want? Tell me what you like.”

Taken aback by his question, your hook ups are rarely able to make you laugh, orgasm, and be attentive. He slides between your folds, letting you hover over him and you pull your lip between your teeth as he sucks a bruise under your ear. 

“This is…is good,” you gasp out as he pushes at your entrance. 

Steve nods, guiding you to sink down onto his length, fingers squeezing at your waist as your mouth parts in a gasp, yours gripping at his shoulders. 

You press your face into his neck, whining as you slip further down, taking him fully and you both groan as you circle your hips. 

“Shit, take me so well, honey, that’s it,” Steve’s babbling, hands roaming up your back as his lips kiss over your chest and neck. 

Your hips circle again, slowly lifting yourself up and sinking back down on him. His nose presses into your cheek, breath huffing along your jaw as he whines your name and you flutter around him. The slow drag of his cock along your walls not enough and too much all at once. 

“Steve, I-” your chest is tight, familiar heat growing rapidly in your stomach and he holds you, pushing you down into the mattress, his weight falling on top of you. 

Steve curses softly, pulling out of you and thrusting back in with a force that makes you both gasp around each other’s lips. It’s a dirty glide, sweat slicked bodies grinding together, moans lost in each other’s mouths. The sound of your hips meeting and your arousal filling your room  drown out the way you practically plead his name. Each thrust into you feels like he’s knocking the air from your lungs and filling them at the same time. Coarse hair hitting your clit with each roll of his hips, his lips hover over yours as you throw your head back into the mattress. Your hands cling to his back, nails scratching down it as each powerful thrust shoots you higher and higher. Your eyelids flutter, you’re pretty sure you’re actually losing oxygen, leaving the atmosphere. 

Steve’s name leaves your lips in a strangled gasp and he pants into your parting mouth, “Yeah? Gonna cum for me baby?”

Nodding, babbling nonsense to him, he nips at your bottom lip as your eyes squeeze shut. Your vision fills with stars, heat filling your belly as your walls clench around him as his thrusts only pick up their pace. 

“Yeah?” His tone is mocking now into your lips, you can feel his smile against them. Your eyelids flutter, you’re whimpering, feeling like you’re on another planet, floating aimlessly through space. His thrusts stop suddenly and he sucks on your bottom lip before asking, “How about another one?”

Before you can comprehend the question, he’s pulling out and flipping you. Your stomach somersaults at the way he handles you so easily, almost lazy in how he can manhandle you. His palm rests against your lower back, your cheek pressed into the pillows. Steve groans as your legs spread for him. His hand comes down on the curve of your ass in a slap, not painfully. He cups it as you jolt forward and he curses under his breath. 

He’s not quick about it, letting his tip drag through you and you shiver. Not pushing in until you’re begging him, “Steve, please…”

Who the hell is this guy? How does he have you begging for a third orgasm?

He slips into you, your strangled cry of relief mixing with his moan. 

“Only cause you asked so nicely, pretty girl.”

Your comforter twists in your fists as his thrusts quickly turn to a brutal pace. Steve’s grip on you is bruising as you arch lower for him, spreading as wide as you can, chest heaving into the mattress. Steve’s lips trail down your spine, the cold metal of his chain dragging with them. 

He falls forward, his chest against your back, hips stuttering as his hand reaches around and rubs fast and messy circles into your clit. Your name leaves his lips against your ear as his thrusts try to match the pace of his fingers. 

You’re weightless, body buzzing, vibrating like you’re waiting for take off. Steve’s gasping as shooting stars dance across your closed eyelids. Your walls clench around him, sucking him in and he swears, asking you to cum please. You’re certain the entire galaxy just exploded inside of you as his hips thrust quickly, falter, and slow while your name leaves him in a breathless gasp and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 

Steve rolls off of you, your chests heaving in tandem as you both stare at your ceiling. 

“That was…” Steve’s hand drags down his cheek, laughing a little. 

“Yeah?” Your lip pulls between your teeth as you try to fight your smile. 

It’s quiet for a second before he clears his throat, voice a whisper, “Yeah.”

Normally, a guy would be out your door by now. They got what they came for, and regardless of if you had a great time, you’re happy to see them go. This feels different, you’re a little hopeful for the first time in awhile. Wondering if you could do all of that again in the very near future. 

“Um…” Steve coughs, voice trailing off as you turn your head. His hand runs through his hair as he squints at your ceiling, lips pursed in thought. Your eyes track the veins and lines of muscle in his arm up to his armpit and shoulder. To the sharp line of his jaw and nose. You feel ridiculous that your thighs already push together from want after all of that. Body heating up with embarrassment, you quickly snap your head back, eyes on your ceiling once more. 

He finally sits up and questions, “Bathroom?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Right through there.” You point as you sit up as well. Your fingers cover your lips as you take in the angry red lines from your fingernails that contrast against the tan skin of his back. Head tilting as you watch him stand, smile hiding behind your hand as you watch his butt walk away. 

Steve looks over his shoulder, squinting as his own smile tugs at his lips. He tries to cover himself up and whispers dramatically, “Wow. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Would if I could,” your laugh escapes you, your grin finally winning as your hand drops and he closes the door. 

Steve finds you dressed in sleep shorts and a band tee, chugging a glass of water in your kitchen a few minutes later. You extend it to him, noticing he’s fully dressed with his shoes in his hand. He takes a sip before setting it down, knuckles tapping on your countertop before blowing out a long breath. 

Your lips twitch as you try to fight the smile that seems to be a permanent feature around him as he looks around frantically, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Um…I guess…I should…” he trails off, watching you. 

Your arms cross over your chest, barefeet overlapping each other as you nod, “Right, yeah. That was…”

He smirks, nodding as you trail off. “Yeah, it was.”

Steve goes to leave, but spins, licking his lips before rushing out, “Listen. Could we do that again sometime? Maybe I could get your number?”

The cocky and smooth man who you met at the bar, the one who just took you to outer space seems to have disappeared. The blush in his cheeks darkens, lips parted as he seems to hold his breath waiting for your response. 

Nodding, you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you try not to grin while acting indifferent. “Sure, yeah.”

An awkward shuffle of him pulling his phone out and you typing your number in before handing it back to him. 

You’re startled when there’s a soft press of his smooth lips against the apple of your cheek. Warm breath hitting your jaw as he whispers, “Have a good night.”

“You…you too.”

Your hand touches where he kissed as he leaves, unsure if you’ve ever been kissed on your cheek like that before. 

Only two minutes later, tucked back in your bed when your phone buzzes. 

You bite your lip as you pull the comforter up over your chin, typing back for it only to buzz with a response immediately.

Laughing as you roll onto your stomach, it flips when you inhale the scent of his cologne that clings to your sheets. It takes a minute for him to respond again, your eyelids growing heavy when the phone buzzes finally.

Huffing into your pillow, the smile that sits there is a welcomed friend as you message him goodnight and save his number in your contacts.  Rocketman seems fitting for an idiot who takes you to outer space three times in one night. 

Even if he does hate olives. 

WCIL taglist: (I just used the series taglist for this, hope that's okay!)

@boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3x3

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Years later - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Word count: 1666

TW: religious imagery

Out of guilt and dread you end up leaving Vermont and building a new life. Just as you thought you escaped your past, you once again find yourself in its grasp.

The past haunts me. It has been years—so many I cannot begin to count, and if I’m being completely honest, I was not counting to begin with. Everything I have done was to escape that wretched part of my life in which my naivety and perhaps self-consuming passion, managed to control me. I wanted—want—to forget it all. 

The first time I stepped foot into what would soon come to be one of the few select places in my nightmares was very awe-inducing. The university was large, larger than I’d imagined. The stone walls had arched indents that made it look as if it belonged in one of the novels I read as a teenager and that my family wholeheartedly despised. The hallways were a contorted maze of watchful ancient statues following every movement with their eyes, priceless antiques donated by rich parents and students with more money in their pockets than I could ever dream of having. A multitude of departments found their home in that twisted place, such as theater, arts, modern literature, architecture, history, music, philosophy, and more. I believe you can imagine my excitement when faced with the exact kind of university I dreamed of studying at, especially when I had little to no hope of ever getting anywhere close to it, much less belonging.

One thing, as you know, led to another, and I ended up as one of the infamous Greek pupils. I’m quite sure everyone thought we were some kind of cult, which, if you think about it, isn’t entirely wrong.

The first few years were everything I had ever hoped for. I felt that I had found my place and, most certainly, my kind. We used to do everything together. Being with them was the only time I truly felt alive. It doesn’t matter whether we went to the comforting country house engulfed in trees safely from the outside world, had delicious dinners debating the most obscure topics, or simply studied in the library, sleep-deprived and on immense amounts of caffeine, I always felt as if I was doing something more than just existing.

Where did it all go wrong? I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I do not want to categorize Richard’s arrival as the initiator factor, for it was not his fault. Nor is it correct to say that the Bacchanal was the beginning of it all. It wouldn’t be Henry’s doing either, at least not the start of it. I have speculated on this over the years, and I have come to only one conclusion that seems right. My theory as to what the answer is and my attempt to pinpoint the exact place on the timeline are not as precise as I hoped they would be. It was not a single event that gave birth to our ruin, but rather multiple little moments, that are rather large in the big scheme. I also like to believe that Julian had as much of a role in all of this as the rest of us. Perhaps, even a considerably more sizeable one.

Everything that happened—I wish to leave behind. However, I recently came to realise, that, to my misery, it incorporated and formed my very being. My views, my ideas, my tastes, and my activities are all, to a certain extent, if not fully influenced and ruled over by it. I am my past.

My great, futile attempts to escape the life I once had, led me to London, a perfect setting for someone who wished to hide. A bustling place, where I had the chance to not be me, but a mere shadow lurking throughout the crowded streets, observing every passerby, while trying to guess their life stories, deepest desires, and strongest fears. I was no one, and I adored it. However, my presence became known among museum guides and librarians for its consistency. I have also earned a reputation among university students for being one of the few odd professors. This is probably due to the fact that I am very selective with my pupils, and I teach a couple that are quite brilliant in my office. I often have open discussions with them, for I consider it helps them engage with the topic better and understand the meaning and philosophy behind it in such a way that encourages them to analyze, observe, and critique. One such day, we were talking about the loss of self, Plato’s four divine madnesses:

‘Death is the mother of beauty,’ said Felix, one of my students.

I nodded in approval as I propped myself up on the desk.

‘And what is beauty?’ 

‘Terror,’ a voice answered from my office’s door.

My life up until this moment, along with all my darkest memories and the series of events that led me to where I am today, flash before my eyes, and it feels as if the universe has stopped specifically to play along with his sadistic trick. My jaw clenches involuntarily, my eyes threaten to betray my emotions, and I have to remind myself I’m not the same brainless kid chasing empty promises and impossible dreams, fully convinced that every existing land, no matter how vast it may be, is my playground and that fate will bend according to my petulant will. I have to get out of my head, the silence is stretching. My students, probably confused, are expecting some kind of sign from my disordered self. He is waiting for a reaction. The past has finally caught up to me. After all my futile attempts, it still managed to intrude on my present’s doorway. 

I take a deep breath. I look at my students, curiosity mixed with confusion clear in their expressions. I don’t need to look at him to know who he is.

‘I apologize,’ I start hoping that they cannot hear the tremble in my voice as accentuated as I seem to do, ‘class is dismissed.’

I need not say more before my students start gathering their belongings in complete silence so as to not further disturb the room completely filled with palpable animosity and perhaps something more vivid, cursed to lurk in the depths of our minds. I reach blindly toward my pack of cigarettes, lying somewhere on my desk between books and coffee-stained papers. Lucky Strikes, yet another sign of his hold on me. I light my cigarette, breathing in the curls of smoke spiraling down my throat. The sound of his leather shoes clicking against the wooden floorboards reverberates through my beating heart. I am well aware that even now, after years of attempting to escape from the rosary He entangled around my neck, I am still His most loyal devotee, respecting vigilantly every silent command. Deep and numbing smoke inside my lungs, like a relaxant, washes me with warm Indian summer waves of calmness.

He is fixating me with his cold blue eyes, watching for any sign of defiance. Over the years I’ve spent in his presence, I’ve learned to recognize his transitive facial expressions, his secretive ways, and his small habits, whether it is the way he holds a page between his fingers before turning it or his tendency to dive into long monologues about whatever interests him at that moment. It is a distinct ability that has grown its roots along my blood vessels, twisted and intertwined beyond differentiation. Understanding each other used to be our way of showing our affection. It is something so sacred that I cannot bring myself to weaponize against him and betray the bond we once had. You’d think that after so much time I’d be able to break free from the shackles His divinity holds me in and convert to a different faith. But He is nestled so deeply in me, that I cannot help but like the burns and the imprints upon my skin.

Henry Marchbanks Winter looks the same. But he now has a new pair of glasses and slight crow’s feet, along with faint smile lines framing his lips. He’s wearing one of his dark English suits, which have always fit him incredibly well. And if the wrinkles weren’t enough, the few grey hairs peeking from underneath the familiar dark colour of his hair are a brutal reminder of how much of him I missed. A cruel admonitum of the years that have passed and of all the times I wasn’t next to him, not by chance but by choice. It takes all I have in me to not fall to my knees, confess my sin, and beg for forgiveness. As if all the years I’ve been away from him turned into mere days I find myself falling back to my old habits and once again bowing down to his silent command.

Amor dominus terribilis est.

The cigarette burns, forgotten between my fingers, as I get wasted on his scent, for once, unbothered by the consequences.

‘I’ve finally found you, dilectus.’ Beloved.

‘I suppose you have.’ I cannot help but stare at him, hypnotized by the storm in his eyes.

‘I have been searching for you since the day you left.’ He reaches a gentle, steady hand to brush my cheek ‘London of all places-’

As much as I wish to let him hold me again I find myself interrupting him. ‘You have no business here.’ I walk to the open window and take my second drag from the almost fully burned cigarette.

He sighs, frustration slipping through the cracks of his perfection.

‘Like it or not,’ he emanates divine turmoil as he emphasizes every word  ‘you are my business.’

‘After so long we can’t be anything but strangers.’

‘You are wrong.’ He states immediately as I finish the sentence. ‘You cannot act as if you have forgotten everything we’ve been through.’ His hand once again finds its way to my face and caresses it with smooth, slow motions. This time I let him. ‘One more chance is all I ask for.’ He whispered.

‘One more chance.’ I agree, defeated.

[materassassino]

Maybe 'flower' or 'study' for the one-word prompts?

I tried for 'flower', but it wasn't quite working, so I switched to 'study' instead.

One word prompts!

---

Nicolò groans, his head falling forward onto the table. His stylus slips from his fingers, his wax tablet discarded. Yusuf peers at it, eyebrows raised.

“Trouble with the abjad?” he says lightly, a smile dancing on his lips.

Nicolò turns his head, just enough to reveal one eye. Its eyebrow is drawn low in a potent scowl. Yusuf raises his hands in mock defence.

“Peace! I jest!”

Nicolò raises his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “How do you do it so effortlessly?” he asks, and if Yusuf did not know him better, he would say that was a pout he was sporting.

“Do what?” Yusuf replies. “I do many things effortlessly: wield my sword, bargain with great skill, write poetry, suck your soul from your prick… you shall have to be more specific.” He cannot help but grin at the blush he gains from his plain speaking. The metaphors and euphemisms of great poetry have their place, but sometimes it pays to have the subtlety of a charging elephant.

“Learn languages,” Nicolò mutters, his flow of thought clearly being dragged forcefully back to where Yusuf’s words made it wander. “Wherever we go you take to the local tongue as if you came from the womb speaking it, and I sound like a simpleton.” He picks up his stylus and pokes at the table top, making tiny holes in it.

It is both the most petulant and the most despondent Yusuf has ever seen him. His Nicolò is a master of patience and hard work, and his dedication usually pays off. To see his frustrations so openly and plainly, well… It feels, in truth, like a privilege. He is humbled by it.

He reaches over and sets his hand on Nicolò’s, stilling his movements.

“You excel at a great many things, Nico,” he says gently. “You take to music quickly. You discern recipes from a single taste. Animals love you, and children too. Your kindness is as boundless as the sky. Show yourself some of the kindness you show others.”

Nicolò looks at him. He does not seem convinced, and Yusuf heart aches.

“We have all been given gifts and aptitudes, and we have all been given shortcomings. You know I cannot hold a tune for all the gold in the world, and every single camel on God’s Earth hates me on sight.”

The corner of Nicolò’s mouth twitches at that.

“They really do hate you,” he says, and Yusuf counts that as a victory.

“It is fine, I have your love to get me by,” he says, waving a hand. “But what I mean is… you work so very hard, my heart. You dedicate yourself to learning and improving, even when it is difficult. I give up too soon when things do not come easily, I have no constancy. You… you keep to the path, even when it is difficult, and you take my hand and guide me well. I admire you greatly for that.”

“I hope at least in your love you will be constant,” Nicolò says tartly, making Yusuf snort inelegantly. He lifts Nicolò’s hand and kisses the knuckles.

“Always.” He raises his eyes. “And will you be patient with yourself, as you are with me?”

Nicolò sighs, quiet for a long moment. “I will be.”

Yusuf beams at him. “Splendid! But enough study for today, let us go out.”

He springs to his feet, pulling Nicolò with him.

“Where to?” Nicolò asks.

“There is something in the market I need you to try. I want the recipe.” Yusuf presses a kiss to Nicolò’s lips before dragging him out into the mid-afternoon sunshine.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

What He Didn't Do | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of Top Gun: Maverick

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: female country singer!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), reader x ex!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of toxic relationship, pop culture references | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 3k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: On a trip to Nashville to visit their country friend and Natasha's best friend, Y/n, the group gets a peak at some music she's been cooking up. In doing so, they learn the inspiration behind a song on her upcoming EP is linked to her most recent heartbreak.

Note: holy shit guys, I know it's been A LONG TIME but I'm 2 weeks away from finishing grad school!! I cannot believe I'm about to have a Master's degree, but now I gotta really start figuring out what the hell I'm doing next 💀. Job searching sucks, but I plan to get some writing done as I apply now that I will for sure have plenty of time to work on some stuff. Plus I've been in a reading binge which I've been slumping on also. ALSO WOW THANK YOU FOR 2K FOLLOWERS!!! HELLO?!?! how'd that happen omg I cannot thank y'all enough for the love and support on my works. I love you all so so much. I hope you enjoyed this work and the person who requested it I hope I did it justice!

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“Hey, Natasha! Over here!” shouted the familiar voice the moment Phoenix stepped into The Barnyard country bar & grill, flanked by her fellow Navy pilots who joined her on the trip to Nashville, Tennessee following another successful mission. The voice belonged to her best friend since high school, up and coming country music sensation, Y/n L/n. Donning her usually boot cut denim jeans, white tank with a weathered flannel tied around her waist and sparkly boots. Her cream colored Stetson hat topped her head. 

A beaming smile on her face, Natasha embraced Y/n, her hat slightly tipping back causing the woman to reach for it before it fell. “Been a long time, cowgirl.”

“A long time indeed, citygirl,” she laughed, pulling away with a grin. “And I see you brought some friends too. How you doin’ boys--ah!” a squeal ignites when Y/n’s swept off her feet by none other than Rooster. Spinning her around once before setting her back. “Nice to see y’all missed me after all.”

“Are you kidding,” Rooster scoffs, moving aside to allow the others to greet her. “We’ve been counting down the days before you finally decide to move back out west. The Hard Deck ain’t as popping anymore without your shows.”

“Yeah, Y/n, when are you gonna change the mountains back to the beach?” Coyote jokes.

  “I don’t know,” Jake muses, glancing around the packed house, being not so subtle in his checking out of the ladies. “I quite like the scenery.” Fanboy and Payback exchange a look. 

“Yeah. Scenery.”

“Awe y’all too sweet,” Y/n takes the small bag Bob hands her, “What’s this?”

“A little gift from all of us,” he replies, watching with a smile as she removes the tissue paper followed by a growler of Penny’s famous draft beer straight from the Hard Deck. 

“Ah!” she gasps, inspecting the bottle with joy. “You brought me Penny’s IPA?! Y’all don’t know how long I’ve been thinkin’ about this. Ugh! I can already taste it.” 

“Penny and Mav send their helloes,” Payback tells her, “they wanted to come but with the Hard Deck being renovated they unfortunately could not.”

“Oh I understand. I can’t wait to see what the place looks like next time I visit. Penny told me how she’s extending the back patio to have an outdoor bar.” Y/n places the growler back in the bag, moving to hug them all again while saying thanks. “C’mon now, I got y’all a spot up front with some cold ones ready.”

Jake claps his hands, “That’s what I like to hear.”

They follow Y/n and settle down at the large round table next to the stage. It was still a couple hours till the show, and the band had already set up leaving them plenty of time to catch up on all things new while also playing darts since the board was beside the table. 

After a few minutes, Natasha glances around with a curious frown on her face, “Where’s Klein?”

The glass of whiskey in Y/n’s hand pauses mid-air, her smile dropping to something strained, “yeah….he’s not coming tonight. Or ever again.” The table quiets, Mickey, Javy, and Jake stop throwing darts. Licking her lips, Y/n places her glass down, “I meant to tell you on our last phone call the other day, but felt it was better to tell you in person since I know he was your friend too.” 

Klein and Y/n had been together for what felt like forever but really their relationship had been five years. They met in college, became friends and then a couple years after graduation the two decided to pursue a relationship. It was bliss in the beginning. Full of romance and the things one sees in the movies. Yet, once the honeymoon phase wore off a year in, things went sour. Klein went to grad school for business and Y/n started her journey in country music and from there the couple’s problems began. 

They say that when you’re happy and having fun, time flies. But when you’re miserable….it’s dragged out until you’re drained and on the verge of losing it. That was the best description of their relationship. Miserable and dragged out. Both parties were aware they were not going to last and just kept it going for the sake of company and having someone. Leaving them resentful and doing or saying things that hurt the other. 

They barely saw each other with Y/n playing gigs with her band and Klein working long hours at the office. She was becoming a household name in the South and Midwest. Her TikTok where she posted short clips of her shows and songs went viral, followed by reaching three million subscribers on YouTube. Then when Y/n decided to move to San Diego with Natasha for a year, the two fought over the decision and actually broke up for a period of time. A decision that only lasted three weeks. 

They flew out to see each other, facetimed every other day, texted consistently. Tried desperately to make it work. Thinking back to their friendship before dating and how happy they were that first year. But still, they knew it was to no avail and their relationship was crumbling. They accused the other of cheating, they hung up during phone arguments. Klien forgot their anniversary. Y/n missed his birthday.

It was a disaster. And it finally came to a climax a month ago when the two broke things off for good. 

The dagger squad knew Klein, and Natasha knew him even longer having been best friends with Y/n. She supported her friend, and was there as her shoulder to cry on. Though she disapproved of their relationship with how toxic it had gotten, Natasha never interfered unless it got bad. Then again, Y/n resorted to keeping her and Klein’s problems private roughly two years after they started dating. 

“You broke up,” Nat stated for her. Y/n’s face telling her all she needed to know. 

“Yeah,” a nod confirmed for the rest of the table, the singer’s eyes drawn to the half drunk glass of whiskey. “It was inevitable. You know that.”

Nat tightened her lips, falling into the back of her seat with a sigh, “I hoped otherwise. But yes, I had a feeling when you didn’t mention him the past several calls we’ve had.” her voice softened, a wave of sadness for her friend consuming the pilot. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I had a lot going on between him moving out and meeting with the producer on my EP.” After reaching five million followers on TikTok and returning to Nashville, a producer from Warner Music Nashville, label for names like Kenny Chesney and the Zac Brown Band, messaged the singer about setting up a meeting. “I lost track of everything else.” 

Nat patted her shoulder, rubbing it softly, “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Y/n. Breakups are hard and there’s nothing wrong with taking a little time for yourself before having to face the world. I’m just glad you’re telling me now so I can be there for you from here on.” 

“Us,” Rooster corrects with sass, “Thank you for telling us, so that we can be here for you.”

“My bad,” Nat rolls her eyes, but her smile says she’s not really annoyed. “Us. We’re here for you, Y/n, and whether it’s to listen or offer advice, we got your back.”

“Thank you,” Y/n taps her fingers against the glass, her face expressing gratitude. “I really appreciate that and it’s comforting knowing I have you guys,” she meets each of their eyes, “I’ll be fine. I always am when something doesn’t go as planned, but it’ll take some time.”

“Of course,” Nat assures with a smile. “Take all the time you need.”

“I can’t lie though,” Y/n pauses to down the rest of her whiskey, “it’s been a great help with songwriting lately. Been pouring out my feelings into the work like I’m writing a diary.”

Nat raises a brow, intrigued, “well that’s something good to come out of it. When will we get to hear it?” a smirk graces Y/n’s lip, mischief in her eyes. “Sooner than you think.”

“Alright ladies and gents, theys and thems, listen up!” booms the bartender who’s taken the stage the moment the clock struck 9. Everyone’s attention turns to them, the once vibrating chatter of conversations seizing. “It’s my honor to introduce tonight’s entertainment. She’s a local gal on her way to becoming a country music sensation. You might know her from YouTube and TikTok, or seen her performance with Laney Wilson this past spring.” Few people, including the Dagger Squad, begin clapping and cheering. “Give it up for Nashville’s own, Y/n L/n and the Barnyard’s beloved The Barrels!!”

Whistles break out and hollers from every corner of the Barnyard. People snapping photos and ready to video record as Y/n waves to the crowd, walking up the steps to the stage and approaching the mic. The Barrels taking their places by their instruments.

“Howdy folks!” a chorus of “heeeyyyys,” follow the greeting. “How we doin’ tonight?” she waits for the audience to respond, slinging the guitar--her most precious possession--over her shoulder. 

“Thank y’all for coming tonight, it’s always a grand time playing here at The Barnyard, seeing all you fresh and friendly faces. Much thanks and appreciation for the wonderful staff and owners for letting us grace this stage,” raising her whiskey, the crowd follows suit and cheers for the staff. The head bartender/owner sent a salute her way. 

“Thank you to the lovely musicians behind me,” she turns to raise her glass to the band, “The Barrels, who’ve allowed me to join them and be a part of their expedition to this crazy world we’ve sold our soul too.” They all laugh, tipping their beers and glasses to the singer. The crowd whistled. 

Taking a large gulp, Y/n hands the drink to Natasha, and adjusts her guitar. “We’ve put together a great show for you tonight. First a few covers of Country’s best and then some originals I’m honored to share with you after much anticipation.”

“Yeah let’s go,” Jake shouts, clapping with the rest of the daggers. 

“You got this, Y/n!” 

“Show them how it’s done!”

Y/n’s angelic voice carries through the establishment. Singing along to “Ain't in Kansas Anymore,” By Miranda Lambert from the Twisters soundtrack. Followed by “Bless the Broken Road,” by Rascal Flatts. That had Nat and Bob tearing up, as well as Jake though he’s never admitted it. 

They covered “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” by Carrie Underwood, had a few couples slow dance to “Tennessee Whiskey,” by Chris Stapleton, and had the crowd hype to “Man! I feel like a Woman,” by Shania Twain. 

Then they began to perform the songs Y/n had spent countless time and energy writing. Pouring her heart and soul into the words on the paper. The memories surfacing, the smell of grass and liquor. Block parties on a Friday night. Line dancing and barrel racing. Sun beating down and rain pelting from the sky. The love and heartbreak coming together as a symphony. 

“This last song,” she spoke into the mic, having just sang the more upbeat and happy songs for the crowd. Waiting for the right time to introduce the piece she was most anxious about. Y/n wrote it fresh off the breakup following two pints of ice cream and a bottle of Riesling. It took only two hours, and she felt so confident in how raw the lyrics that she hardly made any corrections. 

It was her most intimate song ever. 

“Is a personal one. One that really had me searching into the deep parts of my soul. It’s a song I feel many of you will relate to if you’ve experienced a great love that became a great loss.” Faces in the crowd shift, mirroring her own to signify they understood the meaning behind her words. “Sometimes to move forward in the future, you have to let go of the past. And this song is just that. I hope you like it.”

Silence filled the bar, Y/n taking a deep breath and glancing at Nat, who raised her thumb and mouthed, “You got this.” Exhaling, the woman started strumming, letting the melody flow into the air. 

“Everybody's asking what the hell happened

Wondering why it all went wrong

Mama always said, "If you can't say something nice

Then don't say anything at all"

I've got my side of the story and he's got his side, too

So I ain't gonna go and tell you what he did

But I'll tell you what he didn't do”

Nat perched her elbows onto the table, letting chin drop on her hands as she listened intently to her best friend’s voice. The words cutting deep and letting Nat feel all the emotion Y/n was releasing after keeping it bottled in for so long. 

“Treat me right, put me first, be a man of his word

Stay home 'cause he wanted to

Always fight for my love, hold on tight like it's something

That he couldn't stand to lose

The devil's in the details

I won't tell the hell that he put me through

All I know is in the еnd, it wasn't what he did, no

It was what he didn't do

“I'm already halfway ovеr him and I ain't taking time to turn around

So I'mma take the high road, even though we both know

I could run him out of this town”

Y/n strummed the guitar, keeping her eyes closed the entire time to hold back the tears threatening to escape. The music guided her, a comforting blanket like the hug of a loved one.

“That's just dirty laundry, I don't need to wear the truth

So I ain't gonna tell you everything he did

But I'll tell you what he didn't do

“Treat me right, put me first, be a man of his word

Stay home 'cause he wanted to

Always fight for my love, hold on tight like it's something

That he couldn't stand to lose

The devil's in the details

I won't tell the hell that he put me through

All I know is in the end, it wasn't what he did, no

It was what he didn't do

I ain't met the right one yet, but I know when I do

Coming up to the final verse, Y/n unleashed everything. Belting out the lyrics and giving it everything. The moment signifying not only the end of her and Klein for good, but the beginning of a new era in her life. 

“He'll treat me right, put me first, be a man of his word

Stay home 'cause he wanted to

Always fight for my love, hold on tight like it's something

That he can't stand to lose

The devil's in the details

I won't tell the hell that he put me through

All I know is in the end, it wasn't what he did, no

It was what he didn't do

All I know is in the end, it wasn't what he did, no

It was what he didn't do”

As her fingers brushed over the strings one last time, Y/n opened her eyes right as the crowd exploded into elation. Whistles and hollers at every corner, louder than anything she’d heard before when playing at the bar. Igniting a wide smile on her face and the tears she’d been holding back to finally fall. 

The loudest of course were the dagger squad. The guys all pounding their fists on the table while shouting, Nat jumping up and down with her own face caked in tears. 

“Thank you everyone!” Y/n waved, removing her guitar before embracing the members of the band. “Thank you for having us and we hope to see you next Friday! Be on the lookout for our debut EP dropping Christmas Day!” The audience released another wave of loud cheers, excited by the news. The owner saluted Y/n again when she threw up a two-finger salute of her own. A moment later, a staff member was bringing over a bottle of Whiskey and glasses to the table, “Courtesy of the owner.” 

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Rooster held up his glass after pouring everyone theirs. They all stood, Natasha’s arm around Y/n’s and Mickey on the singer's other side. “To friendship. You clowns are by far the most annoying assholes I’ve ever met, but there’s no one else on this goddamn planet I trust more with my life. You’re more than friends, you’re family and I know like the wingman you are in the sky, you’ll always have my back.” 

“Here, here!” the table echoes. But none raise the glasses to their lips yet as Rooster continues, “And to Y/n, our darling, country belle, you’re going grab the industry by the balls and make it your bitch,” the two women break into belly laughs, nearly spilling the alcohol on each other. Y/n tips her glass with a look reading, “You know it, baby.” 

“Best wishes and good luck to you on this next chapter in life. You are going to do wonders in the world, and we are all honored to be here to witness it unfold. We love you, darlin’.”

“Here, here!!” 

“I love you guys so much!!” she shouts in unison with the clinking of the glasses. Throwing back the whiskey in one gulp. 

Y/n may have lost a piece of herself in the many years spent with Klien. The endless hours of crying, wondering where it all went wrong. Anxiety piling up like a volcano just waiting to explode so the steaming lava flowed out. The years with Klein were an integral part of her 20s going into 30s. And he was a constant figure in many milestones she achieved. 

Mourning the end of their relationship was not only the loss of a lover, but also a friend. 

But Y/n looked forward to the next chapter in her life. Knowing she wasn’t alone in her endeavors, there was the ever lasting support of her friends and family. Visible by the group of naval pilots surrounding the table. Her career looked promising, an EP done and about to release. The power of social media gifting her opportunities she’d dreamed of years ago. 

As the whiskey flowed and the jukebox played, “Mississippi Girl,” by Faith Hill, Y/n leaned into the warmth of her best friend Natasha. Ready to barrel race her way to the top of the Country music charts.

............................................

Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hihi, what are you thoughts on the papas' s/o saying "let's get matching tattoos" and it being one of their lyrics? I didn't find if this had been done before so sorry if it has

Hope you like this :) I love this idea and it just makes me want to get a tattoo more (but I'm not at all good with needles lol) so I am gonna live vicariously through this :D - Nyx

Papas reacting to s/o wanting to get matching tattoos of their lyrics

Primo

As you ask him he pauses mid sip of tea and places his cup down. "Interesting idea amore."

"I havn't had a tattoo in years" he says with a wistful smile. "Why not! Lets show them I'm not too old for something new!"

He is flattered when you explain you want one of his lyrics even after all the music that has gone after him. He thinks you have very good taste to prefer his songs best.

All in all he thinks its an excellent idea he has a skip in his step on the way to get the tattoo and even more so on the way back.

He insists on opening a really special old bottle of wine he'd been saving to celebrate.

Secondo

You expected him to be slightly more enthusiastic but he just grunts his agreement.

That is until he gets drunk at a party later and then he is wrapping you in his arms and placing kisses all over you. He tells you it's a brilliant idea and he can't wait to share this bond with you!

He is not at all shocked or surprised you wanted his lyric. Well of course you did.

He is very supportive of you as you get the tattoos. He is also really good with the aftercare post tattoo.

He makes sure to look after you first then himself.

Terzo

He squeals at the idea and then hugs you tightly.

"Yes amore, a thousand times yes! I eh cannot think of anything better no? Everyone will see how much their Papa adores you and how much you love me!!"

He is also delighted you chose one of his lyrics (had you not he might have turned into a little bit of a diva).

He holds your hand tightly while you get the tattoos done. "It's looking really good amore, not as good as you though." he grins and kisses the back of your hand. He's hoping to kiss the pain away and take your mind off things.

He then goes back to the ministry and insists on showing everyone. He also runs to his brothers saying "Hey stronzo look how much my beloved loves me!! They have one too!!" he then drags you over and asks you show them your tattoo. He is very happy.

Copia

He makes happy rat noises "I would be honoured cara, I think its an excellent idea. Sì, its perfect"

He finds it hard to believe you want to use a lyric from his song, to have it permantly on your amazing body.

His whole face lights up when he finally does believe it. "I am the luckiest man alive to have you" he says with a grin leaning in to kiss you.

He makes sure to check all the reviews and find the best tattoo parlour. He is really supportive during it, he talks you through it and holds your hand.

He then spends the night afterwards lying with you and gazing at the matching ink. He kisses you softly and strokes your hair telling you how amazing you did today.

Old Nihil

He doesn't always hear what you say but at the mention of his song he suddenly sits a little straighter and his eyes almost seem to clear.

It brings back a glimpse of the man he used to be.

"Ooooh sibling, this is perfect" He full on grins and pulls you into his lap. "I am so glad to have found you. Now I am old enough to not mess this up."

He kisses you and tells you how happy he is to make his love for you permanent like this.

The entire time he's getting the tattoo he is just gazing lovingly at you and smiling. You are his whole world.

Young Nihil

This is the best day ever, I mean ever. He is so happy about this, his lyric, on your body forever!!

A way to remember the romance you two shared for the rest of your lives. A tattoo is forever, but you worry sometimes about Nihil, after the whispers you heard.

"Babe" he cups your face in his hand seemingly reading your thoughts. "I will never make that mistake again and this can be my way of showing you that." It's true you do see a different side of him, the man completely fell for you and shows you a depth to him that no one else gets to see.

He is a bit of a baby when they do the tattoo, it's more you supporting him through it.

But he is so happy when it's done and he insists on going out and drinking to celebrate. Also in his mind to help the pain "Honey come on it will help, I'm sore and you must be too"

~

Written by Nyx

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