#rock bottom ch 6

[toxicanonymity]

Rock Bottom Ch 6: Rock Hard

3.1k | Corey x Y/N, Corey x Y/N x Michael x Corey x Y/N | NSFW

Summary: They just can't help themselves 🥵

She turns off the flashlight and slowly holsters it along with her gun.  She takes a deep breath, mesmerized by Corey's disheveled, aroused state. 

Rock Bottom Index - All Chapters

Check out the art by @cordelium from Ch 5. commissions please don't repost their work without permission.

@ethanhoewke @kuromi2005 @rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires

18+ MDNI

_______________________

Corey watches (Y/N) survey the scene and prays she arrived alone.  

Seeing her in uniform takes him back to 2019 when she felt him up at the courthouse.  Corey now suspects that before she met Michael, she didn't desperately crave criminal cock.  He wonders if she was miserable like him or had a good life. He wonders what her first time with Michael was like.  He can still taste Michael's cock in his mouth, and his jaw is pleasantly sore. 

Her flashlight illuminates Dr. Mathis on the ground. She kicks him to make sure he's dead - probably not Sheriff's Office protocol.  She bends down and puts her fingers on the doctor's pulse through the dry-cleaning bag.  Corey quietly stands up, but stays doubled over, holding his bloody hand and pressing his wrist into his stiff, aching shaft. 

She's still looking at the doctor, inspecting the scene curiously. Her hand goes to her radio.   

"He was a bad guy," Corey interrupts.  His voice is even lower and more gravely than usual.   

She stands and whips around toward him. "Cunningham, is that you?"  Her light shines on him.

She touches her radio and says, "False alarm."  It beeps.  She comes closer and starts to ask, "What are you-" when she looks through the glass sliding door to the bedroom and sees Deb, the nurse, pinned to the wall. 

Her eyes widen and she steps closer to the sliding door.  "He was here."  She turns to face Corey more directly.  He raises an arm to shield his eyes from the light and she lowers it.  The light falls down his blue sweater and lands on his unbuttoned pants.  Her eyebrows shoot up, intrigued.  

She turns off the flashlight and slowly holsters it along with her gun.  She takes a deep breath, mesmerized by Corey's disheveled, aroused state.  The look on her face says his cock is the only thing in the world that matters right now.  He follows her gaze to the swell in his briefs peeking out from his unbuttoned pants.  

She approaches and stands right up against him.  He doesn't budge.  She grabs his ass.  Her uniform pants glide smoothly against his engorged briefs while her belt digs into his hip bones.  Corey begins to breathe heavier.  Before he knows it, his hands are unbuttoning her uniform top.  And she lets him.  No hesitation this time.  

Corey pauses and meets her eyes.  "Yeah, he was here," he tells her. "And you don't know Michael as well as you think." 

"Why's that," she asks quietly in his ear, uninterested.   She pulls him against her and grinds into him.  He swells harder and she exhales with a soft moan.  

"I sucked his cock," Corey says.

She laughs into his neck and her breath is warm on his skin.  Corey sniffs.  

She pulls back to look at him, and her smile fades when she sees his watery eyes. 

"Holy shit." For a moment, she looks like she's seen a ghost, but one she'd like to fuck.      

"Yeah," Corey says.  "It was. . ." His lip trembles.  

"Yeah," she says softly, looking into his eyes. 

She looks at him warmly and touches his cheek. There's a hint of sympathy but mostly wonder.  She closes her eyes and kisses his lips.  When she looks at him again, her eyes are wild.  She licks her lips and takes a deep breath.  She walks Corey up against the glass door. 

She breathes heavily, looks back and forth between his eyes, cradles his head with one hand, and kisses him desperately, like she wants to suck something out of him.  

She reaches into his briefs. 

"God,"  she says half into his mouth when she feels his naked girth.   

He thrusts into her hand. He's still painfully hard and her soft skin feels so good.  She pulls his cock out and steps back enough to marvel at it, then  lowers herself to her knees.  She admires it head on then wraps her lips around it.  She takes it halfway into her mouth and sucks. A pang of pleasure shoots through his gut. After only a moment, she stops to lustily admire it again.  She licks it up and down and massages it slowly in her hand as it weeps.  She sucks up his pre-cum and starts to take him into her mouth again, then stops. 

"No," she says, her brow furrowing as she thumbs the swollen head.  "I need you inside me."  

Corey inhales deeply. 

Her face is flushed and her chest heaves under her unbuttoned uniform. "Right now," she says to his cock, then looks up at Corey before standing.  She grabs a tool from her belt and pries open the glass door.  She holds it open for Corey and unbuckles her belt with the other hand. 

Corey undresses then sits at the foot of the bed, massive erection throbbing in one hand against his abdomen.

Her cheeks grow even rosier as she admires the pool of blood under Michael's artwork while pulling off her boots.  She puts the gun on the bed and lets the weight of her belt and holster send her pants to the floor with a thud.  She takes the radio off, turns it down, and throws it in the pile.    

She walks up between Corey's knees. He lets go of his cock and she grabs it while he pulls down her soaked underwear, then feels her with his thick fingers. 

Corey wants her so bad his face hurts, but he feels guilty about last time.  "Are you sure?" He asks. 

"God, yes," she says, and the breath in her voice leaves no doubt that she means it. 

She spreads her knees wide to straddle Corey’s broad frame on the bed. "You're right.  I guess I don't know him."  

Corey swallows. 

"He wants you alive," she adds.

She grabs his cock and massages her clit with it, breathing heavily. 

"You really sucked him off," she says, shaking her head.  "That's so fucking hot." She looks like she means it. 

She positions his swollen tip for entry. Corey's brow furrows.  He wets his lips as his large hands knead her hips.  

"Are you sure?" She asks. 

Between heavy breaths, he manages to say, "I'd die happy."  

Her wet heat begins to engulf the head of his cock. He groans and pulls her hips down.  

Her tight cunt sinks onto him and she gasps as her insides make way for his girth.  Corey thrusts his hips up and she moans.  She feels so hot, so wet, so snug. He can feel every ridge of her walls. She begins to rise up and he pulls her down harder.  His breath hitches as he bottoms out.  They grind their hips in rhythm.  

Red and blue lights flash in the fog outside and Corey's heart jumps into his throat. He freezes and his large hands force her still on his cock. 

"Is back-up coming?" He asks her.  

She doesn't even look. Her eyes are barely open.  "We're good, just fuck me," she begs, rolling her hips into him.

Corey wants nothing more than to do just that, but lights are definitely flashing outside.  

"A car's here," he insists.  She turns to look but the light cuts off before she can see it. 

She sighs and reaches for the gun. "Leave the look-out to me, okay? Fuck me, then we’ll get out of here." 

She rises halfway up his cock then sinks back down with a moan and starts rolling into him again.  She puts her wrists behind his head, holding the gun in one hand and fingering his curls with the other as she rides him.  Corey lets her, but he's hesitant. Law enforcement is definitely on the property.  

"Fuck me like you mean it," she demands.  She takes his chin in her hand.  "Now." She's not asking. 

She pauses to rip off her undershirt and bra.  Then she starts moving her hips again, her eyes drifting from the window to the artwork.  She takes a deep breath and begins riding him full-throttle, moaning.  

It feels too good. Corey closes his eyes and they kiss sloppily – So much for the look-out.  He kneads her asscheeks and already feels like he could come any second.  

A noise outside startles him. 

"It's nothing," she says, incapable of caring about anything but his cock inside her.  She keeps riding him. A rush of pleasure shoots from his balls, through his chest, to his throat. His ass clenches and he erupts inside her, his strong arms wrapping around her back.  He buries his mouth in her neck to keep from making noise. She moans quietly with each pulse of his enormous load. When his balls are empty, Corey slows to a halt. Any other time, he'd be committed to making her come. 

"No, no, no, PLEASE don't stop," she begs. She's practically crying. 

Corey feels bad.  She's already such a hot mess, how long could it possibly take her to come?  What's more, if he's honest with himself, he feels so much safer with her walls around his cock, even in this hazardous situation.  He hopes she'll finish quickly.

"Yeah," he pants.  "Just a sec." Her hips move and his large hands still her.  

She twitches around him and he groans from the overstimulation, but a loud crash cuts him off.  Corey reflexively tightens his arms around her.  They sit frozen on the bed.  

There's a scuffle, a man groans, and something clatters to the ground.  

Corey starts to whisper, “should we-”

"Shhh. Don't move," she says. 

They stay perfectly still for what feels like five minutes.  His cock twitches inside her and her nipples harden against his pecs.  

They hear footsteps.  She lets Corey's cock slide out and slowly leans back to peer across the room.  His hands on her hips keep her from falling off him.   The blood rushes to his pounding heart and head.  Both of them stay frozen, looking toward the sound.   

-

The footsteps resume and get closer, heavier.  

A shadow appears.

Then a shape.

It's Michael Myers.   

***

Michael enters the room with a knife in one hand and something else in the other.  He stops to observe the scene, sniffing the air like an animal.  Corey should be afraid, but he feels a rush of life and arousal.  

Michael approaches the bed from the side, with Corey and (Y/N) both frozen on the foot of the bed, breathing heavily.  She's still straddling Corey.  

Michael observes them like one of his art installations, then tosses two Sheriff's Office badges onto the bed next to them.  Michael stares at the badges, then at them, as though to say, "you're welcome."

His boots thud as he slowly steps to the foot of the bed to stand in front of them.  She begins to dismount Corey, but Michael stops her with the flat of his knife on the nape of her neck.  Her nipples pucker.  Corey keeps his arms around her and watches Michael.  There's a prominent bulge in Michael’s suit.  

Michael breathes deeply and slowly.  He begins to  unzip his own jumpsuit.  She hears the zipper and looks at Corey with her eyes wide.  Corey’s cock rapidly hardens against her clit, and her eyes close with a gasp.  Corey can’t tell if she’s scared or excited until she rubs herself against Corey's cock.   She’s so warm and slick.  Even wetter than before.  

Corey swells back to full mast with a shudder. He doesn’t dare move.  He glues his eyes to Michael's unzipped uniform.  Michael’s breath gets louder and his monster cock falls out.  It almost seems to glisten.  

-

Corey is still sitting there with (Y/N) straddling his lap.  Michael steps forward and spreads his feet to either side of Corey’s, looming over them.  Michael’s large hand on her back pushes both of them down. Corey lies flat while she hugs him with all fours.  

Michael huffs, bends his knees, and his hand presses down on the small of her back.  He lets his cock fall between her legs and graze Corey’s balls, sending a shockwave through Corey.  Michael slickens himself with their combined mess, then aligns himself, holds her down, and plunges into her ass.  

Her eyes go wide, her mouth falls open, and she grunts as she’s propelled forward, wetly dragging up Corey’s shaft.  She reaches down and nestles Corey's tip in her front door and he gasps.  

Michael retreats slightly, then he pulls her back hard onto both of them and she groans.  Her cunt is so tight on Corey’s cock with Michael in her ass.  Through her thin membrane, Corey feels Michael's every groove and vein right up against his own. It's unlike anything he's ever felt before or even knew he could feel.  He rests his hands on her back and gazes into the holes of the mask, taking it all in.  

Michael puts his hands down on the bed. He pulls back, then thrusts into her harder, and Corey feels every inch of his monster cock push by.  Michael hovers over them, his mask making eye contact with Corey.  Corey starts fucking her warm, wet cunt in sync with Michael's rhythm. Corey pulls back while Michael pushes in.  

Their bodies drift back toward the headboard.  The mattress sinks under Michael’s weight as he kneels on the bed, straddling Corey’s legs, and they keep fucking.  With every thrust into her, Michael’s cock firmly strokes Corey’s, and every time, a pang of pleasure shoots through Corey’s ass. 

Corey thought his wildest dream was to fuck Michael, but he never could have imagined the intimacy of this moment, feeling the rock-hard silhouette of Michael's cock drag against his own, hot and wet, their balls meeting, the mask gazing down at him. 

Their three bodies blur together in synchronicity.    Corey grunts and Michael breathes.  She groans and wails as she’s fucked by both killers at the same time.  They continue pounding her, their shafts sliding against each other through her thin wall.  

Michael audibly grunts, making Corey’s balls jerk.  Corey doesn’t want to finish yet, but the next time the shape drags against him, it’s too late.  Corey pulsates powerfully as he comes. Michael keeps fucking her, rubbing against Corey's cock, slapping into his slowly emptying balls.  Corey groans at the overstimulation.  

Her walls contract and she moans into Corey's neck.  Michael doesn’t let up.  The rhythm of his hard, veiny length keeps Corey coming longer than he ever has.  Corey groans loudly and she wails. They sound like wild animals as they come together while Michael remains relentless. 

Corey tries to kiss her but Michael grabs both her wrists, pulling her chest up and away.  He holds her arms out.  Her breasts quake as she finishes coming. Then, her head bows in exhaustion and she silently cries, tears falling onto Corey.  She and Michael look like an obscene crucifix.  As her convulsions fade, he lets her collapse onto Corey.  

Michael pulls out, still absurdly erect, but Corey stays inside her.  Safe, comfortable, protected.  

***

Corey is just beginning to catch his breath when his legs are forced open by Michael kneeling between them.  His whole body erupts in goosebumps.  Michael drags his cock through the frothy blend trickling down Corey's balls, then his wet tip probes Corey’s entrance.  Corey is instantly rock hard again inside (Y/N).  She whimpers and stays wrapped around Corey’s body, enrobing his hard cock. Michael’s arms wrap around Corey’s thighs. 

Michael yanks Corey back on his wet cock, breaching the tight, virgin ring of muscle.  Corey hears his own groan echo through the house before he can fully process that this is really happening.  Michael plunges into him again.  When the swollen tip hits Corey’s prostate, Corey feels like God is physically touching his soul.  His eyes sting with tears. 

Michael's powerful thrusts into Corey propel (Y/N) up Corey’s cock, then she sinks back down as Michael retreats. The three of them move as one machine with Michael as the engine.  Corey feels something building deep inside him.  

She moans into Corey's neck and the flat of her teeth press into his skin as Michael’s rhythm bounces her on Corey’s cock.  Corey’s prostate throbs harder and harder.  He's never been this hard, and he can hear it in her whimpers. 

Her tight, wet cunt massages his cock while Michael destroys his hole and rearranges his insides.  Michael shows no signs of fatigue.  The pressure builds more and more and Corey savors every second.  

Something explodes deep within Corey, sending several pulsing waves through his body before his cock erupts again.  He groans as the most intense rush overwhelms him and he pulsates enormously inside her.  She cries out and contracts around him. She bites his neck and moans into him. 

Michael twitches inside Corey and inhales sharply.  Michael grunts, then softly groans as his cock pumps violently into Corey, and Corey keeps coming.  

There’s a whole galaxy flowing between them, with Michael’s unfathomable load emptying into Corey and Corey’s into her.  Michael stays still and quiet as he finishes, while she and Corey writhe and moan into each other. 

Michael pulls out and drops Corey’s legs, then zips up.  He stands by the bed and picks up his knife, gripping  the handle, blade-down.  For a moment, Corey thinks this might be the end of his life.  But Michael observes them for a few seconds, then walks out. 

***

Corey quietly sobs.  A week ago, he had nothing and no idea what he wanted.  He was too tired to dare to dream.  Michael plucked him from the edge of death and gave him new life, purpose, and want.  And now he's made Corey's dreams come true, and more.    

Corey is euphoric.  Life makes sense.  He's struck by the interconnectedness of everything and everyone and every little moment.  For the first time, he's glad Jeremy Allen died that night.  He's glad he was bullied and tormented for three years.  He's happy to be the psycho.  He's proud to be Haddonfield's other Boogeyman.  Because all of that brought him to this moment right here. 

-

(Y/N) gently coaxes Corey into leaving.  First, they strip the bed and take the linens.  There are two dead cops - one in the kitchen, one outside.  The one outside is face down in the pool in a giant cloud of red.

He makes her swear not to burn, dump, or even wash the linens.  He wants to keep them forever.  She's obviously just pacifying his post-coital psychosis when she agrees, but he still appreciates it.  

She calls the scene in to dispatch as if she had the wrong address before. Then, Corey leaves on his motorcycle.  He clenches his ass as he rides, wanting to keep Michael's seed inside as long as possible.  

[celestie0]

choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown. 

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!” 

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!” 

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music. 

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic. 

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like  “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex. 

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair. 

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours. 

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage. 

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder. 

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage. 

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it. 

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants. 

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”  

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there. 

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.” 

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?” 

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex. 

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface. 

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition. 

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving. 

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.  

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot. 

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering. 

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of. 

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest. 

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in. 

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast. 

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment. 

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all. 

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again.  His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you. 

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.” 

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous. 

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, “Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough. 

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.” 

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush. 

.

.

.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day. 

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized. 

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

[orangelionfurandtaxidermy]

Hi, I have some fur farm questions if you don't mind answering.

I've seen you mention that Sapphire is questionable. Why is that? Is it bc of the bleeding and CHS? If so, is Mansfield's Pearl also questionable to breed? And can CHS or bleeding issues be bred out or are they inherently part of the color?

On that note, do you have information on other color mutations that are linked to health issues?

Lastly, how does one get into fur farming? It seems really expensive to set up and buy all the foxes, and I struggle to find fur farms to follow online bc of how taboo it is let alone finding farms to buy live stock from, especially of rare mutations. Is finding farms to buy from more of a word of mouth + trust thing? And is mentorship of new farmers a thing or is fur farming too competitive for established farmers to want to do that?

Bonus: feel free to talk about your favorite mutations or anything else you wanna share.

Hi!

Yes Sapphires seem to all carry genetic illnesses. Some look to be only mildly affected, I’ve been following a few foxes friends of me carefully bred after they discovered some of their Pearls are Mansfield Pearls. So far the animals look to be doing ok, so it’s surely not a death sentence.

However I fear not all farms will be so careful about their breeding or using unhealthy animals because they want to get that special color. You’ve probably seen or heard about Mouse, the Sapphire fox Save a Fox bought from Northern Fox and Fur (a fur farm) several years ago.

Sadly Mouse did have severe CHS and had to be euthanised. There are very strong suspicions the farm bred “special needs” animals so the rescue could profit from the sob stories. Eventually Save a Fox bought out the whole farm. As of today it’s still about half filled with foxes because they can’t place the animals anywhere. Every rescue is full.

Mansfield Pearl alters the way in which blood behaves, foxes of this color seem very prone to excessive bleeding. I acquired this female Pearl Cross (suspected Mansfield Pearl Cross) “secondhand” a few years ago from the US. From what I see in the picture, it’s not a place I want to support. However this girl had already been culled for killing her whole litter of pups. When my tanner skinned the fox, they found that the bones were super weak and easy to snap. The skin had an unusual amount of bloodvessels and also the gums and teeth were quite funky. I’m still waiting for the cleaned skull.

In red foxes there’s not that many bad mutations luckily. Pale eyed foxes do experience sensitivity to the sun, we’ve seen them squint in direct sunlight. Mixing Whitemark/Ringneck/Platinum/Georgian (Snow) creates a lethal effect in homozygous form. Platinums can be anemic but it does seem to be worse in certain breeding lines than others. There’s probably others I’m forgetting but sadly there’s not much research being done anymore.

Finding a farm to work with is very hard nowadays. I somehow got myself a contact 5-6 years ago and it’s snowballed from there. The number of farms is very low now though, many of my own contacts have decided to stop farming because it’s essentially two full time jobs for the pay of half a job.

At least here in Europe it’s pretty much impossible to start up your own farm unless you have serious cash. No bank will want to provide you a loan because there’s little money to be made in the industry. Mutation foxes are very rare, most of what is produced is mink fur, arctic fox fur (‘bluefox’) and some raccoondog fur. You’ll find some Silver and Gold fox, but even those pelts are currently being sold in bulk at rock bottom prices to overseas buyers.

A picture of a Smokey Platinum pup for those who read this whole thing lol. This is a newer mutation for us, last year we had one male and this pup is one of his. Can you see the differences between this cage vs the one the female Pearl Cross lived in (she could barely turn around)? The cage in the background gives a better view of the size. There is also a nest box attached.

[joaniscruzing]

LUNCH Ch.6 - B.E

Last chapter you guys, quick psa, this was my first time writing any smut so please don't come at me y'all😭 thank you for all of the support. I genuinely loved writing this, and was very glad that all of you enjoyed this as well. Thank you to @loverofwordsandart who read the first chapters over for me, I very much appreciated it and am so grateful for that. HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU to my friend Ash, who supported me a bunch during this whole fic. She legitimately read every chapter before I posted it and made me a lot more confident in posting this all.

ALSO ‼ This is the ONLY fanfic that I will write smut for a real person. This was very uncomfortable to write, since Billie is a real person. From now on, I will only be writing smut for characters only. All real-person smut requests will be ignored.

Contains: SMUTTTTT, fingering billie!recieving, massage, bottom!bilie, top!reader, tit play,

Summary: idek at this point i dont want to spoil it

               “Who said we couldn’t change that tonight?” you asked Billie in a suggestive tone. You lift Billie’s chin up with one finger, your lips just centimeters away from hers.

               “But what if I’m not good?” Billie asks, worried.

               “I’ll guide you through it, I promise. We don’t have to tonight if you don’t want to.”

               “No, I, I want to. I really want to,” Billie says quickly. The two of you begin kissing again. Your hands easily goes under Billie’s oversized shirt, hiking higher and higher. She pulls away to pull it over her head. You throw it across the room and take off your shirt. You both stand up to take off your pants and then meet again, kissing each other once more. Billie sits up against the headboard of the bed as you straddle her lap, both of you in your underwear. You cup her face as you two kiss passionately. You kiss her cheek and then place more kisses up her jawline.

               Billie tilts her head up, giving you better access to her neck. You kiss her neck, finding her sensitive pulse point almost immediately, as her breath hitches almost immediately after you find it. You latch on and kiss her neck. After asking, of course, you begin to leave hickeys on her neck and collarbone. Billie lets out a small moan as you do this, leaning her chest closer into you.

               “Do you want me to take this off?” you ask, your fingers tracing her bra strap. She nods eagerly. You unclip her bra, throwing it across the room.

               “You’re so beautiful,” you tell her. She grows more flustered, at a loss for words now. You kiss from her collarbone down to her chest, taking a nipple in your mouth to suck and swirling it in your mouth. Billie’s moans become audible now, encouraging you to do more. You decide to take her other nipple in your mouth as you play with her other nipple with your fingers. Once they’re both rock hard, you begin to kiss your way down her stomach. You kiss her hip bone, your hand caressing her thigh. You look at Billie for a moment, allowing her to tell you what to do next.

               “Keep going,” she asks you, “I’m ready.” You hook your finger under her panties in order to pull them off. She spreads her legs for you, revealing her dripping wet pussy. You lick a stripe up to her clit, paying close attention to your reaction. She whimpers and squirms, enjoying the sensation.

               “I’m going to put a finger inside you,” you explain, “is that okay?”

               “Please do,” Billie says. You insert one finger inside her and you hear her react almost immediately as you curl it inside her. Her hips follow your finger as it pumps inside her. You add another finger, pumping faster. She continues to moan, getting louder as you continue.

               “Is that good?”

               “Y-yeah, keep going, please.” You keep going, hearing come closer to her climax.

               “I think I’m gonna-” and as she says this, she reaches her climax, writhing underneath you, releasing all over your fingers. You remove your fingers from inside her, and taste her release, moaning at the taste. God, she tasted so good.

               “How was that?” you ask, giving Billie a kiss on the forehead. Billie, still breathing heavily, and coming down, is speechless.

               “I’ve never had someone make me feel that good,” Billie admits, “and I do want to return the favor, but maybe not tonight? I’m just not ready.”

               “You don’t have to tonight.”

               “Wait,” Billie says, getting up. She fetches a tube of lotion from her bedside table.

               “Lie down. I can give you a massage.” You lay down on your front, making sure Billie could reach every inch of your back. She gets the lotion in her hands and begins to rub your back, making sure to spend time on every knot you could possibly have in her back. You begin to relax, as Billie mutters how smooth and soft your back is, and how she could apply lotion on it forever. You end up falling asleep to this, not waking up to the next morning.

               The next morning, Billie wakes up very early to make you a very nice breakfast. When you realize she’s not with you in bed, you go to the bathroom. The smell of pancakes leads you down to the kitchen after. Billie is there, waiting for you at the table.

               “Here. Sit.”

               “All of this for me?”

               “Of course. You deserve it.” You smile and sit at the table next to Billie, beginning to eat your food.

               “Hey, can I ask you something?” Billie lets out after a bit.

               “You can ask me anything.”

               “Will you be my girlfriend? These past few days have honestly been the best and happiest, and I want to continue this happiness with you.”

               “Yes, Billie.” You kiss her, and you very much remember to thank your friend for making you go to that party.

               Many months later, Billie’s album, HIT ME HARD AND SOFT comes out, where you hear the song that she wrote about you, LUNCH. It has the funky beat from the song you kept hearing on the radio during your endless car rides to hang out with Billie. You two share a laugh over the song, and genuinely couldn’t be any happier. The day that the music video comes out, May 17th, is your 3 month anniversary with her.

taglist:

@naturesapphic

@hotgirlphilosopher

@jellasposts @iluvtaivan @baddestbittyontheblock @alissialg @ultraultron3000 @thecatwhodreams @fl0r3ncewifey @evilscreams009 @spencerreidmarrymepls @moonxytcn @dandelions4us @kkthecutie123 @justtr @mariswift2 @natspbnj @angielovebillie @bianchiniomg @honeywolflower8364 @brbblog123 @thelesbianapollokid4 @sage-rose2000 @babygaydemon @ranadancewithstars @mercurial0cenobite @ctamemolenoizo @alexawhatstheweathertoday @worrydariing @ iwishiwasyourgirll17 @theskinnyfatman @deluluchani @hsfallingsky @itsemilyhayden @goobergabs @lucillespeace @toorandomforthis @toorandomforthis @beckylynch-alexmorgan @devynscomet

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[freesia-writes]

Ch 6: Hikes and Hurts

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 3.2k

Hunter took a deep breath, pausing on the path as it wove its way across the cliffs of the island. Far below, the waves crashed against the shore, an ethereal mist rising to join the early morning fog that drifted equally across land and sea. A few fishing boats dotted the horizon, the creaking sounds of wood-hewn ships long lost in the distance and drowned out by the roar of the ocean. A river trickled down the cliffs, weaving its way down from the forest above and plummeting relentlessly toward the tumult below. 

Quiet sounds of cows and fathiers grazing and milling about on the hills above reached his ears. The air was crisp, and the distinct chill of the change in seasons had required Hunter to adopt a layer more than usual. He cupped his hands in front of his mouth, blowing hot air against icy fingers as he idly sorted through the myriad of scents that he could discern. Salty water, fragrant evergreens, dewy grass… the musky smells of various creatures… the hint of smoke from well-stoked hearths in the village to the west. 

He picked up something different suddenly – a soft, clean scent that he could only describe as floral linen. Chuckling dryly to himself and vowing to watch less trash holo with Omega, who had recently taken a liking to cheesy romantic adventure films, he turned from the vista point to scan the area. A large, hooded bundle was trundling toward the river, pausing here and there to bend over and inspect the ground before continuing on. When the bundle reached the river’s edge, which was a series of large, flat rocks full of pockets and spaces that gave the image of tide pools, it crouched all the way down and began picking around the shore. Curious and surprisingly defensive at someone else’s encroachment of this beautiful, peaceful space that he’d come to believe only he was privy to, Hunter tucked his hands into the pockets of his thick cloak and headed over to investigate. 

He was certain the bundle was human, judging by the gait and build, but he wondered what had drawn one of the locals out so early and so far. They didn’t often venture into The Forest (aptly named, he mused) but rather contented themselves on the western side of the island where it was full of meadows, hills, and a sense of community. He was a few feet away when he came to a halt, his approach concealed by the roaring river. 

“Looking for something?” he asked, raising his voice above the rushing water. 

The squawk that came from the bundle made him question if it really was human, and with one clumsy motion, it toppled onto its side, arms and legs flailing everywhere on the way. Hunter startled in response, backing up a few steps and raising his hands in front of him as the bundle scrambled to right itself. 

“Whoa, whoa… Sorry! You alright?” 

“Hunter?!” came a gasp, a slightly squeaky lilt in a familiar husky voice. “What the–” The words dissolved into grumbles as sand and rocks were brushed off and the figure rose to its feet, turning to face him. Beneath the hood he could see the center of Lyra’s face, and he nearly laughed out loud in equal parts surprise and mockery for her entirely unmeasured reaction. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said carefully, lips pressed in a firm line. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else, instead taking in her appearance head to toe. She must have been wearing layer upon layer of clothing, all covered by some kind of head-to-toe suit that he imagined was to keep out the wind and rain. It created a comically shapeless result, with boots poking out the bottom and a hooded head that looked small compared to the rest. “What… uh… Whatcha doin?” 

“You…” Lyra took a ragged breath, her arms lifting at her sides with the inflation of her lungs and lowering again as she blew it out in an attempt to calm down. “You scared the kark out of me,” she said, so quietly and conspiratorially that he almost couldn’t hear. He looked around, wondering if there were others nearby, but he hadn’t sensed anything. “I like to come out here on walks,” she continued, doing her best to speak normally but still sounding undeniably tight. “Neat stuff washes up on the banks, especially this time of year, and I thought I saw a piece of tumbled glass… before you robbed me of my dignity.”

Now Hunter did laugh, dipping his head in contrition before sneaking his eyes back up to hers, at least what little he could see beneath the thick layers. “I’m sorry… I guess I owe you a piece of… tumbled glass?”

“Yes, you do,” she answered pertly, shifting on her feet and wrapping her arms around herself. “What are you doing out here?”

“Taking the long way back from hunting.”

“Does the meat just walk itself to your shop?” she asked, tilting her head at his hands.

“Heh. I wish. Nothing today. Something’s a little off with the herds; I have no idea what.”

“Hmm. Well I’m sorry you came up empty-handed, although I imagine that’s just part of the job sometimes.”

“Yep.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. The early morning sun was just beginning to peek over the tops of the mountains above, sending inquisitive beams through the boughs of the trees and beginning to chase the dense fog back toward the sea. Hunter returned his hands to his pockets, trying to think of the best thing to say to excuse himself back on his way. 

“It might have something to do with the lunar festival?” Lyra offered, catching him off guard.

“What might?”

“The animals being weird…The moons are only full at the same time once a year, and some of the locals swear it affects everything on the island.”

“How?” was all he could muster, although he’d seen and heard of far stranger things in his travels across planets of virtually every size and setup. 

“I have no idea,” she shrugged, gazing off toward the sea for a moment. “But,” she continued, leaning toward him with a slightly dramatic air, “Last year around this time, my bread loaf wouldn’t rise. So they might be onto something.” 

He stared at her in response, unable to discern if this was deadpan, factual delivery, or some kind of attempt at wit. A small sigh from beneath the hood gave him a hint, and Lyra dropped her own head, mumbling something under her breath that even he couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” he asked, hoping it was something about having to be on her way.

“I said… Geez…” she paused, as though giving herself a hard time for her own delivery, “I said it’s hard to be funny under all these layers.”

“Yeah, what is all that for?” Hunter asked, trying to ignore his own wondering if her attempt at a joke would have been funny even without the excessive clothing. “You look like you’re ready to be rolled down a hill…”

Lyra laughed at that, a self-conscious little guffaw that was promptly followed by her hand covering the bundle’s face-hole. “Is that a regular pastime where you’re from?” 

“Not in the slightest,” he answered, although the mental image of troopers wrapped in layers of blacks, being rolled down the curving domes of the Kaminoan buildings brought a little lightness to his heart… But then it was quickly replaced by his last view of Tipoca City – burning wreckage sinking to the bottom of the sea.

“Sorry…” Lyra said uncertainly, and Hunter realized his face had been more telling than he’d assumed. He looked back at her with a little shake of the head, brushing away a lifetime of memories. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he began.

“Would rolling me down the hill make you feel better?” she asked, mouth pressed in a serious line. His eyebrows rose, as did the corner of his mouth, glancing from her to the cascading river that poured off the edge of the island cliffs into the sea below. 

“Murder isn’t usually my first choice of pick-me-ups.”

“Ah, okay. That’s good,” she said solemnly, nodding slowly. “To answer your question…” she paused, giving him time to backtrack to what his question even was, “I like to bundle up when I come out in the early mornings because I’m always cold. And it’s really hard to leave my living room when the fire is going and there is some morning treat in the oven. But I also really like it out here. So this is how I stay warm.”

“You’re always cold? In a place like this?” 

“I mean, not always… But pretty much always. Bad circulation, maybe.”

Another shared chuckle.

“Fair enough.”

The conversation meandered from there across a few topics of little importance, and Hunter was finding himself intrigued by the hints of depth beneath the relatively plain exterior. He’d become so used to the ever-changing cast of characters that he’d been subjected to throughout the war, each one seeming to be more bold and brash than the last, that it was almost off-putting to encounter someone so… simple? They wrapped up with some simple well-wishes and went their separate ways, leaving Hunter feeling simultaneously confused and comforted.

* * * 

By @constant-brain-fog

.

“Whatcha got there, kid?” Hunter asked, falling into step beside Omega as they made their way down the hill from the school. 

“Oh, it’s for you, actually!” she answered, passing a large package wrapped in twine into his hands. “And you’ve got to stop calling me kid, Hunter…” 

“Right. Sorry,” he faltered, although he knew that she still liked it, beneath the inconsistent facade she’d grown since starting school. He sniffed the parcel and received a noseful of earthy vegetable scents. “Who’s this from?”

“Lyra.” Omega had a small smile on her face, casting a quick side glance at him before returning her gaze to the path. “She said she saw you hunting a few days ago, and she didn’t want you to go hungry.” 

“Oh really…” he murmured, squinting narrowly as he shifted the package to rest beneath an arm. “Well isn’t that nice.” 

“I thought so! No?” she asked, curious at the sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“When she saw me, it was an empty hunt day,” he said, the faintest of wry grins tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So this seems more like a little jab than a generous gift.”

“I don’t think she’s like that…” Omega observed, brow furrowing as she scrutinized him. “She seemed so warm when she said it…And she offered to help me with my internship applications because they’ve been stressing me out.”

“Well, either way… Let’s see what we can do with this for dinner tonight.”

The parcel contained an impressive variety of produce that Hunter assumed came from Lyra’s garden; some were familiar, some not. Brightly-colored root vegetables lay next to plump green and yellow things that looked as though they’d been plucked from vines, and nestled among them were little blue and red balls that, upon being sliced open, revealed juicy interiors with tiny seeds. With their limited repertoire of culinary skills, Hunter and Omega had decided that the best course of action would be to roast them all in a large sheet pan in the oven. After quite a bit of chopping, the tray was filled and the oven was set. But the amount of vegetables it took to fill the sheet pan had barely made a dent in the pile they’d been given, and Omega laughed as she scooped the leftovers into bags, wrapping them and putting them in the cooling chamber for later use. Wrecker was notably absent that evening, and Hunter made a tongue-in-cheek observation that they could have used the extra mouth.

As they waited for the timer to go off, they busied themselves in their own endeavors – Omega had spread her school supplies across the table and was engrossed in her datapad while Hunter tried to organize all of the receipts that had been printed at the butcher shop over the last few days. Tech was his unofficial accountant, keeping track of inventory, overhead, and margins required to keep the shop profitable, but his continual frustration with Hunter’s messy ways had resulted in multiple threats of resignation. So the receipts were to be “ordered chronologically and delivered in a timely fashion to minimize the redundant work and avoid wasting time”, and Hunter had complied, mostly to avoid having to do the rest of it himself.

He sensed Omega’s mood changing quite rapidly between the dinner prep and the time they sat down to eat, and as they dug into their steaks, now with vegetable side dishes that were quite beautiful with their array of colors, he could almost see a proverbial dark cloud hanging over her head. A wave of discomfort washed over him as he pondered the possible causes, realizing he was wildly out of his league. He didn’t even really know what he was to her anymore – some kind of protective figure at the very least, but as she’d settled into young adulthood, her maturing perspective combined with the fact that she’d lived nearly twice as long as he had created a bit of complexity in an already-unfamiliar scenario. But considering the slump of her shoulders and the way it tugged at his heart, Hunter knew he had to at least give it a shot. 

“The vegetables are really good,” he ventured, stabbing one with his fork. “Good call on the seasoning.”

“Hmm,” was her only reply, pushing them around on her plate with enough dejection to make even a clanker feel compassion. 

“You… uh… want to talk?”

“Not really.”

“Alright.”

More silence ensued, punctuated only by the sounds of eating, which were disproportionately amplified in the discomfort of the situation. 

“What’s the next internship?” he tried again, hoping to spark her interest. She’d been thoroughly enjoying herself so far, with the occasional hiccup here and there, and had sounded excited about the rest of the year’s plans and opportunities.

“No idea,” she said, voice lower than usual. He frowned, tilting his head at her. 

“Why not?” he asked, with as warm and gentle a tone as he could muster. He was really trying to do it right, whatever “it” was, and fought back the rising frustration at his own inadequacy in this realm.

“It’s all different. The next round is more competitive. You have to apply for the assignments you want, and they only take the top two students for each position. If you don’t get any of the ones you want, you’re just shoved somewhere, whether you’re interested in it or not.”

“Ah. That’s… tricky.”

“It’s kriffing stupid!” Omega blurted out, face hardening with thinly-veiled anger. 

“Whoa, careful kiddo–” The thought was out before he could give it a second thought, and it apparently contained an unfortunate choice of words.

“You don’t get it!” she fumed, her lilting voice cracking with emotion. “The applications are stressful enough themselves, plus the lunar festival is coming up and everyone is telling me I need to have some kind of date for it, otherwise I’m total Bantha fodder, and it’s all just… unfair! I don’t know when everyone decided that I have to act or be or look a certain way, whether or not I want to, but it’s driving me crazy. And I bet that if I don’t play their little games, I’ll be stuck shadowing some dumb datapad programmer or something like that.”

Hunter was speechless, taken aback by the flood of information, most of which felt as though it were coming out of nowhere. She’d always seemed happy with her class, especially since it was made up of a handful of students who all knew each other and appeared to get along. When had it changed so drastically? He fumbled for something to say, trying to think strategically.

“I mean, datapad programming can be pretty handy…” he tried, cringing at the wave of emotion he felt from her in response. 

“It’s okay, Hunter. You don’t have to try to make me feel better. You can’t understand this. It’s not what you were made for,” she snapped, picking up her plate and heading for her room, where she kicked the door closed behind her. He was shocked at her uncharacteristic vehemence. 

An hour passed, leaving Hunter confused and alone as he finished his own plate, constantly warring with himself as to whether or not he should go after her. He cleaned up the kitchen, washing and drying everything by hand before putting it where it belonged. There was a flurry of emotions in his own mind as well: frustration at having apparently said the wrong thing, indignation at her seemingly disproportionate reactivity, and a deep, nagging, unsettling sense that perhaps she was right. He had been made for one purpose. How was he supposed to craft a life of his own outside of that?

As he made the final preparations to head to bed himself, he heard footsteps in Omega’s room, followed shortly by her door cracking open to reveal her small frame. She’d grown so much from when they’d first met, yet somehow still carried a sensitivity and fragility that the world had not yet robbed her of. At least, that was how he saw her. And now, deflated as she was, he only wanted to protect her now from the nuances of adolescent life, the way he had protected her from blaster bolts and tsunamis. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, approaching from the hallway to where he stood in their small living room. “I didn’t mean what I said… That was awful…” The light scent of her tears matched up to the redness of her eyes, and he shook his head slowly. 

“It’s fine. You’re not wrong–”

“Absolutely I’m wrong!” she exclaimed, drawing closer now. Her body language was odd, like a bird about to take flight, holding some kind of inexpressible tension as she continued. “You may have been created for war, but that’s not all of who you are, Hunter. I know you’re a clone, but you’re still human. And more unique than most.” Her voice was softer now, filled with a wistful nostalgia. “You always have been.”

“Well thanks, but–”

His words were cut off again by her sudden hug, arms wrapped firmly around him as she buried her face in his chest. She squeezed, heaving a great sigh as they stood there in silence, his own arms finding tentative support around her. 

“I kind of miss just being a soldier,” she confessed, and Hunter’s mind began to run with a million responses about how she wasn’t a soldier, she’d done so much more than that, etc. But he quieted it for a moment, taking a deep breath of his own, and tried to understand what she was really attempting to convey. Her time as a “soldier” had been their years of post-Republic adventures, scraping by with odd jobs and never quite knowing where they would end up. But they’d always had each other, and their missions were usually fairly singular in focus. It was a whole new world to navigate not only the basics of safety and provision, but also future planning, social nuance, and other pressures that he couldn’t even begin to understand. 

He hugged her tightly, silent in the shared sentiment. And in a way, he found himself missing it too.

.

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[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 5

Description: Miguel has finally returned home with his bride, but first he must see his daughter. Ch 6

Miguel carries you into the palace, your sleeping form curled against his chest, his steps echoing in the empty hall. He loves you. He has as loved you from the moment your eyes met his all those years ago, but he has not seen his daughter in many months. And he does not wish for your fear of being confined in yet another strange place to draw him from her side.

He lays you down on the soft bed, glancing around the sweeping chambers, meant to be used only for the night before your wedding. The Maiden’s Sanctuary, as it is called, is a place for future brides to rest and prepare before they are brought before their husbands. The ceiling towers above you, the windows soaring but locked tightly, and he has your meager possessions quickly stored in the various wardrobes about the room.

He doesn’t want to leave you here. He wishes to keep you by his side, but Gabi is undoubtably planning a multitude of ways to escape her caretaker and come find him, now that word of his arrival has reached the inner workings of the palace.

Miguel ensures you’re properly covered, then exits, locking the door behind him and nodding to his guards. He cannot have you blindly venturing further into the palace and stumbling upon the wrong person.

The walk to Margo’s chambers—Gabi’s caretaker since she was a mere babe—is not far, and his joy at seeing his daughter once more gives flight to his feet, the sound of her giggling reaching him before he even rounds the corner.  

He throws open the door, and Gabi darts towards the open door, flinging herself into his arms.

“Papá, Papá! I missed you.” Gabi says, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her tiny horns poking at his skin.

Miguel holds her tightly, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Hello mija, have you been good for Tia Margo?”

Gabi nods, pulling back, her eyes meeting his, a bright smile on her face. “Yes, she said I could ask you for anything I wanted when you returned because I was so good.”

Miguel’s eyes flicker to the older woman seating in a wooden rocking chair. Her tanned skin is wrinkled, her dark hair slowly turning gray. “She behaved admirably, Miguel; you should be quite proud of her.”

“And I did not cry after the first week…well, there was a storm, but I tried hard to be brave.” Gabi adds, sticking her bottom lip out slightly at the mention of the storm.

“I am sure you were very brave, mija, a true princess of Neuva.” Miguel praises, shifting her to one hip as he nods to Margo and begins to carry Gabi back to her own chambers.

Gabi wraps her arms around his neck sleepily. “Did you find Mamá?”

He stumbles for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. “Your mother?”

Her mother, Ava, had abandoned them when Gabi was born, claiming she had no desire to raise such a demonic being . He’d warned her that there was a possibility their child would inherit his abysmal abilities and features, but she’d assured him it would not sway her love for them. He later learned that sentiment was not the only falsehood to come from his former paramour.

“The one from your dreams, the princess.” She continues, a yawn interrupting her words.

The tension growing within him like a thicket of thorns recedes. “We will discuss such things in the morning, you and I both must rest.”

“But I wish to see the princess.” Gabi pouts.

“Is your Papá not enough? You wound me, mija.” He says playfully, putting on an expression of mock hurt to make her laugh.

“Papá is always enough.” She reassures him, snuggling closer to him as Miguel enters their shared wing, and begins to set her down in her bed.

“Do not forget my candle.” She says sleepily, holding her stuffed bear to her chest as she drifts off to sleep.

“Of course, I would never forget.” Miguel lights the rose-colored candle and sets it on her small tea table.

The large candle was among the first gifts presented to him to celebrate Gabi’s birth. Ava had fled, and he was young, and alone, cradling a babe he felt unable to care for. He was a monster, a murderer, he did not deserve such a precious gift, such a pure and innocent being, and yet he could not—would not turn her away. It had been Margo, a former midwife and widow, who had given him the candle. It was the meekest of gifts, but only she had been brave enough to deliver the gift herself.

“Goodnight mija, I will come wake you in the morning, then we will break fast, and I will tell you all about my adventures.”

He hears her say, “goodnight Papá,” and a few tired ramblings about “breakfast cakes,” and “dancing bears.”

He muffles his laughter and closes her door softly before meandering back to the Maidan’s Sanctuary.

Miguel nods to the guards before reentering your chambers, exhaustion pulling at his bones, impatience at his feet. He simply wishes to lie beside you, as he has done for many weeks now.

But you are not there.

The bed is empty, your scent lingers only faintly in the air, and he cannot hear your heartbeat.

He roars in anger, taking hold of the nearest object—a table—and hurling it at the wall, feeling a familiar satisfaction in the way it cracked and shattered, splinters of wood littering the floor.

“Find her.” He demands as he stalks out of your chambers, enhanced senses searching for you, his mind set ablaze with panic and rage.

He does not wish to chase you, to hunt you like an animal, but it seems you leave him no choice. This is his home, he has bled to claim his rightful place within this palace of stone, and there is no corner, no nook, no cranny, that you might find that will hide you from him.

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[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Five - Cold Eggs

W/C: 6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mentions of drinking

Some early morning honesty on the rocks. Eddie is fucked. In every sense other than literal.

A/N: I'm getting giddy over these two please tell me yall feel the same

Masterlist

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The Munson bachelor pad wasn’t as boyish and messy as you initially thought.  You were sober enough to make that observation.  It was cozy, much like your own home and was around the same size.  The kitchen was probably the messiest part of it however you didn’t get a peek at the bedroom which you assumed could also be very disheveled.  There were cereal boxes left open on the counter, Cocoa Pebbles being the one that caught your eye along with a neglected box of Rice Krispies that laid on its side.   

A few too many pots and pans cluttered the stove top and some empty cans of soup and Spaghettios were left to collect dust near the sink.  His refrigerator held a collection of magnets, some being letters from the alphabet, although quite a few were missing, and others were ads from a pizza place and a few fruits and vegetables with cartoony faces.  Among the mess on the counters, you also noted a few empty liters of soda and some crushed beer cans.  Budweiser to be specific.

Other than that, the living room you’d been sitting in was tidy.  There was a clearly used checkered blanket bunched up on the corner of the couch you’d been occupying for the past several minutes and a few car catalogs littering the coffee table along with a copy of Lord of the Rings, bookmarked with a coupon for ground beef clipped from the local ads.  Next to that, an ash tray nearly overflowed.  

His wallpaper wasn’t as ugly as yours, which you envied.  It was maroon with even darker stripes alternating, creating a dark but homey atmosphere.  The wall sconces on the other hand, we’re tacky.  They looked more medieval than anything, almost like torches.  The light wood floors contrasted with the walls and at your feet was a frayed rug that looked like it had seen better days.  Not dirty, just tattered.

In the corner sat an acoustic guitar painted with the words ‘this machine slays dragons’ and next to it was an electric guitar, red with cracks of black.  You’d never seen one like it before and it seemed to be well loved from what you’d heard every day, the endless guitar solos bleeding into your eardrums daily.  At least he was getting his money's worth out of it.

You continued eyeing your surroundings, taking in the habitat that was Eddie Munson’s home when your gaze lands on a particular object that piqued your interest.  It sat atop a shelf near the door, a lonely Garfield mug.

Before you could further examine the mug or even think of reasons as to why it was displayed, if it was even displayed, or perhaps it was abandoned in a hurry out the door, Eddie emerges from the bathroom just off the living room.  His curls are now wet ringlets toward the bottom, and instead of wearing your puke, he wears a red sweatshirt that reads ‘Indianapolis, Indiana’ on the front along with some baggy black sweats.  Despite his comfy clothes, his face is still decorated with that grouchy frown you’d grown used to.  Did this man ever relax his face?  His eyebrows were still pinched together either in thought or in irritation.

“I-um, I’ll wash the shirt and um the–the boots.”  You stutter, rapidly standing from your perch at the edge of his couch.

Though still a little tipsy, more coherent thoughts flooded your mind.  Guilt plagued you as you thought about the blanket of barf that coated his shirt and boots about a half hour earlier, abandoned on the front porch.  You were smart enough to avert your gaze when he lifted his shirt off of his torso just to let it wrinkle up on the wood planks to be dealt with later.  It wasn’t your fault that you’d caught a glimpse of the tattoos that adorned his body, some kind of dragon if you remember correctly, wound from his waist up to his ribs.  The others you didn’t have long enough to distinguish their imagery, though there were several along with what appeared to be some scarring of some kind.  You couldn’t be sure, the darkness from the night not allowing you a clear picture along with your hazy mental state.

“Don’t worry about it.”  He dismisses while you bashfully sit back down on the edge of the couch.

It was hard to grasp whether he was pissed at you or just at life in general.  You would take full responsibility for the vomit but everything before that was on him.  Yelling at you over a pile of broken plates seemed far more degrading based on his tone, the way he reprimanded you and painted you as this stupid girl, unable to stand your ground.  Maybe it was better that he fired you, you wouldn’t be subject to his obnoxious mood swings where he seemed to take everything out on you when shit hit the fan.  

You continued watching Eddie move about his surroundings, taking in how he interacted with his day to day environment.  What did he look like fully relaxed?  Lounging around, playing his guitar without a care in the world.  It was difficult to picture; the image of a moody man with a tensed facial expression the only one you could seem to conjure up every time rather than the vision of him with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, enjoying coffee out of that stupid Garfield mug.  You wonder if takes his coffee with cream and sugar.  Maybe just cream?  Or just sugar?  Maybe he drinks it black, that would be the most sensible option if you were going by his grouchy nature.

“Gonna find my keys, then we’ll go back to the bar to get yours.”  Eddie decides, shuffling through some items on the kitchen counter.  

The irony.

Agreeing with a hum, you allow yourself to lean further into the couch while trailing your finger over the faded plaid pattern, lines of beige crossing over white that temporarily held your focus.  The clinking of empty beer cans against the linoleum counter can be heard, and then footsteps into the bedroom just off the living room to your left.  Two idiots with misplaced keys under the same roof.

It feels as if the couch begins to mold around you, welcoming you into its springy cushions that otherwise wouldn’t be very comfortable but considering the night you had and the state you were in, you felt like you were on a cloud.  Your thoughts drift back to curious visions of Eddie.  What did his hair look like first thing in the morning?  Was it as wild as you imagined?  Curls sticking up every which way, frizzy and matted?  Or was it somehow still perfectly messy?  Boyishly messy.  

Did he take those chunky rings off every night, leaving them on his nightstand until the morning?  How many more tattoos did he have?  What movies did he watch?  What did he do for fun?  You suppose plucking at his guitars was a main contender with the way it would constantly invade your ears.  Obviously he read, your eyes catching that copy of Lord of the Rings on the coffee table again.  Maybe he worked on cars too, based on those car part catalogs.  

The image of him working under the hood of a car, all sweaty in some kind of tank top occupied your brain, his usually tense face hard at work with grease smeared along his cheek.  And his hands.  His hands would be coated in oil and he’d pull a rag out from his back pocket to wipe them off.  Then he’d smile and reveal those deep dimples framing his face so perfectly.  And then you would–

“Uh, Bambi?”

Eddie’s voice doesn’t do much other than cause you to stir in your sleep, snuggling a pillow while curling into yourself.  You were nearly drooling, completely content.  He couldn’t help but stare a little longer than necessary before realizing what a creep he was being.  Was he supposed to wake you?  If he was, he felt wrong doing so with how peaceful you looked.  He rolled his eyes but truthfully, he didn’t mind having a guest for the night.  

Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep for once.

–

Tossing around as the springs beneath you squeak, your mouth feels like it had previously been filled with sand.  Not an ounce of saliva coated your tongue, you were severely dehydrated.  You flung the knitted blanket that had rested on top of you off–when did that get there?  You don’t remember grabbing a blanket before drifting off into a deep slumber.  

This wasn’t even your house.

Collecting your thoughts, you recall that you had been sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch before apparently falling asleep.  It was still dark outside, signifying that it had to be early in the morning which meant you’d only slept for maybe two or so hours.  A lamp set atop a beat up side table in the corner was the only thing illuminating the room now.  Sitting up and stretching, your bones ached from the way they were piled on top of each other in the position you had been sleeping in.  Your right arm had pins and needles running up and down it from being cut off from circulation for so long.  

The groan that threatened to escape you was held in your throat as you scooted forward, only to find a full glass of water right there on the coffee table.  This was beyond embarrassing, this was humiliating.  If you could scurry out the door and across the yard back to your place you would, but you were in this predicament due to your own negligence.  

With no other options available to you, you gulp down the lukewarm water, just grateful that your tongue was no longer dryer than the Sahara desert.  But it still wasn’t enough.  Your thirst seemed unquenchable, at this rate you’d need approximately five more glasses.  So you stood yourself up, legs shaky and stomach a tiny bit queasy, and wobbled over to the kitchen.  You’d have to pace yourself to avoid throwing up a bunch of water since your stomach was so sensitive right now.  Food was out of the question but water was a necessity.  

Twisting the sink handle with a small screech of the metal, you fill the glass with a shaky and weak arm before sipping away.  

Slowly.  You remind yourself.

It must have taken around eight minutes to finish that second glass of water, coaching yourself through it the entire time.  You grew tired of drinking it but persisted anyway.  As you reach to fill a third glass, you’re startled by a figure in the doorway to Eddie’s room, unable to make out any features in the dim lighting.  With a yelp, you manage to drop the glass in the sink, it clanking around noisily but thankfully, not breaking.  

“Shit, why are you awake?”  Eddie asks, hands raised in surrender as he emerges from the shadows.

“Why are you awake?”  You counter.

He raises a brow, clearly wide awake.  He didn’t even have that gravelly, sleepy voice.  Maybe he hadn’t even gone to sleep at all.  There was no evidence that his hair was any frizzier than before and his face didn’t have that puffiness to it when you wake up.  It’s also possible that he just looked perfect when he woke up but if you’re being honest, no one really woke up perfect.  

“I, uh, I was reading.”  He admits, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence trickles in, causing you to cross your arms as a means to close in on yourself, steadily backing up until you hit the counter behind you.  Eddie maintains eye contact with you as he retrieves his own cup from one of the cabinets, filling it up and chugging it down with ease.  You suddenly feel so out of place, like you were supposed to leave but there was nowhere else to go.  

“I, um, I’m sorry for…for the puke.  A-and for falling asleep.  I didn’t mean to intrude.”  You tell him honestly.

He only nods.  

“I can go…sit on my porch until you go into the bar.  And I’ll get my keys and be out of your hair.”  

A few drops of water roll down his chin as he continues drinking, the back of his hand coming up to swipe the liquid away.  He appears to be lost in thought, eyes concentrated on the counter in front of him where a few rogue Rice Krispies live.  You let your legs carry you a few feet away, your goal being the front door until he speaks up again.

“I’m not gonna be responsible if you get eaten out there.”  He grumbles.  

“Eaten?”

Eddie looks you up and down as if to say ‘are you serious?’.  To be completely honest, you hadn’t taken into account the wildlife that thrived throughout the area before you moved in.  Now you were looking more and more dumb by the minute.

“Bears?”  He offers an anxious head tilt.  “We have fucking bears here, Bambi.  You can’t just wander around in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t be wandering.”  Why were you trying to make an argument?  Out of all the things you could fight him on, why were you choosing whether or not you’d get eaten by a bear?  “I would be sitting on my porch.”

You felt like the dumbest woman on the planet and you knew you should’ve stopped talking but the words just…came out.

“Bears can reach your fucking porch, you know that, right?”  

His large eyes bored into you in disbelief, his mouth slightly hung open as he awaited your answer.

“Y-yeah.”  You gulp.

“God.”  He scoffs, turning away from you, perplexed before muttering something under his breath that you happened to also catch.  “Christ, they shoulda turned you away.”

“Who?”  You pipe up, feeling a bit daring.

For a moment, he turns to stare at you blankly.  It’s almost as if you’re the only two people awake and if either of you happened to raise your voice in the slightest, it would awaken the town.

“The assholes that sold you that house.”  He just about whines, his voice an octave higher, frustration obvious in his tone.

The refrigerator light briefly appears over the blue and green tiled floor as Eddie opens it, reaching for something before turning around toward the stove and kicking the door shut.  

“What–what do you mean?  Turn me away?  What’s that supposed to mean?”  You ask in offense.

“I mean…”  He cracks an egg into a pan, followed by another.  “They shouldn’t have sold it to someone so clueless.”  Another egg.  

The shells are discarded in the sink, further cracking into smaller pieces at the impact he’d thrown them.  

“What?  Were they just supposed to reject me until someone more ‘qualified’ came along?”  You try to catch his gaze, ducking your head as he reaches for the salt and pepper.  “And–are you seriously making eggs right now?”  

You earn a scowl from him as his pan begins to sizzle, his hand quick to grab a spatula from one of the pots on the stove to flip the eggs.  This had to have been some weird dream or manifestation.  And there they were again, those three numbers falling from his lips in a whisper as his eyes shut temporarily while his eggs simmered.

“I was already qualified before you came along!”  He raises his voice, not quite to a yell but not very quiet either.

Silence. 

Your eyes must have bulged out of your head, Eddie’s features softening by the second.  Regret settled in his eyes, your face the vision of pure horror and all because of him.  

He got impatient.

His therapist would be disappointed in him.  And so would Wayne.

“I-I just…I was going to, um…”  He starts calmly.  “I was gonna buy it.  And, and I was—”  His breathing is now shallow, his eyes wet and pleading.  “It–it was–I don’t–”

“Eddie.”  You whisper, trying to break through whatever trance he was in.

He seemed stuck in his own head, eyes darting back and forth while he struggled to find words.  The eggs were on the verge of burning which prompted you to reach over him and turn the stove off.  The spatula he previously held clung against the tile.  

“I-I–um, I was–”  

It’s as if he isn’t even in the room, totally removed as the same few syllables fell from his tongue.

“I’m–I-I–”

“Eddie, it’s okay.”  You attempt to soothe him.  “Do you wanna sit down?”  You ask, trying to catch his eyes but failing as he squeezes them shut.

Again with the counting.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All under his shaky breath.

“I-I’m fine.  ‘M fine.”  His voice cracks, eyes opening timidly.

When you go to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinches, a gasp leaving his lungs.  Forcing yourself a few steps backward in order to provide him the space he needs, you recognize a hint of fear within him.  It’s not of you, it’s something else yanking at his thoughts.  

“Sit down, let’s sit down, okay?”  You instruct, gradually lower yourself, waiting for him to follow your actions.

Nodding, he slowly slides his back down the side of the counter, falling into a position where his knees were to his chest, hands resting against the floor.  You join him, still keeping your distance but wanting him to know that despite the previous tension, you were being supportive through his episode.  Whatever it may be.

“Breathe.”  You tell him, just as he had done with you back at the bar.  “In…and out.”  You encourage him.

He follows, his breathing still labored but improving.  Continuing for a minute or so, his shoulders finally loosen up, his face relaxing.  You let him guide the situation from here, if he wanted to talk or remain mute.  Either was okay.

Moments pass, the hard kitchen floor causing you discomfort that you willingly take, not daring to shift around too much as to keep the tranquility finally falling over the two of you.  Instead, you take interest in the wood grain of the cabinets, eyes wandering around each curve like a maze, sometimes identifying shapes along the way.  A dog’s face, a ghost, and occasionally the haunting silhouette of a human.  

Sneaking a glance at Eddie, you find that his eyes are shut as he rests his head against the cabinet behind him, his hands fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, tying little knots and then undoing them just to repeat the process.  Your watch indicates that it’s 4:03 AM.  You would usually be sleeping however you can’t really offer yourself much sympathy when it seems this is the norm for Eddie.  He always had tired eyes though you’d never put much thought into it until now.  He must not be sleeping.  Which could also be a contribution to his moodiness.  

“I’m gonna lose the bar.”  Eddie speaks up from beside you, eyes still shut as he continues to fidget.  

“Hm?”  You turn your full attention to him.

There’s a pause, a moment of thinking.  You can tell as he opens his eyes and side-eyes you, not with malice but more so to collect his thoughts.  Lips pinched in between his teeth roughly, you could almost wince at the way blood surfaces from the poor abused skin.  Not too obvious, but obvious enough as you await clarification, the tiniest bit of crimson seeping out from behind his teeth only to be left to dry out on his perfectly shaped lips.  Then he breaks the silence with a heavy exhale.

“I, uh, I’m pretty close to losing it.  Can barely pay the bills on the damn place.  Been going downhill for a few months now.”  He elaborates, spinning a ring around his finger repeatedly .  “I was gonna use the rest of my savings that my grandpa left me to buy that house.  Rent it out.  I talked to a friend who’s really good with all that financial shit and he said I could get a steady income and most likely keep the bar running and profiting again.”

“Oh.”  You whisper, a huge sensation of guilt overtaking you.

“Not your fault.”  He sighs.  “Guess I’ve been kinda taking it out on you.”

Now he avoids your gaze, far more interested in the cracked tile beneath him.  A curse can be made out from just under his breath while he buries his head in his hands, running them up and down his face, almost as if to relieve some of his stress but having no such luck.  His admission catches you off guard, not at all suspecting that this morning would turn into honesty hour.

“No.”  You reply quickly.  “I mean…yes.  But I-I didn’t know.  If I knew–”

“Don’t give yourself a stroke, Bambi.”  He cuts you off, turning to look at you.  “I’m not proud of how dick-ish I’ve been.  It’s nothing personal though.”  Eddie confesses, seemingly annoyed with himself.

Sincerity floods his eyes, a cry for help.  But how were you supposed to help him?  Before you can muster up some kind of response to his almost-apology, he continues.

“I-uh, I just can’t lose this bar.  I inherited it from my grandpa and he had been running it for…years.”  Behind his persistence, there’s hints of defeat.  A bitterness that you’d come to recognize in the last few weeks.  “And, uh, I didn’t know ‘im for very long but, I kinda feel like it’s my responsibility.”

“Didn’t know him for very long?”  You asked before even calculating the consequences.  You had no right to pry into his personal life.

His hands begin to move up and down his shins, a self-soothing gesture from what you can tell.  Eddie was very fidgety, and you’d only just started noticing.  

“Yeah.”  He whispers.  “I moved here like four years ago.  Some bad shit happened back home and I–”  There’s a moment of hesitation, a sudden panic lurking behind his gaze.  “I can’t go back.”

You want so badly to ask him where ‘home’ used to be but decide against it.  He had already willingly offered you more information than you would have originally been brave enough to ask for.

“Anyway, I never really knew my grandpa until I came here to live with him.  He died last year.  I’ve been trying to keep things afloat since then.”  He explains, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand.

“I’m so sorry.  I-I didn’t know.”

Genuine sympathy drips from your voice, the kind that felt like hot honey running down a sore throat during flu season.  During the moment it feels…good.  Comforting.  In the way that only his mother ever was in the brief time they had together.  And then the sting returns.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”  The walls are rapidly raised once again and god knows when you would get to peek through the cracks again.  “We should, uh, we should get to the bar so you can get your keys.  And your car.”  He suggests, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan.

“Wait–what about your eggs?”  You mention, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage as you stand.

The eggs were long forgotten about, now all sad and cold in the pan.  Unappetizing.  One of the yolks had somehow broken among the commotion of Eddie’s panic and left a disgusting coating around the gaps, that eggy-wet-dog smell nauseating you.  They were trash in all honesty but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, quickly lifting the pan and grabbing a fork to shovel them into his mouth.

You can’t fight the urge to stare, cold eggs and runny yolks being tossed into his mouth without a second thought.  

“What?”  He glances at you in irritation.

“You could’ve at least heated them up.”  You complain, nose crinkled in revolt.

He rolls his eyes but his annoyance quickly melts away, a fraction of a playful smirk pulling at his lips, eyes gleaming with something captivating.

–

The scent of tobacco and motor oil invades your nose, the smells of Eddie’s truck, much different than the little pine tree air freshener in the car he’d driven you in last night.  The engine rumbles down the road, startling the birds as he drives by.  Some kind of guitar riff blares through the radio, his ringed fingers tapping along against the steering wheel.  Instead of his sweatshirt and sweatpants, he now wears a long sleeve covered with his leather jacket along with some ripped up blue jeans.  As far as you’re concerned, he’s way underdressed for the brisk morning air, only getting colder and colder by the day.  Though, he may run hot and the drop in temperature just doesn’t faze him.  Even so, it’d make you feel better if he at least put on a heavier coat.

Regardless, you can’t seem to control the shivers that rattle your body, your teeth nearly chattering, jaw clenched tightly.  You were mentally scolding drunk-you for forgetting your jacket at the bar and though you were on your way there now, it didn’t do you any good with the way you were practically an ice cube.  It was apparent that the heater of Eddie’s truck wasn’t very efficient as the air coming out was slightly warm but not warm enough to relieve the cold nipping at the exposed skin of your arms.  You could see your breath, only further reminding you of how cold you truly were.

Attention was the last thing you wanted as you subtly moved your hands that rested politely in your lap, up your arms to offer the tiniest bit of skin-on-skin warmth.  Any kind of relief would do.  You only hoped he wouldn’t notice as you began to move your hands back and forth as a means to create some friction, more heat.

Buy a large, fuzzy, soft coat, ASAP.  You note to yourself.

As a distraction, you begin to identify objects within the truck, a solo game of ‘I spy’ if you will.  At your feet, there’s a small crate of cassette tapes.  An impressive collection, mainly metal and rock from what you can see.  Maybe a few folksy ones behind those based on the labels, John Denver being the one that stood out to you.  Then, another car parts catalog on top of the dash.  An empty can of Dr. Pepper in the cup holder.  Or what you assume to be empty.  A definitely empty cigarette carton abandoned in the other cup holder–

“Shit, here.”  Eddie says, reaching behind into the back seat only to magically pull out a denim jacket covered in several patches and pins.  

Evidently, you weren’t playing it as cool as you thought, clearly somehow exposing that you were in fact freezing.  He showed no emotion as he urged the jacket into your reach, eyes still focused on the road.  Your hesitation only had him pushing the denim into your hand, wordlessly cautioning you that he wouldn’t have your modesty or insistence that you were fine.  Clutching the rough fabric in your hand, you pause to stare at him, as if he was going to change his mind any second.  He doesn’t.  Only keeps his eyes forward, brows furrowed in that grumpy manner.

His nose is pink again and you were willing to bet that the tips of his ears matched if they hadn’t been hidden by his wild hair.  Even his cheeks were dusted with the lightest rosy shade.  Fall looked good on him.  You couldn’t even imagine how amazing Summer would look on him.  

Quickly, you undo your seatbelt and shrug the jacket on.  It’s cold from living in the truck all night but warms you up regardless, much cozier than your bare arms out in the open.  And it smells like Eddie, a smell you can’t quite pinpoint to one specific thing.  A little bit like cigarettes, maybe a hint of cologne, spicy but not overpowering, and a whiff of rubber.  It almost smelled like a garage.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, the lake coming into view perfectly as if to put on a show.  Hues of orange painted the sky, birds chirping and squawking as they announced the arrival of a new day.  An apricot dream accompanied by peachy tones.  

–

The Bourbon was a shell of itself at 5:00 AM.  The morning was bright and early though the bar wasn’t ready to awaken just yet, not until the evening when it thrived.  Until then, it slept peacefully throughout the day, forgotten about until Happy Hour.  Ribbons of light snuck in through the blinds, illuminating the smallest sections of the tables and the floorboards.  

The lights quickly took over that magical early morning feel as Eddie emerged next to you, hands tucked into his pockets while you scanned the room.  And there they were, your keys.  Sat right on top of the bar just as you had remembered.  Your jacket, however, was nowhere to be seen.  

Bummer.

You could’ve sworn you grabbed it from the back lockers before you declared war on Eddie last night.  It wasn’t there either, your locker devoid of your belongings other than a pad of paper and a pen.  

“Have you seen my jacket?”  You ask Eddie, checking the barstools just to be safe.  Nothing.

He had slipped right back into work mode, even at the crack of dawn.  You suppose it's fair though, the information he had shared with you in the quietest hours of the morning resonating in your mind.  Work never stopped for him.  

“Hm?  No, I haven’t seen it.”  He answers, collecting the dirty rags from their designated bin behind the bar to start them up in the wash.

With a soft pout, you trace your steps in your head but can’t seem to recall where you’d left it, your brain failing you.  Maybe it would eventually pop up again, it wasn’t anything special anyway.  It just happened to be one of the heaviest jackets you owned so you would have to remember to stop by one of the shops to search for something equivalent.  Beginning to pull your arm out of the sleeve of the jacket you currently wore, Eddie’s voice stops you.

“Just–keep it ‘til you find yours.”  He says.  Like he knew.  

Were you that obvious?  Girl moves to a random town miles and miles away from home only to be unprepared for the weather conditions in which you would think she would be aware of before committing.

“No, it’s–”

You immediately shut up when you see his expression, something that says ‘for the love of god, just listen’ with glaring eyes and furrowed brows.  Instead of fighting him on it, you offer your gratitude in the form of labor.

“Um, I could stick around…and help.  If you need.”  

Your words float in the air, so delicate it makes him want to vomit; not out of disgust but out of confusion for whatever feeling was swirling around in his head, making him dizzy.  Each word was too sweet, cavity inducing sweetness that he wanted to lick up like icing.  He wasn’t used to being presented with such regard, a candied offer delivered right from your pretty lips to his ears.

“If I still have a job.”  You add.  Sugary syllables pouring from your lips unintentionally.  He may have a heart attack from the amount of sugar.

Eddie collects himself, clears his throat as if to also clear his conscience, not succeeding.  You’re so unlike everything that he knows.  He knows of friendly conversation and boyish banter, endless nights followed by endless days without sleep, he knows of his shitty attitude that comes around more often than not, but he’s never been one to know pure kindness, a certain tenderness radiating from you and seeping into him.  Sure people are kind to him, especially here.  But you’re something else.

“Yeah.  Yeah, ‘course you have a job.”  He affirms.  

The small smile you grace him with makes him want to jump off of a bridge.  Because he is such a cruel being, such a monstrous man awaiting further punishment from the universe for being much less than gentle with such a sweet-tempered, sympathetic human that may even be a gift from god himself if Eddie believed in all that.  

And then Chrissy crossed his mind.  He could not endure another loss.  Chrissy was never even his but he used to mourn what could have been had she lived.  Perhaps she was his first love.  A miserable little middle schooler pining after Hawkin’s Sweetheart all the way up until highschool.  And the moment he got close enough, she was gone, right in front of his poor traumatized eyes.  It was enough for him to swear off love for good.

For some reason he was finding himself wanting to dial back on that promise.  He had only known you for around two weeks and was going back on his own word.  It was freaking him out, making him want to yank his hair out from the roots and collapse onto the floor.  He felt like a teenage boy again, going through puberty and trying to work out all of his jumbled feelings and hormones.

You were staring at him expectantly and it was only then that he realized he had been lost in thought.  A pool of thoughts actually.  Maybe even having a revelation?  

“You can uh…”  He clears his throat, nearly hacking up a lung.  “You haven’t…you haven’t eaten, have you?”  

Internally, he’s scolding himself.  

You’re gonna get hurt before you can even get close.  People are not meant to love you, Munson.  It’s been proven time and time again.  Quit while you’re ahead.

He was too far ahead anyway.  Would he ever learn his lesson?  

People are not meant to love you.

“No.”  You answer sheepishly.  “But I-I’m fine!”  You try to say convincingly.  The reality was that your stomach was swallowing itself, the fact that your dinner had been four tequila shots was not favoring you.  

“Bambi.”  Eddie says sternly.

God she’s gorgeous.

He was fucked.

“Okay…fine.  I haven’t eaten.”  You admit.  “But I can help out a little and then–”

“C’mon.”  He demands, abandoning the bin of dirty rags to head for the kitchen.  

And on the way, he reasons with himself as you follow.

Just be friendly.  There’s nothing wrong with being friendly.  We can be friends.  Stop scaring the shit out of yourself.  She wouldn’t even like you beyond that.  No one would.  

“So, what are you feelin’?”  He asks, knocking his knuckles against the metal worktop.

“Oh, I-I don’t know.  Whatever is easiest.  You know what, I can just go get something from one of the shops, I’m sure that little pancake place is open by now.”

“You don’t trust my cooking?”  He jokes, amusement written all over his face.

To be fair, he hadn’t given you much reason to trust him since you arrived.  But somehow, layers were starting to peel back and you were getting the tiniest glimpses of his true self.  And you’d be stupid not to indulge when he had practically propped the door to his mind right open.  At least for the time being.

“Should I?”  There’s a huge grin on your face, a stupid grin that you try to conceal but can’t.  “I dunno, you kind of have me wondering if you’re gonna spit in my food or something.”  You quip.

“Ouch.”  Eddie feigns hurt by bringing a hand to his chest.  “You think I’m that scummy?”  He asks, raising his brow playfully.

“Oh, the scummiest.”  You banter back.

“You’re breakin’ my heart Bambi.”  He frowns before disappearing into the walk-in freezer, discarding his leather jacket on a hook on his way.

Truth be told he was breaking yours too, with his handsome face and his dumb smile, deep dimples you could think about for hours, and those eyes.  They told a story, a tragic story that maybe he would never care to share.  And that’s what broke your heart.  Suffering in silence.  You knew that feeling all too well.

“By the way…”  Eddie shouts from the freezer before appearing once again.  “I’m Eddie.”  He sticks his hand out toward you, two eggs held in his free hand.  

You look up at him, bewildered.  

“I never asked for your name.”  He reminds you with a shit-eating grin.

The Eddie you met weeks ago was gone as far as you were concerned.  All within a few hours, he seemed to warm up to you.

The scary dog was rolling over…for you.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

[elastijubilee]

2024:

Beauty and the Beast (1946, French foreign language)

The Color Purple (2023)

Time Bandits (1981)

Mean Girls (2024)

Repulsion (1965)

The Uninvited (1944)

Rumble Fish (1983)

Alien (1979)

A Brighter Summer Day (1991, Taiwanese foreign language)

Tess (1979)

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975)

Aliens (1986)

Idiocracy (2006)

Looker (1981)

Alien 3 (1992)

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024)

Inside Out 2 (2024)

Super Capers (2011)

Deadpool and Wolverine (2024)

Twisters (2024)

Westworld (1973)

Borderlands (2024)

The Magnificent Seven (1960)

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)

Shocker (1989)

Trick or Treat (1986)

Jaws (1975)

The Wild Robot (2024)

The Thing (1982)

Alien Resurrection (1997)

Late Night with the Devil (2023)

Jennifer's Body (2009)

Muppets Haunted Mansion (2021)

Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

Heretic (2024)

Anora (2024)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, I decided in 2019 to keep track of every movie I'd watched for the first time each year moving forward. This year has been my biggest year!

Movies I watched for the first time in 2023:

Glass Onion (2022)

X (2022)

Pearl (2022)

The Witch (2015)

Fright Night (2011)

The Lighthouse (2019)

Knock at the Cabin (2023)

The Northman (2022)

Hereditary (2018)

Midsommar (2019)

Men (2022)

Saint Maude (2020)

The Wolfman (1941)

Psycho (1960)

The Birds (1963)

Vertigo (1958)

Psycho (1998)

Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 (2023)

Suspiria (2018)

Rosemary's Baby (2014 made-for-tv 2-parter)

Poltergeist (2015)

Shazam! Fury of the Gods (2023)

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge (1985)

ANOES 3: Dream Warriors (1987)

ANOES 4: The Dream Master (1988)

ANOES 5: The Dream Child (1989)

Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare (1991)

Wes Craven's New Nightmare (1994)

A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010)

Freddy vs. Jason (2003)

Friday the 13th (1980)

It Follows (2014)

The Flash (2023)

Oppenheimer (2023)

The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023)

The Little Mermaid (2023)

The Red Shoes (1948)

Rebel Without a Cause (1955)

The Blob (1988)

Paint (2023)

Mafia Mama (2023)

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

Uncut Gems (2019)

The Green Knight (2019)

The Last Airbender (2010)

The Dark Crystal (1982)

The Fog (1980)

They Live (1988)

Office Space (1999)

Fifty Shades Freed (2018)

Teen Titans Go to the Movies (2018)

John Wick Ch. 1 (2014)

Super Mario Bros (2023)

Muppets From Space (1999)

Scream 6 (2023)

12 Monkeys (1995)

Bottoms (2023)

Five Nights at Freddy's (2023)

The Craft (1996, fully through)

I Married a Witch (1942)

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964, French foreign language)

Friday the 13th, Part 2 (1981)

Barbie (2023)

The Boy and the Heron (2023)

The Color Purple (1985)

Violent Night (2022)

The Stepford Wives (1975)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2022:

Staten Island Summer (2015)

Nobody's Child (1986)

This is Spinal Tap (1984)

Shawn of the Dead (2004)

The Wiz (1978)

Phantom of the Paradise (1974)

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (2021)

Licorice Pizza (2021)

Fifty Shades of Gray (2015)

Fifty Shades Darker (2017)

Cyrano (2021)

The King and I (1956)

Carrie (2013)

Carrie (2002, made-for-tv)

The Batman (2022)

Firestarter (1984)

Frozen 2 (2019)

The Fury (1978)

Firestarter (2022)

The Rage: Carrie 2 (1999)

The Bob's Burgers Movie (2022)

The Deadzone (1983)

Sparring Partner (2022, short)

My Fair Lady (1964)

The Untouchables (1987)

Singin' in the Rain (1952)

The Black Phone (2022)

Barbarian (2022)

Nope (2022)

Flashdance (1983)

Crimes of the Heart (1987)

Don't Worry Darling (2022)

The Exorcist (1973)

Child's Play (1988)

Scream 3 (2003)

Scream 5 (2022)

The Fablemans (2022)

Halloween (1978)

Black Panther (2018)

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022)

Thor: Love and Thunder (2022)

Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness (2022)

Return to Oz (1985)

Newsies (1992)

National Lampoon's European Vacation (1985)

National Lampoon's Las Vegas Vacation (1997)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2021:

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi (1983)

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)

X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016)

Dark Phoenix (2019)

X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)

The Wolverine (2013)

Logan (2017)

Deadpool (2016)

Deadpool 2 (2018)

Watchmen (2009)

Wonder Woman (2017)

Aquaman (2018)

Shazam! (2019)

X-Men: New Mutants (2020)

Cruella (2021)

Space Jam: A New Legacy (2021)

The Suicide Squad (2021)

Reminiscence (2021)

My Hero Academia: Heroes: Rising (2019)

My Hero Academia: Two Heroes (2018)

My Hero Academia: World Heroes' Mission (2021)

Dune (2021)

Poltergeist (1982)

The Babadook (2014)

A Silent Voice (2016)

Rockdog (2016)

Rockdog 2: Rock Around the Park (2021)

Lion King (2019)

Terminator (1984)

Hot Fuzz (2007)

West Side Story (2021)

Spiderman: Homecoming (2017)

Spiderman: Far From Home (2019)

Spiderman: No Way Home (2021)

Looper (2012)

Brick (2005)

Back to the Future Part II (1989)

Back to the Future Part III (1990)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2020:

Mr. Mom (1983)

Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Pretty Baby (1978)

Private Benjamin (1980)

The Color of Pomegranates (1969, foreign language)

Only Angels Have Wings (1939)

Cunningham (2020, documentary)

And Then We Danced (2019, Georgian foreign language)

The Young Girls of Rochetfort (1967, French foreign language)

Love on a Leash (2011)

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (1999, fully through)

Star Wars: Attack of the Clones (2002, fully through)

Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992)

Blazing Saddles (1974)

The Producers (1967)

Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog (2007)

Death Becomes Her (1992)

Captain Underpants (2017)

X-Men (2000, fully through)

X-Men 2 (2003)

Dust in the Wind (1986)

Phantasm (1978)

The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)

I Eat Your Flesh (1971)

Serenity (2005)

Juice (2017, short, Indian foreign language)

Earth (1998, Indian foreign language)

Protocol (1984)

Voices Within: The Many Lives of Trudy Chase (1990, 4 hr full version)

Clue (1985)

Unleashed (2016)

Fright Night (1985)

Moll Flanders (1996, BBC 2-parter)

Parasite (2019)

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (2010)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2019:

Irreconcilable Differences (1984)

The Brady Bunch Movie (1995)

A Very Brady Sequel (1996)

Frozen Assets (1992)

Knives Out (2019)

Doctor Sleep (2019)

Santa Claus With Muscles (1996)

Jack Frost (1997, dog sh*t horror)

Home (?, Indian foreign language film)

The Greatest Showman (2017)

Pinjar (2003, Indian foreign language)

Interstellar (2014)

Shock and Censorship (1993)

The Witches of Eastwick (1987)

Beetlejuice (1988)

Gypsy (1962)

The Shape of Water (2017)

The Favorite (2018)

A Small Circle of Friends (1980)

A League of Their Own (1992)

Shock Treatment (1981)

Empire of the Sun (1987)

[faegoddessog]

  Fantasy Come True  Ch 6/8

Chapter  6 : Chef Austin

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, fingering, PiV (unprotected, play safe people) , cum swallowing (f receiving), possession, sexy food play,

Series Summary: Breaking into the acting world has been a life long dream. It's been tough, plus your relationship with you partner has some struggles, but who doesn't have struggles. A new guy shows up to your improv classes who seems strangely familiar. He seems rather interested in you and you feel unusually comfortable around him, like he projects calm and reassurance. Once you realize who he really is, and what he really likes... it's game on. 

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.A/N: This little gem is per request for the lovely and talented @purejasmine . It's been a collaborative project designed to meet her every Austin need as best I can. Here's to you darling! <clink> I hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed the creative process with parameters not wholly my own!!

Here is the Masterlist of this series.

Chapter 6: Chef Austin

You had never in your life, had a better night’s sleep. It might be from the deep relaxation afforded to you by all the orgasms, or it might be because you were in Austin’s arms. You suspect either would be a delicious solution to your sleep problems, the combo is like a one-two punch to that fucking anxiety that usually keeps you awake. 

You are dreaming about Austin’s hands between your legs, gently prying them apart. His fingers gently probing. You hear his growly morning voice over your shoulder murmuring something about, ‘that just won’t do.’

You figure that Dream Austin is talking about the sad state of the banana tree in the corner, due to the purple monkey that lived in it. Dreadfully sad little thing. 

You feel some movement behind you, and the covers shift. You breathe deep, then you feel something much bigger than a hand between your legs. Something soft,  like velvet, is touching your labia. It feels so deliciously nice, you open your legs further. You’ve  never been this lucid in a dream before. Your hands reach down and wind your fingers into locks of hair. You assume it’s Dream Austin, who else has been invited  for such intimate contact? Your hips rock up, encouraging him to go deeper.

You hear a groan, it’s yours, you realize, as you slowly rise up from your dream. You also realize that there really is a head between your thighs, there is a tongue slowly lapping at your labia, like knocking gently at the door to be let in. You are slightly confused, your partner NEVER would wake you up this way. You crack your eyes and it all comes flooding back to you in the morning light. This actually IS Austin’s bedroom, there is NO banana tree (you quickly check) and it really is YOUR Austin  beneath the covers and between your thighs. 

“Oh my, Austin,”  you moan out in a husky voice as his fingers spread your labia gently. 

His soft, wet tongue barely touches your clit, making you clench. 

Only just consciously registering what is happening,  you feel tingles of blood rushing to your vagina, a sure sign that Austin is about to get a mouthful of your juices. 

He reaches in with his tongue, massaging your inner labia. He is so tender and soft, gently waking you up, perhaps worried you might be sore from all his attentions last night. Then you feel the fullness of this tongue, not pressed hard, but wet and wide. He licks a stripe up your pussy, leaving a trail of spit. There are minty tingles that tell you he must have snuck out and brushed his teeth before crawling under the covers. 

You feel a series of long licks; one side, then the other, then the middle. All ending with his mouth closing around your clit in light suction again and again. Over and over you feel that full luscious bottom lip of his hounding his lapping tongue, curling in as it closes around your quickly engorging clit.

All your inhales are long gasps. You lightly fist your fingers into his hair as your hips push forward encouragingly.  You feel the intrusion of one digit pushing in between your now wet folds. He goes slow, as his tongue draws lazy  circles around your clit. Unable to watch him, you close your eyes and savor every second, every sensation. 

All your exhales are soft ‘ohs’ and breathy ‘ahs’ that fill the otherwise quiet room as he draws his finger in and out of you. He pulls his finger out and spreads your wetness over your lips and clit.

“Mmmmm,” you hear softly from under covers. Then he presses in again, his mouth greedy against your lips and clit. A longer, deeper ‘MMMMMM’ of pleasure vibrates to your core  as he gets more of you to taste. 

As if the flow of your juices were the mightiest aphrodisiac, he submerges his face into your wet cunt with a growl.  Nose pressed against your mound, mouth sucking harder on your clit, tongue flicking up and down, finger curling as he fucks you with it. It is clear that this morning wake up call is as much for his pleasure as it is for yours.

“Oh god,” you whisper and curl up just a bit. 

What was gentle, pleasant  swells of sensation are suddenly amped up to a piercing, passionate rush. Shards of pleasure pierce through your clit and into your vagina, making you moan and tighten on his finger. Which, you just realized, is two fingers now, curling up as though to meet his tongue through your flesh and bone. He isn’t doing the classic ‘finger fuck’ pumping in and out, he is rubbing his finger tips back and forth against your g-spot. He sucks, he flicks, he rubs, he moans, again, and again, and again.  The suction, his tongue, his fingers. Oh… holy… mother… of…

“Austin! I’m… I’m… “ you start, but can’t finish as levee cracks and breaks. Your hips are shaking against his face and on his hand, making his actions that much more intense. His left arm dives under your right leg, clamping down to keep you to him as your body jolts in orgasm . He wants to ride out your pleasure immersed in your pussy. He devours you, lapping up every drop of your juices. 

Your mouth is dry from all the panting as he slows to a stop. You reach over and snag the  ⅓ full bottle of water from the bedside table, draining it. He crawls up your body, emerging from the covers with a sloppy face and wild hair licking his lips like a cat that’s gotten into the cream.

“Good Morning Bunny,” he says with a wicked looking grin. 

You pull him in for a kiss before remembering you haven’t brushed your teeth.  He apparently doesn't care one iota as he kisses you deep. You taste salty on his tongue. 

He pulls back far enough to look at you.

“Clean these for me Princess.” he presses his two fingers that he had inside of you past your lips. You grab his hand so he doesn't go too far, although you’ve talked about your sensitive gag reflex to him at least once. You suck his fingers to the second knuckle. 

“Yes, suck them sweetheart,” He watches his fingers glide into your mouth, feels the soft plush of your tongue rubbing back and forth over the pads of his fingers. His hips press into yours, His hard dick lying against your still wet pussy. His tip nudges against your clit as he automatically  pulses against you. You inhale through your nose, mewling around his fingers. 

“That’s going to be my cock in a few minutes sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear.

You look up at him, eyes wide. 

“Yes, I know you have a bad gag reflex, but I want to cum in that mouth, I want to make it mine.” 

Your eyelids flutter and you moan around his fingers as you nod. You want all of you to belong to Austin, even if he takes you in pieces. 

You shift your hips, wanting him inside you. You reach between you and push him towards your opening and urge your hips forward to engulf at least his tip. 

“Oh god” he moans into your ear as he presses deep into you. A smile spreads around his fingers. You love knowing that you can make him moan like that. That he is just as turned on by you as you are by him. 

Your hips chase the movement of his cock in and out of you. Your tongue chases the movement of his fingers. His mouth is latched to your neck, biting and sucking. FUCK it’s amazing.

He is forgetting himself in your pussy, groaning softly, his free hand gripping your shoulder. You won’t stop him. Yes you want his cum in your mouth, but he’s so delicious in your pussy right now.

“Oh no you don’t, Angel,” he says  pulling out, “naughty girl, trying to enthrall me with your beautiful, tight cunt.” He shivers just a bit. “Bring that mouth over here, I want you on your knees.” He pushes up off you and stands at the side of the bed. You toss a pillow onto the floor at his feet and reach to take the elastics out of your hair now that you are awake.

“No,” he grabs your hands to stop you, “leave them,” he says softly with a smile. 

On your knees in front of him you see nothing but his muscular thighs and his gorgeous, wet cockstand. You’ve never really been one to need fellatio, but find yourself salivating and licking your lips nonetheless. It IS Austin, after all. 

“I’m not that experienced with this, so don’t be afraid to tell me what to do.” you say, a little apprehensive. 

“It's okay my sweet Bunny, I got you,” he says reassuringly, leaning down to kiss you lovingly. Holding your head in his hands, he looks you right in the eye, “Open that mouth Angel, stick out your tongue,” his voice is deep with desire. 

He lays his tip on your tongue, then grabs your hand and wraps it around his shaft, ”Take it as deep or not as you want.  But I need lots of spit, it has to be really wet and be mindful of your teeth. I’m in your hands hunny so don’t hold back because I won’t be. But you have to swallow every last drop when I cum, do you understand?” 

You nod, closing around his tip and gently sucking. His breath comes in sharp and out with a soft moan. For the third time this morning, you taste yourself on a part of him. It makes you moan to know that his mouth, his finger and his cock taste like you. It’s like you are marking him as your own even as he is claiming you.  

Then you pull him away and explore him with your wet lips. Dribbling saliva along his shaft and spreading it with your tongue.  Licking and making him as wet as you can.

“That’s good, my Princess, use that sweet, slutty tongue,” his eyes narrow, his moan low in his throat as he watches you explore him. 

You pull his cock up and, starting at his balls, lick up the bottom of his shaft. You swirl your tongue around his tip, savoring the soft skin, sucking it into your mouth just a bit.  Although you are worried about gagging,  taking his tip seems to be just fine.

You decide your hands are going to be invaluable here. One holding close to his body, the other glides in your saliva, twisting and pulling. You move up and down on just his tip with your mouth in time with your hand. Your tongue undulates against him. 

You can hear him groaning above you. 

“That’s my good girl, just like that, don’t stop,” his voice alone makes your juices start to drip out from between your legs. Good lord, how does this man make you so hot?

You look up at him, his hands are wrapped behind his neck and he is watching his tip slip in and out. You let spit leak out between your red lips. 

“Oh hoh hoh,” he intones, “God you are beautiful, even more so with my dick in your mouth and those lips wrapped around my cock.” 

His words are so hot. Your hand is gently massaging his balls. You settle into a rhythm of stroke, twist, suck, stroke, twist suck. Your mouth sliding back and forth and sucking, bobbing your head in time with your strokes. You feel his balls start to pull tight to his body. 

“Suck it, Angel, suck that cum out. Make your mouth mine honey,” he moans out, hips pulsing just a little.

If only you could tell him that his is all you want to be. Forever.  

“Oh fuck yes, I’m gonna cum down your pretty throat,” he is grunting in pleasure.

“On one, my Angel.” He wraps your bunny ears around his fist. It’s not tight at all, but enough that you can't get away from him.

“Five,” his hips are pulsing his cock through your hand and into your mouth.

“Four,” through clenched teeth.

“Three,” you moan around his cock, your inner thighs wet with your juices.

“Two, oh god  oh god,” it’s like he is holding back. 

“W- W- W- wuuuuuuuunnnn!!!!” The number word comes out tortured. 

Then hot cum is on your tongue, you are slurping it up, sucking and swallowing it. You seal your lips over his head, making sure none of it escapes. You lap your tongue on his underside, milking him. Every. Last. Drop. 

He pulls his hips away, keeping his hand wrapped in your hair. “Open darling, show me,” he says softly, gently tilting your head back.

Licking your lips, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. He leans down to look, then presses his mouth to yours, tongue diving deep like he wants to taste himself. 

”That’s my good girl, my sweet Angel. Your dirty little mouth is mine Princess, all mine,” he mumbles against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours.

He kisses you lightly and helps you stand up. He wraps you in his arms, hugging you tight and petting your hair. 

“What do you want for the rest of breakfast darling?” he says with a sly smile.

You answer him by pushing his hand between your legs. His eyebrow shoots up when he feels how wet you are. 

“I need you first, Austin.” you say breathlessly as his fingers find home in you. 

“Yes ma’am, of course,” he smiles that almost impish happy boy smile. As his fingers slide in, his thumb slips to your clit.  “How do you want it? Hard and fast or slow and gentle.” he whispers into your ear, then kisses down your neck.

“Ohh” you moan, your eyelids trembling, “hard and fast” you say with an involuntary whine. You are not even sure what is coming out of your mouth. His eyelids tighten, a low growl issues from his chest. 

Suddenly you are spun around and your back is slammed against the wall, Austin’s fingers diving deep. His mouth is sealed to yours, his fingers plunging squishily into your sopping pussy.  It’s like riding a rocket. You hold on to his neck as his whole arm is shaking up and down, his palm thumping into your mons with wet slapping sounds. You are moaning into his mouth as he keeps kissing you greedily. Little drops of your juices are splashing against your inner legs and onto his forearm. 

He pulls off your mouth pressing his forehead to yours. Your eyes are rolling back into your head. You’ve never felt this before, this deep of a rising tide. Then he starts flipping his fingers inside you. Your whole body starts shaking, you can’t tell if it's from his movement or your own pleasure. Your legs start to give out. His free arm wraps around your waist, his body pinning you to the wall. 

“That’s it baby, ride it out,” his voice is like whiskey and honey poured over ice cream. 

“Oh my GOD!, ‘m so close!” you start chanting,”justlikethat, justlikethat, don’tstop, don’tstop, don'tstop!”

“Oh my Princess,  I’m not stopping until you fall apart,” his voice growls shakily into your ear. He keeps up his pummeling of your pussy as you slip your right fingers down to play with your clit.

“Yes my Princess get it,” he pulls back, sucking his bottom lip under his top teeth as he watches you in pleasure. “You are so fucking gorgeous, I want you like his forever, always cumming on my fingers, in my mouth, on my cock.”

“OH HOLY  FFFUUUUGHGHG!” His words about forever shove you over the edge. Your left hand is clutching onto his muscular shoulder as you thrash against his body. Words are completely lost to you as you scream into the morning. It’s the fastest and the wettest you have ever had an orgasm. It’s wild. 

Austin looks quite pleased with himself as he watches you as he mutters things like “Yes, hunny, that’s it my sweetheart. You are so unbelievably amazing.” His fingers are still inside you, palm rubbing  deep circles on your mons, making you quake and shiver. 

“Let's get you cleaned up, your legs are streaked.” He kisses you gently, helping you stand on your own feet and leads you to the shower. 

….

“Let’s see what’s in here,” Austin’s head is in the fridge, “not breakfast-y eh…” he is perusing the contents, trying to make you something for breakfast. You are sitting at his island in your panties and bra with a cup of organic Kona coffee with oat milk, and another of green tea  watching him rummage in his underwear. You cannot remember being this relaxed, ever. 

“I have some steak in here and some berries and cherries and a mango that really needs to get eaten.” He is setting things on the island, “oh and some asparagus and mushrooms. Scallops?” His head pops up holding a package of the large white rounds.  You nod your head. 

“Is bacon too breakfast-y? I love me some bacon!” 

“I like all those things, and whatever else your talented and gorgeous hands want to feed me,” you smile at him from across the island, chin resting on your hands. 

“I don’t know, your slutty tastebuds are kinda intimidating,” he jokes, tying a dark blue duck cloth apron

“Precisely, they are slutty, yet discerning, but not picky, I’ll try anything.  Plus, my mouth is yours now so…. ” you quip back. He shoots you that one-of-a-kind shy Austin Butler smile over his shoulder. Your insides quiver. 

He heats up two pans, one with butter on medium and one with avocado oil on high and a baking pan lined with aluminum foil.  He washes all the produce and opens a package of nitrate-free, thick cut bacon, laying the strips out on the baking pan. 

“Crispy or floppy,  Princess?” he asks, putting the pan into the oven. 

“Oh floppy one hundred percent,” you say. 

“That’s not what you asked for earlier this morning,” a slow smile spreads across his face. 

You purse your lips and shake your head, before you both start laughing. 

He pats the scallops and the steak with paper towels and seasons them with salt and pepper.  He puts the steak into the sizzling avocado oil.

“You like steak rare, right sweetheart?” he asks, and sets the timer on his watch.

You don’t remember telling him this, but you nod. 

You didn’t think he could get anymore appealing, but watching him move gracefully around his kitchen making you and your slutty tastebuds breakfast with barely anything on is making you wonder if you should have bought an extra, extra pair of panties 

You watch him expertly slice the mushrooms, the shallot, and quarter some grape tomatoes. He flips the steak and sautés the shallots in the butter before he tips in the mushrooms. He preps the thin asparagus and hulls the berries. He shakes the pan of mushrooms off and on and takes out the steaks when his timer goes off, setting them to rest on a plate. He pours a little more avocado oil and sets the pan to get hot again. 

He dips a juicy strawberry in some yogurt and offers it to your mouth, leaning across the island. You lick the yogurt like it was cum from the tip and suck the the berry from his fingers.  You smile as you eat the strawberry, the tangy zing of the yogurt a perfect complement to the fresh berry flavor. He licks a little yogurt from his finger that you missed. 

“Sexy,” is all he replies, biting his bottom lip. 

“Yes you are,” you say, licking your lips.

You are too enthralled by him as he cooks for you to make much small talk. He hums a tune as he flips the mushrooms several times, catching them in the pan. His biceps flex with every toss. He turns around, unknowingly showing off his naked back, to pull garlic out of the pantry. He smashes, peels and dices it and adds it to the veggie mix, his dexterous fingers moving fast. He lays the asparagus on top of the mushrooms and adds a lid so they can steam. 

Finally the scallops go into the pan and the timer starts.

He puts the plain yogurt in a bowl with the berries and cherries on a plate around the base. He flips the scallops with tongs when the timer goes off, then adds butter to the mix. Then  he slides the veggies gently onto a big plate. He tops it with slices of rare steak. He adds the fresh tomatoes to the top. He sprinkles it with a pinch of finishing salt and a grind of pepper.  He places the perfectly browned scallops gently around one edge and chewy bacon around the other.  He wordlessly pushes the plate across the island with two forks.

He watches you intently as you taste each item separately.  

You start with the steak. It’s very rare and barely warm. Austin cut it thin, so you can't tell what it was.

“What cut is this?” you ask. 

“It’s a filet mignon, brought it home from Gwen’s when I knew you were staying over, just in case,” his shy little boy smile heats up your core while melting your heart. 

You chew it lightly with your eyes closed. You take a second bite and a moan escapes you. “Oh lord, it's so tender and delicious, it almost falls apart on my tongue.” 

The asparagus is good, still crisp and flavorful. The tomatoes are good, clearly never stored in a refrigerator and picked at the peak of ripeness. You’ll eat these things because they are healthy and good for you. 

The bacon is perfectly cooked and chewy in your mouth. “Mmmm... so good, perfectly salty and creamy. Plus, who doesn’t like bacon? I’m not sure I could trust people who don’t like bacon,” you jest.

“A couple of my ex’s wouldn’t eat bacon,” he shrugs, “but I think bacon is good for the soul.” 

The mushrooms are delicious, just a hint of shallot and garlic. You close your eyes again and nod. Your tongue works the second bite, caressing the mushroom to the top of your mouth. “Yes, these are perfect! Buttery and nutty in perfect umami balance.” 

You saved the scallops for last. They seem rather promising as your fork cuts through it like butter. You place it in your mouth. Your eyes close as the light, fresh sea flavor flows over your tongue like a wave. You take another bite, closing your eyes again and tilting your head back. “MMM,” you moan lightly, “ Oh god Austin, it’s incredible,  so delicate and sweet and just melts in my mouth.” On the word ‘melts’ your eyelids involuntarily flutter. “Damn Austin, I didn’t know you could cook like THIS. You really could be a chef!”

“Thank you hunny,” he puts a mushroom in his mouth, “it’s crossed my mind a time or two as something to fall back on if acting doesn’t work out,” he leans over to you and lightly kisses your mouth and looks you in the eye pointedly. ”It’s something I like doing for people I care deeply about.” He smiles and winks.

“Well I think acting has um… worked out, darling,” you giggle, “and you could still do it though, invest in a restaurant. I bet it’d be a huge hit.” 

He shrugs, “Maybe someday, but one thing at a time, I figure.”

Once he is satisfied that you like what he has made for you. He hangs his apron up and sits with you at the island. 

You both eat off the same plate, he feeds you asparagus and steak, you feed him scallops and mushrooms. You finish the plate, feeding each other tidbits off your fork and fingers. You giggle at how your mirror neurons fire, making you open your mouths as you feed one another, like feeding babies. You revel in sucking the yogurt off of the berries before you eat them. The sexual tension slowly rises as you nourish yourselves. You are sure there will be a puddle under you, thankfully the stool is covered in leather. 

“Oh crap! I forgot the mango!” he says after he feeds you the last of the scallops. He stands and goes to cut up the mango and you stop him. 

“Let me show you how my friend eats them, she’s so sexy.”  You pull up a video. Your friend has a half mango cut into diamonds and flipped inside out. She proceeds to lick and slurp in the channel between the diamonds, like it’s a pussy, sucking bits in like they are a clit. Mango juice is running all over her face and down her hands.

“Wow, your friend goes hard on those mangoes, hope she gets consent first,” he laughs, “you want to try it?” 

You nod excited. Your partner would hate the mess and the sounds, so you never showed it to him or suggested it.

He cuts them and turns them inside out. He hands you one and you bump them together in a pseudo ‘cheers’. You tentatively lick and nibble the flesh of the fruit. It’s juicy and sweet and perfectly creamy. Then you hear him.

You look up at Austin. The hint of a smile falls off your face when you see him,  eyes closed and tongue deep in his mango. You watch him lick it with wet slurping sounds, like it’s your pussy. He holds it in one hand, as he closes his mouth around the nubs of fruit and sucks them off with wet kissing noises.  Your mouth drops open just a little, your own fruit forgotten in your hand as he moans softly, diving in for more. His other hand has drifted to the growing bulge in his lap. Your breath puffs out of your mouth as your core tightens. The orange juice is dripping over his chin and onto his bare chest. 

He looks up at you after devouring his half. He smiles with a twitching eyebrow, licking the mango juice from his fingers. 

“Fuck me, you are sexy,” you breathe. 

“Alright,” he smiles mischievously. Without wiping the mango off his face pulls you in for a wet kiss. 

For as long as you live, and probably beyond, you will never eat a mango again without thinking of this moment. He tastes juicy and sweet, with a hint of buttery-ness and tang underneath. Your half of the mango falls to the wooden surface of the island as you wrap your arms around his neck. He flings the skin of his mango into the sink without looking, leaning over your body, arms around your back. Your bra finds it’s way to the floor as he stands up, taking you with him. You can feel his hard bulge through the teal blue fabric of his underwear pressing on your belly. He pushes your wet panties off and onto the floor. Kicking them over near your bra.  

You grab his hand and catch an errant  drip of mango juice with your tongue as it starts to trail down his wrist.  You lean into his chest, your tongue chasing the trails there, ending at one of his nipples. You take a chance and suck.  He grabs your head, pulling you to him, breath seething in through clenched teeth. You feel his cock bounce in the confines of his underwear. Clearly your chance is paying off. 

He tilts your head up to look at him. No words are said, only the intensity of his gaze communicates his need. The same need you feel too. 

His mouth latches to yours, flavors of the non-breakfast-y breakfast intermingling with the mango. Your hands slide under the fabric  and onto the round curve of his ass. Pulling him to you, digging your fingertips in. He moans into your mouth as your hips push into his. 

What was merely wet before, is now leaking onto your inner thighs. You glide your hands under the waistband, around to his stomach. He tightens his abdominals, perhaps a little ticklish. You brush your fingers along the outlines of his rectus abdominis then reach a hand inside and grasp his shaft. His head tilts back and he moans. You can’t help but smile a little evilly.  

“Oh Princess, I fuckin’ need you,” his hands wrap under your ass. Your free hand pushing on the counter behind you to help, Austin lifts you onto the edge of the warm walnut island. One foot on either stool, your legs splay open to him. The fingers of his clean hand wrap around the crease of your hip. The pad of his thumb rubbing up, spreading juices from your pussy lips to the hood of your clit. It makes you inhale sharply just before his mouth closes again over yours. His tongue rolls against yours, his lush bottom lip drags over yours. You catch it lightly, in your teeth, sucking it before letting it slip from between your lips. “Do you think you are wet enough?” he murmurs into your ear, “I need to be inside you.” 

You nod, leaning back just a little. He spreads your inner lips apart with his thumb and forefinger. The light stretch sends tingles to your clit that shoot into your core. You gasp. He looks at you from under his long eyelashes, his lip curling, tongue grazing the edges of his top teeth. Holy fuck he is unbearably hot. 

“Please,” you moan, pussy clenching. You aren’t sure what you are begging for exactly, just that you want him, you need him.

“Oh yes, beautiful,” he puffs out with an anticipatory nod. 

He guides the head of his cock up and down between your wet folds, a deep “oh-hoh-hoh” rumbling in his chest.

Your expiration is a little murmur of a moan. Oh god, you know this will be good as you lean back a little. 

Slowly he pushes his hips toward you. Your eyes roll back in your head as your hips tilt forward. His big cock gloriously stretches your tight pussy. Luckily, you already had him in you once today. Wait, was that just this morning?  Plus, and you don’t know how Austin does this to you every fucking time, but you are so ridiculously wet. 

“Oh -my- fucking - god,” he moans, his eyes half closed, focusing on the sensation of your warm, tight wetness. He pushes until he is deep in you and stops with a shaky breath. He wraps his big hand around the back of your neck and pulls you to him for a deep, passionate kiss. 

As his mouth is locked with yours, just his hips rock back slowly as the rest of his torso says still. You feel every inch of him sliding out, then in again as his abs tighten. Deep breaths flow in and out of his nose, rippling along your cheeks as his tongue teases you. He closes the kiss, sucking, only to open it again, needy for more. His little moans are reflected in your own, both hushed in the depths of the kissing. 

His hands roam your figure, your skin flaming at his touch as he takes you slow for a while. In and out, in and out, his cock and tongue, mimics of one another. 

Time stops having meaning as you are fully captivated by Austin; by his mouth, by his hands, by his hardness sliding inside you. 

His thumb has found its way to your clit, pulling your juices up from around his throbbing cock, and rubbing circles around your nub. His pace and breathing increase, although his kissing does not. Your soft moans become short breathy pants of pleasure and whining little ‘oh’s against his mouth. Your hands are gripping the edge of the counter. 

He smiles against your mouth, knowing your tells now, knowing you are getting close. He stops kissing you, instead moaning low into your ear. Sucking breath in through his teeth and murmuring “oh yeah, fuck yeah” over and over in his dep sonorous voice. He is just audible enough that it makes you clench involuntarily.

 You freeze, curled up, breath held in. His pace increases, knowing you are there. Your breath comes out in little grunting explosions that make your head jerk.  Instead of giggling you almost burst into tears. It's so good. He is so good.  Way in the back of your mind you wonder how you got here and how to stay forever. 

“God, I love you,” you might have heard him murmur as he pulls you close.  You don’t have time to reflect on it as he is full-on fucking you now, his teeth gritted. You are overcome with boiling stimulation. It’s too much, and you fucking love it. You are screaming and squirming on his cock. His hands are locked onto you, not letting you away from him. 

“That’s it my Princess, take what I give my little pussy. Take my cum, Angel,”  he is panting hard now, moaning, grunting. It is all so… scorchingly hot.

He freezes in you, gritting his teeth though his gravely groaning of incoherent non-words. His fingers grip tight onto your hips, probably leaving bruises. You don’t care as you buck in an aftershock, feeling his cock pulsate in you. He thrusts in a few times more for good measure, unraveling you both in torrid overstimulation. 

…

You are in his car, in your own parking lot. Austin fucked you twice more before you both reluctantly agreed that you should probably get home. Neither of you is really happy about it. “When can you stay again?” he asks, looking a little mournful.

“Whenever you want, it’s your house and I’m not working right now,” you shrug. 

“Why is that?  I would think you’d be a series regular or something like that, you are so good and insightful.” Austin says. 

“Well, as you might’ve guessed, that apartment,” you point up at the windows of your place, “is tiny, and I need to tape myself and there just isn’t a good space up there.” 

“My Princess,” he tucks  an errant strand of hair behind your ear, “You can come tape at my place anytime you need, I have one of the bedrooms set up for it. Just text me and we’ll work it out.”  

“Really? Um… wow, that is amazing. I will definitely take you up on that, if we can keep our hands off each other long enough.’ you laugh. 

He leans over the center console and kisses you deeply. “I mean, do we have to, Princess?” he smiles his crooked naughty smile. “How about I come back and get you Friday for the weekend? Maybe we can do some taping and I actually need to work on my new project.” 

You nod, not sure what you’ll tell your partner. 

Then Austin gets out and walks around the back of the vehicle. You blow out a big breath, not wanting to go. But, it’s how it is right now. He opens the door for you, kissing your hand. 

He leans against the hood of his SUV, watching to make sure you get to your door ok, You turn and wave to him and go in. 

“Hi,” you say, trying to sound cheerful.

Your partner is on the bed playing video games. 

“Any luck?” he asks.

“Um, some, I am going back this weekend for taping, starting Friday.” you put your bag down on the bed and begin to unpack. 

“Did you bring leftovers?” he asks, pausing his play. 

“Um, no, it wasn’t that kind of a thing,” it’s not a lie. 

“Oh, well shit, I was waiting to eat, dammit I wish you would’ve told me that,” he gets up and stomps to the kitchen. 

“Sorry, it wasn’t about you,” you mumble after him. You put your stuff away, remaining calm, like you always have to be around him. You follow him to the kitchen to help him make some healthy choices. 

Austin sends you a text picture of him sad-faced in his bed with the caption “feels lonely here.” 

You want nothing more than to get in the car and drive until you are at his door and kiss that sad face away. But… yeah… that would be giving away a little too much. 

In the morning, feeling like you need to say something, you break down and casually mention to your partner that you’ll be seeing Austin on Friday. 

He rolls his eyes and says in an attempt at playfulness, “Yeah, ok. Go chase after your hall pass.” 

You get the distinct feeling he doesn’t believe you or thinks it’ll be some kind of screening or Q&A. You leave it at that, it’s useless to argue with him, he’ll just gaslight you and nothing is gonna get you down. 

Your phone buzzes:

‘Jason’- 

Good morning Princess, did you sleep well? 

Me-

Good morning Austin, not really.

‘Jason’- 

One would think, after all those orgasms, you would. 😉

Me-

One would think! I did dream about your cock last night. 

‘Jason’- 

Funny, I did too. 😉

You spend the day finalizing a couple scenes you’ve been working on to tape. Now that you actually have somewhere and someone to do them with, you are excited.  You tell your partner about getting to tape this weekend and he puts in his two cents about what you should do. 

Your partner tries to entice you to have sex with him that evening.  His attempts to use your pussy feel pitiful compared with the magic of Austin, besides, you had thought about what to say when this came up. 

"No, sorry, but Austin said I can’t,” you shake your head. 

"As in Austin Butler?" he asks. 

"Yup, Austin Butler said I can't. “ you shrug at him.

He looks at you confused, then shaking his head in disgust he turns over and goes to sleep. 

Austin texts you good night and sweet dreams and less than 24 hours until you see him again. Knowing this, it’s much easier to fall asleep. 

The next morning your phone goes off as you are packing. 

'Jason'-

I missed you in bed this morning. 

Me- 

I missed being in your bed this morning. 

'Jason'-

Let’s remedy that, I will be there in 15 min,  I just can’t wait and there’s still some morning left.  

Me-

You are already on the way aren’t you?

'Jason'-

Yes.

Me- 

*does happy dance*

[toxicanonymity]

just a little Corey x You x Michael scrap that kinda goes with this gif. . .

NSFW, all filth no plot and it's a mess

-

Corey is still inside you when you're startled by Michael suddenly appearing just a few meters away. . .

You sit perfectly still on Corey's cock, both of you facing the same direction - Michael's. Corey hardens inside you and your nipples pucker against his forearms. You lift yourself to slowly let him slide out, trying not to make any sudden movements. Corey nestles his cock between your thighs as his cum trickles out of you, down onto him.

Michael lumbers toward you as if he might kill you both, but he pauses when he reaches you and unzips himself.

"Michael," you whisper gently, and reach out for him. Before you can get up, he grabs you by the throat, shoving you and Corey back. Corey's stiff cock is between your legs – so close, yet so far away.

Michael holds his own hard, veiny cock in his massive hand and immediately lines himself up at your entrance. All your blood rushes back to your core.

Corey's tip brushes Michael's shaft, and Corey gasps. Michael doesn't flinch. Corey grabs your tits and braces you on top of him, his chest heaving under you.

Michael unforgivingly plunges his absurd lencth into you. It feels like your whole body is being divided. Even after being warmed up by Corey, even with how wet you are and Corey's cum as extra lube.

Corey groans as Michael's giant balls rub against his wet, hard shaft, bobbing pathetically beneath the two of you taking whatever friction he can get. Michael pounds into you brutally. It isn't long before the stretch of his obscene girth feels good, then perfect, then puts you on another planet entirely where it's the only thing you ever want to feel. You writhe between the two of them and come on Michael's cock with Corey's hands on your tits.

Then Michael keeps ramming into you. He doesn't let up at all. Corey moans as Michael's balls keep dragging against his cock. The overstimulation of Michael inside you is killing you, but your whimpers are ignored like you're not even there. It's like Corey is the one being fucked now.

Corey's body jerks under you and he groans loudly into your hair as he comes. Then, Michael erupts inside you, and his load is even more than you've come to expect.

-

There are so many MMF crumbs and scraps just littering my Google docs lmao. And I guess I'll promote Rock Bottom if you want a full+ MMF (Ch 6).

tags @ethanhoewke @wolvesandvampires @kuromi2005 @rebel-blue

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Why Not Me?

Chapter 7 (Epilogue)

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Ch. 5] [Ch. 6]

[[Y'all this entire fic without the epilogue is just under 20k. This epilogue is juuust shy of 7k. It's over a third of the entire fic 😂. But anyway -- Here it is, the epilogue, in which LQR and LJY get to hug it out a few times (and we catch up to canon time, to the interactions that inspired it all) Enjoy!]]

--//--

-9-

“ZEWU-JUN!!!!!”

Jingyi’s shout skitters off the rocks in the pretty white gardens and the buildings ahead of him, propelled by his powerful lungs and the racing of his feet as he tears through Cloud Recesses like a wild mountain wind. Scandalized teachers and disciples alike call after him to stop running and shouting, but Jingyi doesn’t care one bit what they think, not right now.

“Zewu-jun!!” Jingyi shouts again at a volume that maybe won’t wake the ancestors when he’s closer to the Sect Leader’s office, but he’s thankfully still loud enough that he sees the man in question step out onto the porch to meet him before he’s even reached the border of his courtyard.

“Jingyi, hush,” Zewu-jun cautions, though without much conviction in his always-soft voice. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Jingyi skids to a stop at the base of the few stairs that lead up to the porch and he bends double to brace his hands on his shaking knees to try to suck in deep breaths and recover what he hadn’t drawn in while he’d been running pell-mell through every shortcut he knows — and he knows a lot of them.

“Lan-xiansheng is hurt!” he manages to cough after a few breaths and Zewu-jun hurries (politely) down the steps to take him by the arm and help him stand upright.

“How is Shufu hurt?” his cousin asks, quick and quiet. Jingyi turns at the sound of scuffling behind him to find that his headlong flight has garnered them an audience. He hurries to wave Zewu-jun down to his level so he can talk quietly in his ear, and Zewu-jun obliges him immediately.

“Lan-xiansheng didn’t wake up on time this morning so I made him breakfast but when I woke him up to eat it he got sick and then coughed up a bunch of stale blood and then he told me to come find you and then he passed out and you have to come and help him, please Zewu-jun!”

Jingyi is half-expecting Zewu-jun to brush him off like all the other adults in the Sect do (except for Lan-xiansheng and Hanguang-jun, of course), but thankfully Zewu-jun seems to know he isn’t telling a tall tale just for attention. Jingyi’s definitely too big for it now but Zewu-jun still bends down to sweep him up onto his hip, and Jingyi isn’t even embarrassed to be carried like a baby because Zewu-jun can walk as fast as Jingyi can run without making it look like running, so he clings tight and tries to stop shaking as Zewu-jun carries him back through the disturbance Jingyi had left in his wake.

They arrive at the Yashi quickly and Zewu-jun sets him down again just inside the door that Jingyi hurries to close against the curious eyes of the rest of the Sect while Zewu-jun hurries further inside the house.

“Shufu?” Jingyi hears him ask, low and urgent, and he breathes a tiny sigh of relief at the responding rumble from Lan-xiansheng, too quiet for him to pick out the individual words. He has too much nervous energy in his hands for even his well-worn rock to contend with, so Jingyi busies himself with making tea and stirring up the morning’s congee to make sure it isn’t getting all burnt and gross on the bottom of the wok.

When the tea is steeped and the congee stirred he cleans up the mess he’d made while preparing breakfast and stirs the congee again a few more times for good measure…and Zewu-jun still hasn’t come back from the bedroom Jingyi shares with Lan-xiansheng. He doesn’t want to interrupt in case it would be bad, but he can’t stand another second not knowing what’s happening so he creeps on tiptoe to the door to peek cautiously around the frame and look through the gloom to try to see what’s happening.

Between Zewu-jun and Lan-xiansheng there glows a thin thread of qi, pure blue and glinting like a mountain stream at noon, tossing strange shadows on the walls beside and behind Lan-xiansheng’s bed. Jingyi drifts a little closer, still on tiptoe, to try to see what’s happening, and between one flickering blink and the next he’s able to make out the shape of Lan-xiansheng on his back and Zewu-jun’s first two fingers pointed at the center of his forehead where the cloud emblem of his ribbon would be sitting had Lan-xiansheng had the strength to get dressed this morning. Jingyi watches the transfer of qi with bated breath, holding still with a monumental effort as if the efficacy of the healing is completely dependent on how quiet and small he can keep himself.

It goes on for a long time, long enough that Jingyi’s fingers begin twitching on his sleeves and his knees feel like a wobbly jelly from his favorite dessert stall in Caiyi from how tightly he’s been keeping them locked to stay still. But finally, just when he’s about to break, the room goes dim again and Zewu-jun sighs as he pulls his hand away, no longer feeding Lan-xiansheng a stream of his qi.

“You are overextending yourself again, Shufu,” Zewu-jun says quietly, even though Lan-xiansheng looks like he’s gone back to sleep.

“It is hardly anything to be so fretful over,” Lan-xiansheng grumps in the same tone he uses when he knows Jingyi is right about one of his ethics puzzles but it isn’t the nice orthodox answer Lan-xiansheng likes. “I taught the talisman classes yesterday and activated a few too many, that’s all.”

Zewu-jun’s voice is nearly inaudible as he replies, “You frightened Jingyi, Shufu. He doesn’t know what sorts of injuries are fatal yet, he may be…overly worried.”

“Well it’s not fatal,” Lan-xiansheng snaps, still grumpy. “I’ll just need to rest today and I will be fine by tomorrow, I said there’s no need for so much fuss!”

Jingyi forces his jelly knees to bend so he can creep back out of the room before he gets caught eavesdropping. Now that Zewu-jun has said it, Jingyi realizes he is scared, and he should probably do something about that before he has to hide it while he brings Lan-xiansheng breakfast again. He digs around in the hollows around the hearth until he can fish out their big sack of rice and tuck himself small and round in the space it fits in, the stone pressed against his back toasty warm from the fire. Jingyi huddles into a ball there in his new hiding place and hugs his knees tightly to his chest, tight-tight-tight until his arms shake and his joints ache and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to fly apart into a million little pieces like he’s heard fierce corpses do when Hanguang-jun plays his guqin at them.

What if Lan-xiansheng isn’t really okay? What if his health is getting really bad? What if he’s going to die and leave Jingyi alone again, like his parents? What if he has to go back to the children’s home to live? What if he doesn’t get to have special classes and a family and a purpose anymore, what if he has to go back to being just a regular disciple with no one to want him around? Hanguang-jun leaves often for night hunts, and Sizhui lives in the disciple dormitories now whenever his dad is gone. Jingyi supposes he could probably try to live in the dormitories too, but Lan-xiansheng has said he doesn’t want him to, he said it wouldn’t be the right place for him because they wouldn’t understand him and the ways he has to live noisily. Would that be worse or better than the children’s home? But there’s no doubt that both of them would be horrible because it would mean Lan-xiansheng is gone, and Jingyi doesn’t want that to happen ever. He wants to keep living with Lan-xiansheng and helping him with all his work and being allowed to be noisy and run around when they’re at home and he wants his life to keep going exactly how it is, with Lan-xiansheng looking after him so Jingyi can look after him, too.

But what if it all just…ends?

“Shhh, Jingyi, it’s alright,” Zewu-jun suddenly murmurs from close by, and Jingyi hiccups around his next ragged breath. “Don’t be afraid, Shufu’s going to be fine. Do you need to stay in there a little longer, or would you like to come out?”

Jingyi squeezes his arms tight-tight-tighter and buries his face in his knobby knees, tilting sideways away from Zewu-jun until the back wall of the cubby-hole is pressed up against his side. He tries to push himself harder against it with his feet but they scuff against the floor and don’t help much at all, so he tries it again with a frustrated little huff that turns into a whine when the scuffing just happens again.

“It’s alright, Jingyi,” Zewu-jun repeats but that’s a lie because it’s not alright! Jingyi opens his mouth to tell him so, Sect Leader or not, but then big warm hands are pressing against his shoulder and knee to hold him stuck firmly in place against the stone, so tight it feels like he’s being squished under a boulder. Jingyi lets some of the tension in his arms go and Zewu-jun still holds him right there, pressed up against the wall so Jingyi can relax and lean his head against it too, suddenly exhausted as if he’d run laps around the base of the whole mountain instead of only through the main part of Cloud Recesses.

“Can you hear me now or is your mind still too loud?” Zewu-jun asks after a few long minutes of silence except for Jingyi’s breathing slowing down and the occasional ruffle of silk against stone when he or Zewu-jun readjust a little bit.

Jingyi pouts into his knees, but he gives his honest answer anyway. “I can hear.”

“Thank you, Jingyi. Shufu is only tired, he isn’t sick, or hurt. He was hurt some years ago when the Cloud Recesses was attacked, and sometimes his old injury takes up all his energy when he tries to do too many things in one day.” Zewu-jun’s explanation is patient and soft, and as he continues to hold Jingyi smushed up against the wall Jingyi finds that the information is…good. That it helps him to relax a little more. “He will not die from it, Jingyi, I promise you. No matter how tired he gets, no matter how ill he feels, this injury will not take him away from us. Can you repeat that for me?”

“Lan-xiansheng was hurt by the Wens when they burned Cloud Recesses. He feels worse when he’s used up too much energy. He won’t die.”

“Good. Shufu is a very strong cultivator. Everything will be alright so long as we make sure he looks after himself well to keep up that strength. Can you keep helping me do that?”

Jingyi sucks in a deep breath and lets it all back out with a big whoosh that takes all the tension in his muscles with it. “Yes, Zewu-jun,” he promises, and when he wriggles a little bit against his Sect Leader’s hold, beginning to feel cramped, Zewu-jun releases him easily and helps pull him back out of his hiding spot. Zewu-jun is kneeling right there in their kitchen, on eye-level with Jingyi, and so Jingyi can see it perfectly when Zewu-jun offers him a gentle smile as he pats the side of his head, careful to avoid his ribbon.

“You’re a good boy, Jingyi,” Zewu-jun tells him. “I was worried at first that Shufu would get too tired looking after you, but do you want to know a secret? It’s a good one, I promise.”

Jingyi nods, though perhaps a little reluctantly. (He still doesn’t like hearing that Zewu-jun thought he wouldn’t be good for Lan-xiansheng to keep around, which he privately thinks is fair.)

“Shufu’s health has been much better since he brought you home, I think raising you is a very good thing for him. Hanguang-jun and I are quite relieved and happy that he has you. Thank you, Jingyi.”

Jingyi’s tight chest sparks with the same joy he still finds in being useful to Lan-xiansheng, in carrying out his chores well and helping Lan-xiansheng with all his paperwork and meetings in between their cultivation lessons. He stands up a little straighter, feels a little better, and Zewu-jun smiles at him in the same gentle way Hanguang-jun does (only he does it with his mouth too, and not just his eyes).

“The congee is still warm,” Jingyi says. “But the tea is probably gross now.”

“Mm, I see. Shufu can have water with his congee, then. Will you take it to him?”

A task. A set task, one he can for sure accomplish without a problem. Jingyi relaxes further, relieved, and hurries to nod and scoop up some congee into a small wooden bowl, only realizing belatedly that it’s one of his and not one of Lan-xiansheng’s nice ceramic bowls like he always uses. Oh well, maybe wooden bowls are better for eating in bed anyway.

“Lan-xiansheng?” he calls from the doorway, as soft as he can make his voice (he’s getting pretty good at it!).

Lan-xiansheng’s voice is still rough around the edges, but it’s a relief to hear him call back an exhausted, “Come in, Jingyi.”

“I have congee and —“ Jingyi cuts himself off, guilty, and half-turns as if to head back to the kitchen only to find Zewu-jun already waiting behind him with a cup of water and that nice smile still on his face. He holds a finger up to his lips to shush him and winks before he hands the cup to Jingyi, so he doesn’t have to admit that he forgot something important. “I have congee and water,” he says to Lan-xiansheng and shoots a grateful look at Zewu-jun over his shoulder.

“Hmph. Filial child,” Lan-xiansheng huffs as he does anytime Jingyi makes it a point to take extra good care of him. He always sounds grumpy when he says it, but there’s always a little smile hiding under his mustache so that’s okay. “Bring it here, then.”

Jingyi makes his way carefully across the room to offer Lan-xiansheng his breakfast, and when the man takes the dishes off his hands Jingyi simply climbs up to sit on the edge of his bed and wait, kicking his feet a little and trying not to yawn. He always gets sleepy after he has to be small and tight for a while, but usually he can ignore it if he goes to do something outside after.

“You should not have run and shouted for Xichen like you did, Jingyi,” Lan-xiansheng admonishes when he’s finished and Jingyi has carefully taken the dishes back, the jade cup tucked safely inside the sturdier wood bowl. Jingyi grips the bowl a little tighter and shakes his head with a stubborn clench in his jaw.

“Lan-xiansheng’s health was in danger, I needed Zewu-jun’s help.”

“His help could have been requested at an appropriate volume.”

Jingyi’s jaw pops from how hard he’s biting down a big shivery feeling in his chest, and because Lan-xiansheng sees everything of course he notices.

“Jingyi?”

“I was scared,” he admits, ducking his head and using the hand Lan-xiansheng can’t see to swipe at his suddenly-damp cheek. He still cries just as easily as he had before he got his family, which is embarrassing, but they never say anything mean about it so it’s not too bad. “I yelled and ran because I was scared.”

“Ah, I see,” Lan-xiansheng hums. Jingyi swipes at his cheek again before he sits up straight and tries to begin hopping down from the bed to take the dishes back to be scrubbed — but then strong arms are wrapping around him and Jingyi melts into the embrace immediately.

Lan-xiansheng isn’t much for hugging. Hanguang-jun is, he hugs Jingyi a lot, but Zewu-jun and Lan-xiansheng don’t ever really hug him, and he’s noticed they don’t hug Hanguang-jun or Lan Yuan all that much either. But Lan-xiansheng is hugging him now, just as warm as the hearthstone and a little tighter than even Zewu-jun had pressed him against the wall to help him get through his panic, and without thinking Jingyi drops the bowl and cup with a clatter to hug Lan-xiansheng back just as fiercely.

“Please don’t die,” he whispers into Lan-xiansheng’s shoulder. His heart shies away from just saying it aloud, like maybe if he says it right to Lan-xiansheng it’ll actually happen. But before he can really get himself worked up, Lan-xiansheng presses a hand tight to the back of his head and shakes his own head enough for Jingyi to feel it.

“I will not die, Jingyi. I promised I would raise you. Are you grown yet?”

Jingyi laughs a little wetly around a big sniffle. “No, Lan-xiansheng.”

“Mm. Silly child.”

“Can you stay even when I’m grown though?” he has to ask, his voice small and nervous where he’s still hiding in Lan-xiansheng’s shoulder. If Lan-xiansheng has to die when Jingyi grows up then he’ll just have to find a way to stay a kid forever, it’s flawless logic.

Lan-xiansheng pauses for a long moment before he gives Jingyi an extra-hard squeeze and then pushes him away enough to look him in the eyes. “I will live for as long as I can.  You may be…60 years old and still be a silly child. Will you be grown, then? Will you stop needing me then?”

Jingyi laughs again, stronger this time, and shakes his head ‘no’.

“Correct. I need to rest now — you may have a rest in your bed as well if you need to, we will not be doing work today.”

Jingyi, thus reassured of both Lan-xiansheng’s longevity and permission to nap through the exhaustion of one of his own episodes, hurries to return the dishes to the now-empty kitchen so he can lay down for his nap, the fear from the morning all but gone in the wake of getting a hug from Lan-xiansheng.

--//--

-15(.5)-

“Yangfu!” Jingyi hollers as he slams the door to the Yashi open with a clatter. “I’m home!”

“Child, how many times must I remind you that I can hear you coming from a li away? You do not need to shout that you have arrived.”

“Sorry,” Jingyi grins, not sorry at all. As expected, Lan-xiansheng waves a wooden spoon at him with a vague noise of irritation and nothing more — he’s long since stopped reminding Jingyi of any of the several rules pertaining to lying and careless speech that render his ‘apology’ worthy of reprimand.

“Go wash,” is all he says instead, so Jingyi salutes him deeply just to tweak his tail again before he hurries to set his sword aside and head out into the back garden for a perfunctory wash in the rain barrel. The weather is turning cool so he’s not too dirty from sword practice, which means he’s quick enough to wash and change into fresh clothes before he returns to the kitchen to strategically make himself too much of a nuisance for Lan-xiansheng to be willing to share the hearth with him. Jingyi cheerfully takes over the making of their dinner when Lan-xiansheng retreats with irritated grumbling about filial piety and pointy teenage elbows — a familiar background music to Jingyi’s evening routine.

“Yangfu,” Jingyi pipes up after they’ve finished eating in their usual silence and he’s chattered at Lan-xiansheng about his afternoon of training through the process of washing up and brewing tea that always follows. Lan-xiansheng barely glances up from the painting he’s carefully contemplating the next addition to at his call.

“Hm?”

“Did da-shixiong come to talk to you this afternoon?”

“He did.”

Jingyi fidgets from foot to foot before huffing in (fond) exasperation. Lan-xiansheng ignores him, of course, and continues to sip at his tea and study his own in-progress painting like the possibility of Jingyi beginning to join his peers on nighthunts isn’t being dangled in front of Jingyi’s eyes like a fish flailing on a line.

“Can I go?” he finally breaks enough to ask, flopping down into a…sort of correct kneel in front of the table. Lan-xiansheng holds his ink-loaded brush well away from the clattering table with the ease of many years of practice navigating a space with Jingyi’s clumsiness.

“If your da-shixiong has not seen fit to inform you —“

“Yangfu!”

Lan-xiansheng sniffs and finally looks up from his painting to level an acerbic glare at him from under truly impressive angry brows. (He can’t fool Jingyi though, he’s doing this on purpose just for the fun of teasing him.)

“Do not interrupt me, child, I’ve had enough of that in my meetings this afternoon. If your da-shixiong has not seen fit to inform you of your first assignment then why should I rob him of the headache?”

Jingyi grins wide enough to split his face and gamely gives Lan-xiansheng enough time to set his brush down and cover his ears with a pointed look before he lets out a noisy whoop and hops up to go run a couple laps around the back garden to burn off the sudden burst of energy.

“Wash again before you come inside if you’re going to be so energetic!” Lan-xiansheng’s sharp bark makes Jingyi laugh, and when he finishes a few more laps (cartwheels, to tire himself out as much as he can) he obligingly heads back to the barrel to dunk his head in the cool water, if for no other reason than to see the poorly-disguised distaste on Lan-xiansheng’s face when he tromps back in dripping water on the floor from the ends of his hair.

“Incorrigible boy,” Lan-xiansheng huffs. “Come sit, I know you won’t remember to comb your hair and I refuse to look at a bird’s nest on your head tomorrow. We have to go down to Caiyi for business in the morning, you should be presentable.”

Jingyi grins, fetches his usual oil and his comb, and finally feels his energy settle enough that he only fidgets a little once he’s sat at the table and Lan-xiansheng is kneeling behind him to comb his hair out with methodical movements.

“Thank you, Yangfu,” Jingyi murmurs when the motion of the comb in his hair has settled him further.

Lan-xiansheng sniffs in a way that could either be dismissive or a show of emotion (Jingyi will choose to believe it’s the latter). “It’s past time you went out on hunts. The other boys your age already do, and you are ahead of most of them in your cultivation.”

“Aiyah,” Jingyi tuts with a smirk. “Arrogance is forbidden! Do not flatter! Hey–!”

“Do not use the precepts for levity with me, Yi-er, it is disrespectful,” Lan-xiansheng scolds while Jingyi rubs at the spot on his scalp Lan-xiansheng had just swatted. “It is not arrogance or flattery to state what is fact. Your cultivation is highly ranked amongst your peers, they should take you for an example in their learning on night hunts.”

Jingyi smiles, practically glowing with happiness from such blatant praise, and settles down obediently for the rest of the de-tangling process.

“You will be careful on your hunt,” Lan-xiansheng says eventually, as serious as always. “You will listen closely to your seniors and obey them, should their instruction be correct. If it is not, you will go through the proper authority to see it corrected, you will not take matters into your own hands to reprimand them yourself. You will only attend group hunts supervised by Wangji until you have proven yourself capable of behaving well enough for the other supervising cultivators that they understand you are not intentionally disobedient. You will not risk your life, and you will not encourage or support others in doing so, either.”

Jingyi nods vigorously enough that Lan-xiansheng puts his free hand on top of his head to stop him from yanking at the comb the man is still running through his hair.

“What scenario have I not considered?”

Jingyi screws up his face for a moment to run back through the list of instructions. Lan-xiansheng has gotten really good over the years at learning how to give him thorough enough lists of instructions that most circumstances are typically accounted for, but Jingyi is nothing if not creative in circumventing any rule he can, even when he doesn’t mean to be.

“What if a mundane person is in life-threatening trouble and I’m the only one who can help them but it’s really dangerous?”

Lan-xiansheng swats at his head again, more gently this time. “You will not be going on such dangerous hunts, and you will not be tasked with protecting civilians directly. It will be your task to shadow your seniors and do as directed, and to learn all you can from observing their work. You are not to endanger yourself, Jingyi. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Yangfu. I won’t endanger myself.”

“Good.”

Jingyi stays still as Lan-xiansheng finishes combing his hair and braids it for sleep, tucking the ends of his ribbon neatly into the braid to keep it safe. (Most of the time if he takes it off at night he forgets to put it on again in the morning, it’s easiest to just sleep in it.)

Jingyi returns his comb and oil where they belong and settles in across from Lan-xiansheng at the table to work on a bit of lure talisman research he’s interested in, the silence comfortable and peaceful at the end of a day. When the sandalwood incense burning in the brazier switches to jasmine, informing them of the start of hai shi, they set aside their individual pursuits and begin to prepare for bed. Jingyi is about to slip into his own bedroom — an addition to the house Lan-xiansheng commissioned to be built for him some years ago — when a hand around his wrist stops him.

For all the growth spurts Jingyi has gone through in the last few years, Lan-xiansheng still stands a few cuns taller than him. He looks every bit of it now, his gaze stern as Jingyi turns to look up at him, curious. “Yangfu?”

“I will not stop you from night hunting,” he says with apparent difficulty. “It is your right and your duty as a cultivator capable of helping to do so.” Jingyi stays quiet as Lan-xiansheng visibly chews on his next words before he manages to get them out. “You are..vitally important to me. Promise me you will be careful.”

Jingyi — suddenly feeling quite a bit younger than his 15 and a half years — surges forward to hug Lan-xiansheng tightly around the middle and hide his face in his chest. Lan-xiansheng still isn’t much of a hugger, but for now he indulges Jingyi enough to wrap his arms around his shoulders and hold on tight.

“I’ll be careful, Yangfu,” Jingyi promises into soft white silk, feeling wonderfully comfortable. “I won’t take risks. I’ll listen to my seniors. Hanguang-jun will keep us all safe, and I swear I’ll behave and follow all the rules.”

Lan-xiansheng is too slow to stop his disbelieving snort at that, so Jingyi grins and squeezes him tighter to irritate his adoptive father for daring to doubt him.

“Follow what rules you can,” Lan-xiansheng sighs, long-suffering, and pats his back a few times to signal him to let go. “And come back in one piece.”

That much, at least, he can do. He says as much and wishes Lan-xiansheng goodnight before they retreat back to their individual rooms. He settles in for bed with a smile and a shake of his head, unable to sleep for hours with the excitement of his first nighthunt humming under his skin.

--//--

-17-

In the two years since Jingyi started joining his agemates on nighthunts (when his other duties allow), he’s seen his fair share of wild and unbelievable things. The world is wide and the Lan disciples travel far, following the example set for them by (and usually under the direct leadership of) Hanguang-jun. He’d known even on that very first hunt that they wouldn’t always be so easy, that he wouldn’t always get to follow his favorite seniors around doing little more than holding their spare qiankun pouches for them and shouting about how cool they are at opportune moments in battle. That being said, he still thinks that it’s a little excessive that only two years later he’s progressed all the way up to getting kidnapped and thrown in a cave in the Burial Mounds with a bunch of other juniors who don’t have any better ideas than he does as to how they’re going to get the fuck out of here.

“If you ask me, you shouldn’t have just stabbed him once. Why didn’t you slice his throat?”

Ugh — not only kidnapped and thrown into the Burial Mounds. Kidnapped, thrown into the Burial Mounds, and tied to Jin Chan. Truly a low point in his life, Jingyi has to admit, and something he will decidedly not be putting into his reports of this nighthunt if they make it out of here (though he will likely complain about it to Lan-xiansheng in the privacy of their own home. Their home which he will definitely see again, he promised to be careful and come back in one piece, like he always does).

“It’s been a few days since they left us here,” Jingyi says, mostly to distract himself from the prospect of breaking such an important promise. “What do they want to do? To beat us or kill us…at least make it fast.” Jokes? Jokes. Jokes about death are a solid way to make it funny and not at all a very real possibility. He can make jokes about anything until he’s blue in the face, this is fine. “I’d rather be bitten to death by a monster while hunting than starve to death in this shithole.”

Jingyi can’t even find it in himself to feel bad that no one laughs. He’s not really laughing either, after all.

“What else would they want?” Jin Chan retorts into the despondent silence. “It must be like back in Nightless City, he wants to make us into fierce corpses and use us to fight our families!..”

Jingyi sighs and tunes out whatever other drivel about Wei-qianbei is coming out of Jin Chan’s mouth, and barely pays attention to whatever Jin Ling snaps back at him as if they aren’t always at each other’s throats anyway. He tunes back in enough to hear Sizhui trying to calm them down but he doesn’t bother trying to help his best friend — he at least knows a hopeless cause when he sees one. Or is tied to one, as the case may be, which becomes ridiculously annoying when Jin Chan starts struggling at their ropes to try to get at Jin Ling.

His irritation at his companions is a decent enough distraction from the morbid direction his thoughts had been trying to head in, at least — and then it hardly matters because someone’s calling to them from the entry to the cave and when Jingyi cranes around to look towards the familiar voice he can’t help but grin and relax in relief.

“Hanguang-jun!” Jingyi’s call comes right on the heels of Sizhui’s. It’s a simple fact of life that so long as Hanguang-jun is here then everything will be fine, and between one breath and the next he doesn’t doubt for a moment that he’ll make it home to Lan-xiansheng after all (though he will admit that being approached by the Ghost General wielding a sword comes really close to making him doubt it all over again in the moments before he’s cut free).

As is proper, he and Sizhui are the first to hurry up and greet Hanguang-jun, who studies them both closely as Sizhui greets Wei-qianbei and reaffirms for everyone present that their whole kidnapping and attempted murder predicament is not his fault. Jingyi doesn’t really care whose fault it is, if he’s being honest, he mostly just wants to go home and maybe spend a couple weeks (at least) doing nothing but helping Lan-xiansheng with his mountains of paperwork and badmouthing the Sect Leaders he doesn’t like since Lan-xiansheng can’t say any of it himself. Not that he doesn’t like nighthunting, and not that he doesn’t enjoy going out on adventures with Sizhui and Hanguang-jun, but this is maybe enough excitement for a while.

In the interest of washing his hands of the situation, Jingyi tells Hanguang-jun and Wei-qianbei what he knows about their captors and the fierce corpses outside (which is really very little). Hanguang-jun’s soft, “You did well,” makes him feel just as incredible as ever, even having to share the praise equally with Sizhui. He preens just a bit under it, smirking and sharing a look with Sizhui that his best friend returns with all the natural good grace that Jingyi always seems to lack. They’re so close to being able to go home he can almost feel the cool mist of Cloud Recesses on his face instead of the dry stale wind of the Burial Mounds.

Hanguang-jun’s attention suddenly darts over Jingyi’s shoulder and he shifts his weight to step in front of Wei-qianbei. When Jingyi mirrors him, ready in a heartbeat to follow Hanguang-jun’s signal, he scowls to see Jin Ling stepping forward with his usual sour expression on his face.

“What, are you going to stab him again?” he demands, ignoring Sizhui’s gently admonishing call of his name. They’re all thinking it anyway or else they wouldn’t be stepping forward to protect Wei-qianbei from him, so that means it’s only rude to say, not actually against any rules. (It’s not gossip, everyone knows Jin Ling stabbed Wei-qianbei at Jinlintai, and it’s not a lie because it’s a question, so there.)

“Aiyah, don’t surround him like that. Enough,” Wei-qianbei chides. “We’ll talk outside.”

Jingyi has to fight hard to keep from rolling his eyes when everyone else simply fidgets and makes no move to head for the doors like he’s itching to do. “What?” he calls to the room at large. “Still want to stay here?”

“There are so many fierce corpses outside. You want us to go out there and die?” Jingyi does roll his eyes at that, but since it’s Jin Chan who said it he’s probably not the only one doing so.

The Ghost General offers to keep the fierce corpses outside at bay, and Sizhui comes up with a much more eloquent argument than Jingyi’s badgering, and finally they’re all moving to head out, Jingyi’s practically thrumming with an electric buzz to get his sword under his feet and go home —

Or else the buzzing is actually the crackle of the Zidian whip, considering it throws the Ghost General back into the cave before the rest of them can even step foot outside. And where there’s the lightning whip, there’s —

“Jin Ling!” Sandu Shengshou shouts from outside the massive doors to the cave, and Jingyi feels everyone’s mood lift at the idea of help arriving that isn’t Wei-qianbei and the Ghost General (Jingyi, personally, thinks that they have no right to be picky since Hanguang-jun is also here, but maybe that’s just him [and probably Sizhui too]).

Ouyang Zizhen calls out to his dad next, and Jingyi’s heart actually does a little leap because if that old windbag Ouyang-zongzhu is here as well as the young ones like Sandu Shengshou then, maybe —

Jingyi falls into step quickly behind Hanguang-jun to file outside and yes, there, through the trees — Lan-xiansheng. Jingyi barely keeps from hopping out of line to run to him, and only manages it because Hanguang-jun hurries to lead them over so they can salute and fall in line properly the moment it’s possible. Jingyi takes up his spot close behind Lan-xiansheng’s left shoulder with immense relief that nearly makes his knees buckle. The only person he’s happier to see than Hanguang-jun is his adoptive father, and a few minutes later when Lan-xiansheng steps close enough amongst all the shouting and clamoring for Wei-qianbei to apologize (or whatever it is the rest of the world is demanding of him), Jingyi latches his fingers into the trailing end of Lan-xiansheng’s sleeve gratefully to give it a little tug in greeting.

Jingyi has a very definite purpose in this life, and that’s to take care of Lan-xiansheng with all the energy he has. The man took him in, raised him, taught him, sheltered him from the criticisms of the extreme traditionalists in the Sect, amongst whom Jingyi knows Lan-xiansheng was once counted. His job, then, is to be the most filial ward he can be, and so when a wicked trick costs everyone their spiritual energy the moment they begin fighting off the next wave of fierce corpses, Jingyi immediately lets Lan-xiansheng lean on him to hurry into the protection of the cave. He shouts down Su She and his stupid fucking joke of a Sect copying theirs because he knows Lan-xiansheng can’t say it himself, but won’t stop Jingyi from saying what everyone knows to be true, even if it’s ‘rude’. When all the talking and standing around comes to an end and Wei-qianbei makes himself into a lure for the fierce corpses, Jingyi knows that Hanguang-jun can rest easy helping him fight them off because he’s helping Lan-xiansheng down the path and away from danger.

And when all is said and done, when they’ve arrived at Lotus Pier to recover from their ordeal, and the events of the evening have unfolded in shocking ways but everyone is too exhausted to run after Jin Guangyao tonight, Jingyi settles into a guest room deep in the warrens of Lotus Pier with Lan-xiansheng to let the man fuss and grumble over him to his heart’s content. Jingyi half-listens and passes him a steady thread of qi like he’d seen Zewu-Jun do almost a decade ago, his own energy now more than strong enough to support Lan-xiansheng’s recovery efforts whenever necessary.

“I told you not to get in trouble,” Lan-xiansheng grouses, clearly unhappy to be laid up with his old injuries through no fault of his own. “I told you to stay on the safe roads and to stay with Sizhui at all times and to use your signal flares if you needed help —”

“Aiyah, Yangfu! Enough,” Jingyi admonishes with a little jiggle of Lan-xiansheng’s wrist in his grip where he’s monitoring the balance of his qi. “I was with Sizhui, we both got caught! Everyone did. Are you going to blame me for getting the juniors of so many Sects kidnapped when we were plotted against and meant to be used as bait?”

“Yes,” Lan-xiansheng snaps. “You’re different than they are, you’re not supposed to get caught up in these sorts of things. You’re my son!”

Jingyi’s breath hitches in his chest and he has to stop the stream of qi to Lan-xiansheng as his energy bobbles in response to the depth of the emotion boiling in his chest at such a pronouncement. Lan-xiansheng has let him call him ‘Yangfu’ without complaint since he started doing it when he was 11 and had just learnt what it meant, and that had been plenty, that had been great. Lan-xiansheng has always indulged him and shown him he loves him in the stuffy quiet ways all good Lans do (with the exceptions of his rare and treasured embraces). But this, right now, is the first time Lan-xiansheng has ever called him his son.

“Ha-Hanguang-jun,” he says around the tightness in his throat, “Zewu-jun..they’re…”

“Jingyi,” Lan-xiansheng interrupts, not unkindly. He strains to sit up straight again and Jingyi lunges forward to help him, conscious of how exhausted Lan-xiansheng is after his qi is depleted and his injury allowed to flare up in its absence. “Your cousins know that I care for them, but it has always been…complicated. They belong to the Sect, and to the world, because they must. They are their father’s sons, and they will never escape that entirely. Out of the three children I have raised, only you could ever truly be mine.”

Jingyi’s next inhale hiccups in his chest — it’s been a while since he cried as easily as he used to, but he doesn’t think that Lan-xiansheng calling him his son is something he’s supposed to take as stoically as most people would expect him to.

“I was so afraid, Yangfu,” he hiccups and darts in to wrap his arms around Lan-xiansheng’s middle so tightly it must be a bit uncomfortable, but Lan-xiansheng doesn’t protest. “I just wanted to go home and see you.”

“Well you’ve seen me now, and we can leave for home tomorrow. Leave this mess to the others, we’ve got enough work to do in Gusu. Alright?”

Jingyi nods and Lan-xiansheng’s hand resting on the back of his head moves with him, as solid and comforting as it had been that very first time when he was still so lonely and afraid, so certain that no one in the world would ever truly want him. But now he’s Lan-xiansheng’s son. His Yangfu loves him as his own, worries for him when he’s in trouble, accepts his help without complaint when he needs it. Jingyi burrows into his shoulder a little tighter and imagines standing in front of himself as a child just so he can look himself in the eyes and promise that it all gets better in the end.

[hylianmewmew]

maybe i do: ch 8 red hair, teary eyes

read ch 7 here ♡ read ch 9 here

Link was growing increasingly anxious at the thought of bumping into Sidon right now. He wasn’t sure how to feel about what had happened yesterday. Or well, two days ago since apparently he slept for OVER A DAY?? That was concerning in itself. Link never slept more than 6 hours and it was always broken up into smaller chunks of time. He can thank a lot of things for his gods awful sleeping habits. While Link appreciated having Sidon to lean on (sometimes literally) during flashbacks and panic attacks it made him feel small and weak. He needed to get over his ego at this point. Literally speaking he was small which had its perks at times, but he was by no means weak. Years of being a knight and hero had made him abnormally strong for his size. The fact that he was strong didn’t help him from feeling ever so fragile during a flashback. He couldn’t even control his own emotions now.

But being with Sidon made everything feel just a little bit better. He made being small feel like not such a bad thing. It felt so nice to have someone who wouldn’t judge Link for not putting on a face and acting like everything was fine. Everything definitely wasn’t fine.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

It was time for some fresh air. Link had been asleep for so long he felt like he’d lost weeks of time, not just a day. His muscles felt stiff and he was beginning to get antsy just sitting around. Time for a hike. 

Link loved rock climbing, it was the thrill of having to pull yourself up the face of a cliff with nothing but your physical strength and some climbing gear. Tal Tal peak was the perfect climbing site. It was naturally terraced in some areas which provided good resting spots. The view at the top of the peak was stunning, you could see all of the east reservoir lake on one side and the grotto from the other. 

He decided to not take Epona, going back to the stables hurt just a little too much, but he asked one of the stable hands if they could let her loose for a bit so she could roam. She refused to let anyone besides Link ride her. Taking his time to go anywhere was so against his instincts, he either ran, jogged or rode Epona pretty much everywhere during a trip. Around Lanayru he felt less pressure by himself to get everywhere as fast as possible. So he allowed himself time to explore as he made his way to the bottom of Tal Tal peak. He wanted to absorb every little detail about this place. The types of animals and insects that inhabited the area, the species of trees and of course, anything edible. 

As much as Link loved climbing and exploring, he loved cooking more. Cooking was a science, an art, and an experience rolled into one. He loved experimenting with new flavor combinations and seeing how they would mix and react with each other.

Link had still reached the bottom of the peak in just over an hour despite trying to take his time. Not like it was a far trek anyways. He pulled out the ropes and stakes from his pack and started to prepare to climb. A shrill scream pierced his ears, was that a kid? It was followed by the hiss and garble of a lizalfo. Link dropped everything, pulling two daggers from each side of him. And this is why Link never went anywhere without some kind of weapon, usually a couple just to be safe. 

Fortunately Link didn’t have to force himself to speak as the Hylian kid scampered behind him. He dropped into a fighting stance, eyes locked on the lone blue lizalfo. He waited for the monster to make a move before drawing it away from the kid. He motioned for them to run as he lunged at the lizalfo, landing a slash to its ribcage. It tried to move past Link in the kid's direction, but Link didn’t allow that. Taking the opening the lizalfo had created he plunged one of the daggers into its thick, scaly neck. He twisted the blade, driving it in deeper as it fell to the ground making a final gurgling noise before death came and claimed it.

Double checking the monster was actually dead, Link scanned the area for signs of other monsters. He ran after the kid to make sure they were alright. They hadn’t made it very far, having tripped over a rock and skinned their knee. The poor thing was sobbing, covered in dirt and blood from their knee injury.

“Are you ok?” Link wasn’t thinking when he automatically began to sign. Lots of times children didn’t know Hylian sign so he had to mouth the words slowly in hopes they could figure out what he was saying. Purah had made a tool on his Sheikah slate that could speak whatever he typed out but of course he had forgotten that in his guest rooms.

Link was visibly shocked when the child nodded and signed back, their hands trembling and clunky. “Thank you Master Link!” He smiled and patted the boy’s head. The kid’s lip quivered, about to cry again. “It’s ok now, the monster is all gone. You’re safe with me.” Link fell backwards, the boy leaping into his arms. Link smiled and hugged him, rocking the boy until he stopped crying. “What’s your name? Are your parents close by?”

The boy shook his head, “I’m Lobin. They travel without me. I live all by myself in our house.” He was trying to put on a brave face for Link but his hands were shaking harder now. Link stood up, letting go of him. The boy whimpered, clinging onto Link’s legs. “Please don’t leave me too.”

This broke Link, a little kid, probably only 6 or 7 years old who had been left on his own. Did his parents just expect the kid would be able to survive on his own? Fucking bastards. He had shoulder length bright red hair pulled back, tangled but mostly clean. He could at least keep himself clean but his clothes hung off his body. Link wasn’t sure if the clothes were just too big or the kid was malnourished, he assumed the latter.

Link decided it was best to take him back to the Domain and get him checked out by a nurse just to be safe. His climbing gear and pack were still back where he left them but Lobin was more important now. “I’m going to take you back to where I’m staying, ok? We can get you checked out by a nice doctor and give you something to eat.”

Lobin nodded slowly, his big blue eyes staring at Link as if waiting for him to do something bad. He decided Link was trustworthy and climbed on Link’s back when he motioned for Lobin to do so. This time, Link moved faster, at a brisk pace. He didn’t need any more bullshit to happen to this poor kid. 

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Lobin was excited but clearly still shaken from the run in with the lizalfo. Link set the kid down in the infirmary bay, he stayed close to Link as he looked everywhere. His eyes dazzled, staring at the large pillars of white marble that supported the inner domain building. Link looked at the kid who, if it had been a normal day, would probably be running around exploring every corner of the inner domain. Probably like Link had. He knew he had been here when he was younger, escorting Zelda as her knight but this is just what Sidon had told him. He remembered none of it. 

“Master Link! Oh, my! Did you get hurt?” One of the nurses approached, her eyes drifted down to Lobin who partially hid behind Link. “And who might you be?” She smiled gently, stepping closer, Lobin buried his head in Link’s tunic, pushing himself as close to Link as possible. 

“This is Lobin, found him getting attacked by a lizalfo near Tal Tal peak.” Link smiled, looking down at him. “He busted his knee running from the fight.” Link tried peeling Lobin off of him so the nurse could take a look at his knee. Lobin groaned, shaking his head furiously, head still mostly buried in the tunic. Link tapped his shoulder, gave him a quick smile, “This nice Zora is gonna patch your knee up and make sure you’re doing ok.”

“Nooo.” Lobin mumbled, this was the first time Link had heard Lobin speak, after him using Hylian sign Link automatically assumed he was primarily non-speaking. Lobin released Link from his tight grasp, “Please come with me.”

The nurse laughed quietly, “It’s alright Master Link, you can come with. I’d like to check out that gash on your bicep too.”

Link lifted Lobin up on the exam bench. He sniffled, the adrenaline must be wearing off now. The nurse dabbed his wound clean and bandaged it up as quickly as she could. Lobin put on a brave face but winced every time she touched him. Link couldn’t quite place it but he felt a connection to the kid, like they shared similar experiences. Like he understood living on his own as a child. 

“Not so bad was it hun? I even have a prize for being so good!” The nurse pulled a piece of candy out of a drawer and handed it over to Lobin. He looked up at Link, as if asking for permission. Link smiled and nodded, that small look. It showed more pain than a child should ever know. 

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Lobin had become Link’s shadow over the past 3 days. He couldn’t handle going anywhere without the hero, crying whenever anyone even thought of taking him away from Link. The inner Domain staff had taken to calling Lobin, little master, after the hero’s honorific given to Link. Often, Link would end up carrying Lobin on his back or on his shoulders. Lobin’s knee had to be given stitches, the wound ended up being more severe than the boy had let off.

With as much time as Link had been spending with Lobin he was starting to get attached. The kid was endearing, but didn’t seem to trust anyone other than Link. After a few hours on the first day of Lobin staying with Link, he became increasingly concerned for the boy. After a bath and a fresh change of clothes it was evident how thin and malnourished he looked. Link took this into his own hands and came up with some hearty meals to feed Lobin. If this boy was going to be attached to him at the hip, by the gods he’ll at least be well fed. Lobin took to Link’s cooking immediately, eating several portions at each meal. Link hoped this would help him at least a little bit.

An attempt with sleeping arrangements had been made. A smaller bed had been brought in for Lobin, but he refused to sleep without Link to curl up next to. Link learned that they both were bad at sleep. Lobin had horrid nightmares, same as Link. But sleeping with another warm body by your side was a small comfort to Link. It made a memory of him and Zelda pop up. He used to tell her stories late at night when she woke up from a nightmare or just couldn’t sleep. They would end up falling asleep together and waking up, both with equally messy hair. 

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

“Ok! What for breakfast today Binnie?” Link had definitely gotten attached to this kid. He had somehow wound up creating a nickname for Lobin, ‘Binnie’. Lobin found this to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Getting a personal nickname from the HERO of Hyrule? Link could never understand just how happy this had made Lobin.

Link thought too much. He thought too much and was overthinking this. Sidon hadn’t shown up since the whole ‘sobbing at a horse stable because Link can’t get himself together’. What if he’d scared Sidon away with his flashbacks? He had just started to open himself up to Sidon, and he fucked up yet again and Sidon was gone for good. Link wasn’t worthy of Sidon’s time anyways so it was fine.

He was fine.

Everything was not fine. Link snapped out of his thoughts to the smell of burning meat. Fucking hell. He had burnt the ham slices Lobin had requested for breakfast. Thinking about Sidon. Why was he thinking about Sidon?

“Here you go buddy, eggs and no ham.” Link sighed and set down the plate.

“Oh. You burnt the ham? I thought your cooking was magic, how do you burn something when you’re using magic?” Lobin pouted, poking his eggs before taking a tentative bite. His eyes widened and hummed happily. Clearly Link’s magic wasn’t entirely lost. Unlike he was.

There was something Link was missing. Something about Sidon he wasn’t getting. Something so enigmatic about his feelings towards Sidon there was no way Link was gonna figure this out.

Oh.

Wait.

Fuck. 

Fucking hell, Link had connected the dots. He couldn’t believe it. There was no way. 

Link was gay. Gay and in love. Only the love part was new. And who did his gay ass have to fall in love with? King Sidon. Of the Zora. That was married. To a woman.

This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Fuck all the trauma, pain and suffering. Accidentally falling in love with a married man was the absolute end of the line. This was a completely unrequited love. It had to be. He couldn’t fall in love with a married man! Apparently, Sidon was more than just his supposed close friend. He was his supposed crush. 

Fuck.

Link nearly had a heart attack, Lobin tapped his arm impatiently trying to get his attention. “What are you thinking about? Your face is red and you look like you wanna cry. Did I make you upset? I’m sorry Master Link!”

Link frowned, well fuck he made the kid upset. “No, of course you didn't upset me, Binnie. I was just thinking is all.” 

The little boy, pouted not satisfied, “Your face’s all red and your eyebrows are all scrunchy like this!” Lobin furrowed his eyebrows, and puffed his cheeks up. 

Link blushed more, how did he explain this? He had a full on crush on the Zora king! He barely accepted that fact himself. Explaining complex feelings had never been his strong suit but even then, this was different and more complex. More so than he wanted to fully admit. 

“Come on dada! Tell me, tell me!” Lobin paused, realizing what he had just called Master Link. Uh oh.

Link stood there, blinking hard. ‘Dada’? So much was happening all at once. He didn’t hate the idea of being a parent. Kids were amazing and fun to interact with. But him? A dad? Just that was a lot to process. There wasn’t time to process this now. He must’ve looked mad or upset, Lobin had burst into tears.

“–Sorry!!” He signed the word over and over. Link took no time in hugging the small child, rocking him gently. This was all his fault. He stroked Lobin’s hair and kissed the top of his little head. 

He was apparently a dad now.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

P&C | Ch. 4: Let Me Make It Up To You

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

With his head planted on my aching shoulder, Jungkook and I sat in complete silence as if time itself stopped once our bodies touched. And, as the chilling breeze danced around us, I felt goosebumps form on my skin, looking down at his hoodie that covered my shivering legs. I felt terrible, but with every failed attempt to move, he seemed only to get closer. It was clear that we had to go, but seeing him in such peace made me strangely want to protect it for as long as I could. 

"Okay," I thought to myself. "Just a little longer,"

--

"Miraya!" my heart skipped a beat as Jiah's voice pierced through my sleeping state. With Jungkook still beside me, I could see Jimin trying to wake him as well.

"Jiah, what time is it?" I whispered, attempting to stretch my body as much as Jungkook's position allowed me to. Cold to the touch, his skin was ghostly pale, lifeless almost. 

"It just hit 3. What were you guys doing out here? It's freezing!" Jimin exclaimed, picking Jungkook up by his arm as he murmured something under his breath. Searching his face, his eyes were still sealed as if stuck in deep slumber. 

"I found Jungkook out here alone and so, we talked and then ... I guess we just fell asleep," I tried to explain, piecing the puzzle on the go, questioning how we managed to stay completely still for 2 hours. I guess, it was a very long day for the both of us. Jimin and Jiah, however, were not convinced in the slightest, but it was too late for interrogation, so with that, we said our goodbyes and went to our dorms.

"Miraya, you're so cold, honey. You're going to be sick tomorrow. Do you want me to stay at your dorm tonight? We can even skip school, hmm?" Jiah looked me in the eyes with pure concern written all over her face, caressing my shoulders covered with her jacket.

"No, no, Jiah, I'll be okay don't worry. Just need to sleep it off." I said with a reassuring smile, sniffing back the mucus running down my nose as stage one of my evident flue began. Nonetheless, she stayed with me for another hour, warming up with some jasmine tea as she debriefed the whole party before finally hugging each other goodnight.

--

6:30 a.m.

Unfortunately, and to no one's surprise Jiah was right. I was sick. Rotting in my pyjamas, all teary-eyed from the constant sneeze attacks. And to make matters even worse, I had the worst migraine in the history of migraines. Truly, I've never felt more defeated. Just, phenomenal.

But, although it was the last thing I wanted to do, I couldn't afford to slack off on the second day of school. Not after paying a whole mortgage worth of tuition to attend this capitalistic prison. So, after taking all my medication and rubbing Vaporub on my body, I was off to conquer the day. 

"Hey, flip-flops! Oh, wow, what happened to you?" a familiar voice exclaimed once I entered the elevator. Of course, it was none other than Tae and his boxy smile. Honestly, I would rather it be him than some random person see me in this state since he already met my other alter ego. Which, let's be honest, was the rock bottom of my character development. 

"Just feeling a bit under the weather, that's all," I chuckled, as the scent of Vaporub filled the air. There's no denying I looked like a sick Victorian child but my mom did not raise a quitter so I had to commit to the act.

"Okay, well, don't die on me. You're the only reason I'm even going to class today," he smiled softly, trying to meet my sleepy eyes.

"What happened to making your mom proud?" I smirked, looking up at the way his blonde hair was perfectly tucked under a baseball cap.

"Moms will nag all the time, I've come to terms with it. Flip flops, on the other hand, seems to know what she's talking about." his innocent laugh played in my ear, as his hand gently patted my head. Nibbling on my lips I scoffed, masking the burning desire to let out a chuckle. Tae was funny but didn't need to be reassured of it, or else his ego would blow through the roof. So, I stick to the innocent teases. And, once the elevator doors opened, we headed off to our first class. Microbiology.

--

After our final class, Tae and I headed to the nearest coffee shop to debrief today's sessions. Overall, it wasn't too bad, the only thing that kept me going was the fact that the content while dense was still very interesting. Especially, anatomy. Tae, on the other hand, spent the entire day washing his hands after learning about the amount of natural bacteria on our skin. He was mortified, to say the least.

Watching the sunset, we walked to our dormitory before waving each other goodbye. And, even though my dorm didn't miraculously change floors while I was gone, I swear, it felt like I climbed 9 flights of stairs. So, once I finally reached the front door, my hands were virtually trembling. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm naturally lethargic, but with this cold, my body was feeling extremely fatigued. Sinking myself into the warm covers of my bed, I let out a big sigh of relief before wrapping myself like a human burrito. Unfortunately, the world seemed to not want me to relax, as I was rudely interrupted by an unpleasant knock on my door, resurrecting my frustration which now grew tenfold.

"Jungkook?" I questioned the man in front of me with a furrowed look. Confused not only by his mere presence but also by the fact that his hands were holding bags full of food. He looked completely different. His hair was parted to the side, leather jacket and silver chains layered on top of the same white T-shirt from the night before. I guess he took my allegations of not being "hotter in real life" a bit too close to heart. 

"Can I come in, or should I unpack here?" he asked with a teasing grin as I quickly moved out of the way. Noticing the pile of laundry on the sofa, I rushed to cover it with a blanket before welcoming him inside.

"Yes, of course, um ... what are you doing here? Since when do you know where I live?" I practically bombarded him with questions, naively ignoring the buffet he was unpacking on the dining table.

"Jimin told me you weren't feeling good, so I asked Jiah about your whereabouts. Don't worry, I'm not a stalker," he explained with a small chuckle as if that was supposed to calm me down. 

"Right," I whispered with a slight nod, still trying to process the fact that he was in my dorm. And, as if noticing my dissociating state, he waved me down to the table while my eyes widened at the absurd amount of food in front of me. 

"I wasn't sure what you liked so I just got a bit of everything," he said nonchalantly, nibbling on his lip ring as his eyes glanced up at my stunned face. But before I even tried to protest against his doings, stressing over the money he wasted, my body was pulled onto the chair next to him.

"Hey, what's this?" his index finger pointed to the purple bruise on my shoulder that peaked under the blanket that was once covering it. Pulling the fabric over the spot, I glanced back at him. 

"It's you," I snapped, harshly at first before letting out a small chuckle. Evident confusion filled his face, trying to decipher the meaning behind my words as his brows furrowed with each firing neuron. 

"Me? What do you mean?"

"You don't remember? At the entrance?"

After a few minutes of complete silence and a couple more confused looks from his end, the space between us was finally filled with a big gasp. And, as his gaze lowered to my shoulder once again, his hand was hesitant at first, before slightly hovering over the bruised mark. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you, I promise," he burst into a sigh, searching my scattering eyes. And, although I was intrigued by his innocence, I tried to calm him down with a reassuring smile, promising that it wasn't a big deal. 

"Wow, so not only did I get you sick but I also gave you a bruise," he scoffed, shaking his head before opening a thermos of chicken noodle soup. Giggling at his frustration, I could see that he surely did not find the situation funny in the slightest. 

"Jungkook, really, I'm fine. This was so unnecessary." I leaned closer, meeting his eyes before he gestured for me to open my mouth as I was now inches away from a spoonful of soup. And, as I did so, he let out a warm smile, feeling the tension slowly set him free.  

"Let me make it up to you," he said softly, wiping the corner of my lips with his thumb, using his foot to move my chair closer to him. 

Previous l Next

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey, Steph! Hope you’re well today. Was wondering if you had any really long, slow-burn case fics? Thanks for helping me feed my recently developed sherlock obsession lol <3

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh see I'm DUMB and I don't think ahead on if people with specifically want two genres of fics together, LOL. Sooooooooo I'm going to use your ask as an excuse to post up the next part of my Case Fics list that I've had drafted for months, but if you want some longer fics, start at the bottom and work your way up, since I put things in ascending word count order, LOL. On this and all my other lists!! I hope you'll still enjoy what I've selected for you, and will check out my other lists :)

And as always, friends, feel free to add more!!

CASE FICS Pt. 4

See also:

Case Fics || [MOBILE]

Case Fics Pt 2

Case Fics Pt 3

Serial Killer Case Fics/ Serial Killer AU

For a Case Trope

Fake Relationship / For a Case Part 2

For a Case Pt 3

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 4

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 5

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 6

The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro  (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.

When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart (T, 4,743 w., 1 Ch. || PTSD, Character Study, Rescue, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Trauma, Danger, Drama, Kidnapping/Captivity) – The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side.

Cadet Holmes: A Detective Undercover by Talizora (E, 6,388 w., 1 Ch. || Military Kink, Public Sex, Homophobia, Captain John, Gay Sherlock, PWP, Case Fic) – Sherlock took a deep breath and reached out to lightly brush his fingers across the heavy fabric of the uniform. The shudder that rocked through his whole body was entirely involuntary and hateful. He needed to get over this reaction fast because if he was this affected by an empty uniform on a bed how would he deal with being surrounded by fit men wearing the uniforms while they got hot and sweaty. Part 4 of the My Tumblr Ficlets and Drabbles series

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

You Might Just as Well Be Blind by ArwaMachine (E, 56,625 w., 12 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Bed Sharing, Platonic Cuddling, Jealous Sherlock, Oblivious John, BAMF Hudders, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Flirting, Pining John, POV John, Toplock, Possessive Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Infidelity) – When a serial killer starts targeting couples, Sherlock and John must do what they have to do in order to get to the bottom of things. Unfortunately, John already has a girlfriend. Surely pretending to be in a relationship with Sherlock won't pose any problems with his relationship, will it?

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. 

[cannibalcoyote]

Woodland Princess Ch.7: Turn of Events

Ch.6 Ch.8

I made my way back to the trolls clearing to see that they had placed some dwarves each into separate bags to keep them from escaping and in the middle was the rest of them tied to a log and slowly being rotisseried.

I nearly laughed when I saw this but smacked myself at the thought that I was their only hope and was laughing. I took out my daggers which shone with the starlights powerful energy.

I slowly crept into a tree that was over one of the trolls that was near the edge of the clearing. I created an enduring burning rage which caused the blades to burn hotter than the sun since they are able to use your emotions to your advantage.

I jumped out of the tree and before the troll could figure out what was happening I stabbed the burning hot blades straight through the top of his head which killed him instantly.

Since Bilbo was talking to the other trolls they had no idea what happened when their friend dropped onto the floor with no reason according to them.

I quickly disappeared back into the forest, nobody saw what happened, not even the dwarves, so they wouldn't be able to give me away upon their own stupidity. I was closer to the ground now and crawled underneath a thick bush close to a foot.

Without waiting, I stabbed its leg and dragged it down to the bottom of their foot, and by the time he shrieked I was already back within the trees.

I caught sight of a gray blue guessing it was an animal of some sort, but when the sun's dawn light started to deep through the sky the gray blur turned out to be Gandalf who used his staffs and broke a rock that allowed the sun's light to come through and burn all the trolls to stone.

I didn't want any of them to know I'd helped them because then Thorin would know I have my weapons backs and would save his life even though he made me feel like the ground they step on everyday.

I quickly hurry back to camp and tell Raerthar to say nothing or else they would believe I was weak. Soon enough they came back to camp, some slightly limping and others just fine.

Thorin sent me a glare and thought 'And that's why you don't have a weapon, because you wouldn't even help us even if we're about to die'.

He stalked past me and hit his shoulder into mine as a way to say 'thanks for nothing'. I made no move to respond, knowing it was a bad idea.

Gandalf looked confused when he saw what Thorin did since he knew I was postponing the trolls from killing them, but I told Gandalf none of them had seen me so none of them knew and that that was how I wanted to keep it. He reluctantly agreed thinking it was a stupid thing but nonetheless agreed.

"Mountain trolls down here, this is quite odd." I say to Gandalf as we pack up the ponies.

"Yes, now that you mention it, it is quite odd judging that they haven't been this far since the last dark power fell." Explained Gandalf as he tacked up his horse.

"I find it strange how a wizard and an elf never seem to shut up!" Shouted Thorin from across the area. We decided to search for a nearby cave the trolls must've stayed in and sure enough we found one that smelled of death and decay.

I held my nose as I walked into the troll cave. Gandalf went around and searched for swords I believe he said while I looked around and found an odd looking thing with a deep dark blue color that quickly changed when I put it on my finger.

When everyone finally left the cave, Gandalf and I mounted our horses but it seems the other horses bolted when the trolls attacked so everyone else was walking which made me so happy at the looks of anger and jealousy Thorin threw at me when he was tired of trekking and carrying the things on his back the horses would've carried instead.

We stop at the edge of the forest where a plain opens up to drink and eat quickly. I slide off Raerthar and slip out two apples and a carrot then find her a patch of grass to eat while we're waiting.

"You know that food is much better off being given to a human other than some animal." Says a voice behind me. I turn and see Dwalin I quickly respond,"

"Why? Did you want one?" I say as nicely as I can and pull one out of the saddlebag and make sure to grab Raerthars attention without Dwalin noticing. I hold out the apple, he reaches to take it but I quickly throw it out of his reach to have Raerthar jump into the air and grab it.

The look Dwalin gave me was one of pure hatred but I laughed, hearing Gandalf chuckling slightly as well.

Ch.6 Ch.8

@tigereyesf

[deceptive-daydreams]

[under construction]Masterlist (18+ Only)

*Current WIP*

Smoke Signals - Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

1989 (Eddie's Version) *Coming Soon*

Series (Unfinished)

California Dreamin' (Modern!Eddie AU) - Eddie travels to California searching for something more out of life. And then he meets you.

Friends to Lovers, Eddie x fem reader

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 |

The Under-Ground (Modern!Barista!Eddie AU) - In which you work at the local Hawkins coffee shop where you thought you'd be able to escape the horrors that were high school a few years after graduating. Until one of those horrors lands a job in the closing shift with you...and you have to train him.

Enemies to Lovers, Eddie x fem reader

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Blurbs - * = Smut, ~ = Fluff, ^ = Angst

^~ Eddie x reader with social anxiety - The sudden pressure of being out in public starts to suffocate you, luckily Eddie is really good at reading you.

^~Eddie x reader with bad eating habits

^~ Lost Like a Kid In a Supermarket - Eddie comforts you and does what he can when he sees that you’re doing bad again.

*^~So Here I Am, I’m Trying - Eddie throws a few punches to defend your honor and gets caught up with the law in the process, causing you to be upset with him. He swears he would never end up like his dad however he now sees the parallels and is scared to lose you.

*Control - Eddie finds you needy and pent up and sees how far he can push it.

^~Whatever She Wants; I Will Do Anything - Or where you’re very good at keeping your guard up and not letting others in only to crumble under the pressure. And Eddie is there to help you put the pieces back together.

~Rhiannon - Eddie being a girl dad and he names his daughter Rhiannon. She's five years old and is his entire world, she's got him wrapped around her little finger.

^~Rock Bottom - A Rhiannon Story - Eddie is feeling run down and invalidates himself as a dad but you’re there to mend him back together.

~Cheese Dust - Bus Driver!Eddie x Teacher!Reader

^Til Death Do Us Apart - The Upside Down crumbles around you and Eddie.

*~Tender - Eddie comforts you in the middle of the night when your period wreaks havoc.

^~Rockstar!Eddie