#should’ve never had his ass on stage

[pink7matter]

the general public finding out how shitty jo koy is from his opening speech from the golden globes 😭

[starsofang]

You hated TF141. They were your rival band—born to be enemies, forced into an endless feud. They were arrogant, loud, and always took all the time slots for practice rooms in a petty move against your own band. It was a rivalry that sprouted years ago and had stuck ever since.

You hated them. They hated your band just as much. So why couldn’t you stop fucking their drummer?

You don’t even remember how it began, but you knew it stemmed from a moment of pure, unadulterated hatred. A fit of rage on your end when you discovered one of your amps mysteriously ruined, wrecking the competition for you and causing a loss. You hadn’t an idea who had done it at the time, but you knew it had to be one of the little mutants from TF141.

Ghost had been the first one in your sight, the unlucky bastard who had to hear your outraged tangent about how your band should’ve won, the entire thing was rigged. Granted, he didn’t care, only pitching an argument back on how his band won fair and square and yours didn’t have a chance at winning anyway.

You don’t exactly recall how that caused you to end up trapped beneath him on a lousy couch in a backstage room with his hand wrapped around your throat and your back arching with his hips smashing against your ass, but that was besides the point.

The point was that you were becoming shamefully addicted and no matter how much your hatred for him bubbled with every competition or battle, you always ended up sprawled out on his bedsheets, or letting him into your apartment when he called in the middle of the night.

Every time you tried ending it, telling him you despised him and how much being with him made you sick, he’d snort out an arrogant laugh and puff on that stupid cigarette of his, muttering, “I’ll believe it when I see it, sweetheart.”

It was a never ending cycle and you couldn’t break out of it. It was starting to interfere with your work, spending the nights that you weren’t stuffed full of him writing angry lyrics for new songs to express yourself in the only way you knew how. Practices became sloppy, your work becoming more difficult by the day.

He was to blame for all of it. It made you hate him more. Yet you couldn’t stop. It was the drug your veins needed to pump blood and keep you alive.

Just when you’d find yourself fed up, wanting to break the addiction and telling yourself this time would be different, he’d give you that heated look from beneath his mask while his hands slammed against his drums upon stage, as if saying that performance was for you.

You fell back into the trap every time. Every loss felt doubled, and every win felt like charity. You didn’t care anymore. You just knew you needed your fix and he’d be there waiting with the syringe.

[crybaby-bkg]

Flying the Coop

Gojo and Getou were supposed to love you as much as they loved each other. You even let them turn you into a vampire, so that you could all stay together forever. So why do you still feel like such an outsider?

Warnings: vampirism, human reader turned to a vampire, being referred to as nestling and little one, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, coercion, cunnilingus, ass play, reader referred to as she/her, double penetration in one hole, cervix fucking, and lots of blood and biting. please let me know if I forgot anything and please enjoy!!

Word Count: 4.8k

Also available on Ao3!

Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Fuck Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru. You didn’t need them anymore than they needed you, which wasn’t at all. They might’ve been the oldest vampires in the area, probably on earth, but you didn’t give a single fuck if they were only going to treat you like a pet. Not as an equal, despite your newly turned status, but as something they could gawk at and fuss over before pushing away to the end of the bed. Before you became something to grow tired of, before they fell back into each other, their love centuries older than you could ever comprehend, before you could ever fully mesh into their daily lives. 

As a human, you had been drawn to them since you were young and had heard tales of the devils living on the top of the hill. How they never grew old, how some of the townsfolk had gone missing over the years, how they only ever appeared at night, seemingly stepping right out of the shadows. But you weren’t scared of them; you never were. 

Although, you do tremble when you go knocking on their door one night, entire body lit up in anxiety and anticipation and worry for whether or not you’ll make it to the next morning. You try to hold your chin up high when the door creaks open ever so slowly—they always had a thing for the dramatics—and find two pairs of curious eyes meeting you on the other side. 

You ask to be their familiar, claiming to know what they are, how shitty they are at hiding it since you guys aren’t in the eighteenth century anymore. You fear that you might’ve said too much, become too snippy with such ancient beings, but they only laugh at you. Satoru did, especially, with his alarmingly bright blue eyes and shock of white hair, holding his stomach with his hand as he let out an almost screech of a laugh. Suguru had joined him with a smaller chuckle, shaking his head, his untied hair falling in thick strands across his face. 

And without much further preamble, do they let you in. Agree to let you become their familiar, even though they claim to not have had one in centuries, as humans lives are just so unnecessarily short. You should’ve known then that they were up to something, that the plan in the long run was never to keep you as a human pet. No, you were far too interesting, too new, too shiny, too pretty, for them to ever want to let you go. 

Five years into being Satoru and Suguru’s familiar, do they turn you into a vampire alongside them. You tell yourself that you wanted the transformation, but you start to think back on the idea now, wonder if it was ever an original thought, question when the idea first popped up on its own without their influence. The idea was always pretty cool to you; you could develop different and unique powers, you would be super fast, have pretty long fangs which was definitely a plus, but—

But you never truly wanted this for yourself, did you? A lonely nobody, exiled from their family for wanting to live with devils, turned away from by the people who used to love you when you were small. And now you had to walk the earth alone for the rest of your days, killing the people who used to look just like you, who you used to share bread with, spill blood together. And now, here you are; stealing it like the air from their lungs, greedy, your belly never truly full, always just on the precipice of starvation. 

Suguru says this stage will past eventually, that you’re just a nestling for now, still always hungry, still wanting to feed from its mothers mouth. But you have never known starvation to be so consuming, that all you can think about is filling your mouth with hot blood until it pools from your lips, only to follow the trail with your tongue until there are no traces left. 

You never really wanted to be a vampire, did you? You never wanted to live forever, to have to see all of your favorite people die, to learn to love new ones, just for them to leave you as well. You never wanted to hide in the shadows—the sun feels so good on your skin, its warmth, its softness a comfort against flesh that welcomed its heat. You miss the sun. You miss being able to go out during the day and laugh with others that didn’t cower at the mere sight of you. 

Satoru says this stage will pass eventually, that you’re just a nestling for now, still always yearning for a life that never served you any good. He tells you that you’ll learn to appreciate your new body, tells you how overrated the sun is, that being able to walk the streets at night without fear is better than any warmth the sun could give you. Besides, he had said, if you need warmth, I know a few ways to heat up the body? 

The undead body, you had to remind him, that never once inched up in temperature, that was always just a touch too icy for your liking when you were still human. And now look at you; as cold as them, thirstier than you’ve ever been in your entire life. It was selfish. The entire act of turning you was selfish. 

But at least you all could be a couple now, right? At least you would finally be one of them, on their level, despite the seemingly eons amount of distance of age between you and the other immortals? You would finally be more than just a pet, right? Right? 

How desperate you were to be right. How terrible that you couldn’t be more wrong. 

You were always just a plaything for them. Something they promised held an equal amount of weight in the relationship, but you were nothing more than a shared pup, something for them to love on and fuck and nuzzle against, but never something permeant, something more concrete. 

They had laughed at your outburst, only a few weeks after being turned. How your eyes had gone red and you started floating from the floor, your mouth stretched wide and your fangs bared so long. You only looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum, your fangs mere baby teeth that they couldn’t wait to coo over after ripping them from your head. 

“Little nestling,” Suguru had cooed, arms stretched open from where he sat on the expansive love seat, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Stop making such a fuss and come lay down. You’ll tire yourself out much too quickly.” 

It was like you were talking to a brick wall, one that only ever viewed you as something tiny and petulant. Like you could be soothed by being cradled, rocked to sleep and easily taken care of, like your outburst and anger was simply a reason of your near constant hunger. Like you were less than them. (But you always have been, haven’t you? You’ve only ever been something so new and fresh and tiny? Never quite equal? Never quite measuring up?) 

“Cmon, little one,” Satoru had cooed next, his tone dripping in sarcasm, as he, too, opened his arms in invitation, mocking. “Come lay with mommy and daddy so we can make you feel better.” 

You could only stand there, floating back down to the floor as your anger washed away from you. A cold feeling sunk in instead, something detached, something so hurt and broken, that every unnecessary inhale felt like a sharp stab to your lungs. Their bickering about who was mommy and who was daddy fell on deaf ears, your eyes fading back to a normal color as you slowly turn away from them. 

They don’t even notice you’re gone, until your scent is only a lingering smell lingering by the front doors that you’ve left open. You hadn’t taken anything but the clothes on your back as you left, both hurt and angry that they didn’t come after you. That they let you wander for weeks and weeks alone. 

That was the curse of vampirism, wasn’t it? Needing companionship? Needing someone to be by your side? So why did they need you? Why make you when they already had each for so fucking long—why drag you into their arms, why hold onto you so tight, why—why did they let you go so easily? Why didn’t they fight for you? 

No other vampire would care for you as much as they did, not with their scent permanently mingled in with your own. Satoru and Suguru were some of the oldest, most strongest vampires to have ever walked the earth. Every other vampire knew not to fuck with them, nor the things that they staked claim on. It only made immortal life harder. 

You were still just a nestling, determined to prove yourself a fledgeling but—but hunting was so hard. You rarely had to do it on your own, always had Satoru catch the humans, Suguru dispose of the body. Now you had to do all of that without getting caught, without making too much of a scene wherever you went. You couldn’t—you couldn’t do it. 

Admitting defeat hurt more than you had expected it to, but you couldn’t remember the last time you ate, and you were only growing weaker by the days. Suguru found you, on the verge of being swallowed whole by the sun, laying on their front door steps, hand still posed midair to knock, too weak from hunger to do anything but lay there and die. 

Suguru only chuckled at the sight of you. Scooped up your limp body as if you weighed nothing, tutting at you the entire time under his breath, but you could just barely make out his smile. 

“Look at what I found decaying by our front door,” Suguru said after climbing the many steps, depositing you on the end of the bed that Satoru laid on, the curtains drawn to swallow the room in darkness. He lays you down gently, his touch cold, your body stiff, your stomach curling in on itself with hunger. 

“It took you too long to come home, little one.” Satoru had pouted, slithering down the bed until he hovered above you. He noted your chapped lips and faded eyes, how you kept easing in and out of consciousness. He smiled at the weak sight of you, holding his hand out as Suguru pattered over to the other side of the room, opening up the glass case that held too much blood for only two—three—vampires. Suguru hummed softly to himself as he poured a nice, heavy glass, passing it to Satoru as he sat beside your head, the blue eyed man grinning above you. 

“Do you want to feed, little one?” Satoru asks softly when you’re conscious enough to focus on his gaze, having the nerve to look just a tad bit scared, hopeless. You can only pout your lips the way you know he likes, always the one to concede so easily to your wishes. But Suguru tuts from beside you, positioning your head in his lap as he helps you sit up ever so slightly, Satoru pressing the rim of the cup to your lips. But he doesn’t tilt it, keeps the sweet smelling blood so close, yet so far from reach. You’re too weak to grab it for yourself, always so dependent on them, just the way they like it. 

“Then you have to promise to never, ever leave us again, little nestling.” Suguru says quietly, but his voice is firm. He holds your jaw tight in his hands, stops you from even getting a drip of blood between the cracks of your lips. He waits until you look up at him, his eyes a deep plum, his mouth set in a thin line. 

“Do you promise?” Satoru asks softly, teasing the cup to his own mouth, a threat to take it all away if you don’t comply, conform to their fucked up family where your only role is to always be chosen second. 

“I promise.” You croak out, coughing from the dryness of your throat, already starting to fade out of consciousness again from the lack of eating in so long. 

“Good,” Suguru hums, finally easing his grip from your jaw to allow Satoru to tip the cup to your mouth. “We’ll make a blood promise then.” 

You’re not sure if you hear the last part correctly, too busy wincing at how your fangs burst from your gums, how they bite into the glass cup that Satoru pours into your mouth. You try to sit up on your own, take the cup from him, but Suguru only nestles you into his grip, nuzzling you against his stomach, Satoru holding firm on the cup, controlling just how much you guzzle down second by second. 

“Poor little nestling,” Satoru coos with a chuckle. “Couldn’t even hunt on her own for a few weeks. You still can’t even hold your neck up by yourself, little one.” He presses gentle, soft kisses to the roundness of your cheek, watching the way you quickly start to gather your strength with every passing second, every swallow of the thick nectar. 

“But that’s okay, right, Satoru?” Comes Suguru’s teasing voice, running a finger down the slope of your neck, holding his palm there to feel the way you swallow. “She’ll never be able to leave us again. Our very own little nestling to take care of.” 

“Its time for us to take care of our little one now, don’t you think?” Satoru asks, pulling away the now empty cup, taking in the panting sight of you. You look so much like you did the day you left, all pouty and confused, wanting to be so big and strong on your own, not knowing that the umbilical cord was never actually cut. 

When you don’t answer, Satoru tilts your chin up to face him, Suguru dipping his head down to trace the faint lines of blood that escaped from the corners of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. You try to bite back a whimper, feeling much more like prey than you ever have, even when you were still human. 

“So weak and depleted.” Suguru hums, pulling you into his lap as he eases both himself and you to lay against the pillows at the top of the bed. He cradles your body against his own, your upper half curled toward him to lap at the blood that coats your teeth, your tiny little fangs. You pull away ever so slightly to watch Satoru crawl up the bed in front of you, akin to a snow leopard, all deadly predator with that glint in his eyes, with the way his smile curls up deviously at the corners. 

“What do you think, baby?” Satoru asks, but you’ve never had much choice in this relationship, have you? You nod, only to appease them, but you know they would’ve taken what they wanted anyway, in the end. And what they want—what they’ve wanted from you—was your pleasure. Even if it meant they never got off, even if it meant they would miss out on days and days of sleep just to torture you with their mouths and hands and cocks—its all they’ve ever wanted. 

Was it boredom, that had settled into their relationship? Is that why they had changed things up, brought you along with them? To be some plaything? To keep you needy and dependent on them, because what other vampires would worship you the way they did? What other vampires would spoil you? Hunt for you, clean for you, and fuck you nice and heavy after until you were drunk on being full, in more ways than you could count? 

So you lay there, and you take it. Let them do whatever they want to you, because they’ve always known whats best for you, more than you ever have for yourself, haven’t they? 

Suguru strips off his shirt as Satoru peels your own dirtied and tattered layers from your skin until you’re bared in front of them. Suguru guides your head to his chest, his nipple grazing your mouth as he forces your lips open, prying them apart with thick fingers. 

“You’ll need some of my blood, little nestling, to heal even faster.” He tells you, grazing his thumb on your elongated fangs until his skin splits open, dripping a few droplets of crimson into your mouth. “Bite me, right here, and feed.” 

You’re too high on the addictive taste of such old, powerful blood to care that he’s directing you to bite him right over his nipple, to suckle from his chest like the babe he’s always looked at you as. You’re too high on the taste of him to care about the sight you make; your head cradled in the thick bicep of his arm, his hair untied and casting a shadow over your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as you suckle around his nipple until his blood leaks from the corners of your mouth. 

Satoru only chuckles under his breath at the sight as he settles himself between your thighs, sticky and soft from the aphrodisiac that flows in Suguru’s blood. It was one of the special powers he was gifted after being turned so long ago, a secret that only the two of them share. It makes moments like these all the more intoxicating, knowing that you’ll be begging for both of them in mere minutes. 

Satoru bites you without warning, his thicker, longer fangs seemingly touching bone from how deep they reside in your skin. You whimper at the feeling, unable to pull away from Suguru’s chest as you grip the soft locks of Satoru’s hair. He bites from your stomach, to your inner thighs, your mound. His lips pull back from his teeth as he hovers over your swelling clit, in threat, in promise, laughing under his breath when you grip his hair even tighter and cry out around Suguru’s breast. 

“I’m only kidding, little one,” Satoru teases, pressing a bloody kiss to your folds, wet and loud and smacking. Your hips jerk slightly in response, body relaxing ever so slowly as you continue to swallow mouthfuls of Suguru’s blood, your head feeling light and heavy as the pleasure overcomes you. 

“So sensitive,” Suguru notes as he plucks your nipple from where he cradles you, how you whine in response, how you push your hips toward Satoru’s waiting, red mouth. 

He licks you, from your wet little hole to the tip of your clit, and when that isn’t enough, he repositions you until your thighs rest on his shoulders. Your ass doesn’t even touch the bed anymore, and thats the way he likes it, as Satoru carves a path from your rim to the top of your cunt. He licks you like that again and again until you’re dripping, slick and blood sliding from your pelvis to messy onto the old and expensive sheets beneath you. 

“Did you miss this, little nestling?” Suguru asks, cupping your cheek so that you could blink up at him through thick, fluttering lashes. Your lips are swollen from how much you’ve drunk from him, mouth red and pretty, draining him so much, but he can’t help but indulge you just a bit more. His baby, his sweet little thing. 

“How about this?” Satoru asks when you don’t answer fast enough, sucking your clit into his mouth as if the nub fills the entirety of it. He sucks at your clit the same way you’ve seen him suck Suguru’s cock; like its a mouthful, like the tip of it hits the back of his throat. But the pleasure is too good to complain, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your hips cant against his face, mouth falling away from Suguru’s tit. 

“Yes,” you pant, holding onto Satoru’s hair as he swallows thickly like your clit fills his mouth, holding your hips steady to fuck the throbbing little thing against his thick tongue. “Missed you both so much. S’sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving,” you slur, blood still thick and heavy against your teeth and gums, but they only coo at the desperate sight of you. 

“Poor baby,” Suguru mockingly pouts, slipping his fingers into your mouth, coated in his own blood, fucking them down your throat. You can’t stop your gagging, nor does Suguru want you to, his cock throbbing at the way your throat closes around his digits. He fingers your fang as he pulls his own out, gripping it between his forefinger and thumb, a threat. 

“You know, bad nestlings usually get their fangs ripped out by their sires when they disobey.” Suguru says softly, so easily, you would’ve thought that he was confessing his undying love to you with that tone. You want to panic, you tell yourself to get up, rip yourself away from them, save yourself, but you feel too good to do anything but lay there. You’re so close to coming; Satoru’s tongue feels so good against your clit, Suguru’s fingers stuff your mouth so good. 

“What do you think, Satoru?” He asks, tipping your head back with his grip on your fang, leaning down to ghost his own over the swell of your cheek. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper around his finger in your mouth, your voice lost beneath the slurping of Satoru against your clit, the teasing words of Suguru. 

“Be nice, Suguru,” the blue eyed man says quickly before attaching himself back to your clit, lashing his tongue against the swollen and fat bud. 

“Always so easy and quick to forgive, hmm?” Suguru teases, still not letting go of your fang, still holding you on the precipice of explosion. When he pulls ever so slightly, and when Satoru sucks your clit harshly into his mouth, do you finally tip over the edge. Cum so hard that your entire body spasms, your cries loud and echoing in the quiet house, trembling all over until you suck in a breath that you don’t need. 

As you come down from your high, you feel them moving you, rearranging you until you’re nestled between them, Satoru at your front as he kisses you sloppily with wetted lips. Suguru presses open mouthed kisses along your nape and shoulders, biting every so often just to hear you exhale shakily. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble after a few seconds of silence, burying your face in Satoru’s chest. He hums, rubbing at your flank as he positions your thigh to hook over his own, Suguru nuzzling in closer as you feel his cock poke at your inner thigh. You should’ve known that this wasn’t over yet, that they wouldn’t let you off so easily with just one orgasm. It was barely morning yet. For your insolence, you’d be lucky if they let you free anytime in the next month. 

“Show us how sorry you are by taking both of us at the same time,” Satoru whispers into your hair, his own cock sliding against Suguru’s as they fight for the space between you. You open your mouth to agree; its nothing new, letting them fuck you at the same time, one in your pussy, the other in your ass. But only then do you realize, that they mean in the same hole at once. 

“I-I don’t—”

“I thought you were so remorseful about leaving us all high and dry for so long?” Suguru asks from behind you, sliding his cock between your slick lips. 

“I am, but you guys haven’t even prepped me,” you’re cut off again by Satoru this time, who rubs his tip against Suguru’s, your slick the lube for them. 

“This new body of yours adjusts and heals so much faster than your old one. Why not try it out now?” He asks, tilting your head up so that you’re fully consumed by his gaze, by the blood that still stains his mouth, the brightness of his eyes in the dark room. 

You’re not sure you’re even allowed to say no. 

So you let them do whatever they please with you, as you always have, so dependent on their word and how well they’ll take care of you. It hurts, the way they stretch you, both pushing inside of your too small cunt at the same time. You cry out that it won’t fit, that one of them should’ve entered first then the other, that your ass is still an option. But they ignore you, kissing each other over your head, swallowing their own moans and gasps of pleasures as their cocks kiss inside of you, nestled much too close to your cervix. 

You feel like your entire lower half is ripping and splitting itself into two from the painful stretch; Satoru’s cock is so long, Suguru’s is so thick. You think you can taste them in the back of your throat when they finally settle both of their cocks inside of you, filling you to the brim. Vampires can’t cry, they can’t breathe, but you take a wet, shuddering inhale as you bury your face into Satoru’s neck, wrapping your arms around him as you struggle to adjust. 

But then, Suguru’s bleeding wrist is thrust in front of your face, and your head is so light, you don’t think twice before drinking from him. Letting his essence flow into you, how it suddenly makes the pain subside into something pleasurable, how you suddenly feel like two cocks stuffed in your hole is just enough. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper when Suguru gently pries his wrist from your mouth, smearing the still leaking blood against Satoru’s parted lips. He licks them, grinning, giving Suguru a knowing look over your head as they communicate silently. 

Satoru moves first, quick and much too harsh if you were still a human. You were sure you’d break if so, with the way his claws dig into your sides and how he pistons his hips much too fast for any regular eye to see. Suguru follows him at his own pace, leisurely, but deep, his tip kissing against your cervix with every thrust, until you’re sure he’s close to fucking into your womb. 

The differences of their paces is otherworldly, makes your crying out and moaning a jumbled mess of chords amongst their own noises. Sometimes they’re both inside of you at the same time, their tips fighting to press against your cervix at once, and other times, only Satoru’s tip is inside while Suguru nuzzles deep inside of you. The differences of their sizes makes your head spin, feeling like they’re touching you everywhere, inside and out. 

Satoru’s mouth is on yours; Suguru’s stealing you from him, his fangs pressed against your tongue; Satoru reaches around to push a finger inside of your ass with a bloodied and slicked digit; Suguru presses around to rub your clit with thick fingers, stuffing an extra finger in your already full hole just to feel you tighten up around them even more. They’re mean, laughing at your whimpers and cries, using you again and again until you burst around them, squirting all over their cocks, making an even bigger mess on the already ruined sheets. 

“Fuck, I missed feeling you cum on our cocks,” Satoru moans, scissoring two fingers inside your ass as Suguru keeps fingering at your clit, making your hips jerk and spasm as you try to claw your way out of their grips. 

“Cmon, you got one more in there for us, don’t you, little one?” Suguru teases, laughing when you vigorously shake your head and claw at his arm, drawing more blood to messy the three of you. They don’t take you seriously though, knowing that they’ll force it out of you if need be. 

And they do exactly that; fucking you, touching you everywhere, with their mouths, their hands, their cocks, until you cum again, squeezing them so hard that they reach their own peaks. Neither of them pull out, filling you up so thickly with their cum, you think you can taste it in the back of your throat. Your stomach feels heavy, as you imagine it bloating from how much they spill inside of you, both biting at different parts of your body as they spill rope after thick, hot rope of cum inside your aching pussy. 

And even then, when you’re spent and aching and tired and dripping with more cum than you thought possible; its not enough. Nothing has ever satisfied them, and you’re not sure if anything ever will. Not until you break for them, just so they could build you back up, put your pieces back together again. Only then are you sure, that you’ll finally be enough for them and their greed.  

thank you all so much for reading! likes/reblogs/comments/asks are so greatly appreciated ♥️

[siribaes]

beggin’

armando aretas x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a decade ago armando spent an unforgettable summer with an unforgettable girl, who taught him everything. his sex teacher. now decade later he’s face to face with the teacher once again, determined to show that her lessons didn’t go to waste.

contents: some dom & sub dynamics. voice fixation. size kink. praise kink. pet names. fingering. brief! p in v. cūnnilingus. p!ssydrunk armando bc duh. slight impact play (no face slapping!) they’re in love but in denial about it, minor drug mention, etc. mdni!

suggested tunes📻: elevator by flo rida & timbaland, strip tease by danity kane, get naked (i got a plan) by britney spears, radio by girlicious, virtual diva by don omar, push by enrique igelsias

author’s note: this is slight au, so think of this being the early stages of the revenge plot prior to isabel’s escape. lol the chokehold that the long lost love/lovers reuniting has lol >> i tried to make this as filthy as a possible :) not proofread or edited!

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

without another look or word, armando walks out of the v.i.p. with a hard dick and an odd feeling panging in his chest.

[xoxodeardiary]

3.46k words

A seemingly disappointing birthday turns into a little getaway for Maryn after she wins miss world and who better to spend it with than Aaron. Masterlist

This contains mentions depictions of staying at a poor mental health facility and nothing else to heavy, I want to speed up Maryn and Mabel’s journey to really get to Aaron and Maryns love story… so bear with me please.

Timeline Maryns met Aaron at the gala in Feb, it’s now May. This chapter takes place over the weekend. The dinner is Sat and the kiss happens on sun.

ꨄ

Here I was, once again, on the stage that started it all. Well, not the exact same stage, but the sash around me felt just as heavy, the fabric the same. Only the words were different now. The girls standing beside me were new faces, but their whispers and side glances—their shit-talking—felt eerily familiar. The lights burned as hot as I remembered, searing into my skin like they were part of the ritual. I was such an idiot for thinking it would ever be over. In the pageant world, you can’t just win and stop.

You start with the baby contests, then you move to junior competitions, and eventually, you make it to the big leagues. Beautiful girls from every corner of life—nepo babies with their air of entitlement, and girls who, like me, clawed their way up from nothing. Some girls used pills to coke, tapeworms to anorexia, anything to stay on top. To win Modeling contracts, movie roles, music deals—whatever the prize, you gave up pieces of yourself to get it.

I’d jumped through every hoop. I’d sashayed and smiled before the judges, even Marlon Beck. He was all too eager to forgive my past "mistakes" and save my ass with Mabel, of course—for a price. Nothing in this world comes without a price. And the more you want, the stranger the currency.

Back to where the sterile air reeked of bleach, All the monotone voices with their passive smiles—smiles faker than mine.

“I just want to help you,” the counselor would say, her words syrupy with insincerity. “They’re worried about you.”

Lies. Every word ignited something deep inside me, but I swallowed the flames, knowing that speaking out would only make it worse. Her notepad, its yellow pages already scrawled with lies, sat perched in her lap like a loaded weapon. The scratching sound of the rubber pen with a dull tip as I signed my name. Over and over bored out of my mind.

Then there was the medicine—the taunting voices it silenced in my head were replaced by a heavier, darker fog. The pills weighed on my brain, turning it into thick, heavy soil where no clarity could grow.

I’d give anything to never go back to that place.

“You have less than a minute to answer, Ms. United States of America. The question is: Is this your dream?” The pretty woman read from the prompter, glancing at the countdown timer projected on the wall.

No. Hell no. This was nothing like it should’ve been the farthest thing from what I deserved, what I had earned. That was what I wanted to say, but my game face held steady. I smiled with practiced poise and delivered the winning answer, the words flowing like honey, sweet and insincere.

The applause roared around me as I walked back to my place, standing beside Ms. Canada. My hands clutched the folds of my gown, my heart pounding beneath my chest. This wasn’t my dream. But on this stage, under these lights, it had to be.

The real beating came backstage. Everyone else may have been satisfied with my performance, but Mabel wouldn’t be. I could feel it in the air, her eyes on me, like she was waiting for me to slip up. Ricardo had saved my ass those few weeks ago, but I knew it couldn’t be him again. It was either me or him, and I couldn’t keep being selfish. It hurt, but I couldn’t let him suffer for me.

Ricky had been Mabel’s godson since he was born. His family had money, so did Mabel. They were close, grew up together, and when Ricky’s mother, Honey, caught his eye, I could see the anger in Mabel. Honey had something she’d wanted for decades, but she settled and played her role.

When Ricky was born, Mabel was his emergency contact, and after James and Honey died, it was all hers—Ricky and the money. Everything went into her hands, including the memories. She could’ve kept the photos, the videos, the moments of a life she didn’t care about, but she burned them. What remained was just the money, and she held it like a prize. That’s all she cared about, that’s all she ever would.

I could feel my body start to betray me. I hadn’t eaten all day, and the emptiness in my stomach was becoming a black hole. My vision blurred, spinning, as I stumbled backstage, dizziness taking over. The world felt too heavy.

"Ricky, where is my lancet? I think I need sugar," I murmured, barely able to catch my breath.

"Where did you pack it?" Ricky’s voice, frantic, cut through the haze, searching for it.

I felt my body slump. “I—. She didn’t pack it. I did.” Mabel said cutting me off standing against the door like a lion about to pounce. “Just like I do everything around here. And for that fat, ditzy bitch to embarrass me like that, and then stuff herself with sweets. Ha. No. I don’t think so."

Mabel sneered and shoved it into her pocket. She didn’t even care that I could go into shock. I had diabetes since I was 15 years old.

I leaned back into the couch, my head swimming, when she grabbed my face with sharp, cold hands. Her nails dug into my skin, her fingers like vices. She twisted, pushing in my jaw, and I could feel the scrape of her nails along my neck. It hurt. It hurt more than I could handle, but I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction. Not now.

I hissed, trying to blink the pain away, but the tears formed, and I could feel them threatening to fall. The last thing I needed was to cry. I needed to be strong, even though the strength was slipping away with each second.

“You have the audacity to cry when you’re the one who slapped me in the face?” Mabel spat, her voice like acid. She jerked my head roughly to the right, tilting it painfully, forcing me to look at her. My chest tightened. The cold, judgmental light above us made everything feel so sterile, so clinical. Like I wasn’t a person, just something to punish.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, my voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to... really... the medicine....” I swallowed hard, hoping my words would make sense, hoping they would lessen the wrath that was building inside her.

She cut me off with a sharp, cruel laugh. “No. It didn’t.”

I froze. The small, weak part of me that had hoped for some kind of mercy, some kind of understanding, crumbled. I whimpered like a child being told no for the first time, and all I could do was stare at her, helpless.

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her, leaving me there on the couch, heart pounding, chest tight with fear. Alone.

“Ssh, it’s okay. Here,” Ricky’s voice was a lifeline, soft and calming. I didn’t deserve it, but he was there, kneeling beside me, pulling a ziplock bag of my favorite candies from his pocket. I didn’t feel like I could move. I felt paralyzed, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Every part of me just wanted to escape. I didn’t want to feel anymore.

Ricky fed me a piece of candy, his hand gentle, guiding it to my lips. I let myself take it, even though I didn’t want to. His actions felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, even though part of me wished I could just let go.

The weariness washed over me, pulling at my limbs like I was being swallowed whole. My head rested back, and the harsh, cold air stung my skin for a second before Ricky put his hoodie around me, the warmth of it wrapping me in a fleeting comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his thick Dominican accent brushing against my ears.

“It’s okay” was all I could say before sleep took over, drowning everything else out.

But as I drifted off, my thoughts spiraled. What was I doing? How had it come to this? I had no control, not anymore. Mabel had me trapped in a cage of her making, and all I could do was survive it. I wasn’t strong enough for anything else, and maybe not even that.

-

Eventually, I got up, the sun outside dimming as it faded into a golden-orange hue, casting long shadows across the room. I sat on my pink silk sheets, my eyes trailing aimlessly around my space. There was a heaviness in my chest I couldn’t shake, but I pushed it aside. Despite everything, I couldn’t deny the small spark of satisfaction I felt in the plumpness of my lips and the way my lashes framed my eyes. Little things, but they made me feel... okay. Maybe even pretty.

I stretched my arms toward the ceiling, letting out a yawn that ended in a deep sigh. There was no avoiding it—I had a job to do tonight. My task was simple enough: look my prettiest and flatter Marlon Beck until his ego inflated like a balloon. The thought made me cringe, but I couldn’t afford not to.

The warm embrace of a hot bath called to me, and I answered, stepping into the steamy water I’d filled with Epsom salts and a frothy bubble bath. The lavender scent wrapped itself around me as I lowered into the tub, letting the heat ease the tension in my body. My head rested against the cool porcelain edge of the clawfoot tub, my eyes fluttering closed.

For a brief moment, I allowed myself to exist.

Birthdays used to mean something. Now, for the last five years, they’d been nothing but a source of sadness—a reminder of what I’d lost. The edges of those dark thoughts crept in, like unwelcome guests at the door of my mind, threatening to pull me under. But no. Not this time. I was tired of being sad.

And then I heard it: a small, familiar voice, soft at first but growing louder.

“Whose birthday is it?” Mama asked, her tone warm and full of love.

The memory unfolded like a movie reel. I saw myself as a little girl, standing beside her. My store-bought Princess Tiana dress had deep creases from being folded too long in its plastic bag, but I didn’t care. The matching plastic heels clicked and clacked as I jumped up and down, the plastic strap with Tiana’s smiling face barely keeping my feet in place.

“It’s my birthday, Mama!” little me chirped, her voice high-pitched and brimming with excitement.

“And how old are you?” she asked, her smile so wide it could’ve lit up the room.

The kitchen had been transformed. The cluttered counters and table had been replaced by a large white folding table, its front draped with a “Happy Birthday” banner that sagged slightly in the middle, with presents littered everywhere.

“I’m 10!” I exclaimed, my grin nearly splitting my face.

“Ten years old,” Mama said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s all sing happy birthday!”

The memory swelled. My older cousin walked in carrying a cake, and the smile on my face grew impossibly wider. They set the cake down on the table, and the familiar birthday tune began.

“How old are you?” they sang, their voices overlapping.

“10!” I shouted, my voice bursting with pride.

“How old are you?” they repeated, louder this time.

“10!” I screamed again, puffing my chest out like it made me bigger.

The song ended, and I leaned over to blow out the candles. The sound of cheers and laughter filled the air as the candles went out, replaced by the smell of melting wax and sweet frosting.

The memory faded, leaving me sitting in the tub with a bittersweet ache in my chest. That little girl—the one jumping up and down, her plastic heels clicking, her heart full of pure, untainted joy—I was so jealous of her. I wanted to be her again. I wanted to feel that kind of happiness again.

Maybe... maybe that started with a choice. A choice to fight.

I sat up, the water rippling around me as I scrubbed myself clean. When I was done, I dried off and coated myself in lotion and perfume, determined to put the memory to good use.

The familiar sound of knobs turning and a door clicking open pulled me from my thoughts. I sat at my vanity, wrapped in a soft robe, my cluttered makeup station lit by the warm glow of the bulbs around the mirror. I scrolled through my phone, searching for outfit inspiration.

“Maria, are you decent?” Ricky’s voice called out my middle name from the hallway. He pushed the door open a crack, his hand covering his eyes.

“Why’d you come in if you thought I wasn’t dressed, perv?” I teased, a small smirk tugging at my lips.

Ricky rolled his eyes, clicking his teeth. “Happy 25th birthday!” he said, stepping inside with a pink gift box in one hand and a small cake in the other. He pulled a tiny confetti popper from his pocket and let it off with a grin.

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of me as I rushed to hug him. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than I intended.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning me over to the bed. He placed the pink box in front of me and opened it to reveal a heart-shaped mini cake.

“Your favorite,” he said proudly. “Red velvet. And I made sure to tell them you like it dense.”

He began singing “Happy Birthday,” his deep voice filling the room. When the song ended, he sat beside me, waiting expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to eat your cake?” he asked. “It’s your favorite.”

I hesitated, glancing at the cake before shaking my head. “I can’t,” I said, standing to adjust my robe. “I’ll get bigger.”

Ricky frowned. “Maria, you’re barely a hundred pounds soaking wet. A slice of cake isn’t going to change that.” He picked up the knife and cut a piece, holding it out to me. “Forget what Mabel says. It’s your day, and she won’t even be back for another two weeks.”

I crossed my arms. “But she left prepped meals. She’s going to know if I don’t eat them. She’ll notice if I gain weight.”

Ricky’s jaw tightened. “Let me deal with Mabel,” he said, his tone firm. “She doesn’t need to know everything.”

“She always finds out,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “She told me I’d be nothing more than an addict. Do you think she’s right?”

Ricky crouched in front of me, his eyes searching mine for an answer. “No. Of course not. You’ve been sober for six months, Ricky. You’re doing amazing.”

“She doesn’t have power over me anymore,” he continued. “She only did because of the drugs. But I’m free now. I found my brother, and he has pictures, videos—proof of everything. I’m going to settle this. She won’t be able to hurt us anymore.”

He kissed my forehead, lingering for just a moment, before walking out.

Could I finally be free?

-

The restaurant was cloaked in an air of quiet sophistication, the kind of place where the conversations were low, the laughter subdued, and the clink of cutlery against fine china almost hypnotic. The ambiance was steeped in luxury, the dark wooden walls polished to a gleam, their antique charm complemented by ornate golden inlays. Everything here seemed timeless, as if the room itself was frozen in a moment meant to impress.

I sat a few feet away from the balcony’s intricate wrought-iron banister, the design curling like ivy vines, each detail catching the faint light of the crystal chandelier hanging above. The chandelier was massive, the kind of centerpiece that drew your eye even when you didn’t want to look. Its crystals refracted soft greens and yellows, casting an ethereal glow over the glass shelving lining the walls. The shelves were filled with gleaming bottles that sparkled like jewels, their liquid contents shimmering in the chandelier’s light.

My chair was a deep maroon, upholstered in velvet so soft it felt like sinking into a cloud. Golden details were woven into the armrests and back, their intricate patterns catching the light with every slight shift. I tried to let the elegance of my surroundings distract me, to lose myself in the hushed murmur of conversations coming from the floor below. There, couples and groups sat in matching maroon chairs at circular tables draped in crisp white tablecloths. The flicker of candlelight played across their faces as they laughed and sipped wine, their plates piled with food that looked almost too beautiful to eat.

But none of it could keep my mind from wandering. I checked my watch again, the time staring back at me like a cruel joke. Marlon was an hour late. An hour. The realization settled heavily in my chest, making my heart ache in that dull, familiar way.

He had forced me into this date, had insisted with that charming, condescending smile of his that I clear my schedule. And now he had the audacity—the gaul—to stand me up.

The soft hum of the restaurant couldn’t drown out my spiraling thoughts. My gaze drifted to the empty seat across from me, its maroon upholstery mocking me. A lump formed in my throat, hot and humiliating.

If even Marlon Beck—someone who’d sleep with just about anyone—didn’t want me, what did that say about me?

The question clung to me like a wet cloak, its weight dragging me further into the darkness. It wasn’t just about this date or him not showing up; it was about everything. Every rejection, every misstep, every time I had felt like I wasn’t enough. The restaurant seemed to grow quieter, the glow of the chandelier dimming in my mind as my thoughts consumed me.

I was sinking into that familiar pit when a soft voice broke through.

“Ma’am, could I get you anything?”

The waitress’s voice startled me, pulling me back to the present. I blinked up at her, her kind eyes framed by dark lashes, her expression gentle but professional.

I straightened in my chair, trying to shake the heaviness off me, if only for a moment. “Um…” I hesitated, my thoughts catching up to my surroundings. My mind flitted back to the menu I had studied earlier.

“I’ll have the six-ounce filet mignon, medium rare, with the white veggie rice,” I finally said, my voice steadier than I expected.

She nodded, her smile softening the edges of my embarrassment as she leaned forward to pour water into my glass.

As she walked away, I sank back into the maroon chair, the plush velvet cradling me. I looked down at my watch again, though I already knew what it would say. Marlon wasn’t coming.

The flickering light of the chandelier caught my eye again, the greens and yellows reflecting faintly on the golden inlays of the banister. Somewhere below, a burst of laughter erupted from one of the tables, sharp and bright. It made me smile.

I reached for my water glass and took a slow sip, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat. My thoughts felt heavier now, like stones stacking one on top of the other. Still, a small part of me wanted to believe this didn’t mean anything. That it wasn’t about me. But that part was small, and tonight, it felt impossibly far away.

The restaurant’s quiet hum wrapped around me, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside my chest. I kept my gaze fixed on the chandelier above, the delicate greens and yellows refracting off the crystal, as if willing the sight to distract me from the empty seat across the table. But it didn’t. I traced my finger along the edge of the white tablecloth, a nervous habit that felt more pathetic with each passing second.

Marlon wasn’t coming.

I let out a soft sigh, trying to push the hurt down. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. If I let myself wallow, I’d only fall deeper into that pit I’d been clawing my way out of for years. Instead, I reached for my water, taking another sip as I focused on the faint ripple in the glass.

And then, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.

A tall figure stepped into the dining area, scanning the tables. His warm brown eyes landed on me, and his face broke into a relieved smile. Aaron.

“Aaron?” I said aloud before I could stop myself, my voice tinged with surprise.

“Hey, Maryn,” he greeted, his tone soft and unassuming as always. He hesitated for a moment, his hand gripping the back of the chair across from me. “Is this seat taken?”

I blinked, glancing at the empty chair Marlon was supposed to fill.

A pang of disappointment surged through me, but I pushed it aside. “No, go ahead,” I said, offering him a small smile.

Aaron sat down, his movements careful, as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile air around us. He adjusted his jacket and looked at me with a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

“Same,” I replied, watching him closely. Aaron had always been... different. Steady. Kind in a way that didn’t demand attention but lingered in the little things he did.

“I, uh, saw you sitting here alone,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, “and I thought maybe you could use some company. If that’s okay?”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, my mind briefly flickering back to Marlon and the sting of rejection. But then I looked at Aaron’s earnest face, and something in me softened. “Of course it’s okay,” I said, my smile growing a little wider.

The waitress returned just then, her eyes flicking between the two of us before settling on me. “Would you like me to add anything to your order?”

Aaron looked at me questioningly, but I waved him off. “I already ordered. But Aaron, you should get something.”

He glanced at the menu, quickly scanning it before nodding. “I’ll have the vodka pasta please,” he said before handing the menu back to the waitress.

As she walked away, Aaron turned his attention fully to me. “So, what brings you here tonight? Fancy dinner for one?”

His teasing tone was gentle, but it still made my cheeks warm. I shrugged, “It was supposed to be something like a date I guess but it’s also my birthday.” I said

His eyes lit up and he gave me a toothy grin raising his eyebrows. “ May 29th you’re a fellow Gemini!” He pointed out making me scrunch my face playfully.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re one of those people.” I said with a blissful laugh.

“No- no I’m not that into it like those people who blame everything on mercury.” He belled laughing with me. The night went on a turned into an amazing evening.

Somehow we ended up on the streets of the city having a great time walking on the dark empty beach, talking, having non stop smiles of pure joy on our faces.

“How do you think people will react to this.” His accent flushing my moonlit skin.

“I don’t care I having fun!” I said I haven’t felt this good in a very long time. “I love them but forget the people who’ll care. It’s weird because I’m a public figure and all but people are just way too invested.” I drew out the brandy I had clearly speaking in innards.

“Yeah we need to get you some water.” He said making me burst into laughter I looked to my left where we were sitting in the sand.

His eyes even prettier in the dark this glistening skin smelling thick and rich. He sat next to me in a dark button up and dark slacks the sleeves rolled up showcasing the lion tattoo on his forearm. I could already tell he knew what I was laughing at.

“Can I? please.” I begged as he rolled his eyes at me before nodding his head.

“Wha-uh!” I exaggerated going into another fit of laughter.

“Alright Ms.Queen let’s get you home.”

I woke to the faint aroma of coffee and the soft hum of a bird outside the window. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was. The ceiling above me wasn’t mine, nor was the slightly lumpy cushion beneath my head. My jacket was balled up beneath me, stiff and uncomfortable. Then it hit me. Maryn’s place. Turning over to my left reaching out for Maryn only to feel the coldness of where I layed her down.

I opened my eyes fully, squinting against the pale morning light that filtered through the curtains. The faint clatter of dishes came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of water running. I didn’t need to see her to know it was her.

Maryn had a presence that lingered, even when she wasn’t in the room.

Turning my head over to the left to see the toiletries shed layed out for me. As well as a t-shit and some basketball shorts.

I hadn’t planned on staying over but after dinner. I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.

Maryn intrigued me in ways I couldn’t quite explain. She had this strength about her, a quiet defiance that masked something softer underneath. She had a lively spirt I could feel.

I saw it in the way she brushed off the sting of the date that didn’t show, pretending it didn’t bother her when I knew it did. And I saw it now, in the way she moved through her space with purpose.

I glanced around again, taking in the details I’d missed last night the colors, little trinkets and cozy blankets she has sprawled in her home and on various things.

The sound of her voice startled me.

"Good morning," she said, poking her head around the corner. Her hair was tousled, and there was a smudge of flour on her cheek. She must’ve been baking something.

"Morning," I replied, my voice raspier than I expected. I cleared my throat and offered a smile. "You’re up early."

She shrugged, leaning against the doorway with a mug in her hands. "Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d make some tea. Want some?"

"Let’s see if an American can impress me with tea," I said, standing and stretching. Her lips curved into a smirk. "It’s an earl gray I put honey in mine." She said in a decent British accent.

I laughed, following her into the kitchen. The space was small but cozy, with mismatched mugs hanging from hooks and a calendar on the wall, each day marked with tiny scribbles.

She handed me a mug, and I took a sip, the warmth spreading through me. "All right, I’ll give it to you," I admitted. " at least one American knows how to make tea."

Her grin widened, and for a moment, All I could think about was how effortlessly beautiful she looked, standing there in her little kitchen, as if she belonged in a storybook. Her hair big and coily in a quick bun in a cropped large t-shirt and some plaid boys boxers.

I watched her move around, tidying up and humming softly under her breath. There was something grounding about being here with her, something I couldn’t quite put into words.

“Do you eat sausage?” She asked me turning around back to the stove.

“I do darling.” I tried my chances with a nickname as not looking out from her pots but I could tell she was smiling as she said “darling is that just a British thing or are you trying to flirt?” She said in her sweet southern accent

“This is some cheese grits, a biscuit, eggs, sausage, and some chocolate chip pancakes.” She briefed.

“This is a scone.” I said looking at the biscuit.

“No it a delicious biscuit, you wish you had these in London.” She said eyes sparking as she waited for me to take a bite.

As soon as I went to taste it she yelled “wait! Try it all together like make it a sandwich everything but the grits.” She said showing me hers. Doing as she said making my sandwich I dug in and relished in the flavor.

“I know thank you.” She cockily said

-

The sun was higher now, casting long shadows across Maryn’s living room. I stood by the window, coffee in hand, staring out at the lazy streets of the city. For a moment, I let myself forget that I wasn’t in London anymore. I wasn’t in some quiet corner of the world—no, I was in the whirlwind of Maryn’s life. The world outside wasn’t just any street; it was lined with the ever-present hum of fame, of cameras and eyes that would be watching her every move.

I turned, looking at the glossy kitchen island, the still-warm plates, and remnants of our breakfast. The intimacy of it all felt surreal, almost too normal for two people like us—celebrities who lived their lives under constant scrutiny.

“Hey,” Maryn’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, wearing a comfortable oversized sweater and leggings. She had that soft glow that came from the sun casting on her brown eyes.

Is this how people feel about my eyes?

“Hey,” I replied, giving her a soft smile.

She took a breath, then pushed herself off the doorframe. “Wanna share favorite movies?” She asked me walking over to the couch.

“Yeah I need to show you some real classics.” I told her throwing her head back she let out a laugh before turning to me.

“Yea, okay we’ll see about that.” She said in another accent.

“This one is The color purple and it’s my favorite movie of all time.” She said as she flicked through Hulu putting the movie on.

The movie flickered softly on the screen, its warm glow casting fleeting shadows across the room. Maryn’s knees were tucked under her, the oversized hoodie slipping slightly off her shoulder, revealing soft skin that caught the light in a way that felt almost hypnotic. She smelt like vanilla in an intoxicating way.

I leaned back into the couch, pretending to watch the movie, but my focus kept drifting to her. The way her fingers curled to match Celies “Until you do right by me everything you do will crumble.” She said in sync.

My gaze lingering longer than I meant to. There was something about the way she tilted her head slightly, her everything enticing, making my chest tighten. She must have felt it because she shifted slightly, her movements slow, deliberate.

She turned her head, catching me in the act. Her eyes met mine. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The movie played on, but its sound faded to a distant murmur. It was just her, her eyes searching mine, as though she was trying to figure out what I was thinking, and I didn’t have the words to explain it.

Her lips parted, not to speak but as if she wanted to ask a question she wasn’t sure she should. My heart pounded, the air between us suddenly feeling heavier. She didn’t look away, and neither did I.

Her fingers, which had been idly tracing the blanket, stilled, her hand now just resting there—close but not close enough. Slowly, carefully, I reached out, my fingers brushing against hers. Her skin was soft, warm, and when she didn’t pull away, I let my hand settle over hers.

She didn’t look down at our hands, though. Her focus stayed on me, her eyes wide, I could feel her breath hitch softly, her chest rising and falling in time with mine,I was itching to having her in my hands. Skin to skin, bare with us.

I leaned forward, closing the distance an inch at a time. I could feel her hesitation, not in fear but in wonder, as though she was trying to decide if this was real. Her eyes flickered to my lips, then back to my eyes, and that was all I needed.

When my lips met hers, it was soft, tentative, as though we both wanted to take our time, to let this moment unfold naturally. Her lips moved against mine, slow and searching, and my heart thundered in my chest. Her hand turned under mine, her fingers lacing with mine as she leaned into the kiss, her weight shifting closer, her presence enveloping me.

Time disappeared. The movie became a distant hum, the world around us fading into a blur of muted light and the warmth of her touch. When we broke apart, her breath mingled with mine, the tip of her nose brushing against me as neither of us moved far. Her eyes opened, meeting mine again, and there was something raw and vulnerable in her gaze—something that made my chest tighten all over again.

Feeling the kiss still on my lips, I needed more. Ours heads buoying for a moment, leaning and her soft lips on mine. Breaking apart catching our breath.

“Do you want this?” I asked her my eyes etched on hers.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

If you are still taking Halloween fic requests:

Member of a monster-themed novelty band Grantaire x Actual Vampire Enjolras

oh HELL YEAHHHHHH

i'd apologize for the ensuing silliness but you can probably gather that is a hallmark of the fledgling "monster-themed novelty band x actual literal monster" genre. this is part one; i may write more tomorrow

“Grantaire,” Joly panted, “come quick, it’s a party emergency!”

Grantaire, who might as well have lived inside a glass case labeled BREAK IN CASE OF PARTY EMERGENCY, flipped himself right side up from where he’d been about to attempt a keg stand, and nodded solemnly, clapping his hands together. The blood rushed back to his head in a giddy wave.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Joly nodded at Bossuet to explain as the three of them barreled down the hallway.

“Here’s the thing,” said Bossuet, “we hired a band tonight, but the lead singer got way too high and now he thinks he needs to liberate all the notes from his guitar.”

Grantaire cocked his head to one side. “Does that explain why someone’s spent the past hour loudly and determinedly playing scales?”

“I don’t pretend to understand the inebriate’s mind!” Joly shouted, gesticulating wildly. The effect was slightly undercut by the bottle of gin in his hand.

“Point is,” said Bossuet, still walking at an almost-run, “we already rounded up Eponine and Bahorel. We need you guys to take the stage and salvage what’s left of tonight. C’mon, Bahorel says your sound is really getting there.”

“We’re not a band,” Grantaire insisted. “We’re a support group that keeps getting noise violations. We’ve never even played a gig.” He knew he probably sounded whiny but it had been a long week. His minimum possible math requirement was kicking his ass. “Besides, I had plans for tonight. I was gonna get laid.” Or at least, he was going to do his damnedest. Believe in yourself. Manifest your dreams. No I in team.

Bossuet simultaneously peered at Grantaire and pulled him through a door. “Is that why you’re dressed as…god, I don’t know, what do you call all this?”

“I thought he was an Animorph,” announced Joly. “Like, at a midpoint in the transformation to some kind of hairy animal.”

Grantaire coughed.

“Sorry,” said Joly easily. “A Sexy Mid-Transformation Animorph.”

“Shit, take in some culture once in a while, this is embarrassing,” said Grantaire. He gestured at the wolf ears on his headband, the fur glued to the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, the canine nose he’d drawn over his own with Eponine’s eyeliner pencil, the strategically ripped shirt and jeans. “I’m a Sexy Wolfman,” he said. “Obviously.”

He and Eponine, who had watched Ginger Snaps every day for the past month, had agreed to go as a pair of werewolves, but then Eponine had abandoned their pack of two to go make out with Cosette, which he really should’ve seen coming. He couldn’t even hold it against her; Eponine had been “casually” memorizing Cosette’s general weekly schedule for the past couple of semesters, when she wasn’t watching Cosette moony-eyed from the other side of the Quad. It was all probably very cute.

“Well, Wolfman,” said Bossuet, nudging Grantaire in the direction of the makeshift stage, where Bahorel was taking a seat behind the drums and Eponine was—reluctantly, by the look of it—re-tuning her borrowed bass. “You three have about thirty seconds to think of a band name.”

Grantaire picked up the electric guitar and raised his eyebrows at Eponine, whose lupine makeup was now marred by bright red lip marks, like something from a cartoon. Her own lips were smeared crimson, which was to be expected, but.

“She stopped to kiss you multiple times on the cheek?” he muttered.

“Shut up,” said Eponine, visibly blushing. “How’s your quest for a meaningless hookup?”

Grantaire let out a long breath. “Not even the furries are biting,” he admitted as Eponine snickered.

“Band names, people,” said Bahorel. He adjusted a cymbal. “I don’t have all night.”

“Hello,” Grantaire intoned into the microphone. “We are Not Even the Furries Are Biting! This first song—”

“Gonna kill you and make it look like an accident,” Eponine crooned low in his ear. “The embarrassing kind. Toilet-related.”

The thing was, in their capacity as a very loud sort-of group therapy session, with October 31st on the horizon, they had actually been talking about the appeal of wolves as a metaphor for the parts of oneself that felt wild or lonely or unlovable. To that effect, they’d been toying with a couple songs.

Maybe, thought Grantaire, this would not be a complete and total clusterfuck.

They played “I was a Teenage Werewolf” by The Cramps. They played “I’m The Wolf Man” by Round Robin. They played “Werewolf” by The Frantics. Any time he, Bahorel, or Eponine ran into a snag—a fumbled note, a missed beat, a patch that wasn’t perfectly memorized—Grantaire attempted to cover for them by throwing back his head and wailing, as if he was losing more and more of his grip on his humanity.

They were just finishing the first verse of The Black Keys’ “Howling for You” when Grantaire saw him: a tall, handsome stranger lingering at the back edge of the room, with intense eyes and an even more intense air of stone-cold sobriety. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t frowning, just—looking. Disapprovingly? Apathetically? Saddled with a bad case of heartburn? It was hard to tell.

The chorus started up, and Grantaire sang along with Eponine and Bahorel:

“Da da da da da, da da da da da da—”

Grantaire grinned as more and more of the crowd joined in—pulled along less by the band’s general prowess or charisma and more by a drunk college student’s inherent love of an easy earworm, but Grantaire wasn’t splitting hairs at this point.

“Da da da da da, da da da da da—”

A sea of bobbing, singing partygoers, and there on the fringes, Offensively Sober Guy stood perfectly still, watching Grantaire so intently that Grantaire almost forgot the words to the refrain.

Or rather, the word.

Or rather, the single repeating syllable.

To Offensively Sober’s left, two guys attempted to clink their beer bottles together and somehow lost their balance, careening into him. He maintained his impeccable posture as if they weren’t even in the room, never breaking his stare. It was honestly a little creepy.

For reasons Grantaire would later not be able to fully reconstruct, he decided the funniest thing to do would be to wink and smirk and generally pretend like Sober was really, really into him.

[ultram0th]

December 11: Zane Phillips

00 │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11

Actor Zane Phillips was relaxing at home with his boyfriend, Froy Gutierrez. The two guys were lounging on the couch, barely watching various Christmas movies while they cuddled and had some sexy fun.

Zane lied on his back, with Froy resting on the actor’s chest tracing invisible circles on his pecs before pausing.

“Babe?” Froy asked, looking up at Zane. “Are you growing out your chest hair?”

“What? No…” Zane said, his voice trailing off when he looked down at his pecs. 

The previously smooth muscle mounds had some slight stubble on them, most of the tiny hairs centered around his hard nipples before spreading out across the rest of his pecs. Zane would sometimes let his chest hair grow out for a role that called for it, but now the tiny hairs covered more of his torso than they should’ve. Zane never considered himself as “Hairy”, yet now he seemed to be on the beginning stages of it.

“Oh, um, I guess I forgot to shave…?” Zane muttered as he ran a confused hand over his chest, feeling the slight stubble. “Remind me to shave it off before my photoshoot.”

Froy mock-frowned. “I will,” he said, “but I have to admit that I think you’d look pretty hot with a hairy chest.”

Zane chuckled. “I doubt it.”

The next morning, Zane shaved his chest to make it all nice and smooth. As he shaved, he could’ve sworn that his pecs looked slightly hairier than usual, but he chalked it up to sleepiness.

When he got on set, Zane absent-mindedly scratched at his t-shirt as he listened to the photographer’s brief.

“…you’re on the beach and you’re ready to be a sexy lifeguard,” the photographer said, pointing at a spot on the set for Zane to stand. “Go ahead and take your shirt off and we’ll get some pictures.”

Zane sauntered over to the spot where he was directed and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side. He placed both of his hands on his hips and puffed out his muscled chest as he posed.

The photographer frowned and lowered his camera. “Mr. Phillips,” he huffed, “did you not get the brief? You were asked to shave your chest before the shoot.”

The actor jerked back and cocked his eyebrow in confusion. “I did…” he muttered as he looked down at his chest, gasping.

His chest was now officially hairy.

Coarse black hairs covered Zane’s pecs in their entirety, his hard nipples poking out of the dense fur. The hairs even traveled down his torso, covering his stomach and shielding his hard-earned abs from view. The hair even went upwards and started to grow over his shoulders, connecting to some that were starting to sprout on his back.

Zane looked like he hadn’t shaved his chest this morning, let alone this year.

“What the hell…?” Zane muttered under his breath as he ran a disbelieving hand through the thick fur on his chest. He then blushed when he spotted the other people on set watching him. “I, uh, I gotta go!”

Zane sprinted off the set, barely having time to snatch his shirt to cover his hairy chest from view.

A few hours later, when Froy got home, he could hear Zane’s annoyed grunts from their upstairs bathroom. “Zane?” he called up. “Everything okay?”

“Son of a bitch!” Zane’s annoyed voice roared out, echoing throughout the halls.

Froy rushed upstairs and burst into the bathroom, standing back at what he witnessed.

Zane stood in front of the sink, running an electric razor over his chest frantically. The razor left smooth tracks in the thick fur that covered his muscled torso, causing the black hairs to fall to the floor at the stud’s feet. There were clumps of hair all over the floor, as if Zane had shaved numerous cats and dogs, not just his chest. And it wasn’t just Zane’s chest that was hairy. The dark hairs covered his thick arms and legs, making him look all fuzzy. His stubble had grown in too, covering his square jaw as a beard started to form. The actor was nude, allowing his boyfriend to see his larger bush and his fuzzy ass cheeks.

The actor noticed his boyfriend in the doorway and held his arms out to show off his body. “Babe!” he panicked. “Something’s happening to me!”

Froy’s eyes widened as he witnessed his boyfriend’s shaved chest begin to sprout black hairs that thickened in a snap, leaving his chest looking all hairy and fuzzy in a matter of seconds.

“Damn it!” Zane yelled as he stomped his foot in frustration. “No matter what I do, the hair just keeps growing back!” He ran his hands over his fuzzy pecs to emphasize his point, his cock slightly twitching over the odd sensation. “What am I supposed to do?!” He knew that even if he wore a shirt, the hairs would curl over the collar; and his new beard was also concerning. It was still trimmed and manageable, but he feared that it wouldn’t stay like that of long given how quickly his chest hair had grown in.

Froy walked up to his boyfriend and placed a reassuring hand on his hairy shoulder. “Don’t worry, Babe,” he tried to coo, “it doesn’t look bad.” He wanted to be a good boyfriend and support Zane through this hard time, although deep down he thought that his boyfriend looked incredibly sexy with such a hairy, manly body.

Zane tensed up at the sensation of his boyfriend’s fingers running through his now ample body hair. He frowned as he looked down at his hairy form. “B-but,” he whined, knowing that a lot of his parts and photoshoots called him to be freshly shaven so as to play on his boy-next-door charm, “…you really don’t mind this?” He gestured at his fuzzy pectorals. The hair was so prominent on his chest that he could barely see any of his muscle contour lines; the only parts that weren’t covered by the thick hair were his pink nipples.

Froy chuckled. “Of course I don’t mind,” he said, running his fingers through the thick fur on his boyfriend’s plump pecs, loving how the hairy stud tensed up at the feeling. “And who cares what others think? You look really hot with all of this sexy man fur. Fuck those cute guy roles. You look ready for the sexy man ones now.”

Zane’s heart raced faster in his hairy chest and his cock was throbbing as his boyfriend played with his chest hair, the feeling of another man’s fingers playing with making the hairs feel as they were all live wires each directly connected to his aching cock. They all made his chest insanely sensitive, and the more his boyfriend petted him, the more turned on he felt.

“Ughh!” Zane grunted as he came, his cock shooting its load up in the air, his cum landing on his hairy pecs.

Neither of them knew what was behind all of this, but Froy couldn’t bring himself to really care too much. He leaned in closer to his hot, hairy boyfriend, eager to play with his hairy chest again.

[sorchathered]

Strip that down

Pairing- Club Owner!Jake Seresin x Dancer!Reader (Nightclub AU)

Warnings- mentions of stripping, language, light smut

Summary-I’m gonna be so serious y’all I blacked out writing this, might make it a series of drabbles in the future bc I went feral for the concept.

“I swear you have got to be the most pig headed, arrogant son of a bitch I’ve ever met” you say as you storm down the hall, a very disgruntled Jake Seresin hot on your heels. He hadn’t intended to start a fight but goddamnit it seemed like no matter what he said lately caused an argument.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not like I was asking for that girl’s number or anything, she was all over me! What did you want me to do? hit her? Come on Cherry just stop and look at me please?” He said as he jogged in front of you to stall you. You two weren’t even dating, you’d been very adamant that this was just hooking up, so why were you so pissed? Unless…

“Cherry look at me. I can’t keep fighting with you like this, it’s driving me insane. If you want to break things off we can, I can’t say I won’t miss you but I’ll get it. We work together and it’s hard to be professional when shit like this happens. But…if you want more, all you have to do is ask baby girl, you know good and damn well you’ve got me totally wrapped.”

He had you crowded up against the sticky nightclub wall, bass thrumming through the room straight into your chest as he skimmed his hands up and down your sides. You’d been in the middle of your set when you watched some fresh faced new hire throw her arms around his neck and get way too close for your liking, but of course you had to be professional and continue on, trying to school your features as you danced on stage. The second you’d finished and gotten your tips you’d slammed his portion on the bar, stomping off to the dressing rooms, the fire in your eyes enough to burn the whole room down. He wasn’t yours, he was your boss and you should’ve known better than to let him get under your skin like this.

You were trying to get your bearings but your head was spinning, had he really just said he wanted more? You opened your mouth but promptly shut it, how were you supposed to respond to that? Of course that’s what you wanted but you never would’ve suggested it, you’d been in love with him since the two of you had started this whole arrangement, how could you not be? He was charming and charismatic, and don’t even ask about his looks; the man knew he looked good. He was making it harder and harder to focus now, those damn hands of his couldn’t seem to stop grazing over whatever exposed flesh he could get to and it was making you dizzy.

He cocked his head and smirked that smart ass smile at you, leaning in to whisper against your lips, “Gotta use your words baby, you want us to keep going like we are? Or do you want me to make you mine? You say the word and I’ll make sure every girl in a 100 mile radius knows you own me, but I need to hear you say it.”

“You know I do, I love you, you’re such an asshole but fuck I do, I love you Jake.”

He groaned as he pressed himself to you, kissing you hard as he continued to run his hands all over your body. “Goddamnit Cherry, you can’t just drop a bomb like that on me, making me fucking crazy, I ought to take you right here where everyone can see.” His words sent fire through your veins, you cried out and bucked into him at the thought of him fucking you right outside of the main stage, anyone could walk by and you weren’t sure you’d even care. He chuckled against the shell of your ear as he continued to press his palm against your core, he could feel you soaking through the thin fabric of your costume, again he briefly considered following through with his taunting and fucking you right here, but thought better of it because after all you were still at work. He kissed you again and removed his hand from your shorts, watching your pretty doe eyes blink at him in shock, you really had thought he’d do it.

“Oh come on now don’t look at me like that, go change and grab your stuff, first I’m gonna take you out for dinner and then you can be my dessert, whadd’ya say Cherry Pie?” You rolled your eyes but let him scoot you down the hall, and when you walked out with his hand on your ass you made sure the new waitress caught a glimpse of your tongue down his throat. Jake could definitely get used to this side of you, and the private dances just for him every night didn’t hurt either.

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @sailor-aviator @attapullman @bobgasm @sebsxphia @goldenseresinretriever @bradshawssugarbaby @roosterforme @mynameismckenziemae @sarahsmi13s @hangmansgbaby

[mjonthetrack]

bl 1

“Soleil Nicolette Blair,” the tall woman

hummed in appreciation as she grasped her vip

tickets to the women’s main event of the night.

She was ushered to her seat, taking her glass of

strawberry peach sangria and folding her hands

in her lap she grinned seeing the woman’s tag

team event. It was safe to say she cheered the

loudest when Bianca and Trinity won their

match. As the next match was to begin Soleil

was on her feet quickly going back stage and

hiding in the wrestlers private gathering space

where food and drinks were sat out for the

wrestlers and their guests. The woman hid her

face behind a menu, ignoring the small group at

the table she’d sat with. Hearing the chirpy

cheerful voice of her target she bounced her leg

in her seat excitedly, unable to wait she sat her

menu down and stood up. “Bruh I know you’re

lying!,” Bianca shrieked and took off running

abandoning Trinity who was caught off guard by

the woman who’d sprinted off. Soleil grinned

brightly stumbling back at the impact of the

shorter woman who had flung herself into her

arms. Soleil felt tears swell in her eyes as the

shorter woman was crying in her chest cussing

her out in disbelief. “Ah fuck,” came the

voice of Montez who sat his plate down with his

half eaten burger. He groaned standing and

walking to where his wife was,” babe let go, your

food gone get cold, even if it is your crazy ass

sister.” Soleil peered at him,” speak for yourself

you bobble headed bi-,” pausing when

Bianca removed herself from her taller frame

and started smacking her arm,” I hadn’t heard

from you in a week you bitch!” At this point

most of the people in the room were in tune

with the reunion, even the bloodline who had a

large table to accommodate their family. Soleil

patted her sister’s head one of Bianca’s pet

peeves, “I was busy with business, you’re not

the only star in the sky little bee.” “You just gone

do your big sis like that?!,” Trinity stood behind

her tag team partners shoulder. “Sunny!” Trinity

gaped when the woman hugged her spinning

her around filling the room with Trinity’s

infectious laugh which perked her husbands

ear’s, Jonathan nosily went to see who had his

wife laughing like that and grinned brightly

seeing the taller Blair sister,” what’s up big

bee?!” Soleil grinned and did a goofy handshake

with the twin who began talking to her about

sports whilst Bianca moved to Montez who was

grumbling about the food he had got his wife. “I

know she’s so happy to see you, she was talking

all about missing your messages before our

fight,” Trinity chimed in leading the woman over

to the large table set up for the bloodline to

which she waved Bianca over to who tugged a

grumpy Montez with an empty plate to join.

“Who is she?,” Sami asked chewing happily

on his salad nudging his head in the direction of

the radiant energy coming from the taller

woman. “That’s Bianca’s little sister Soleil,”

Jonathan smiled brightly as his wife happily

talked to her about her travels whilst Bianca

rested her head on her sisters shoulder.

“Little?!,” came Sefa’s voice choking on a piece

of steak to which his wife rolled her eyes

smacking his back,”how do you not know Soleil

she’s a bad ass bitch?!” Roman sat up at the

new arrival listening in to Jonathan and Sami, he

gazed over at where the woman sat and his

deep voice broke through the noise,” Bianca I

didn’t know you had a sister, you never told all

of us.” The shorter woman shrugged,” my little

sis is pretty well known, I didn’t really think to

express our connection with everyone, besides

my Sunny bunny is a busy woman,” she pinched

the tall woman’s cheek who scowled,” don’t call

me that I’m not six you hoe.” She turned to face

the table,” I guess I should’ve introduced myself,

I'm Bianca’s sexier and better athlete younger

sister, by three years mind you,” Bianca

smacked her arm much to Montez amusement

“ I’m Soleil Blair, I’m thirty two years old, former

pro overseas hooper as of last week, one time

Olympic gold baller as of last year, I am a

business woman and I do a little philanthropy

work on the side, nice to meet you guys.” “Talk about a resume,” Sami grinned at her

shaking her hand introducing himself as did the

others. “She’s sexy,” Roman uttered towards

Montez who looked at him bug eyed,” you

wouldn’t say that when she is sprinting at you

with a machete.” Soleil scoffed,” that was one

time get over it forehead, and it wouldn’t

have happened if you hadn’t forgotten your

anniversary with my sister.” Roman picked up

his plate of steak and moved to sit beside the

woman offering his hand,” I’m Joseph Anoaʻi

but they call me Roman Reigns around here, you

can call me whatever you want,” he flashed a

bright smile. Soleil shook his hand eyeing her

sister who raised her brows looking away from

the muscular coworker. “Whatever you say old

man,” she took her hand from his larger one and

went back to speaking with Sami who was

asking her about visiting the Middle East.

Jonathan and Trinity were laughing at him,”you

can call me whatever you want,” Jonathan

mocked offering his wife his hand. Trinity

laughed loudly smacking his hand,” get the fuck

out of here reigns she’s way out of your league.”

Joe cussed his cousin out flipping the twin

off,” you’ll regret that when we are practicing,”

Jey laughed catching on to what happened at

the after party social,”don’t be in your feelings

big Uce, not every woman will fall for the Fabio

ass look you got going on.” Joe scoffed rubbing

his beard,” it was busy I didn’t really get the time

to talk to her that’s all.” Jonathan tapped his

twins shoulder,” I think Uce found a woman who

doesn’t give a fuck about his namesake, you

can’t be that hurt Uce you always got women

throwing themselves at the feet of Roman

Reigns.” Bianca strolled through the hallway

spotting the cousins and she waved,” hey boys I

wanted to thank you for being so friendly to my

sister yesterday, anyways we are throwing a

kickback this weekend for her return, you

should all come, but Jimmy you really ain’t got a

choice since ya wife already Rsvpd.” The twins

laughed and thanked the woman for the invite

but Joe stopped her talking more privately,” hey

Bianca, your sister, is she seeing anyone?” The

shorter woman raised a brow at the tall man

before laughing,” you are so funny big guy,

anyways see ya there!” Joseph gaped at

the woman refusing the knowledge and cussed

under his breath seeing the twins clowning him

again having heard the interaction.

It was the the day before the party, Soleil

helped make some Jell-O shots with her sister

pouting,” it’s not fair, why am I helping prep for

my own party.” “Because you not a special

giant,”Montez called out moving his headset

back on calling out shots, to some of the guys

who were playing call of duty. Poking her tongue

in to her cheek, Soleil stood from the island

stool marching over to the tv she yanked the

cord of the playstation from the tv and smiled

flipping off Montez who began cussing in

disbelief at being disconnected.”You two are

terrible, now come and tell big sis what this

is about you not balling overseas,” Bianca pat

the island counter where she sat making

shots. Soleil rejoined her,”I wasn’t on my phone

as much this past week, I had contract

negotiations and they weren’t willing to pay

my worth so I left, so now I’m a free agent but

I am fine running my business right now and

relaxing for the first time in a while.” Bianca

frowned,” girl you love ball, I know you aren’t

gonna be happy just coming back home.”

Soleil smiled very lightly,” it had to be done,

they pay them white girls twice as much and I

can out play them with my eyes closed, I wasn’t

about to argue my worth of payment to a bunch

of old white heads in suits.” Bianca sighed

heavily,” you know I love you, I love having you

home but we both know that was your best

outlet after what happened with CJ.” Soleil’s

face darkened at the mention of her son, she

swallowed harshly staring at the counter,”what

happened to my son wasn’t my fault.” Bianca

gently grasped her arm to catch her sister’s

attention,”Sunny, you and I both know that what

happened to CJ was not your fault, you weren’t

even in the country when it happened, but as

your big sister I am going to make sure that

you’re okay.” Montez wandered over tasting

one of the shots he handed one off to his sister

in law,” Soleil, you loved that little boy, you were

an amazing mother and we all know that, your

ex husband is to blame, he was the one dealing

he drugs and is why your little boy got killed, the

blood isn’t on your hands,B is just making sure

you’re good since you’re back, you know you’re

welcome to crash here with us until you figure

out what your next moves are.” Soleil downed

the shot, tsking she wiped a stray tear,” they

need more strawberry, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

The taller woman left out the room heading to

the guest room on the other side of the couple’s

home. Bianca signed a deep frown on her face

as her husband hugged her close,”she’s gone

be aight B, that’s Blair blood in her veins yall

too damn stubborn to give up on nothing.” Bianca set the tray of shots into the fridge

closing it,” she’s been through a lot and I am

just worried without ball what she’s going to

do, she’s by herself now, her ex is on the run,

she just deserves some happiness.” Montez

nodded his head,” that was interesting seeing

ol man shooting his shot at her,” Bianca laughed

at the reminder,” I wouldn’t be worried about

Joe, that man could talk the panties off of most

broads but not my sister, besides he isn’t her

type in the slightest, he’s got a big ass ego

and not to mention the age gap.” Montez

shrugged,” having seen them Samoans, them

motherfuckers don’t ease up when they set they

eyes on a woman, we all saw how Jimmy

worked Trinity into marrying his goofy ass and

giving him them kids.” Bianca laughed at the

memory of the twin wrestler pursuing her

partner,” yeah well if Joe knows what’s good for

him he will give up before he gets his ego hurt.”

[bow-of-aros]

What do you want, Pete?

I decided to just say fuck it and post this here in its entirety just for funsies :))

Summary:

What if the thing that Peter Spankoffski treasured most wasn't Stephanie Lauter, but instead his older brother who'd gone missing months ago?

Guys. I've gone literally insane over this series. Ted and Peter are so babygirl to me I love them so much. I just. ALDSJDKSJLDAJKSJK you know?? Anyway, enjoy this idea that took over my brain until I got it out!! <33

One of you must give up the thing you treasure above all else. 

Those words ring in Peter’s ears. Vaguely, he can hear Steph offer something with a very unpleased reception that makes him cringe out of some deep-seated survival instinct, and he feels fingers that are longer than they should be and uncannily boneless card through his hair.

“Steph?”

His voice reverberates through his head as though coming from underwater. His eyes land on the gun in her lap, and something in the back of his mind whispers danger!

It’s drowned out by the crash of memories that yell TED!

Ted Spankoffski, Pete’s older brother by over a decade and the only family member who’d ever bothered to give half a shit about him. Their parents had dropped Peter off at his doorstep at the ripe young age of six, right when they realized that a second child wasn’t going to be the thing that saved their failing marriage and fucked off to who knows where. The only contact he had with them was when they sent Ted money to put towards supporting a whole ass other person when he was just barely out of college.

Every time he met someone, they would raise their eyebrows and say, “Spankoffski? Like Ted Spankoffski?” and then pat him on the shoulder sympathetically when he said yes. Pete always had to push down the anger that threatened to bubble up because, yeah, Ted could be an asshole, but nobody even bothered to know him before making their fucking judgments.

Ted had had a shitty life, with the same shitty parents Peter had, and then had a child dumped on him before he’d even had the chance to properly figure out who he was.

By all accounts, Ted should’ve been an awful guardian, and it’s what everyone seemed to assume. But damn if he hadn’t done his best.

He’d driven Peter to school until he was old enough to take the bus on his own. He’d shown up to every science fair and asked a shitload of questions just to make Peter smile as he answered them. He dressed Peter up for every pointless graduation and cheered embarrassingly loudly when his little brother walked across the stage.

When Pete got older, Ted had been the person to cut his hair and take him shopping for new clothes when he first came out as trans. He’d sat the kid down and told him that he’d always have Ted, and always have a room in his apartment. Then, he’d added that if any of Peter’s dork-ass friends ever needed a place to crash, that the door was always open.

A few months ago, Ted had left mid-hookup with Charlotte Sweetly to pick up a bruised and bloodied Peter from school. He’d almost made it through the school day before bumping into Max Jägerman on the way out and Ted had made it across town in an amount of time that had to have been illegal. They’d spent the rest of the night after getting Pete patched up and sitting on the couch watching trashy TV, Ted muttering increasingly absurd threats of violence towards someone half his age the whole time until Peter finally cracked a smile.

The next morning, Peter Spankoffski had woken up, and his brother wasn’t there.

It wasn’t a big deal at first. Ted might’ve gone to work early (unlikely) or met up with a friend (what friend?). But, after hundreds of unread texts and unanswered calls, Peter asking anyone he could think of if they’d seen Ted to no avail, and waiting up every night until he passed out from sheer exhaustion, straining his ears for footsteps that never came, well…

It’s Hatchetfield. People go missing every day.

“Pete?” A hand on his shoulder ripped him back to the present, and Peter scrubbed away tears as he looked at Steph’s terrified face.

He turned his face away from her.

He blinked.

And he found himself looking into the glowing yellow eyes of the crazy-ass goat man who seemed to already know him. T’noy Karaxis, a voice whispered into his ear, a foreboding sense of familiarity washing over him, making his blood run cold.

The Lord in Black grinned impossibly wide at him, blue tongue lolling out and the stench of death radiating off of it.

“Hi Petey-pie!” It laughed, and the laugh grated against his hears for seconds and for eons, “I think that I know what you want~”

Its voice had a horrible sing-song quality to it, like someone who’s thrilled to know a secret that you don’t. The longer that Peter looked into its eyes, the harder his head pounded. Its rectangular pupils stretched far and wide, twisting into never-ending corridors that sent bursts of pain through him as his brain tried to wrap itself around the impossibilities.

“HEY!” The hand on his shoulder yanked him back, the paths of yellow fading as he saw Steph standing between him and that monster. “Leave him alone! What the fuck is your deal?!”

Its smile didn’t fade and Peter could feel its eyes burning into him even through the girl in front of him. The intensity only increased when he blinked to find Wiggly standing next to him, beaming with the sort of glee he would attribute to a kid on Christmas morning.

“Now, now,” He chided, “I’ve convinced my brother here to give up something very dear to him and it wouldn’t be nice if my little fwendy wend didn’t hear him out.”

Peter tried to smile reassuringly at Steph, but the It’s okay, I can do this that he’d wanted to convey had probably leaned more into Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Either way, she seemed to understand what he was getting at and stepped out of the way.

The second she did, a bright yellow flash blinded him. He could feel reality warp around him as the chilling screams from across hundreds of thousands of universes converged in this one fragile moment. When Peter opened his eyes again, blinking away the dots seared into his vision, what he saw nearly brought him to his knees.

Ted looked exactly as he did the last night they saw each other save for the tear tracks that streamed down his cheeks, soaking his shirt.

His brother looked up and a small gasp escaped his lips.

“Petey?”

Suddenly, this ritual meant nothing. The Lords in Black and Max Jägerman and this whole fucking town could go fuck themselves because Peter wasn’t alone anymore.

“Ted! Holy shit!” Neither of them mentioned how Peter’s voice cracked as he launched himself into his brother’s arms, sobbing into his chest as familiar arms wrapped around him and held him so tight he felt like he might explode. Finally, finally, he was safe.

“How touching.”

Except he wasn’t.

Their arms tightened impossibly more around each other as they looked up at Wiggly through teary eyes, clinging onto the flimsy hope that they wouldn’t be separated again if they could only will it hard enough.

Surprisingly, it was Ted who spoke first, “What the fuck do you want with my brother you sick fucks?! AM I NOT FUCKING ENOUGH FOR YOU?!”

Wiggly didn’t bother to acknowledge the outburst, attention solely fixed on Peter, green light seeping out of him and into the teenager’s pores, filling every inch of him with a sense of wrong.

“This is the other option,” The Lord’s eyes shone as maliciousness seeped into its voice, “Tinky has enough Teds to last him a good, long while, but things will be a little empty without him there. So, if you want us to take Maxwell off your plate, you can trade him,” A crooked finger pointed at Steph, “for her.”

Immediately, Peter and Ted started talking over each other.

“What?! I don’t even know where he’s been—”

“She’s a fucking child you can’t put her in the Box—”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Wiggly silenced them both. His wrathful tone is in stark contrast to the rest of the Lords grinning and dancing behind him.

He stared down at them, “Alright, let’s make this a little more interesting. If you don’t want to trade him in, you have to send him back. You need to say the words I condemn my big brother to an eternity of torture to save a girl who talked to me for the first time a few weeks ago.”

Wiggly’s arms were spread wide, palms up like a benevolent god, “Your choice, Peter. Of course,” He said, walking back over to Steph, “You won’t have to give up your brother if she puts a bullet through your skull. Just think, you could set your brother free, and you have options!”

A cacophony of laughter echoed through the gym, rattling their bones and reverberating against the crash of thunder that sounded outside.

“We’ll leave you to decide. Hopefully, Maxy doesn’t get you first!”

And then they vanish, but not without Tinky leering at the still entangled brothers and whispering Tick-fucking-tock.

Silence rings through the space, the only thing keeping Pete grounded being the warmth of his brother at his side. Steph is looking down at the gun in her trembling hands, tears slowly starting to drip from her eyes as Grace just stares down at the Black Book, blood drained from her face and seemingly catatonic.

“Pete. Petey.” Ted turns to look him in the eye and there’s something achingly different. Aside from the sliver of yellow that rings his pupils, they look so old and so scared. Like he’s been away for decades instead of months, seeing things no one should ever have to see.

And from what he’s heard, that might not be too far off.

Still, Ted pressed his lips into a firm line to steady his voice before saying, “You have to send me back. The Box is no place for a kid and you will not fucking die, do you hear me?!”

No matter how tight Ted is holding on, Peter can still feel how he’s shaking, can still hear the slight break in his voice as Ted’s eyes dart frantically across his face, drinking in the sight of the brother he thought he’d never see again.

“I can’t. I can’t.” He’s crying again, but Peter can’t be bothered to give a damn right now, “I love you. You’ve been gone for months and it’s been horrible. I can’t do this without you Teddy.”

Ted flinched at that, squeezing his eyes shut and taking in a shaky breath as emotions flickered across his face too quickly for Peter to decipher.

“I love you too, Pete. That’s why I can’t let you be fucking stupid, okay?!” Ted ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but you have to let me protect you. Send me back and never even think about the Lords in Black again, graduate high school and live your life and date Stephanie fucking Lauter.”

At her name, Peter’s eyes flickered up.

He looked at her.

He looked at the gun in her hands.

He looked back at his brother.

“You’ve protected me my whole life. It’s my fucking turn.”

Peter disentangled himself from Ted despite his frantic protests and ran up to Steph, wrapping his hands around hers and, subsequently, curling her fingers around the gun.

“Steph—” He was cut off almost immediately.

“No. Nonononono Pete I won’t. I can’t.” She pleaded with him, “Trade me in, I don’t have anything left here anymore. My dad’s dead, I never really had any friends, and any potential I had went down the gutter years ago."

Her gaze flickered over to Ted who was not-so-subtly trying to inch closer to Grace and the Book, much to Grace’s growing annoyance. “But you can get your brother back! I know how much you’ve missed him, how much he means to you. You’re going to make a real difference, Pete. You have shit to live for and I don’t.”

Ted was walking up to them now, having given up on Grace, and seeing how determined he was to keep them safe only solidified the decision he’d already made.

“Look. I’m not sending either of you into whatever Hell dimension Ted literally just got out of.” Peter turned to face them both, speaking fast and leaving no room for interruption, “I’ll let Max kill me before I do that to either of you. I’m dying either way, let me at least do something good with it.”

Something shifted in Steph’s face, a realization that Peter wouldn’t be swayed, and she nodded shakily as she adjusted her grip on the gun.

“Do it, Steph. Please.”

He took a few steps back, ignoring Ted’s desperate Nononono Petey you can’t fucking do this! He tried to rush forward, but Steph raised the gun and aimed it right at Peter’s forehead.

BANG!

A force knocked Peter down, sending him to the ground as pain exploded through the back of his head.

Wait. The back?

Peter fought through the swimming in his head to pry his eyes open just to see that what was weighing him down actually wasn’t the darkness coming to claim him.

It was Ted.

“Ow! Ow ow ow fucking OW!” Ted rolled off from on top of his younger brother, clutching at his shoulder, “Your aim is fucking shit, Lauter! Jesus Christ.”

Peter quickly scrambled to his knees, hovering over his brother who had just taken a bullet for him, tears welling up again for the millionth time, because apparently today was the day for it.

“Shit Ted!” He wasted no time in ripping off his sweater, leaving him in his white collared shirt, and pressing it to the rapidly bleeding wound in his shoulder, “You dumbass! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

And Ted laughed at him, “What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck were you thinking?! That bullet wasn’t even going to hit you in the head!” Peter pressed down a little harder and Ted hissed out a breath from between his teeth, “Holy shit being shot hurts more than I thought it was going to and I have had a lot of shit done to me.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“Well, well, well,” Thunder rumbled through the gym, seemingly disregarding trivial things like walls and ceilings in its volume, “Look at what we have here.”

“Oh God. He’s here.” Steph crowded up against Peter and Ted, shielding them with her body as Peter desperately tried to keep the pressure firm with his shaking hands.

“I didn’t know that there were two dork-ass Spankoffskis!” Max walked out from behind the bleachers, a mock pout sitting on his lips, “But I was really hoping that Steph was going to make my job a little easier and get rid of the little bitch. Too bad, now it looks like I get to kill two for the price of one!”

“But first,” His hand whipped out unnaturally fast, grabbing hold of Steph and throwing her off to the side, “I’m going to deal with you. You lured me to my death! You betrayed me, you fucking Judas!”

“Your brother’s going to be just fine, Peter.” The nurse looked down at him with sympathetic eyes as he hunched over Ted’s hospital bed in the uncomfortable plastic chair that seemed to be mandatory for some insane reason. “He got lucky and the bullet didn’t hit any major arteries. Maybe you should go home and get some rest. Take a shower, get a change of clothes, we’ll keep an eye on him until you get back.”

“So you do know the Bible!” Oh. So that’s where Grace went.

---------------------------------------------------

Even the thought of letting Ted out of his sight drenched him with fear, so he squeezed Ted’s hand tighter and said, “No, thank you. I think I’m going to stay here until he wakes up if that’s alright.”

For a brief second, Peter could’ve sworn that he saw a brief flash of annoyance accompanied by a yellow shine in his eyes before it was gone and an understanding grin took its place. It was so convincing that Peter almost started questioning whether he was losing it but, after everything he’d been through recently, he wasn’t going to be taking any chances.

The door swung open and in walked Steph wearing mismatched clothes from the lost and found and trying to dry off her damp hair.

“Hey, Pete.” She said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “He wake up yet?”

His eyes fell back onto his brother. Even asleep he looked exhausted, deep lines worried into his skin that hadn’t been there before. When was the last time he’d gotten some rest?

Peter shook off the question, adding it to the pile of shit he was going to be asking Ted when he woke up.

“No. Not yet.”

She pulled back with a slight wrinkle of her nose, “Yeah, well, no offense Pete, but you fucking reek. I left a pile of clothes that I think might fit you on the chair, so please go take a quick shower. I don’t care if all you do is rinse yourself off, you have to do something.”

“But—” He didn’t get very far before Steph gathered his free hand in hers.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to him, okay?” Steph looked him in the eye, “Pete. I won’t even blink until you get back, I promise.”

And, you know what? He believed her.

Peter gathered up the clothes with a grateful smile and a quick glance at Ted who was still lying there, “I swear to God, Ted, if you’re not still here when I come back I am going to climb into that Box and kill you myself.”

The hospital walls were bright and seemingly endless and too close to the labyrinth he’d seen in that thing's eyes, so it was a relief when he turned into the washroom and locked himself into a shower stall.

There was a mirror in there and wow he looked like shit, no wonder people kept telling him to take a shower. But something was off, and as he looked a little closer, Peter realized that his eyes weren’t the usual brown.

Instead, they were a bright yellow.

His reflection grinned at him, and that stink of death roiled over him as it spoke.

“Just you wait, Petey-Pie! Soon, I’ll have you and my precious Teddy Bear back in my collection.” His skin started peeling from his face as his jaw stretched until it dislocated and then kept going until a long blue tongue spilled out, “Oh boy! We’re going to have so much fun.”

And then Peter blinked, and his own pale, terrified expression stared back at him again. Brown eyes and all.

The worst part was that he could still smell it. He must’ve taken the fastest shower of his life, scrubbing himself until he was nearly raw before throwing the clothes onto his still-soaked body and rushing back to Ted’s hospital room.

He crashed through the door, heart pounding, just to see Ted and Steph exactly where he’d left them.

Except, Ted looked over at him with a weak smile and Peter nearly collapsed in relief.

His brother extended an arm in invitation and Peter basically dove into the bed beside him, holding on tight and telling his racing heart to calm the fuck down because Ted was here.

“Hey, Petey.”

Ah, shit. More tears. Because of fucking course there would be.

Peter managed a wobbly grin because everything was finally as it should be and said, “Hey, Ted.”

It was a nice moment until Steph cleared her throat a little pointedly, causing both Spankoffski’s to jolt guiltily.

“Jeez, Pete.” Ted jostled him a bit, mindful of his healing shoulder, “You’re a terrible fucking host. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

Peter went to sit up, and Ted’s arm tightened instinctively before letting him go, even though they didn’t fully break contact. “Yeah. Yeah! Uh, Ted, this is Steph.” Steph waved with a fond smile on her face, “And Steph, this is my brother, Ted.”

Ted reached out with his good hand, “Nice to meet you. Kind of insane that my brother managed to pull someone so far out of his league, but you’ve got a good guy on your hands.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Steph had to raise her voice to be heard over Peter’s groan, “And I know, Mr. Spankoffski, I’m just happy that he decided to give me a chance.”

“Oh God, kid, don’t call me that. My name’s Ted.”

As Peter listened to them talk, he laid his head on his brother’s chest, revelling in them all being alive. As sleep overtook him, the melodic harmonies of Ted’s heartbeat and the clock on the wall settled within him. A promise that they would make it through.

Thump-thump.

Tick. Tock.

[obsidiancreates]

Memory In The Froglight

(Shared Souls AU is back babey)

Shepherd shakes his head. “This is gonna be a fuckin’ disaster.”

“I can’t watch.” Felix pulls his hat down over his eyes. “Poor guy never gets a break.”

“Whattya talkin’ about?” Skrimm is perched up on Torbek’s shoulder, mimicking a preparatory neck rub. Torbek feels nothing, of course, nor hears. “He’s gonna kill it!”

“The crowd?” Marius eyes Skrimm’s proximity to the Witchlight canisters.

“Not the crowd, sheesh, are you ever not a downer?” Skrimm nudges nothing but air with his elbow– the habits of Life, where he would have someone for the joke to either land or fall flat with, still a part of him even after all this time. “He’s gonna do great! It’s in his soul!”

“Skrimm.” Shepherd knocks his hat brim up with one knuckle. “I know you ain’t the most attentive–”

“Nor clear-minded,” Marius mutters.

“Or intellectual,” Felix shrugs. 

“All I’m sayin’ is,” Shepherd says, “Torbek ain’t great with crowds.”

“And? I’m tellin’ ya, this guy has a showman somewhere deep down in there!”

“You’re just saying that because you two sound most alike,” Marius says, quirking an eyebrow.

“When you get stressed your voice fully turns into his,” Felix adds, gesturing at Torbek.

“Which means the opposite can also happen. He can have my lovely and beautiful voice if he tries.”

The other three share skeptical looks just as a bullywug pops in with offers of Song Syrup.

“Don’t need it,” Skrimm says confidently.

“Take two,” Felix says.

Torbek hears nothing. “Torbek is beyond help.”

“Killed by a hag over a theatre play.” Marius’s expression is sour. “I’m still unconvinced that we didn’t fall back into Druskenwald.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh, just a word of waaarning, remember that nothing rhymes with orange, purple, or silver. Don’t fall for that trap twice, Torbek!”

“Orange? What about uh, doorhinge?”

“That’s-that’s a cheap cop-out. Get outta here, Frost.”

“HA! Look at that, he’s learning!” Skrimm claps his hands together and then rubs them in preparation. “He’s got this!”

“Did either of you know Skrimm had such a… fondness, for Theatre?” Marius asks his companions.

Shepherd shrugs. “Makes enough sense I suppose…”

“Skrimm.” Felix can’t remember the last time he provided this much input on one of Skrimm’s… episodes? Moments of enthusiasm? Manic switch-ups from despair to optimism? “Do you have a background in this kind of thing?”

“You kiddin’? My friends and I put on the best play Drakkar has ever seen! No-one has topped it in the last thousand years, I’m sure of it.”

“Y’all put on a play… in Drakkar.” Shepherd crosses his arms. “Is this like how you’re sure you were six-foot-five and two hundred pounds before yer death?”

“This is way more real- I mean, I was, but that’s not the point! I was Mr. Bones, and I was so professional it’d blow your ass right off your body!”

The three others share skeptical glances again.

“Just watch!” Skrimm scrambles back as the curtain rises. “Torbek’s got that skill, I can feel it in my bones!”

Felix sighs deeply. “You don’t have bones anymore.”

“My ghost bones.”

“... Sure.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So did it just fix his tone-deafness, or did it actually change Frost’s voice?” Felix watches from where he sits on the bottom of the box-tower as Torbek waits to be rolled onto the stage.

Shepherd shrugs, and Marius shakes his head, unknowing.

“Ah.” Skrimm has his arms crossed, one foot tap-tap-tapping so quickly that if he was physical he’d be wearing a hole into the soggy wood of the floor. “Maybe the big guy should’ve taken one of those. I mean I still think he’s got this but, that was pretty damn good. Stupid cat.”

The tower is rolled out, the tiny curtain covering Torbek’s face parted. His ever-present and ever-imperceptible spirit companions wait with baited breath. 

“Uuuunnnnggggghhhhh, it’s Torbek’s time to shi-ine!”

“Not a promising start,” Marius whispers. “Please let him do well enough to live…”

“Torbek is playing Princess Torbeka toniiight!”

“Oh, phew.” Skrimm wipes his brow. “Good thing he remembered to tell the crowd who he is! Heh, that was almost a terrible misstep.”

“Almost?!” Felix brings his hat low over his eyes, unable to watch.

Torbek brings out a tiny tin whistle and blows a single note. “Torbek Torbek Torbek, Torbek

Torbek Torbek!”

“Ain’t you supposed to do them warmups offstage?” Shepherd looks at Skrimm, who’s just nodding in invisible encouragement.

“What? No, ya take your script out there with you, you do your warmups, you embody your character! Me and my friends did our whole play without any rehearsal! Total dry ru– … Mostly dry. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Torbek takes a deep breath. Everyone but Skrimm braces.

“... Miiidnight, not a sound from the paaavement, has the moon lost her mem-ry, Torbeka’s smiling a-lone…”

In the wings, Frost’s jaw is dropped wide open, and Felix, Shepherd, and Marius are hardly different. Skrimm, however, whoops and jups as high as his little goblin legs allow, swinging a celebratory fist in front of him.

“In the lamp-light the withered leave, collect at her feeeeet… and the wind, begins to moan…”

“He’s got… range.” Marius blinks in pure befuddlement. 

“Where’d all his gargglin’ an’ rasp go?” Shepherd walks up, unseen as he is by the audience, and peers at the Witchlight canisters sticking out from Torbek’s princess costume. “These ain’t lowered…”

“I’m tellin’ ya, goblins are made for theatre,” Skrimm boasts, scrambling up Torbek’s back and sitting between his shoulders triumphantly. “I was the only one who stayed on script the whole time! Even when it was weird and perverted and definitely not me misunderstanding what pump meant.”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

Torbek takes a deep breath. “Mem-ry, all alone in the mooooonlight! Torbeka dreams of the old days, life was beau-tiful theeen…”

A pang of grief and nostalgia strikes the hearts of all in the theatre, living and dead. Shepherd looks towards Gricko, no, around Gricko, wondering what Sarnax must be thinking of this play his… ward, of sorts, has written. Marius looks to Frost, wondering how Lethica’s voice might sound singing a tune such as Torbek sings now. Felix can’t see Kremy, backstage somewhere preparing for his own part, but he imagines Toa is away from Kremy’s side to watch the show, smiling wide. 

Skrimm looks out at the living vessels his friends all follow, and hopes they’re remembering their play too. It was a mess, a haphazard disaster thrown together in the ruins of a beautiful and warm lethal lie turned to rubble– and it was the most fun they’d had in months by that time.

“Let the mem-ry, live a-gaiiiin.”

As long as Torbek has a better understanding of the intent of the stage directions than Skrimm did, this might shape up to be even better than Ogreton’s Last Play.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Wow, Jornir!” Toa nudges the firbolg next to him, applauding for no-one but his ghostly companions. “Isn’t this play great so far?”

“It is… certainly better than what we did.” 

“You did a play too?! I wish we could’ve done a play. Someday when we all reunite, let’s all put one on together.”

“That would be… very crowded.” Jornir watches Torbek cover his mouth with exaggerated shock as Hootsie pulls out the red scarves tied around rat snacks from the snake costumes. He gestures to Torbek. “That, makes it easy to see Skrimm, in the bugbear.”

“The overractin’?” Briggsy laughs a little to himself, having only Clayton to elbow for his ‘get-the-joke?’ movement as Clayton watches with more Confusion than anything else.

“Yes.” 

“Oh. … No fun when you agree, you know.”

“I am not trying to be… fun. You are right. Skrimm is… animated. Loud, and… bold. I did not think, I would see it here, in this life.” Jornir… smiles, just slightly, barely enough to tell. “It is… nice, to remember.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“AYE, GOOD JOB LADS!” Barnabos cheers and pulls Jericho and Sarnax into one-armed hugs, pressing both to his side as he bellows proudly. “LOOK AT OUR MR. GRIMGRIN! HA-HA, AS FINE AS A TALE AS TROTHACK SHARK-PUNCHER’S SEVEN VOYAGES!” 

“I-I do like the jaunty tunes!” Jericho’s fingers move like they would if he was playing his banjo along with the pit orchestra. “And everyone’s singin’ real nice! I never did hear Sir Marius or-or Lethica carryin’ a tune!”

“Nor I, Shepherd.” Sarnax’s tail comes up to slap Barnabos’s shoulder, in reminder more than annoyance, and Barnabos loosens his grip for Sarnax to slip out. “I wonder how he is feeling, watching this unfold.”

“Aye, not the kind of travels for singin’, you two had.” Barnabos laughs, pointing at Torbek. “An’ look at that! That’s a Mr. Stabbaskotch expression if I’ve ever seen one! Some of us migh’ bleed through to the living after all!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy is laughing, leaning on Lethica as she watches the tube-sock-costumes Kremy, Gricko, and Gideon all “disemboweled” by Sir Morgo Hootise as Torbeka watches in shock. The silent shaking sets off Caprice as well, who’d gone from despaired horror to elation as soon as Frost’s song-syruped voice had melted the tension of the audience with it’s shocking beauty. 

Lethica is not mirthless herself, imagining Marius in Torbek’s place, and when Daisy raises her hands for a moment to sign “He looks just like Skrimm,” she knows she’s not the only one picturing another life, another time.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taishen is laughing well, but there’s a hint of worry to his expression as he eyes Torbek.

“Is something wrong?” Yorgrim casts a careful eye of his own over the crowds. 

“Oh, nothing… too, terrible.” Taishen shuffles his feet. “Its just, Torbek is reminding me quite a lot of Skrimm right now, not with the singing Skrimm couldn’t sing that well, but well, when we did our play things went a little…”

Yorgrim waits as Taishen looks in the distance, trying to find a careful way to phrase things.

“... Skrimm was very confused, about some things.” Taishen shivers. “Very, very confused. And Torbek isn’t a stranger to… confusion…”

“... Did someone die?”

Taishen thinks back to how he’d felt towards Skrimm in that moment of revelation. “... Almost.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Least Kremy’s stickin’ to the script.” Queenie stands on top of Twig’s hat to have a good view of the play from the wings. “Jornir sure didn’.”

“I thought you were all stranded in an icy wasteland,” Iris looks down at Queenie, even with Queenie standing on Twig’s head.

“Yeah but we did a play anyway, for the ogres.” Queenie looks at Torbek. “Skrimm probably did the best up until he had to pump his fist.”

“Pump his fist?”

“Yeah, he thought it meant pumpin’ his pe–”

“Eugh!”

“Do they really think this will work?” Strahdanya looks up to the hag in the box. “If they send Twig to us early…”

“I’m sure if she dies, they died hours ago,” Queenie says. “She’s a tough one.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Torbek sings his second song about the (allegedly) murdered Agdon Longscarf, Skrimm grins smugly down at the other three from atop Torbek’s back. “Told you he’d do well.”

“I hate when he’s right,” Felix huffs.

Marius nods in agreement. “A thankfully rare occasion.”

Shepherd snorts, watching Torbek finish up as Skrimm starts to huff and puff at Marius’s insult. The applause of the crowd drowns out the offended shouting of the goblin as Torbek steps back from the spotlight. Maybe things might work out for this band of chucklefucks after all.

[throneofsapphics]

i LOVE your angsty poly!rowaelin x reader fics

can i request more? i will gobble up anything you write not even kidding 💕

some questions are better left alone

Rowaelin x f!Reader

(part two) (part three)

Summary: He shoved a plate of sweets at me. “For both of our sakes,” he said carefully, “I’m going to pretend those words never came out of your mouth. Do you understand?” 

Warnings: Angst, drinking, nightmares, small injury, rowan is mean

Word Count: ~5k 

A/N: You are so sweet! I swear, angst is my love language. Reader is from a foreign court/country, has magic, and is able to mindspeak - I kept it a bit vague!

I scribbled the note, leaving it on my desk in my room. Going out. Not very descriptive, but I was in a rush, I’d forgotten what night it was, and I’d promised a friend I’d meet them - some bard was coming through. 

My mates weren’t opposed to me having friends. They knew I did, I just kept them separated, tried to keep a life separate from the castle. 

Maybe I should’ve left a better note, because a certain Wolf showed up halfway through. I caught a whiff of his scent - fresh too, and I knew he was in the damn tavern. But - I didn’t know if he’d come alone or come after me. 

“I’ll be right back.” I leaned in, whispering to my friend, and keeping my voice low. I slid through the crowd with ease. I spotted him in a shadowy corner, leaning up against the wall. I dropped the glamor after I got within a few feet of him. His eyes glinted, a smirk crossing his face. He had come here after me, and waited for me to track him down. I let out a long breath, but stood next to him. His eyes were constantly scanning the crowd. 

“Why are you here?” I kept my voice low enough that only he could hear me. 

“Enjoying the songs, of course.” His voice was honeyed with false innocence, and I could tell he was messing with me. 

“You missed the one about you.” 

“Shame. Which one?” 

I groaned. “I’m not playing into your ego.” 

“Pity, maybe I should’ve let them see your note.” 

“What’s wrong with my note?” My voice went taut. “And why were you in my rooms?” 

“Two words.” He tutted. 

“I was in a rush.” I hissed, then he handed me the paper. He took it. “You bastard.” I snarled. 

“Calm your tits.” He laughed, “I left a better one - ‘taking Y/N out to have fun for once.’” 

“Thank you.” I said, begrudgingly. He did save me some grief. A lot of grief now that I think about it. 

“I am a bit hurt you left without me. Now, are you going to introduce me to your friends?” A shark-like grin appeared on his face. 

“Are you going to play nice?” I countered, crossing my arms. 

“Me? I’m always nice.” He scoffed. “Besides, I’m your best friend in this world. I have a right to know your other ones.” I rolled my eyes, even though the statement warmed my heart - just a bit. 

“Alright. Best friend.” I teased, “Are you going to scare them off?” 

“Do your mates know about them?” 

“Yes.” I sighed. 

“And who your mates are?” 

“Indeed.” I fought back my annoyance. 

“They’re not scared?” He raised his eyebrows. Any sane person would be intimidated by the Queen and King of Terrasen. 

“I won’t let their majesties anywhere near them.” He chuckled, but I could tell he understood. I wasn’t ashamed of my friends, not by any means, but if either of my mates somehow thought they were a threat … it would make things very difficult. I pushed off the wall, and led him back through the crowd. I reached our booth, about halfway down the wall and with a good view of the stage, and dropped it. Instead of two benches, it was rounded, one long bench around a circular table. Cian, Isla, Effie, and Arran. To their credit, they only gaped for a few seconds, before shuffling around to make room for both of us. I scooched in, and let Fenrys sit next to me. 

I gestured towards each of them, “Effie, Arran, Isla, Cian,” And then towards Fenrys. I was halfway tempted to introduce him as ‘pain in my ass,’ or ‘bastard’, but I went for something that would piss him off more. “Lord Moonbeam.” I bit my lip as he stomped on my foot.

“Please don’t call me that. It’s Fenrys.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” Isla squeaked, her face bright red. The others echoed the sentiment, but thankfully not looking at him like he’s a God. I saw the way he was eyeing her, 

Are you really going to bed my friends? I said in his mind, a bit louder than necessary. 

Why would you deny them a good time? 

I swear to the Gods Fenrys. 

Calm your tits. 

That’s twice you’ve mentioned my tits. Should Aelin be worried? 

Don’t you dare. He growled, but didn’t use that phrase again. 

It shouldn’t have been surprising that he got along well with them. He charmed them easily - none of the bitter bastard I’m used to. He and Isla, to my chagrin, got along very well. I didn’t move to interrupt or interfere, even though I wanted to keep them as far away from each other as possible. They could be cute together, but I had a feeling Fenrys was toying with her - flirting for fun. Maybe she was doing the same. I didn’t know her that well, after all, only meeting her a few weeks ago. 

A few hours later, and after several drinking contests, I was feeling very tipsy. Maybe even drunk. Definitely drunk based on how the room spun. But, with a glamor firmly in place, I’d managed to drink a group of soldiers under the table. Where are they from? I have no idea. But every time one started to eye me in a more-than-friendly way, they seemed to pale, and look away very quickly. It took me a few times to figure out Fenrys was glaring daggers at them. I stomped on his foot. 

“Leave them alone.” I whispered. He gave me an incredulous look. “They don’t deserve you looking like you’ll murder them.” 

“You’re not doing anything.” He countered. 

“I am ignoring them.” I emphasized. “And that works well enough.” 

Effie returned, sliding a goblet across the table towards me. Fenrys snatched it before I could, and took a sip. He nearly spit it out, his face turning red, and shoved it back at me. “What is that?” He coughed. 

“Apparently something too strong for your delicate sensibilities.” I took a large sip, enjoying the warmth it provided as the liquid burned, sliding down my throat. 

He gaped at me - but I kept drinking it anyway. 

“It’s a homemade liquor.” Effie replied instead. He grimaced, staring at my glass like it might jump out and attack him. “It grows on you.” She added, biting back a laugh at his expression. 

I finished it, and stood to bring it back up to the bar, but swayed slightly on my feet. Before I could grip the table, Fenrys’s arm shot out to steady me. 

“We’re going home.” He stood. 

“You don’t get to make my decisions.” 

Effie grabbed the glass from my hands. “It’s almost closing anyways.” 

“Traitor.” I mumbled. The others had left ten minutes ago. 

Effie lived above the bar - how we met in the first place. “Go home.” She ordered instead, giving Fenrys a look. One that said - get her home safe, like I needed a minder. 

He only laughed and looped an arm through mine, half-dragging me out the door. 

“You’re not nearly as drunk as me.” I complained, disentangling my arm once we’d left the building. I watched my feet carefully on the cobblestones. 

“I didn’t beat half of the Bane in a drinking contest.”

“So that’s who they were.” I mumbled, and apparently wasn’t paying attention, because I walked right into a column. 

“Fuck.” I muttered, stumbling backwards and pressing a hand against my face. My cheekbone will be bruised. Fenrys grabbed me under my arms before I could fall, and howled. 

“Asshole.” I muttered, shaking off his grip. He looped his arm through mine, and didn’t let me wiggle out this time. Thankfully, we were almost to the gates and Fenrys quit singing. I tugged my hood up as we got closer to the castle. Nobody needs to know just how drunk I am. 

“They’ll see you stumbling.” He drawled. 

“They’ll know to mind their business.” I snipped back at him. 

“Oooh. Someone’s not looking forward to seeing their mates.” He teased me, his voice a sing-song. I sent a vulgar gesture his way, and he just snorted, dragging me through the halls and depositing me at their door. I waited until he’d walked away before heading to my rooms instead, no sense in waking them up. Besides, on the nights I go out I usually sleep in my own rooms anyways, wanting to wash the alcohol off - and Aelin and Rowan need time alone. They don’t say it, but they were a couple long before me. Maybe I’m assuming things. I’m too drunk to think too much. 

-

Normally Y/N stays in her rooms if she’s gone out, and they won’t argue or try to drag her into their rooms. If she needs space, they’ll let her have it. 

But, tonight, Rowan had a feeling. A feeling he needed to be there. To see her. Like something might be wrong. He slipped out of bed, looking at the clock. Three hours past midnight. She should be back by now. 

“Rowan?” Aelin mumbled sleepily, her eyes opening. 

“I’m going to check on Y/N.” 

Those turquoise eyes opened further. “I’ll come with you.” She yawned. He didn’t fight his wife as she climbed out of bed, grabbing a robe and wrapping it around herself. They moved quickly and silently, through the passage that connects both of their rooms. 

He slowly pushed the door open. Asleep, sprawled out on her side, on the couch. 

Safe - but a giant blue bruise blooming on her cheek. And absolutely reeking of alcohol. Did she get into some sort of brawl? He’d kill Fenrys. Slowly. Aelin placed a hand on his arm, but he could tell she was just as angry. 

-

“Y/N.” A voice murmured, and I felt a hand running down my arm. A mumbled, some intelligible noise. 

“Y/N. Wake up.” The voice, feminine, was more insistent. Aelin. Why was Aelin in here?. 

-

Her eyes opened, glassy, pupils slightly dilated. Drunk. And very drunk. How fucking much did she drink? Y/N could almost drink Aelin under the table. 

“Petal.” His mate's voice was low. “Did you get in a fight?” 

“A what?” She was confused. 

“Did you get in a rutting brawl?” I said from the door, not bothering to keep my voice low. Aelin turned and glared at me. 

“What?” 

My eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb.” 

Her hand went up to her cheek, wincing, and she threw her head back in laughter, nearly howling. “I walked into a pillar.” She said in between laughs.” 

Aelin was biting back a laugh, but I was just getting more pissed. Maybe it was a bit funny - but she was drunk enough she got herself hurt. 

“Where was Fenrys?” My sharp tone had Aelin cutting a look at me. Don’t start.  

“Caught me before I could hit the ground.” Her words slurred together. 

“Come on.” Aelin tugged at her arm, pulling her up. “I’m not going to let you choke on your own vomit.” 

She looked offended. “I am not throwing up.” The words came out very insistent. Aelin gave her a bemused smile, but pulled her up anyway, leading her towards her bathroom. “You reek.” She told her.

“That is rude.” Y/N stuck her tongue out. 

I rolled my eyes, but followed them, grabbing a nightgown for Y/N to put on. 

“What do I smell like?” She asked Aelin, stumbling next to her. Aelin’s arm wrapped around her waist holding her closely. 

“Right now? Alcohol.” 

Y/n let out an over dramatic sigh. “No, what’s my scent? You’re jasmine and lemon verbena, and he’s pine and snow.” 

“Nutmeg and honey.” I answered from behind her, and her head turned, giving me a goofy smile. 

“That’s nice.” She mumbled. I fought the smile threatening to form on my face.  

-

Aelin was very sweet, helping me get in the tub, even washing me. I tried to stop her, but she cut me a glare. A nasty one. After that I let her. 

“Who did you go see?” She asked, scrubbing my shoulders. 

“Some Bard came into town.” I said, before sighing. Her touch feels incredible. “You have magic fingers.” I told her. 

Her eyes crinkled, “and you’re drunk.” 

“Maybe a bit. Fenrys told me I beat half of the Bane in a drinking contest.” 

“The Bane?” Rowan’s voice came from the door. Low. And deadly low. 

“That’s what he said.” I confirmed, looking at Aelin instead, who pressed her lips in a tight line. “What’s wrong with the bane?” 

“They have a reputation.” 

“I have a reputation.” I exclaimed. 

“Excuse me?” Her voice grew a bit shrill. 

“I drank half of them under the table.” 

“Right.” She breathed out. 

-

She thought Rowan was going to explode when he heard her say she has a reputation. He relaxed - barely. He needed something to do or he might blow up. 

“Rowan get a towel.” I ordered without looking, and heard him moving around, before the soft fabric was pressed in my hands. “Help her out.” 

“I don’t nee-” I pressed my finger to her lips. It’ll help him. I told her, speaking mind to mind. 

Okay. Her sweet voice floated through my mind. 

Even though anger rolled from him in waves, his hands were gentle as he lifted her out, holding her steady. I wordlessly handed him the towel, and gave him the chance to fuss, slipping a nightgown over her - one he’d already picked out. He went far enough to make her clean her mouth, and dried her hair for her. That brought a smile to my lips. 

“Thank you.” She told him after, and me. 

She tried to wobble off towards her bed, her legs shaky under her. I cut her off before she could reach the door. “You’re coming with us.” 

“But it’s your-” 

“No buts.” But … What was she going to say? Before ‘it’s your-’ 

“It’s our what?” Rowan asked for me. 

She frowned. “Your night. For the two of you.” 

I frowned, looking at Rowan. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” When she’s more likely to remember it. He added to me. 

“Nothing to talk about.” She mumbled, but let him pick her up, carrying her back to our room. 

-

I groaned as the morning light hit me, streaming through the windows. My head started absolutely pounding. “Gods.” I groaned, pressing my palms into my eyes - like I might shove the headache away. A rough hand tugged one of mine away, pressing a glass vial into it. I peeked the free eye open, squinting to see Rowan. 

“I’m surprised.” I murmured. A pain tonic. “Thank you.” 

“We need to talk.” He grunted. “And I don’t want to deal with your whining.” Several months ago, I might’ve been hurt by the comment, but I was used to it by now, and ignored the second part, swigging the slightly vile liquid down. Fighting back the urge to make a face. 

“One day I’ll figure out how to make those taste better.” I glared at the offending piece of glass. Rowan snatched it out of my hands. 

“Lets go.” He jerked his head. 

“Alright alright.” That’s when I felt the heat on my face. I looked across in the mirror. A large purple bruise bloomed across my feet. “What did I do?” My eyes were wide. 

“You don’t remember?” He snorted, and left the room. 

“Bastard.” I muttered under my breath, low enough he wouldn’t hear, and grabbed a robe before following him. “What did I do last night?” I repeated, walking into the sitting room and digging through my mind for what the hell might’ve happened. 

He didn’t answer, pouring tea instead. “Where’s Aelin?” I tried. 

“Training.” He said curtly. 

“Rowan.” I said quietly. “What happened?” My memories cut off right before leaving the Tavern. 

He shoved the cup in my hands, watching and waiting for me to take a sip. I did, and waited for him to respond. 

“What do you remember?” He questioned, his voice was cold - usually meaning I’m about to be extensively lectured or punished for something. 

“Up until leaving, with Fenrys.” He can almost always tell when I’m lying. 

“You hurt yourself. Walking into a pillar.” 

I sucked my lips in, fighting the urge to laugh. “Of course I did.” I choked out. 

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny. What if Fenrys wasn’t with you?” 

“I have other friends.” I countered, crossing my arms. 

“Who we’ve never met.” His words came out flat. Emotionless. 

“Would you like to meet them?” I said, feeling a bit on edge. “Do you not trust me to be a good judge of character?” That wasn’t exactly fair … but I didn’t and don’t need them to approve of my friends. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He growled. “Are you embarrassed by us? Do you not want them to know you’re with us?” 

Cruel. He was playing dirty. “Of course not. They know” I kept my voice calm. 

“Then why?” 

“You never asked.” I countered. It’s true. 

“You never asked to meet our friends, and we introduced you.” 

My breaths got heavier. This wasn’t fair, that’s not the same thing. “When you introduced me, I was just a member of a foreign court, a delegate.” 

He stalked up to me, standing so close that if I took a deep breath, my breasts would brush against him. “Was? Aren’t you still just a member of that court?” His voice was taunting, and cruel. Absolutely cruel. He meant for his words to hurt, and I could feel the slight satisfaction running through him when it did, but it was quickly pushed out by regret. 

“Maybe I am, and maybe it’s time I go home for a bit.” Silver might’ve lined my eyes, but I hit right back. I turned sharply on my heel, walking silently towards my rooms, out the main door. I didn’t look back as I closed it softly, a slight click. 

He didn’t follow, and maybe that’s what hurt the most. 

I collapsed on my bed, my knees pressing into my elbows, my head held in my hands, trying to figure out what about last night set him off. Made him so angry he’d say those things. Not that I acted much better. 

I wanted him to follow me. To tell me not to go - or to yell at me. Something. I paced for the better part of an hour, before deciding to go back. Porting off back home wouldn’t do anything, it would just make things worse. 

I took the direct passage this time, hearing another door creak open at the same time as mine. Rowan looked directly at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be gone?” The same cruel tone as earlier. Maybe I imagined that regret. I couldn’t say anything, or my voice might’ve broken. I took a step back, closing the door. 

I heard Aelin’s voice, “gone where?” But I’d already turned, heading back. “Rowan. What did you do?” 

Is this what the rest of my life will be like? Cruel barbs, hurtful words from both sides. A traitorous thought ran through my mind, why couldn’t it just be Aelin? But I dismissed that immediately. I couldn’t imagine not having both of them, not having two mates. It would be wrong, it wouldn’t feel complete. But for them - they could imagine it, they’ve lived it, and likely were perfectly fine before I came along. The two of them fit. Balanced each other perfectly. 

Am I some kind of wrench thrown in? A piece being forced into a puzzle, one that doesn’t quite fit? I’ve heard of mating bonds being rejected before. Ours is already sealed but … Even thinking about it brings a sharp pain in my chest. Gods they’re already a part of me, dug in so deep it would take something horrible and cataclysmic to drive me away from them. 

I hadn’t told them I loved them. They hadn’t told me. A final barrier that hasn’t been crossed. 

-

I sought out Fenrys around lunch, convincing him to come eat with me in my rooms. He seemed wary, considering this is definitely out-of-character for me.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, shoving a tart in his mouth. 

“What were Rowan and Aelin like before me?” 

He choked slightly, coughing into his hand, but finishing the food. I watched him intently. I needed to know. Had to know. 

“Fine. They were fine, at least it seemed that way.” He stared back at me. “What are you thinking?” 

“I’m an outsider.” I started. He gave me a look that said, no shit. “I don’t … I don’t know if I belong here.” 

“I was an outsider.” Fenrys leaned back. “You know I’m from Doranelle. It was difficult at first, but I found my place.” He spit out the country’s name, like it was poison. 

“You rejected Doranelle.” 

“I did.” He nodded, his tone cautious, like he knew where I was headed. 

“I don’t reject my home.” 

“You can belong to more than one place.” He argued. 

“But me being here is causing an issue.” 

“Rowan and Aelin fought. Still fight sometimes. Does that mean they don’t belong together?” Fenrys is more perceptive than people give him credit for.

“They’re different.” 

“How?” He sounded a bit exasperated. 

“Because they share bonds together I never will.” That truth finally came out. “And if there was a situation they had to …” My voice broke. 

He shoved a plate of sweets at me. “For both of our sakes,” he said carefully, “I’m going to pretend those words never came out of your mouth. Do you understand?” 

I nodded. A warning - if those questions were brought up … the results that come out might cause irreparable damage. Sometimes those things are better left swallowed. At the same time, I want to know my place with them. We ate in silence for a few minutes before the door breezed open. Aelin, I’d know the jasmine and lemon verbena anywhere. 

“Really?” She sighed, “Choosing that dog over me?” 

“I wasn’t aware there was a choice.” She raised an eyebrow, but sat next to me, grabbing some sweets. 

“You always have the best sweets.” She popped a truffle in her mouth, moaning. 

“And you always raid my collection.” 

“They’re bought on Crown gold.” She winked. Fenrys winced across from me, the action thankfully going unnoticed by Aelin, who had her eyes closed. 

I didn’t reply, but drank some water instead, the chocolates suddenly seemed unappetizing. “I do keep them just for you.” I covered smoothly. She placed a grateful kiss on my cheek, before turning, throwing her legs over my lap and lounging on the couch. I absentmindedly rubbed circles into her calves. 

“I heard you beat half of the Bane in a drinking contest. Aedion is ashamed. I’m quite proud.” She grinned. 

“Are you complimenting someone else's drinking prowess?” Fenrys looked amused, leaning back and crossing an ankle over his knee. 

“I’m giving credit where credit is due.” 

“Very kind of you.” I kept a smile. A forced one, and kept rubbing circles into her legs. Where credit is due. Drinker, bed warmer, what else? Aelin seemed to notice the shift, because she kicked Fenrys out, he left with a tight glance between the two of us, but no complaints. 

“What’s wrong with you?” She nudged my thigh with her toe. 

I flinched slightly. “A bit homesick.” Close enough. 

“Rowan told me about that.” I could see the bored expression on her face from the corner of my eyes. She’s keeping a tight lid on her emotions. 

“I sometimes say things I regret.” Regretting something doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. 

“We all do.” I could hear the same echo, doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.

Ask the damn question Y/N. I chided myself, I can’t put words into her mouth. “Did he mean it?” The words came out quickly. 

“Isn’t that a question you should ask him?” 

She has a point, so I countered with something I should ask her. “How do you feel about it? Both things.” Please don’t make me repeat them. I pleaded to her silently. She took some pity on me. 

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your friends, but I understand we can be … intimidating. But I don’t know if you’re keeping them from us because of that, or if you’re scared we’ll drive one of them off.” I waited for her to continue. There wasn’t technically a question there. “Do you want to be a member of this court? Would that mean you’re choosing?” 

Choosing. Right. Absolute loyalty - something I can’t promise. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

“You’re our mate.” She said softly. “And you have your place here.” 

“Are you telling me to know my place?” Maybe that wasn’t fair. 

“I didn’t say that.” She said sharply. But you didn’t not say it. Gods I wanted to hear all of the things that weren’t said, but I wanted them to soothe me. I don’t want the truth right now. I want sweet things meant to make me feel better. I’d even take little lies over these tiny cracks I’m feeling. The faltering, the hesitation. “Are you having trouble adjusting?” 

“Aelin it’s been nearly two years.” 

“And we’re immortal.” 

“I’ve found a life here.” We’re both skilled at non-answers. I still hadn’t looked at her, couldn’t meet her gaze. Around her, and him, my eyes tend to show everything. A wall I can’t seem to put up. 

“Look at me.” Kind, but unyielding. I do. 

-

Tears are threatening to flood down her face, I can see it. I can’t help but think maybe she’s being a bit oversensitive. I’ve seen her in her own court .. well, the one she doesn’t really claim. Tough love? Or soft? 

“Was it better without me?” 

Oh Gods I did not expect that. I moved fast, tugging her to straddle my lap. “Don’t ever say that.” My voice was harsh, my hand gripping her chin, making sure she looked directly at me. “Did we make you feel that way?” 

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, I just noticed it was bloodied and bruised - like she’d been biting on it all day. “I don’t know how much of it is just in my head.” So we did make her feel like that, at least partially. 

“We can’t reassure you or fix ridiculous notions if you don’t tell us.” 

She laughed darkly, pushing my hand away from her face, and turning her head. “That’s part of the problem. They’re ridiculous to you.” I wrenched her head back to face me. 

“Don’t look away from me.” I snarled, holding her even when she flinched. “They are ridiculous, even if you believe them. We weren’t better off without you. You’re a wonderful part of us, part of us we didn’t know was there. Just like we’re a part of you. You belong with us.” I emphasized. “Come to us when you feel this way. Let us fix it.” 

“There isn’t anything to fix.” Her eyes kept steady on mine, although I could see her temptation to look away. 

“Then tell me exactly what’s been running through your head.” She swallowed harshly. “You either know it’s wrong, or you’re scared to bring it up.” Her eyes gave it away. Both. 

“Can we talk about this later?” She pleaded, breaking eye contact, her bottom lip quivering.

“Look at me.” I gritted my teeth, and she did. The vulnerability in her eyes made me sigh. “Promise you’ll actually talk about it.” 

I watched her hesitate, but she did promise. 

-

Falling asleep was uncomfortable. There was a tension drifting between the three of us, but I didn’t feel like talking about it yet, and they respected that. Barely, I could see both of them aching to have the conversation - to get it out of the way, but I needed time to gather my thoughts. A night to sleep on it. 

Eventually we did drift off to sleep. 

“Leave.” Rowan said harshly, his face set in a nasty look. One I’d only seen him give to people who were rude to Aelin or I. What did I do? 

“Leave.” Aelin repeated his words with that same look. It was unnatural, it wasn’t them. 

“But-” 

“Now.” He growled, taking a menacing step towards me. 

Another voice came from behind me. “I lied, they were better without you.” I whirled around. Fenrys. The look, they all had the same one.

“I can be better.” I stuttered through the words. 

“You don’t get it.” Aelin laughed harshly. “We don’t want you.” 

Rowan shoved me through the gates, just a bag in my hands. “Step foot in Terrasen again, and you’re dead.” 

They slammed shut in front of me. 

“No, no, no, no.” I whispered, tears running down my face, my entire body shaking.

“Y/N.” A disembodied voice said, repeatedly. 

“It’s a dream.” My eyes flew open, I felt magic flooding around me. A hand rubbed my back. “Breathe, breathe darling.” Aelin’s voice, but I couldn’t see her. A dream, it was a nightmare. 

I heard Rowan, his voice strained. “Bring your magic back in. Call it back to you.” 

I did, and it came back joyfully, swirling against the shield of wind holding it in, with teasing pokes, before flying back into me, and the room was encased in moonlight. 

“Gods, I’m sorry.” I sighed. “Please, don’t be. I’ve burned several bed sheets before.” Her voice was light, a smile on her face. “Besides, your magic isn’t scary, it’s quite beautiful actually.” I could feel her magic bubbling, wanting out to play, mine reacted in kind. 

“Tomorrow.” Rowan said, and we turned in sync to glare at him. The serious look on his face remained, and Aelin huffed before tugging me into her arms - pointedly leaving him out. 

[katstarry]

anything

eddie munson x reader

masterlist ☆

summary: moments shared with eddie throughout your friendship, up until his death.

warnings: ANGST! 😱 mentions of death.

guys i haven’t written in a while and this song has been on repeat this week so this is just something i had an idea of so i’m sorry if it sucks!!! hope u enjoy :)

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

inspired by anything by adrianne lenker!

it was a summer day and you had just graduated high school.

the day was sunny and hot—a perfect day for going to the local pool.

eddie and you agreed to meet there, it was his idea, wanting to spend some time with you after the ceremony before you had to celebrate with your family.

this would be his second time not graduating.

“eddie don’t beat yourself up over this, i’m sure that next year you’ll be walking that stage. and i’ll be there cheering you on.”

as you both make your way to the pool entrance, he looks over with you with an eyebrow raised.

“don’t give me that look! i mean it.” you give him a playful shove.

“mrs. o’donnell is always on my ass, i doubt that’ll change next year,” he sighed, “plus, it’ll be less fun without you there.”

he wraps an arm over your shoulders as you both make your way to a pair of empty chairs, settling your belongings down onto them.

you had brought some sliced fruit, drinks, sunscreen, and of course a towel.

“y’know i’m not going anywhere anytime soon, we can still see each other as much as we want this summer.” you finish putting down your things and sit on the edge of the chair, applying on sunscreen.

you look over at eddie who’s on his own chair beside your own, “yeah, but what if you change your mind about staying in hawkins? you should be doing bigger things than staying in this dump.”

he looks away from you and leans his head back onto the chair, playing with a strand of hair.

meanwhile, you open the container you had brought with the sliced fruit, eat a piece of apple, and pass the container to eddie. the thought of leaving hawkins was constant, who wouldn’t want to leave after seeing the things that you’ve seen? yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, one of the reasons being right beside you.

“i’ll just study here at the community college, see where that takes me. then, who knows what’ll happen?”

leaning back onto your own chair, you look over at eddie. his hair has begun to stick onto his skin from the heat, his loose shirt slightly slipping from his shoulder, the sunlight shining just right, enough for him to look as if he’s glowing.

he turns to look at you, smiling, “you’ll be out in some big city, doing whatever the hell you want! maybe we could even be roommates, like we’ve talked about.”

he grabs a piece of mango and takes a bite, excess juice dripping.

you smile, “yeah that’d be really nice. but for right now, i’m happy where i’m at.”

that year during the end of summer and towards the end of fall, you had your first boyfriend.

the relationship was not super long, and it never felt like there was much progress. he’d take you out to dates, he’d do everything right.

yet there was no true connection. it’s something you realize after the break up. you’d call each other—but no conversation ever had much depth.

but, when you were both together physically, you felt comfortable, you felt wanted. the cuddling, the kissing, you loved all of the relationship related things, and it made you believe you did love him.

it came crashing down when you saw him out with another girl, you were walking out a local coffee shop with robin when you spotted him. his arm linked with hers, no shame as he leaned over to kiss her, smiling.

it’s what lead you breaking down later that day in eddie’s trailer.

you had planned hanging out with him anyways. your now ex knew about your close friendship with eddie and he never seemed to really care. you realize that he never really cared about many things.

trying to act casual after your discovery and confrontation, you should’ve known better. eddie could see right through your act. be it the way you seemed less talkative, less enthusiastic, he knew something was up. he somehow always does.

he was telling a joke, trying to make you feel better—and you love his jokes, even if they’re the cringiest or stupidest ever, you always laugh or make some sarcastic remark—when he finishes telling his joke, you laughed, which made him smile.

both sitting on the couch, he laid his arm behind where you sat, pulling one of his legs up and turning to face you.

“sooo.. you wanna talk about it?”

you turn to him, your face written with confusion, “talk about what?”

“something’s obviously bothering you. and iiii do not like that.” he tilted his head, softly smiling.

“ah, how did you know?” you give him a small smile and look up to his ceiling, letting your head hit the cushions of the couch.

you see him shrug his shoulders from the corner of your eye, “i just know.”

the tears start to form before you even register it happening, and you tell him what happened.

and he’s there, like he always is. he holds you, let’s you cry to him about your ex. not knowing how much he hurts seeing you like this over a douchebag who didn’t deserve you to begin with.

he rubs your back, attempting to calm you down. you hadn’t realized you were clinging onto him, you pull back and just opt to laying your head onto his shoulder, a few start tears falling. he wipes them away and you close your eyes, feeling his hands soothe you.

that’s when you knew.

it all happened too quick, so suddenly.

one moment you were at the basket ball game, cheering lucas on.

the next eddie was on the run for supposed murder.

and now he was laying in front of you, on the ground.

dustin was kneeled with you, but the ringing in your ears blocking everything else out. all you could see was blood and all you could hear was your ragged breathing.

soon, your vision became blurry, tears clouding your vision. in one quick moment, you were back to the present. a shout. someone was yelling, you look in front of you and you see dustin crying, eddie on his lap.

you reach for eddie’s hand, intertwining it with your own, the other wiping tears away from his face. it was now your turn to wipe away his tears, but you would’ve preferred it to be over some girl, rather than it be because of what’s to come.

his hand is already startling cold, yet you still feel him tighten his hold on you.

“eddie, you gotta keep breathing alright? we’re gonna get you out of here. dustin! we have to get him out of here!” you look over at dustin, who heard you and you both move to get up, but eddie stops you both.

“no. no—” he momentarily chokes on his own blood that gathered in his mouth. he doesn’t let go of your hand and grabs dustin’s before he could get up.

“what do you mean no?!” you cry, moving to get up again.

“s-stop! there’s no,” he gulps, “no way i’ll be able to—” he coughs, blood splattering as he does so, you use the sleeve of your shirt to shakily clean his chin, “make it.”

he looks at you, and that’s when you see. that’s when you see he’s not changing his mind, he’s not going to let you and dustin pull him back.

a part of you knows, the logical part of you, that he won’t be able to make it. that it’ll be too late by the time you pull him back home.

so you cry, you cling to him. dustin cradles eddie’s head on his lap once again, you both cling to him.

“please. please don’t.” you say between sobs, your head on his chest, his heart beat still present, your hand still in his.

he doesn’t reply, he can’t. blood blocks him from saying anything else, so he brings your intertwined hands shakily up to his lips, kissing your hand. you bring your head up to look at him, and that’s when you knew.

that’s when you knew, everything was reciprocated. you don’t know how, but you did.

you both just know each other too well, but apparently not this.

he looked at you and attempted to smile, the three of you crying. already grieving what’s to come and what could’ve been.

you shake your head, “this isn’t fair! you never should’ve been a part of any of this mess! i—i tried so hard, so hard to keep you away from all of this. but it wasn’t enough.”

laying your head back onto his chest, you feel his free hand move to your back. the familiar feeling of him soothing you, rubbing your back, making you cry harder.

then suddenly, it all stopped.

it’s like time stopped all at once.

the movements on your back were gone, the soft heartbeat had stopped.

you could’ve sworn that in that moment, yours had too.

[armandisdaddy]

Siren Pt.2-Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Fem Reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen(Bass Player) x Fem Reader (Lead Singer)

Word Count: 2.3k

Content/Warning: !!🔞PLUS!!, Smut, P in V penetration, Spanking, Ass-play Virginity loss, Ass-Licking, Choking, Balcony, Grinding, Exhibitionism, Degredation and Fluff/Aftercare.

Author’s Notes: Now I know I’ve used “The Summoning” by Sleep Token for inspiration for another fan-fiction of mine (Taste of the Divine). But since I’ve heard this song and recently rewatched HOTD I cannot let go of the fact that this song fits Aemond so well. So I’m using it again for this, in my mind it definitely fits better in this scenario so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Oh he has a bit of an ass fetish…

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the HOTD characters nor the song being used. They are used only for creative purposes.

After the bands opening night and the events that transpired later on Y/N was conflicted. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him or that she didn’t like him. But one thing about band romances is they hardly ever end well and nothing but drama replaces what once was love. They were now touring in Europe; London, England to be exact. Y/N and the crew were riding on their tour bus to their destination. Aegon, Tommy(electric guitar player), their back up singers and Y/N were up front either sleep, on their phones, or singing. Aemond was in his room, he had isolated himself from the group when he did what he did and hadn’t spoken to Y/N since. He was ashamed of himself, he’d never done something so irrational, but she…she did something to him and brought something almost primal out of him.

He figured she’d never want to speak to him again and awaited the worst to come when or if she decided to tell the rest of their bandmates what happened. He decided to finish a song him and the band had record without Y/N. It was actually written for her, but he’d never admit it. Without warning a knock was heard at his door. “Come in..” And in she came slowly finding a place to stand as awkward as it was. “So I wanted to talk about what happened the other night. Why have you been avoiding me? You don’t just come into my room do… those things to me and then pretend I don’t exist.” She was frustrated for several reasons one of them being that she had been try to get that high feeling again and failed miserably every time. The other because she thought he used her for his own pleasure and basically threw her away like some old toy.

She got slightly distracted hearing the song playing and it sounded really good. “Wait who is that singing?” She wondered he sounded familiar and then it finally came to her. “Aemond…that’s you..” he sighed softly closing his laptop and turning to face her completely. “Yeah…me and Aegon were just fucking around. It’s nothing serious…and to answer your question I’ve been avoiding you because I took things too far with you. I should’ve never touched you in that way and you were intoxicated it was shitty of me and I’m sorry. You didn’t speak to me after that night and I just assumed I had gotten the wrong idea.” She huffed and sat at the corner of his bed trying to find the words to say. “I…I wasn’t mad at you…I just…you..you made me feel something I’ve never experienced before and I didn’t know how to say I want more or tell you I like you back.”

“Wait you like me back? So why the fuck did you tell Aegon the kiss between us on stage meant nothing?” She rolled her eyes and sighed laying back on his bed. “Because I didn’t think you liked me and because I know how band relationships end. They are never a good idea to get into…it just makes everything else difficult.” He listened attentively placing a calloused hand on her thigh squeezing softly before he climbed on top of her to give her a kiss.

“Band or no band you’re stuck with me you know that right? And you had Instagram and Twitter going crazy with that kiss. They’ve been what’s the word stanning over us ever since.”She pulled him in making his lips crash into her, but they were quickly interrupted, when Aegon came crashing through the door, eavesdropping obviously. She ducked and rolled off the bed running back to the front of the bus with everyone else. “Hey Bro, Y/N? What the fuck were y’all doing in here?” He mocked them with kissing and moaning sounds laughing at their obvious embarrassment.

It seemed like the bus ride dragged on for hours and finally they were here at the venue and Y/N was super excited for tonight she had something very special planned for tonight’s performance. As usual the concert goers can rushing in, the place was sold out and every seat was filled. This was going to be perfect she thought. She walked out on stage as usual relishing the chants and cheers as her band played behind her. She raised her hand signaling them to stop and she looked to Aemond with a grin on her face. “So everyone I’m sure you all know Aemond. The best damn bass player in King’s Landing!!!”

They all cheered and she laughed calming them to let her speak. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you and him too. I just learned on my way here that he is multitalented and him and the band recorded a song. And I’ve only heard a few seconds of it so this will be a first for me and you all. So..without further ado, I welcome to the stage Aemond Targaryen!!!!” The crowd went wild chanting his name and he looked to her in horror she walked to him and placed her hands in his ear whispering. “Your going to do great babe.” She kissed his cheek moving in his spot so that he may take hers.

He stood in the spotlight the light was blinding, but he put on a brave face for her and flashed a smile to the crowd. Aegon signaled the group with the clicks of his drumsticks and they began to play and a voice almost angelic left his lips. Leaving Y/N in awe.

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

A taste of the divine

You've got my body, flesh and bone, yeah

The sky above, the Earth below

Raise me up again

Take me past the edge

I want to see the other side

See the other side

The crowd loved every second and still he left Y/N speechless. She had heard him messing around before, but she never thought such a beautiful sound could come from him until now. She felt herself being taken away with the music. Is this what love felt like she thought. He looked back to her and she sang background vocal improvising and he winked at her looking back to the crowd as he continued. His mind filled with thoughts of nothing but her as he sang. Calling to her the way his heart did so silently. The songs tone switched and there was a breakdown she had not expected. He walked toward her with his mic in hand and Vhagar on the side of his waist gripping at her hips and pulling her close.

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cut me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

I didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

The taste of the divine

You've got my body, flesh and bone

The sky above, the Earth below

Nothing to say and nowhere to go

A taste of the divine

She shuttered feeling his fingers trailing up and down her spine. He pressed his forehead to hers, chest to chest. Her heart skipped, his lips hovering over hers. He pulled away leaving her wanting. She was unbelievably turned on and it was easy to tell. Her pale cheeks were a rich red and her legs rubbed together trying to find some form of friction. He passed the mic to her kissing her forehead before scooting her back into the limelight where she belonged.

Tonight was another successful performance their were already headlines about the two of them from TMZ to MTV. They were sleeping at a hotel tonight due to their fans stalking the tour bus. Y/N gave him her room key and she went up to take a well needed shower. He let himself in and heard the shower running. He found himself looking around the large room. Checking out the large terrace that was attached to her room. A rather tantalizing idea popped into his head. Shortly after she returned from the shower wearing a crop top and black shorts that stop right above the cuff of her cheeks.

He moved in his seat pulling at his pants trying to remain calm, but she made it oh so hard to. He stood to his feet, seeming to levitate toward her. His hands found their place into the dips of her waist. Pulling her into him. “I should have my way with you for that little stunt you pulled, my little siren.” She blushed biting into her rosy bottom lip. She needed to stop before he devoured her very being. “You tease me and your not even trying. Can you feel what you do to me?” He groaned pressing his sweat pants covered hard on against her hip.

His hands slid into the back of her shorts gripping on her round flesh growling at how well it filled his hands. “Perfect..” He spoke in a hushed tone pulling away to look into her eyes. Her eyes low and filled with lust. His lips crashed into hers and she moaned into his mouth, practically melting into his arms. He picked her up by her ass cheeks and carried her out to the terrace where a table and two chair sat. He sat down with her straddling his lap. “I want you to rub your pussy against my dick.” She looked at him with embarrassed expression. “Out here?” He hummed. “Mhmm…” He positioned her perfectly pulling the back of her shorts down to cuff under her cheek. His hungry hands kneeling them like dough. Pushing and pulling them apart the cool air hitting her skin.

Soon she began bucking her hips against him his cock rubbing against her sensitive clit. His left arm wrapping around her to pull her against him and his right laying harsh smacks against her plump ass. She whimpered and moaned, the red tint flushing to her welting skin. He moaned at the sight and bit into her neck; pumping up into her hips. He spanked her until she was sore and sat her on the table pulling her shorts off the rest of the way. The cool feel of the table caused her to shiver.

He looked to her sweetly before flipping her so she stood on all fours and he stayed in his seat. He smiled at the view spreading her cheeks apart seeing the delicate pink flesh of her pussy glistening from the light hitting her slick. He licked his lips like he was starving. But that tight hole of hers was what he really wanted. He buried his face between her ass and his tongue lapped over the tight flesh of her ass her back arched involuntarily. His eyes rolled at the taste of her. She gasped and moaned holding onto the edges of the table his tongue greedily lapping at her ass and dipping into pussy every now and then.

“Gods…you taste so good..” he cooed as she mewled from the sudden suction of her clit. He smacked her ass again letting his thumb rub against the rim around her asshole. While he looked back at the mess she was already making. “Your such a dirty little slut aren’t you? You’re making quite a mess on this table I wonder if anyone can hear you.” He smiled wickedly and turned her to face him. He stood in between her legs pulling his cock from his pants letting the thick head rub between the slit of her gorgeous cunny.

She writhed in pleasure seeing her like this drove him insane he couldn’t take much more. “Are you ready, my love?” She nodded sweetly. “Please, Aemond…I need it…” she whined and he smiled kissing her to dull the pain as he prodded at her entrance slowly letting it give way around him. He buried his head into her neck and gasped. “You feel amazing, little siren.” He stayed still letting her adjust to his length and girth which was above average. She felt like she was going to break, she need him deeper. “M..More…” he looked into her eyes..”More? Well aren’t you greedy are sure you can handle more?” He laced his fingers around her throat giving her the right amount of pressure before he filled her completely.

She winced but moaned her eyes rolling back. “Good girl you take me so well..” He began his assault pumping into her mercilessly her pussy gripping him like a vice with each pull. “Oh fuck..Aemond…” She called out his name like he always imagined. Was this dream? It couldn’t be it felt too real; too good. “That’s it baby let me make you feel good, baby girl. Let the world hear how good I make you feel.”

She grunted like an animal nails digging into his back the knot in her stomach tightening. She was so close to her release, but he popped her thigh denying her of it. “Please, I can’t hold on anymore..” He hushed her “Just a little longer I want us to cum together.” He continued hitting that spongy spot the drove her crazy, feeling her legs trembling uncontrollably. “Come baby cum on my dick, give it to me.” She screamed creaming all over his dick smearing it with her arousal his seed spilled instantly inside her.

The rode out their orgasms and he carried her inside. He showered with her a got her dressed in a large t shirt leaving soft kisses along her lips and neck. He carried her to bed and they spooned for the remainder of the night until they fell asleep.

To be continued…

@pet1t3 @proudlittlewitchbitch @xlaurenlintonx @jadianasithandjedi @ellxpsismm @chainsawangel @aemondslefteyeball @baebunnyxo @ammo23 @valeskafics @boundlessfantasy

[the0retically]

Statement of Timothy Rand

I’m definitely not done with it (and still gotta go through and edit what I do have) but if people want to see the start of it here’s the beginning part of the tma/bitb crossover I was thinking about. The premise is Rand is giving a statement about the events that happened in Galloway, but he did lose his sanity so things are a little Funky for him. It’s written in transcript style so there’s lines for him and then stage directions for background noise and some movement, anywho ramble over lol if y’all want to read it’s below the cut!

Statement of Timothy Rand regarding his experience with The Hive in Galloway, Louisiana.

[Click of a tape recorder, can hear the whirring of the tape throughout the following. Otherwise it is a quiet room. There is a sigh from the person in the room.]

Rand: So just, talk into this thing? Ok, guess that’ll work…Fuck, man, how do I even start? Uh, I guess it started with my sister, Rachel. She was always the best of us. Shining star. You know she could’ve been something. Done something good? Man, I don’t know. She was kind though. A pain in my ass, but she had a kind heart. God knows if I was the one that went missing instead of her then maybe this all wouldn’t have happened. I mean, would anyone even notice a burnt out loser like me going missing? Probably not. If they did, they would’ve said “it was only a matter of time” or some bullshit like that. But no, Rachel went missing and I was the one that never left. At least that's what John kept saying. Maybe if Rachel was around she could’ve done something more to fix everything before it led to…well all that. But, can’t change what happened. Even though it was my fault that she never made it home, I should’ve been there for her, I should’ve—fuck.

[Sound of rustling, pulling out a cigarette, and a lighter flicks open to light it. Lighter and pack can be heard being stuffed back into his pocket and there’s the sound of a cigarette burning followed by some coughing before it eases. He takes a couple drags from the cigarette which can be heard throughout the following. The tape whirs on.]

Rand: My sister went missing and then things were never the same. John was at work all hours, Ma tried her best, she really did, but I certainly didn’t make it easy for her. Then Kian and Rolan left town. After graduation, they couldn’t stay or whatever. Fuck if I know. Kian had a plan to become a big time rockstar, travel the world, perform in big ole Hollywood. He was always larger than life like that. Talking about his big plans and dreams. Never really expected him to ever come back.

[Rand pauses, takes another drag from the cigarette. There is some static noise in the background that slowly grows, nothing distracting, but it’s definitely there. The tapes whirs on. The following is said quieter.]

Rand: Rolan fucked off to Chicago and became a hotshot lawyer…he didn’t come home for ten years. I never saw him until they both came back to town. Surprised they even agreed to it.

[Rand scoffs, clears his throat, and continues. The static is more present. The tape whirs on.]

[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by anonymous

Rengoku Shinjuro x (Male) Reader

With a life full of hardships and never truly knowing "peace", maybe it's about time for Shinjuro to truly let go.

warnings: NSFW, Shinjuro's alcoholism and depression, hair pulling, some humiliation, lol he's a bottom, age gap

notes: just some angst and Shinjuro getting it up the butt, modern AU where demons are still a thing, written from a past tense and then in present

words: 2.1k

-

Rengoku Shinjuro, by all means, is not the soft, compliant type.

No, throughout his years, it’s always been Rengoku, do this or Rengoku, do that. Hailing from such a prestigious family, he’s never been granted a true taste of freedom, a true taste of himself. Ever since he was young, he’s been subjected to harsh training and grueling lectures of how terrible the real world is. For centuries, the Rengoku name has been a stone in the demon slaying world, and – quite literally – a pillar for others to look up to.

His personality became sour as thus. He was lucky enough to score himself such an incredible wife (at least that’s what the others whispered behind his back). Even more, that very wife bore two heirs. The Rengoku bloodline has never given birth to females; they always relied on outside sources to keep that pure bloodline flowing, to keep the locks of flames and sunburst eyes carrying from generation to generation.

Shinjuro should’ve been happy. He had a beautiful wife, a set of boys, was alive.

But.

And that’s what it is, the but that comes with everything in life.

He would never grow to know true peace. His sons, also born in this cruel, cruel world, wouldn’t be able to dream of it. They are Rengoku’s, after all, and they’d be damned if they didn’t carry on the tradition of their ancestors.

His bitterness only grew when Ruka, his beloved, passed. His sorrows could only be drowned out by limitless booze, the pain in his heart much too suffocating for him to bear. It didn’t take long after that for him to rid himself of the Flame Hashira title and close himself in from the world. He was no longer Rengoku Shinjuro, whoever the hell that even was. He was only the husk of a man, the pathetic wick left behind from a burned-out candle.

Drinking became Shinjuro’s new passion. The bottle became his best friend. His fist rarely became lonely, knuckles long gone white from the ceaseless clasp. Both of his sons became strangers, struggling to withstand the man their father had become. The eldest, Kyojuro, eventually took his brother away, the two of them moving in with Uzui-sama, the smug bastard.

Things had never been easy. Not when he was a child, and certainly not when he grew into adulthood.

The strong pillar of a man became nothing more than a pile of rubble.

It began with a single drink and a prolonged stare.

Shinjuro (unsurprisingly) frequented many bars, usually too stir-crazy to stick with one for too long. It was only when he found a hole-in-the-wall that he finally settled, decided that this was it.

He’d spent too many nights staring into the bottom of empty glasses, wondering if he would pass out in the bathroom and never get up again. Perhaps someone would start a fight and try to swing a stool at his head – no, that wouldn’t work, he’d been beaten up by too many god-forbidden creatures for a stool to do any real damage.

Needless to say, when the bartender silently placed another glass of his go-to before him, Shinjuro was surprised. Normally, he would signal for another round with a grunt or a slew of drunken words. The bartender only gave him half a smile, his head jerking to the other side of the bar. Shinjuro’s eyes merely followed, a strong brow quirking up his forehead.

Hah.

You were just some punk ass kid, most likely the same age as his son. Granted, he kept his hair long, but that was about it when it came to feminine qualities. Thick hair, though blond, covered the entirety of his arms and chest, and his face was in a constant stage of stubble. Shinjuro knew he wasn’t a looker. Why had you looked at him from everyone else in the bar, he couldn’t possibly fathom. He figured it had to deal with the dim lighting.

But no, you took that glance as the greenlight and hopped from your stool, scurrying your way to where Shinjuro sat. You gave a simple May I?, body hesitant and eyes hopeful. Frankly, Shinjuro couldn’t care. A free drink was a free drink and if he was lucky enough, he would forget all about this encounter anyway.

Or so he hoped.

He wasn’t sure how it happened. One moment, you were trying to crack jokes and butter him up with saccharine words; the next, he was flat on his back on his mattress, in his home, with you in between his legs. Your pants were hot and heavy in his ear, lips skimming the stubble adorning his jaw as your cock pounded in and out of him.

Shinjuro would never.

He wasn’t the kind to lay dormant and let others take control of the reins. He was a Rengoku, for fuck’s sake. He used to be a goddamn Hashira. He’s a man, not some broken down little whore who’s prying for attention or money or-

And then he came, all hot and thick, coating his abs in a sticky feeling he’s not used to. His mind cleared, heartbeat shuddered, back ached – he’s not cut out for this shit.

But.

It’s always the fucking buts that come with life.

A good lay is a good lay, and god knew how long it’s been since Shinjuro had one of those.

Getting drunk is all that mattered, no matter the method.

­“I need you to relax, love,” you breathe into his ear.

A shiver ripples down Shinjuro’s spine. A shaky sigh graces the air as he snuggles further into the pillow. Splayed out on his stomach, Shinjuro’s completely at your mercy; you straddle his behind, hands slick with oil as they rub and dig into the many knots throughout his back. Unlike you, Shinjuro is bare naked. Your clothed groin grinds into the split of his cheeks, just barely a chub.

Glancing over his shoulder, Shinjuro catches the quick glint of the band encircling your finger. Heart leaping to his throat, his insides squeeze as water gathers in his eyes (it might be because of the particularly deep knot you’re pressing at, but still.)

The universe… finally decided he deserved a break.

After that fateful encounter that night (and the back-breaking sex), you somehow… got into Shinjuro’s good graces. You made breakfast for him the next morning, rubbed his sore muscles, joked about his bedhead and morning breath… It was so domestic. It had been too long since another soul had graced his home, and it was almost too overwhelming…

A date led to another, sex became a regular thing, and Shinjuro found that he enjoyed letting loose and having someone else take hold of the reins. There wasn’t any Rengoku, do this! screaming in his ears, only your gentle tone telling him to take it deeper and praising him for being such a good boy.

It didn’t take long for you to ask for his hand in marriage. For one, Shinjuro never dreamed of remarrying, much less to a person of the same sex. Two, for that someone to be just as kind and gentle as Ruka was, only to totally switch sides behind closed doors, was something else entirely. Shinjuro never pictured himself as the type to be physically or romantically involved with another man, but life had other plans.

“You’re tensing up,” you murmur, your voice stirring him away from his thoughts. You place a kiss to his spine. “What are you thinking about?”

What did I do to deserve this?

It’s not like Shinjuro is a kind man. He did his job, put another generation of Rengoku’s into the world, then sank into a depressed stupor full of alcohol when he couldn’t find the will to live anymore. So what did the universe see in him? What did you see in him?

“Shinjuro, answer me.” Your voice, although soft, carries a harsh undertone.

“I’m a piece of shit,” Shinjuro grunts. It’s all too easy to see your displeased expression in his peripheral.

“We’ve talked about this,” you tell him.

And yeah, you did. He came clean about his trauma, about the demons plaguing the world, his dead wife, his estranged sons. You had some daddy issues of your own (surprise). The two of you were floating in dead space, drifting with the passing days. It was sort of a miracle when you two met.

“I know,” is all Shinjuro says, the words dissipating into a sigh.

Scooching off from his bottom, you easily push the muscular, hairy thighs apart and settle in between. Slicking up your thumb with more oil, you press the digit between his cheeks, slowly caressing the pursed hole.

“Obviously, we have to go over it again,” you tell him. “Tell me why I love you.”

Heat floods to Shinjuro’s face. Mind you, he never blushes. He stares hard at the wall across from him, thankful for the pillow smooshing the other side of his face. He knows he should answer. Last time he disobeyed, you bent him over your knee like a bratty child and spanked him until the skin matched the red in his hair. He almost craves for you to be rough with him, to put him in his place.

“I’m the father you always wanted to fuck.” It’s a poor attempt at a joke. Humor has never been Shinjuro’s strong suit. He does, however, receive a light swat against his behind in warning.

“Horrible answer. Try again.”

He grunts when you grasp onto a meaty asscheek, your hand roughly kneading it. Your thumb barely presses against his hole.

“Brat,” Shinjuro mutters. How ironic. If anyone is the brat in this relationship, it’s him. “Husband loves my physique, the hair on my chest, my ass-“ he wiggles his butt as he says this, “-and how I’m such a good boy.”

You reply with a snort. “Wouldn’t kill you to indulge me a little…”

A groan gets bit short when you abruptly grasp onto the loose strands of blond hair and yank. Shinjuro’s head cranes backwards, his neck screaming from the effort. Hot kisses land on his spine, the thumb encircling his hole dipping in slightly. Easing out and in, you tease him slowly, relishing in his heavy breaths and foggy eyes.

His cock stirs; Shinjuro wastes no time grinding it into the mattress, knees and hips raising to meet your touch. Hardened nipples graze the sheets, his heavy tits heaving with each ragged pant. It takes practically no effort anymore to get him stirred up, to have him hungry for your cock.

“My big, muscular boy,” you say, teeth skimming along the line of his spine, “so desperate to be fucked like a whore. Is this what a fall from grace looks like? To be on your hands and knees, waiting for someone to belittle you and make you theirs?”

Your dominance is unlike anything Shinjuro has ever seen. Usually, you’re all soft words and warm hands, willing to help him with anything. A perfect little househusband, you told him once, a giggle hanging from your lips. Someone to be there when you need them most.

But this…. This is something else.

You grope at the muscles of his back, his ass, his tits – you leave nothing untouched, besides his cock. A hand keeps his hips steady as you slip your cock inside, the hot resistance clasping down in a vice-like grip. Shinjuro moans weakly into the pillow, precum leaking from his neglected cock. You waste no time pulling back and snapping your hips into him, cock plunging in to the hilt. Your balls slap heavily against his ass, fingers moving from spreading his cheeks further apart to pulling at his hair.

“Mine,” you hiss into his ear, but then follow up with a quick kiss. “So soft, compliant… What a spectacle you are. I bet no one would ever have guessed that the former Flame Hashira would like getting cock so much…”

Blood thunders in his ears. With a slight whimper, Shinjuro buries his face in the pillow, shame and arousal making his skin simmer and cock leak like a faucet.

“Ah, ah, ah, honey, don’t hide your face, it’s just us here,” you say, tone switching to something buttery smooth and sweet. Your actions clearly contradict your words; you snatch his head back with a firm grasp, fingernails grazing against his skull. Your cockhead attacks his prostate with a deadly precision. Soon, Shinjuro is nearly sobbing, mouth lax and fingers clenching onto the sheets.

You fuck him to completion, his eyes rolling back in his skull as his balls pull tight and he cums in several long, drawn-out spurts. Your hands easily reach around his chest and clutch onto his pebbled nipples, your lips finding the side of his neck.

He expects you to finish inside him and leave it at that, but…

As he learned long ago, there are always buts.

You never get to let him know what that but is.