#the lever turns off the clock

[spectraspecs-writes]

making an automatic egg launcher

what is redstone even for, if not making elaborate booby traps?

[alchemistc]

Eddie tips his beer against his lips, fights the smile turning up the corners of his mouth as Mara and Jee each cling to one of Buck's arms, the both of them screaming to their hearts content. It's - loud, and Buck isn't doing anything to temper the noise, growling out one of his Roledex of monster noises, lifting one arm and then the other like some bastardized workout routine.

Beside him, Tommy sighs.

It's a familiar sound, at this point. Tommy is so fucking full of love, and Eddie knows he's spent a long ass time looking for a place to put it. He can't think of a person better prepared to take the bulk of it on than Evan Buckley.

"I cannot handle your lovelorn sighs, dude. You got the guy, you don't need to act like some regency hero watching from the sidelines."

Tommy eyes the neck of Eddie's bottle like he's thinking about punishing Eddie for the comment with a beer tap, so Eddie shifts it out of his reach - he's in no mood for another lesson on the physics of cavitation from Buck while he's cleaning foam off the patio and trying to prevent Jee from lapping it up like a dog.

Denny's too old for most of the horseplay, now, but there's something about Buck that makes kids unafraid to act like kids - he takes a flying leap and gets an arm around Buck's neck, and now he's somehow hauling three of them around with one of those wide, uncareful smiles Eddie's always been a bit jealous of.

Tommy's chest expands, and Eddie can feel his lips pursing, his eyes rolling to the side in warning. Tommy blows the breath out through his nose and scowls.

"I knew Shannon was it for me after our first date," Eddie says into the silence, shocking himself with the ease her name slides past his lips. He hasn't - he doesn't - Christ, even thinking her name sets him back sometimes. But this feels - it feels like the only memory pertinent to the situation.

Tommy's pretty good at keeping a straight face when he's feeling big things - decades of practice, Eddie knows, and he's aware that Tommy has spent another ten years unpacking that, forcing himself to wear his heart on his sleeve. Still. It seems easiest when it's Buck, and Eddie can't fault him that.

"She was such an asshole," Eddie continues, fond, while Tommy's gaze shifts to him, careful, concentrated, that special blend of steady eye contact and a stilling of his body that lets people know he's really listening, retaining, will be able to recite word for word something personal someone told him about themselves. "Even then, even as young as we were, I just wanted to share everything with her. Jokes, and stories about my day - happiness and sadness and... life, you know?"

Tommy swallows. His gaze shifts in the quiet of Eddie's confession, unerringly returning to Buck. Eddie's watched plenty of women in love with Buck looking at him. It's never been that look.

The one Eddie'd clocked months ago, a subtle shift from smitten to in love to something else. Something more.

In the grass, Buck levers himself to his knees and begs for mercy, and nearly takes a knee to the groin for his surrender.

Tommy's chest expands.

"You measured his ring size while he's passed out coming off an extra shift, yet?" (Buck has. Eddie's been fielding a fucking deluge of links in his messages, at least a hundred different rings at this point that look identical to Eddie but Buck apparently has half a million opinions about that he seems to think Eddie can help him with.)

Tommy doesn't give him time to react, this time. The bottom of his bottle hits the top of Eddie's and Eddie scrambles too late, foam spilling along the sides, over his fingers. The patio rug soaks up the liquid as it spills over his fingers, but Tommy seems to think the hassle of cleaning off his brand new patio is worth it, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

"I'm going to go rescue my boyfriend before Jee-Yun decides hearing Evan howl in real pain is her new favorite hobby."

Eddie's beer is still foaming, a steady trickle up the neck and down the side, right over his fingers, dripping to the rug beneath his feet. He'll need to go inside and wash his hands soon, maybe rearrange Tommy's tea drawer while he's in there - it's the only thing safe from Buck's wrath in that kitchen. "Get me another beer while you're up," Eddie snarks back, and leans back to watch the way Buck's eyes gleam when, instead of rescuing Buck, Jee and Mara both take aim at Tommy instead, and Tommy's swings them both up into the air while they screech in delight.

[sucredreamer]

how i met your mother ᯓᡣ𐭩 aurélien tchouaméni

what’s it giving ᯓᡣ𐭩 in which Aurélien tells his son just how he met his mother

pairing ᯓᡣ𐭩 aurélien tchouaméni x black! reader

warnings ᯓᡣ𐭩 cussing, heart warming fluff, some ill french translations lol and the possibility to completely fall for Tchoua if you haven’t already. (a Jules cameo as well!)

A/N ᯓᡣ𐭩 i got tired of being an anon and put my imagination to work, i hope you freaking love it! (also i’ve given you the nickname Lovie 🥰)

y/n & aurélien’s interlude ᯓᡣ𐭩 forever my lady x jodeci

w/c 3918

Waking up to the sun shining through the curtains and his alarm clock blaring, Aurélien groaned, cuddling closer to you. He felt the warmth of your body next to his and sighed contentedly, savoring the few extra moments of peace before the day began. The soft light illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. You stirred slightly, your hand finding his and squeezing it gently.

"Turn that shit off, please" You mumbled pulling the comforter over your head as he let out a light laugh.

“I’m sorry, mon amour. I’m getting up now” He said, trying to move but finding it difficult as you were now latched onto him. {my love}

“I said turn it off, not get out of bed. What are you doing?” You pouted, hugging him from behind while he sat on the edge of the bed.

Aurélien chuckled, feeling your arms tighten around him. “I guess I misunderstood” He teased, reaching over to turn the alarm clock off. “There, it’s off.”

“Good,” You murmured, resting your chin on his shoulder sending tender kisses to his skin. “Now come back to bed”

He couldn’t resist your plea, the softness of your voice and the warmth of your vanilla scented embrace. He shifted back onto the bed, pulling you close as he laid down again. Cuddling into his side, your eyes began fluttering shut as he rubbed circles on your thigh that was placed over him.

“Me and Halo have busy day, mama” He mumbled into your temple before adjusting your bonnet to completely cover your hair. Their busy days consisted of trying a new sport, getting ice cream or a treat and buying you something just so you knew they were thinking of you the whole time.

“I know, have fun getting him out of bed” You laughed. Halo, just like you, was the furthest from a morning person anyone could be. “Just be careful and make sure to send me pictures please” You said as your eyes fluttered closed once again.

“Always baby. You get some rest” Aurélien said gently kissing you back to sleep. “You too, ma princesse” He whispered to your growing belly before leaving a soft kiss on your skin. {my princess}

Getting up he slid his feet into his slippers before heading to his sons room. After sending two knocks to the door he opened it to find Halo asleep. Half on and half off the bed, tangled in the sheets, much to his father’s amusement.

“This kid” Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, he heard a deep sigh which brought a mischievous grin to his face. “C'est l'heure de se lever, mon bébé” Aurélien murmured, his hand gently tracing soothing circles on Halo’s back. {It’s time to get up my baby}

Opening one eye to take a peek, Halo noticed his father’s full attention on him making him snap them back shut. “Is the sun awake?” His little voice spoke just before a sleepy yawn escaped his lips.

“Yes, and the earth says hello,” Aurélien smirked as he playfully began to tickle Halo, who responded with a burst of heartwarming giggles.

“Tell the earth I need five more minutes, please,” Halo said, trying to catch his breath as he wrapped both arms around Aurélien’s neck and pulling him down onto the bed.

“Just five more minutes?” Aurélien asked, gently placing Halo on his chest. Halo responded with a sleepy nod. “I guess football will just have to wait, then” He said with a playful shrug.

Halo’s eyes popped open in pure excitement as he sat up on his dad’s chest. “We’re going to play football?!” He exclaimed, holding both sides of Aurelien’s face affectionately.

“Yes, of course, but if you’re too tired—” Aurélien began with a smirk, only to be cut off by Halo’s excited interruption.

“Nope! I’m up, just waiting on you, man,” Halo declared, patting his dad’s chest before hopping out of bed and grabbing his hand.

His smirk softened into a warm smile as he stood up, lifting his son into his arms. “Oh, so I’m the hold up now?” He teased.

Aurélien set Halo down as they headed into the bathroom. He grabbed his step stool and placed it in front of the sink. After applying toothpaste to both of their toothbrushes, Aurelien started the two-minute timer. With a few playful hums and silly faces that coaxed sweet giggles from Halo, they finished brushing their teeth together.

“You ready, papa?” Halo asked in his small voice, and Aurélien nodded in response. Early in your relationship, you made it your job to guide Aurélien through affirmations every morning, and it had slowly become a cherished daily ritual—one that continued even after your two became three.

Standing together in front of the mirror, Aurélien and Halo recited in unison, “I am loved. I will do great things today. I am smart and capable. Feel the love, catch it, and put it in the wind.”

Once they were both dressed and ready for the day, Halo suddenly realized they had forgotten something. “Papa, we forgot ‘handsome’” He said as Aurelien finished lacing up his mini Nike Phantom Luna 2 boots.

“That’s a given, baby boy, we’ve got that covered” Aurélien said with a confident smirk. Halo nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re so right” He agreed, matching his dad’s energy.

The two made their way to the room, they saw you sleeping soundly. Bonnet long gone, your hair spread out across the pillow and Ocho curled up at the foot of the bed. “Can I give her a kiss?” Halo whispered to his dad, who nodded with a small smile.

“À plus tard maman” Halo murmured softly, placing a tender kiss on your cheek after being gently set beside you on the bed. {See you later, mummy}

“All right, let’s roll,” Aurélien said, tossing Halo over his shoulder, prompting a burst of laughter. After buckling him into his seat, they exchanged a playful wink before heading out to start their day.

"I can't wait for Mommy to play at the park with us again," Halo said, staring out the window as the trees blurred by.

"Me too, baby," Aurélien replied, glancing at Halo in the rearview mirror. "Y’know, your mama and I met at that park?"

"Really?!" Halo asked, excitement lighting up his eyes.

"Mhm," Aurélien replied, his voice softening as he reminisced. "It all started at one of your grandma’s cookouts..."

•••

"Thank you, Lovie!" Your little cousins chimed in unison after you finished applying sunscreen to their faces.

"You're so welcome! Have fun!" You called after them as they ran off to play.

It was your family’s annual cookout at the park, and everyone and their mother was there. Since moving to France at the ripe age of five, your family decided to bring your family traditions to the new environment, inviting everyone you’ve come to love since settling there.

"Baby, you're so good with kids, when you gonna have one of your own?" Your grandmother, Cicily, asked you making you scrunch up your face slightly.

"Nuh uh, don't even speak that into existence! I'm young and turnt!" You replied, grabbing a strawberry Fanta out of the cooler before heading back to the picnic table.

"You know it takes the right man to change that," Cicily said with a knowing smile. "I remember I was young and hot too, until I met your grandfather." Her eyes softened as she reminisced about the good times she had with her late husband, Quincy.

"Now this is something I have to hear," You said, amused. "What was so different about Pop that made you finally settle down?" You couldn't help but grin, knowing from the stories your grandma had told you that she was quite the maneater until Quincy came along.

"Not only was he a great man, but he had the walk," Cicily said with a flirty grin, her eyes lighting up with the memory. "I’d recognize that walk anywhere." The other ladies around her giggled in agreement.

"What walk? It can’t be just any regular walk," You asked, intrigued.

“No, you’ll definitely know it when you see it!” Cicily said with a playful nod.

“They walk like they’re carrying some heavy artillery” Lola, your grandmas close friend, remarked with a wink causing you to burst out laughing.

“You’re all so cheeky, but I get it,” You said, making air quotes with your fingers. “I’ll keep an eye out for this ‘walk.’”

The elders drifted into their own conversation while you watched the kids play. Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice, as sweet as ever, cutting through the chatter.

“Hey, Mrs. C!” Jules, your best friend, called out cheerfully as he approached with a taller, handsome man beside him.

Your grandma’s face lit up. “My sweetest boy!” she murmured warmly, her voice full of affection. She waved at him with genuine delight. “Hi, baby!”

Jules, with his easy smile and doe eyes, had always been like a grandson to Cicily since he met you, a cherished presence in your lives.

“Nana, you’re so obsessed,” You laughed, shaking your head before turning your attention to the unknown man.

He was undeniably one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. His deep-set eyes were a mesmerizing shade of brown, framed by thick, dark lashes. The way his lips curved into a perfect, confident smile was almost disarming, and his facial structure was enough to catch all of your attention.

Every feature seemed to be sculpted with careful attention, making it clear that he was, without a doubt, one of God’s favorites.

“Take a good look at that walk, sis” Selene, your close friend, said with a flirtatious tilt of her head toward Aurélien.

You watched him intently and soon realized that the walk was as captivating as Lola had described. “Armed and dangerous?” You mumbled making her laugh at your teasing words.

“Qui est-ce?” Aurélien asked, nudging Jules with a flirtatious glint in his eye. His eyes roamed from your stylish Chanel Dad sandals to the form fitting sleek Jacquemus rib-knit romper that accentuated your every curve. {Who is that?}

Your bohemian braids added a touch of elegance, and your radiant glowing skin, with just a hint of makeup that only highlighted your effortlessly stunning natural beauty. But it was the lip gloss—glimmering with every movement—that truly drew him in.

"C'est mon meilleur ami; we call her Lovie," Jules said, pulling up two chairs to sit in front of you. {She’s my best friend}

"Best friend? Why haven’t I met her before?" Aurélien asked, clearly intrigued, his tone feigning playful offense.

“Because I don’t need you and your deep French accent wooing my dawg, man” Jules said with a laugh as they sat down.

“You’re late, Koundé” You added with a playful scowl.

“I know, I’m sorry, lil’ bit” Jules replied, as the two of you did your handshake from childhood. “I was dropping off flowers to Mama,” He said, referring to your mother, who was at her teaching job. “And I brought my guy along.”

“Oh, so you’re my competition?” You said with a playful smile as you’ve heard so much about Jules having another best friend, extending your hand.

“Aurélien, how are you?” He replied, his thumb brushing against your knuckles as he held the shake a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away.

“I’m fine, how are you?” You asked, opening the cooler to offer them a drink.

“I can see that you’re fine, I have eyes” Aurélien said with a teasing smirk. “How are you, really?”

You glanced up, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I’m doing amazing. Thank you for asking” You shamelessly blushed, closing the cooler and meeting his gaze.

“You guys still doing the annual reunion games?” Jules asked. It had been a while since he had been able to make it to the cookout due to his busy schedule.

“Yes, it’s girls vs. guys, and the guys are going to lose just like every year,” You shrugged, while Jules rolled his eyes.

“Y’all get beat every single year?” Aurélien asked, laughing as Jules waved him off.

“Bro, every single year,” Jules said, shaking his head. “We have a different person at each course, and we almost win until we hit the one versus one basketball game and come face-to-face with MJ over here,” He said, pointing to you.

“Oh nah, your winning streak ends today,” Aurélien said, shaking his head and setting his drink down.

“Is that so?” You asked, smirking as he nodded confidently. “And why is that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I’m a pro bébé. Football is just a side quest” He joked, grinning as the other men hyped him up.

“Yeah sure, we’ll put that confidence to the test today” You replied playfully rolling your eyes.

As the games kicked off, everyone settled ready to dash to their stations, eager to be the first to arrive. An extra point was on the line for whoever got there first, and the competitive energy was electric as everyone was ready to race to gain the early edge.

“On your marks, get set—NO CHEATING, SELENE—Go!” Cicily shouted before blowing her whistle, sending everyone off in a flurry.

You took off toward the court across the street, with Aurélien hot on your heels. As you picked up speed to outpace him, he slowed down, a grin spreading across his face as he took his time, savoring the view.

Years of volleyball and track had sculpted your body into something truly striking, and you wore that confidence effortlessly, turning heads wherever you went.

“Mec, come on man get on your zoom, we need every point we can get!” Jules yelled, passing his friend as you laughed, turning around to send a wink Aurélien’s way.

“I’m just a man bro, how strong do you expect me to be?!” Aurélien shot back as his face lit up with a playful smirk.

Once they reached the court, Aurélien decided to try his luck with some small talk. “So, Lovie, how come we haven’t met before?” He asked, spinning the ball on his fingers with a casual grin.

“You won’t catch me at the same spots you kick it, superstar, but I’m definitely outside” You said, crossing your arms and giving him a teasing look.

“Outside? Doing what, exactly?” Aurélien asked, his face scrunching up in a joking manner.

“Boy, acting bad! As I should,” You teased, knowing damn well that you were always home by 11 p.m., fully moisturized in bed and men were the least of your concerns.

Aurélien flashed a playful grin as he sunk the ball into the hoop. “Oh, we’re going to have to put a stop to that” He said, his eyes lingering on yours.

“Love your confidence, but that’s not happening, sweetheart,” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Aurélien leaned in, his voice a soft, seductive murmur. “How about this? If I win this game, you’ll take a break from your hot girl escapades and let me take you out for the weekend,” He said, his gaze intense as he bit his bottom lip gently.

“You have really pretty eyes,” You said, dismissing his earlier words.

“Thank you,” Aurélien replied with a smirk. “You have really pretty everything, Miss Lovie”

“Miss Lovie? That’s cute,” You said, playfully stealing the ball from him.

“Real cute,” Aurélien replied with a teasing grin, “but how much better would it sound with ‘Tchouaméni’ right behind it?”

“Hm. Deal. But if I win, you let me drive that beauty over there,” You said, pointing to his stunning red Lamborghini convertible.

Aurélien’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Deal,” he said, his voice low. “But don’t get too excited—you’re not winning.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Selene sprinting toward the court to hand off the flag.

“Use this time to warm up, babygirl,” Aurélien said with a laugh, watching as Jules lagged far behind the girl he was racing.

“Come on now, this is just embarrassing,” You said with a laugh as Jules approached the two of you.

“Nah, man, she tripped me at that tree back there,” Jules protested, pointing behind him as he handed Aurélien the flag.

You dribbled the ball between your legs before passing it to him.

“Ladies first, ma belle,” Aurélien said with a grin, passing it back.

“Big mistake,” You shot back, smirking as you took a deep three-pointer.

“What are we playing to? 21?” Aurélien asked, rebounding the ball as you got into position on defense.

“Yes, sir,” You replied as he maneuvered past you and laid the ball in. “Let’s get it,” He said with a determined grin.

You both went shot for shot until the score was tied at 18, and you found yourself struggling with the ball.

“Back your nasty ass up” You giggled as pressed himself against you, almost causing you to momentarily lose focus.

“I’m just playing the game, bébé” He whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. With a quick move, he stole the ball and took a three-pointer. The ball swished through the net, and the men cheered while the women muttered a chorus of “boo’s” and “whatever’s.”

He turned around, shrugging cockily. “Don’t worry, we’ll take her on our date,” Aurélien said with a wink, pointing to his car. You playfully rolled your eyes and waved him off.

As mealtime approached, it looked like the universe had decided to hit the pause button on dinner plans…

“Jadyce! You were too busy doing the electric slide, and now look!” Cicily yelled, pointing to the food burnt to a crisp on the grill. Your uncle stood there in playful surrender, a sheepish grin on his face.

“You know when Candy comes on I gotta get down” He said continuing to dance to the music as your grandmother scolded him.

“How about some pizza?” You asked getting cheers and thankful mumbles in return.

As you, Jules, Aurélien, and Selene shared a table at your favorite diner, you couldn’t help but eye Jules’ plate. His personal pizza looked just a little too tempting.

“Jules, that looks really good” You said reciting one of your favorite tiktok sounds. “I should’ve got that”

“Yeah, you should’ve. Read my lips, Lovie—no,” He said, stretching out the “o” as you rolled your eyes.

Turning your attention to Aurélien, you tried your luck once again. “Wow, Aurélien, that looks really good. I should’ve got that,” You said, pointing to his personal pizza while wigging your brows making him smile.

Sliding half of his pizza onto your plate and half of your pizza onto his, you let out a fake innocent gasp. “Oh, for me? That’s so nice,” You said with a playful grin.

“It’s your world, pretty girl,” He winked, then went back to enjoying both his food and the group's lively conversation.

As the sun set, you and Selene decided to call it a night. You both stood from the table, exchanging heartfelt goodbyes and hugs all around.

“It was so nice meeting you, Aurélien” You mumbled into his shoulder as he rocked the two of you side to side in a long hug.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma belle” He said as his large hands rubbed your back falling just above your ass before sliding back up.

After pulling away, You and Selene intertwined your hands and made your way out of the diner, trying to shake off the tingling feeling his touch left behind.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” Jules said, shaking his head at Aurelien, who looked puzzled.

“What did I do?” Aurélien asked, genuinely confused.

“How are you going to take her on a date without her number, dumbass? And I’m not giving it to you” Jules laughed, as Aurélien facepalmed.

“Oh Mon Dieu!” Aurélien murmured, realizing his mistake. Turning around he saw that the two of you were just in front of the diner and took his chances. {Oh my god!}

Hearing a couple knocks on the window, you and Selene turned around to see Aurélien standing there, playfully mugging you. He motioned with his finger for you to come closer.

Approaching the window grinning, you crossed your arms, waiting for him to speak. Aurélien pulled out his phone, pointed to the numbers keyboard, and looked around with a cheeky, fake nonchalant expression.

Putting up your fingers to represent the digits of your number while giggling at his antics, you soon heard your phone ring.

“Hello,” You said sweetly, still gazing at him through the window. “Just wanted to hear that pretty voice again,” He replied, making your cheeks flush with a new shade.

“Why don’t we cater to all your senses and let you see something?” You said, turning around with a sultry smile. You began to walk toward your car, each step a deliberate, sexy strut, leaving him mesmerized as he watched.

“Mmmm. Can you, those legs adorned with a pair of heels and a way to cater to all the rest of my senses see me tomorrow at 7?” He asked before tucking his bottom lip inbetween his teeth still intently watching you.

“Yes sir” You smiled settling in the passenger seat as the two of you ended your call.

“So, about your fine ass friend. Jules was it…” Selene started as you laughed at her instant infatuation.

•••

“And that, mon fils, is how I met you mama” Aurélien said finishing the story, leaving out certain details for his innocent ears, as they finished up their ice cream. {My son}

“You didn’t let mama win?! I thought we were supposed to be gentlemen” Halo exclaimed perplexed, taking a spoon full of his father’s ice cream.

“If I let maman win, she wouldn’t have let me take her on a date” Aurélien explained as his son nodded in understanding.

“Well I think she would’ve, mummy likes you a lot” Halo explained making his dad chuckle lightly.

“You think so?” Aurélien asked Halo, his tone filled with warmth. “Yes, sir. She prays for you every night before bed, and I do too,” Halo said, his innocent sincerity making Aurelien blush and smile with a tender pride.

“Is that right? Well, before we go, do you want to get her something?” Aurélien asked, standing up. “Yup! I think we should get flowers this time,” Halo said, grabbing his dad’s hand as they headed down to the market together.

Meanwhile, back at home, you were preparing lunch for everyone. The night before, Halo had eagerly written on the chalkboard fridge that he wanted "the world's greatest sandwich" for lunch today.

“Mama! We’re home, and guess who we got something for?” Halo said, running in with flowers in hand. “Hmmmm. I don’t know, who?” You asked, putting on a thoughtful expression.

“You of course! Here you go,” Halo said, handing you a bouquet of white lilies. You gasped in delight. “They’re gorgeous, thank you so much,” You said, leaning in for a loving kiss from Aurélien.

“And these are for Sissy,” Halo said, holding a small bouquet of pink carnations up to your stomach. Your hand flew to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. “My sweet boy,” You whispered, touched by the thoughtful gesture.

[luxthestrange]

Incorrect quotes#1001...MC?Part 1

If the Halloween Killer Mask events were canon...This is basically how Mc & Mammon met...Halloween is a state of mind people-

In an abandoned warehouse, Mammon is in a Tv watching His Target Mc shacking in their chair their head moving,as the straps on their wrists and legs keep them...

Mam*Looking confused through his mask*...Eh...Mc?

Mc*Continues to shake uncontrollably*!?!

The view of them with tense music and screams...a total Saw camera angle leaves the serial killer dizzy-

Mam*In his real voice now*-Woah woah wait wait!Whats wrong with ya, lunatic?

Mc*Stops and looks at the tv,confused*...whats wrong with me?-IM SCARED!

Mam:...Of WHAT?

Mc*Stares at him*...

Mam*Stares back*...

Mc:...of what-OF THE GAME!?

Mam: But I haven't even explained how the Game works-

Mc*Nods at that slowly*Yeah but your gonna do something nasty to me...

Mam:...Ok!-Yes I am but at least let me finish first explaining the game and then you get scared of whatever, okay?

Mc: Oh-Ok ok-go on!

Mam:Ok-MC THE DEVICE BESIDE YOU WILL CRUSH YOUR SKULL-

Mc*Continues to shake uncontrollably*!?!

Mam: WAIT DAMMIT!?-FUCK!?-What happen?!

Mc*Stops and looks at the TV*...W-well now you did say something that freaked me out...

Mam: Fucking dammit!-LET ME FINISH! Let me finish- 'Kay?

Mc: Ok ok ok...

Mam*Sighs and nods* Thanks...-LIKE I WAS SAYING THE DEVICE BESIDE YOU WILL CRUSH YOUR SKULL WHEN THE CLOCK I NTHE WALL MARKS ZERO TO TURN IT OFF YOU MUST PULL THE LEVER INFRONT OF YOU BUT IN DOING SO...YOU'LL ACTIVATE THE LITTLE DEVICE THAT CUT YOUR HANDS, YOU CHOICE MC...YOUR HANDS...OR YOUR HEAD?~...Let the game beg-

Mc*Continues to shake uncontrollably*!?!

Mam: FUCKING DAMMIT MC!?-WHAT PART OF LETTING ME FINISH DIDN'T YA GET!?-

Mc*Continues to shake uncontrollably even worse than before*!?!

Mam:...Mc?

Mc*Continues to shake uncontrollably even worse than before, foam coming out their mouth*!?!

Mam*Panics and and screams in worry*MC!?-

[103rafes]

TAPE 009 ᯓ★

"Why come here? You're not seeking comfort you're seeking loyalty."

in which BSF!Rafe comes to varsityboy!kook!reader's penthouse in Boston after Morocco's incidents, and a certain other one.

warning : 18+ , smut is involved (anal) , holocaust and nazi mentions (reader is doing a history paper) , spoilers from OBX S4 ahead , if you haven't finished it DO NOT read ahead.

BSF!Rafe and VARSITYBOY!KOOK!reader

Late nights in Boston, Massachusetts never got old when nightlife looked right back at you, sat snug in your bed with your Macbook air in your criss-crossed lap, brow furrowed with concentration while you typed up something for your history lecture, a paper about the Holocaust which you'd chosen as a topic.

But now as you sat here, nail between one of your canines lost in research, you'd seriously wish you could've chosen Dunkirk; Goddamn, Dunkirk would've been so much easier, or maybe even the JFK assasination.

University was always something that kept you busy, and even thought you were dedicated to Varsity football, especially being captain-

You still had to study, and get good grades; you were at Harvard for a reason. Thank God you hadn't chosen MIT.

The low light from your Macbook highlighted your features, a loose black tee and blue and black plaid pajama pants fitted your body, comfortable attire for a simple night to yourself; maybe you'd go and dine out for tonight.

It was only around 10PM, though if you wanted to be specific, the digital alarm clock next your bed glared *10:12PM* in bright red.

Your fingers were just about to type in evidence for a photo of segregation, before you heard the pitched, slow hum of your doorbell ring throughout your penthouse.

The sound made you stop your typing, eyes flicking to the closed door of your big, cozy room. You'd like to assume you misheard and maybe, reading about all this Holocaust stuff was getting to you, but when you heard it again you had to raise an eyebrow.

You made sure your work had been saved on Microsoft word before you set the Macbook down and got up, opening the black sleek fibreglass door and walking down the hall of your humble and modern abode, white hues blending nicely with smoke grey and black.

Most of the lights were off besides the warm white dim of the stove light, brightening your place with the city from the floor to ceiling glass windows in the living space. You made it to the front door, glancing to the small screen attached to the door, the one that showed you your cameras.

Your eyes squinted when you saw a face that you hadn't seen in a while; Rafe, Rafe Cameron. Your childhood bestfriend.

You stared for a bit, noticing the dirty white knitted sweater and tight black jeans. Before you could really check if it really was him, your hand was already unlocking the door and turning the black lever handle.

It opened, and you were met face to face with the man himself. Your eyebrows raised, eyes resting, "Rafe?" You questioned, more for your own consciousness before rubbing a hand to the back of your neck, "dude..uh, hey. This is a surprise." you spoke, and Rafe's eyes fully locked with yours.

Rafe's lips parted in a slow exhale, and he nodded in greeting, "Hey..sorry for uh, coming so- so randomly, it was jus'..I had to see you." He murmured, and you leaned against the doorway for a minute, arms crossing against your chest in a way that made your biceps flex a bit, "Oh..deadass?" Your expression changed into one of skepticism, "It's, well I mean- I'm glad really it's just," you scratched the back of your head, "How'd you..even get here?" You questioned.

You saw the way Rafe's brow twitched, that thing he did unknowingly when he was caught off guard or really confused; you weren't sure which one it was this time.

"I uh..I boated, here." Rafe answered flatly, and your eyes opened wide, "You boated here?" You repeated, "You- you boated from North Carolina to, to Bosto-"

"Well, no..it was, Morocco, to here..I just, drove back here from Kildare actually," Rafe interrupted, and you stood up straight, "Shit- what? Morocco?" You asked, incredulous, "You mean the country all the way in North Africa?" You couldn't believe your ears.

Rafe stared, eyes looking away before his lip did a little pout, and he shrugged, "Well, yeah do you know any other Morocco?"

Your face turned into one of mild annoyance and your nose scrunched, "Any other Moro- no, I don't. Just- Jesus Christ, get inside." You muttered, moving out the way for Rafe to step inside, to which he did quickly, already beginning to pull his shoes off.

You watched him from the corner of your eye while you closed and locked your front door, making sure it was good before turning around, "K I'm gonna ignore, that you just told me like some dumb, Indiana Jones shit and just, ask if you want like a drink- do you want a drink, Rafe Cameron?" You asked, an eyebrow raised.

Rafe knew you were going to think if he was even more insane if he told you everything while drunk, so he shook his head, "No, no I don't want a drink, I want to talk. I really, really need to talk to you, man." He stated, his voice almost shaky with the effort.

You stared, taking in the sense of urgency there seemed to be in Rafe while thinking about your Holocaust paper; you still had to write in about Hitler and his affects, aswell as the stages of genocide. With an exhale through your nose, you nodded, "Ooo-kay, that's a first," you shrugged your shoulders, "gonna bring a bottle anyway. Wanna talk outside? You know, on the balcony?" You questioned, and Rafe seemed to hesitate before nodding a bit quick, "Yeah, yeah the- the balcony sounds good."

Walking over to your display of alcohol, you hummed in consideration; Glenfiddich, you had that the other day so no. Jameson? Nah, wasn't the mood, and Jack Daniel's just..it wasn't that night either.

But then, your eyes landed on an untouched bottle; an alcohol you'd left sitting for a bit.

"Want Hennessy?" You questioned, and Rafe glanced up, "I don't want a dr-"

"That wasn't the question. I know you Rafe, and you know me. Do you want Hennessy?" The tone of your voice told Rafe he couldn't argue, and the buzzed brunette knew that he probably would want a drink mid-talk. So, he sighed, "..Yeah, Hennessy." He muttered.

And so, the two of you went out to the balcony of your penthouse, though you guys eventually decided it'd be better to go to the roof; with your parents also helping to back your funds up during your University time, you had a sweet spot in the condo building; that included a pool at the very top, lit up a little.

You and Rafe sat on one of the soft couches, a glass table in the middle of the curving C. You placed the Hennessy there, two crystal glasses before you leaned back, "So, what brings you to my humble abode, dude?" You asked, and Rafe scratched his head, "..Need to get shit off my chest, and I just, you know..haven't seen you in some months, I was beginning to miss how annoying you were-" Rafe coughed between his sentence when you smacked his chest, a laugh escaping him, "okay okay, fine..you're not that annoying, but..s'been borin' without you."

You nodded, a tilt in your head with a shrug, "Yeah well I'm very missable, but uh..what do you need to get off your chest exactly?" You questioned, and that's when Rafe kind of tensed.

It didn't go unnoticed by you, and your brow creased, "Yo, what's wrong? Did something happen?" You asked, subtle concern starting to appear. Rafe was leaned forward, hands clasped together with his elbows over his knees before he slowly shook his head, a shaky exhale.

Only now did you really realize that you hadn't even questioned Rafe's face; it seemed to have very faint scars from overexposure to the sun.

Rafe after a while, spoke, "You know those uh..the Genrettes?" He asked, and again you didn't know why this was the topic, but you rolled with it, "Yeah, my Mom was Wes Genrette's lawyer, he was a nice guy..bit strange though but I don't remember much," you answered, "why?"

You could sense Rafe had bad news; shit, when didn't Rafe have trouble hoarding to him?

"Uh..he, he died," Rafe started and you snorted, "K, I know that, you really came all this way to-"

"Chandler Groff, he was apart of this, this deal I signed with Hollis, that.." He trailed off, and you squinted, "Hollis? Like that chick who was married to Mr. Robinson? The realtor and cougar of Kildare?" You asked just to affirm, and Rafe nodded, "Yeah, yeah I did a, a wire transfer with her..said she was going to develop Goat Island."

You nodded, listening before Rafe continued, "But, the guy she was also doing this thing with her, her partner. That was Chandler Groff and he..he convinced her, that Goat Island was in his control, that after Wes Genrette died, she'd get the Island." He spoke.

A loud psh left you at that, leaning over to pop open the Hennessy bottle, the conversation already making you want to drink to death, "That's bullshit, the uh..State said it would be a Nature conserve or some shit like that, my mom mentioned it," you spoke, pouring a glass for yourself before glancing at Rafe, who nodded for you to pour him one too, which you did.

You set the bottle down, bringing the glass to your lips, a subtle smell of the alcohol before you took a slow sip. The Hennessy hit nice, flavourable but strong. You laid back, "said Wes Genrette didn't have it in his will." You finished.

Rafe sighed, "Yeah, but s'not the shit here. He, he killed Hollis. He shot her, stole the 400 grand I'd given through the wire transfer, and then he, he somehow framed those, those Pogues. Y'know Luke Maybank's kid, JJ." Rafe asked, and you rolled your eyes, "God, yes Rafe I know who JJ fucking Maybank is, you're acting like just cause I live in Boston now and study in Harvard I don't fucking know what happens in Kilda-"

"He's..he's dead, man." Rafe suddenly said, a subtle break in his voice.

You paused at that, brows drawing down with your eyes narrowing softly.

"..What?" The word left your mouth softly, and Rafe had his hand to his mouth, silent, "He..Chandler Groff, s'..he was his actual Dad, 'n he..he stabbed him. We, we went to Morocco for some, some artifact this- this crown. Led us all to there, I helped the, the Pogues. John B and his..his crew and.." Rafe didn't continue, expecting you to finish his thought to which you did, "..And Sarah." You added, your voice a bit more serious than before.

Rafe nodded, "There was another group after it. They had..AKs, and guns and- this crew..I, I made up with Sarah- finally and I just- one minute I was making up with the Pogues, only a 30 minute time frame or- or some bullshit and then, I come back and there's, there's Kiara and all of them staring at a guy who'd been hollering like a duck," He ran a hand over his head, "It's..and I, I had to dig the burial, I had to help," Rafe's breath shook, "bury him."

You could only watch in silent pity as Rafe just poured all this out in a river of emotion. Maybe you didn't know what happened around Kildare as well as you thought.

"Didn't..didn't John B of them have that place after they found El Dorado, that- Poguelandia or something like that, what.." You waited for Rafe to respond, and he did, "Court..court put a zoning notice, and they lost the case because, Luke..Luke Maybank he did some- some shit and screwed them over." He informed, and really if this was another other situation you'd be laughing in amusement from all the chaos.

But, death? One of the Pogues, dying? It was unheard of, especially at an age as young as 20.

You stared, "But..you, are you okay?" You asked, a low murmur. You'd noticed the scar in Rafe's hand a while ago, but you hadn't commented on it. Rafe stared into the abyss, silence in the air before speaking more shakely.

"..I wasn't gonna do that wire transfer, I knew the Goat Island thing was full of shit, but..but Sofia she, she told me that maybe it was legit, that I should do it 'n, 'n she's my girlfriend I trusted her so I did it," Rafe started before you noticed the way his lip seemed to quiver, "..When, when I found Groff in Morocco after he ran off, he tried to kill me but, just before, just before, he told me. 'told me that, that Sofia had been paid to get me to sign the deal, to convince me and I-"

You sat up a bit, seeing the way Rafe's lashes fluttered. You'd seen this before, this little deatil; you had it carved into your memory from times you and Rafe were younger, when he was trying not to cry.

You could never forget that look because it always made your heart crack just a little, "Rafe.." You started lowly, shuffling a bit closer to him as Rafe covered his mouth with his hand, the subtle shine in his eyes told you all you need to know, "She- shit, how could she do that t'me, I loved her, 'gave her everything and she fuckin', she stabbed me in the back." He hoarsed out, and you felt bad for him.

Growing up with Rafe, you'd seen all kinds of people fuck him over. Out of all of them, you were the only one who truly stayed; the one who saw him as Rafe, not Rafe Cameron.

Because, there was always a difference between Rafe and Rafe Cameron. You wrapped your free arm around Rafe's shoulder, rubbing it, "Some people don't deserve you. Always the ones you least expect. I'm sorry. You two, you're..?" You murmured in hopes of Rafe filling the spot in, and he shakily sighed, "Yeah, no we're done. I told her to get outta my house. I, I gave her my mother's ring 'n.."

That's when, Rafe's eyes filled with tears and he brought the edges of his palms to his face, trying to stop the tears that started to escape. You panicked internally, setting your glass of Hennessy down before wrapping your arm around Rafe tighter, the other grasping his chin.

"Hey, hey Rafe," You called to him, hoping to get through to his head, "look at me, come on." You urged, tugging his chin carefully as you heard those dragged in sniffles; it hurt you deep when you saw the familiar line of wet tears drag down his sharp features.

You held him tighter, "Rafe, seriously look at me. I know you loved her but if she was gonna stab you in the back like that, then her love didn't run as deep as yours did. I'm sorry," You spoke firmly, not wanting to use tough love but with someone like Rafe, you had to use all kinds of coaxing methods.

Rafe shuddered out, shaking his head, "You don't understand, I thought she was the one, 'did everythin' for her," His voice cracked, "Why does everyone want to screw me over?" His voice almost sounded whiney, so unsure and it was slowly killing you to see your bestfriend like this.

You rubbed his back, "I know, I know it's been tough for you and it has been for most of your life, but believe me not everybody wants to. I mean, you made up with Sarah for fuck's sake Rafe, that's amazing. You redeemed yourself in someone's eyes, didn't you? In hers, and definitely mine." You reassured him, trying to be gentle without coming out as a soft hearted pussy.

Rafe seemed to only break more, but you could tell he was somewhat beginning to get over it in his mind; until, a sentence Rafe said made your bones shake.

"Shit, why can't everyone be like you? Why couldn't she have been like you?" Rafe murmured, his voice cracking.

Your movements slowed a bit at that, trying to process the words. Why couldn't she have been like you?

It made your heart thump wildly.

You stared at Rafe, still rubbing his back in a comforting manner as you thought of what to do. Your eyes moved to look at your pool, before your eyes moved to you and Rafe's glasses of unfinished Hennessy.

"..Forget about her," you murmured, and Rafe still sniffled, "Huh?" He asked, all broken. Your eyes flicked to him, "I said forget about her. You need to forget about her, and everything else." You sat up, your hand coming off Rafe's chin to grab your glass.

You gazed over Rafe, "Pick up your glass, that bottle's like 300 fuckin' dollars." You muttered, eyeing the Hennessy XO.

Rafe had to take a moment, before somewhat composing himself and sitting up to reach over and grab his glass. You gazed at him, raising your glass towards, "Cheers?" You offered, and Rafe was silent, his lips still slightly shaky before he clinked his glass with yours, "Cheers."

Before you could say anything, Rafe tipped his head back and chugged the glass, your eyes widening, "Woah, woah relax." You laughed in slight disbelief and nervousness. Rafe's eyes narrowed a bit wearily after the drink, feeling a rush he'd so badly needed.

It flowed nice in his system, and he turned to look at you.

"You told me to forget about it, s'how I fucking forget about it."

With that sentence, it settled a foundation for you both; glass after glass, Hennessy just kept pouring. Atleast half the bottle was done by the time you and Rafe had decided to pour your last glasses, the two of you all free and giggly.

All drunk. Everything but sober.

You were laughing at something absurd Rafe said, wiping your eyes which were slightly red, "Oh fuck! Seriously? Yo, is she actually a bitch? I heard baaad shit about her!" You practically barked; the two of you were currently spewing shit about Ruthie, Topper's girlfriend.

Rafe scoffed, a laugh leaving him also, "She's the most annoying hoe I've ever met. Always startin' shit just cause she's a Kook. Nobody fuckin' likes her back at Figure Eight." He snorted.

You snickered at that, your mind foggy with ideas that weren't smart. You were gazing, and then you stared at the pool. You giggled, "Rafe, wanna take a swim?" You asked, and Rafe looked at you, "Bro, that's the best thing you've said this entire night." He said, patting your back which elicited a oof from you.

With that, the two of you took your glasses and stumbled haphazardly to your pool (a miracle neither of you fell), quickly stripping down to just boxers, though as you were about to dip your feet in, Rafe spoke.

"Yo, we should skinny dip," He suggested, and you looked at him, a cheeky drunk smile, "skinny dip? What are you, horny?" You poked at him, and Rafe rolled his eyes, "Oh my God, s'not that deep. Come on, it'll be fun." He said, voice slightly slurring in a way you for some reason shivered at.

It sounded like honey in your ears.

You hummed dramatically, "Y'know what? Hell yeah, let's do it!" You decided excitedly, causing Rafe to grin wildly before the two of you slipped your boxers off, and slipped into the waters.

It was thankfully warm because of the hot night air, and you leaned by the edge of the pool, basking in the waters. Rafe had dipped in and was now swimming to you, a snicker, "Been so long since we swam together," he said, and you nodded, "yeah, been busy as shit with Uni..Harvard's riding my dick with all the shit I keep having to do," you groaned, and Rafe barked out a laugh.

"Jus' say you're lazy, pussy." He mocked, and you shoved him by the chest playfully, "Oh fuck you!" You snarked playfully.

Rafe chuckled at that, swimming right back to you; you two didn't seem to take in how close you both were, it seemed so natural to you both when drunk.

"Mm..sorry, shoulda visited you sooner, but..Kook bullshit, everyone's talking crap," Rafe's voice cracked, and you sighed loudly, arms resting on Rafe's shoulders, "Yeah and-" you paused momentarily, feeling hands come to your waist.

You glanced at Rafe skeptically, and Rafe stared, "..What? Habit, with uh, you know.." he murmured, a half assed excuse.

Good thing you were drunk, because you shrugged it off and believed it, "k..but yeah. They can't fucking talk. You're Rafe, what is that cheesy ass ehh..title? King of Kooks? Tha's you..not them," you jabbed a finger into his chest with one hand, "Don' forget it..heh.." A drunken guffaw left, a little silly but you could do silly with Rafe; could do anything.

The two of you were drunken, smiling at eachother in this silence, a silence that slowly began to grow tense with this sensation.

Rafe's brow twitched, his lips parting and before you knew it; lips pressed onto yours. It happened so fast, you couldn't even act surprised. Instead, you melted right into his lips, hands on his shoulders moving to wrap around his neck instead.

People, always had talked about you and Rafe; ever since highschool.

Those two don't know it yet, but everybody else does.

You hadn't known then, but growing older you understood; couldn't confront though, even if you'd so desperately wanted to kiss Rafe's lips dumb, or even fuck him till he tapped out.

So God, when you'd heard his voice tremble as he poured out what Sofia had done to him, and how bad it had hurt, a sadistic sense of glee had washed over anyway.

To hell with Sofia.

Messy making out had both your hands roaming, Rafe's hands on your waist now coming to massage your hips, "Fuck, don' know why I didn't come to see you, I really don't.." he panted right into your mouth, his hands groping your ass so suddenly you gasped, "Rafe-"

"Because you're just so fucking hot, s'drivin' me insane. Always wanted to know how your back would looked arched like a little pussycat." He muttered in a low tone, one that had your skin crawling in a delicious way.

You knew even in your drunken haze, that this would change everything and shit, feeling Rafe's cock press against your thigh so needily was already changing everything.

But then again.

You wouldn't pass this chance up for the world. Alcohol had always messed with your hypothalamus terribly.

"Yeah? Then c'mon 'n find out," You breathed against Rafe's lips, and a breathless laugh left Rafe, "Shit, you're so goddamn.." He couldn't even finish, before nodding frantically, "Yeah, yeah m'gonna find out..gonna find 'n then fuck you against this shit so hard."

The foreign feeling of butterflies inflated your stomach, before you felt your legs being spread by one of Rafe's hands, the other holding the edge of the pool.

"Can I even fit in your ass?" Rafe murmured, slurring a little before shrugging, "whatever..wanna fuck you raw anyway," he said, "too fuckin' sexy to be fucked like anything but."

You brought a hand almost instinctively to hold the leg Rafe was holding up, feeling Rafe's hand slip from there and before a smart comment left you, you felt the press of Rafe's tip against your ass, "Shi-hit, you're throbbing." You laughed in surprise, breathless as Rafe grinned proudly.

"Yeah, you feel it? S'what you fucking do to me," He muttered right into the corner of your mouth, kissing and nipping your jaw before he nudged at your entrance, "Shit's gonna burn, y'know that right?"

You rolled your eyes dramatically, "I'm not stupid, just put the tip in already," you snarked, and Rafe was next to roll his eyes, "K, Jesus."

Soon enough, after some nudges you felt Rafe slowly pushing his tip into you, a shaky gasp leaving as your free hand braced the edge of the pool, "Oh fuck, that hurts," you immediately said, and Rafe grimaced, "I'll pull out if I-"

"No, no don't. I'm not glass, just keep going," You said, subtle slurring and though Rafe was a bit concerned, he shook it away, slowly bullying his way past your walls with his cock, at some times the air even being knocked out of you. You'd never been stretched so fucking good in your entire life.

"Shiiiit," Your eyes rolled back momentarily, eyes scrunching while you took a deep breath in and out, "Oh my- oh my God!" Your voice cracked loudly when you felt your back arch, an electric wave going through you at the feeling of Rafe touching a specific angle for only a second, "What the fuck was that?" You shivered at the ghost of the feeling.

Rafe panted, muscles straining a little from the subtle effort as with one final push, he bottomed out entirely in you which caused a loud groan to leave his lips, "Holy shit, y'so goddamn tight," he shuddered himself, taking a moment before he dragged out, and pushed right back to you, eyes flicking to take in your reaction, which to his great satisfaction contorted into pure pain-pleasure.

"Oh," You heaved before gasping slightly, back arching, "Feels insane."

"Yeah, well it always does the first time around. Can't believe m'fuckin' a virgin as good as you," He basically growled out, before he set a slow pace, more of a way to get you to loosen up.

Easy moans slipped out from the new sensations. You'd never experienced sex, hadn't had an interest in it despite being a Kook who could have any girl or guy you wanted.

But feeling it now, how could you have missed out on such a thing? Maybe it was Rafe that made you feel that way but it was the best way.

Slowly, Rafe was beginning to pick the pace up, his cock forcing it's way past your barriers as he groaned, the hand that wasn't holding the edge moving to wrap around your throat.

"Shit, squeezin' my dick like a greedy bitch," Rafe scoffed, almost enamored with how you felt around his cock. The pace was picking up gradually, and soon enough Rafe was thrusting at a speed that had you seeing galaxies, "Shit, shit, shit." Rafe repeated, panting as the water sloshed around the two of you.

Moans left your mouth in little blockades, but it was starting to become a symphony with how good Rafe made you feel, "Shit, come on faster," you urged, and Rafe obliged instantaneously, hips slamming faster and faster before he switched up the angle, thrusting up just to hear you whine out uncharacteristically and arch your back like some cat.

"Holy shit, Rafe!" You yelped out, a pathetic whimper you'd never heard from your throat leaving you as Rafe punched up right against your prostate, your body squirming as Rafe laughed in satisfaction, "Gotcha."

Rafe only continued his merciless onslaught, hitting your prostate dead on with every force of his hips, causing you to moan loudly and cry out in bliss, "Rafe, you're gonna bruise me, holy fuck!" You gasped out, back arching so right as Rafe sniffled, nose scrunching as he continued to fuck into you with abandon.

"Good, need you t'fuckin' remember this for the rest of your goddamn life. Screaming f'me." He muttered right against your ear, before he smashed his lips with yours, your moans and whines drowning against his tongue.

The water splashed a bit into the long forgotten glasses of Hennessy by the pool edge, the pleasure was making your mind go blank, dumb with it as you felt that familiar ache tightening, "Rafe, Rafe I'm gonna come," you breathed out, feeling Rafe's thrusts getting rocky; he was close to blowing too.

"Shit..me too, 'gonna come in you," He muttered, before the hand holding your throat reached down to grab your aching cock, pumping in time with his messy thrusts, "come over my hand, c'mon c'mon."

With forced out sounds, you were coming with white streaks and the soul being sucked out of you, the orgasm hitting so hard you swore colours just flashed.

With a close to scream moan of ecstasy, you were whining from the overstimulation to your throbbing dick as Rafe thumbed over it, "Oh m'God, Rafe Rafe stop! Stop!!" You whimpered, though you'd never want this to end.

But, Rafe didn't know that. In his drunken haze he still understood no, and took his hand off you, a groan leaving as he soon thrusted to the hilt, coming deep into you with a sigh. "Shiit..feel so good, 'n for what." He rasped, both of you breathing heavily.

Your eyes were heavy, almost close to closing as you laid your head back. You hadn't felt an orgasm that fierce before, never in your entire life. Rafe was silent, just the mix of both your breaths and the chlorine around you to giving little help to ease the tension.

After a while Rafe spoke, "..Can I sleep over?" He muttered.

If you had been sober, you probably would've folded him just like you did with the guys during football practice for your varsity games.

But you weren't, so with a tired grumble you spoke, "Yeah..got some pajamas in my closet for you."

Rafe hummed, exhaustion teasing at him, "Sorry, took your first.." He mumbled against your cheek, and you scoffed, "Sure you are."

It was silent between the two of you again, before Rafe slowly pulled out, a grunt leaving you at the empty feeling now residing in you. You two gazed at eachother, almost oddly for a while before Rafe spoke.

"So, we're sharin' a bed?" He asked, and this time you did glare, "Jesus fucking Christ, you fuck me in my pool and ask if we're sharing a bed? What do you think you dumb fuck?" You snapped, and Rafe groaned, "Jeez, okay! I get it. You're still as bitchy as ever man, how did I even become best friends with you?" He asked before you spoke in rebuttal.

"Are we still bestfriends after this, after you just put your dick in me?" You raised an eyebrow, and Rafe grumbled in drunk annoyance, "You loved it. You know what- bed, let's just go to bed." He finalized, and your eye twitched a little, before sighing heavily.

"Fine. We'll..hm, sober up 'n go sleep." You murmured.

Somehow, you two showered and managed to sober up at least half way, before going into pajamas and sleeping in a tangle of legs and limbs.

Like you two were two teenagers having a sleepover after gaming all night.

Not like two best friends who'd just fucked.

Well, that'd be a great hangover topic for tomorrow.

-

note : Hey. It's me again. I don't know why I did this, I never do but mainly it's because I deadass was missin' the city, 'n I thought of the pool I had and this just flowed out my brain..and uh, I watched OBX 4 'n finished it today. What the fuck, what the actual fuck was that ending, I might've gone senile watching all of that. Anyways, I know JJ dying and the emotion isn't grandly displayed, but it's Rafe; he wasn't as close to JJ, barely like he was on good terms with him for 20 minutes before JJ died, so I portrayed him getting obviously more emotional about Sofia and making up with Sarah. Honestly Sofia deserved it, I don't know why she though selling her boyfriend out cause of what he said was a good idea instead of confronting him especially knowing, people have crossed him all his life LMFAOOO. Anyways, hope this read well. I might make new personalities OR a new shot (hopefully not smut because I need to cleanse or some bullshit), maybe right after I write this note or tomorrow; depends. Hope you guys like this. Thank ya kindly!

also, not proofread because when is it ever.

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Horn of Miroh

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Masterlist

It doesn’t take long for the Mercy Division to notice Miroh charging down the hill. 

It takes even less time for the two armies to clash together in a bloodbath. Steel met with steel in the most gruesome of ways. Horses trample over bodies while Erban soldiers slash at their tendons. The sound of the innocent animals screeching joins the horrible chorus of battle.

Still, at least half of Erbus’ army seems to have shifted their attention outwards instead of towards Fort Mire.

Taking a deep breath, you look out amongst the blood shed. Changbin’s horse is moving non-stop, his biceps bulging as he uses one hand to swipe down through the throng while the other grabs his horse’s reins. 

His eyes are entirely focused on the battle, his pouty lips pursed with concentration.

You watch as he swings his sword down in a grand motion and beheads a soldier in one fell swoop.

But, even with Miroh storming through their forces, Erbus persists in getting more ladders up to the walls. You can see three of them being brought up the front, your hand already tightening on your sword and getting ready to attack.

Protect the gate, don’t let them in.

Hyunjin moves in sync with you once more, the two of you seem to think with one brain on the battlefield. He follows you like a shadow to where the closest ladder is coming up. 

The same routine as earlier continues, once the ladder hits the wall, enemy soldiers begin pouring over the top to try and get to the lever. Each and every time, you and Hyunjin take care of them.

You both have to be some sight to behold with how well you’re working together.

If you kick a soldier backwards off of you, before he can strike forwards, a fireball knocks him ten feet backwards. When a soldier gets too close to Hyunjin, you yank him backwards by the collar of his breastplate and plunge your sword through his stomach.

Two cogs in a clock spinning around and around.

Four Erban soldiers flank the two of you, two on either side. 

While ducking and moving around you to attack one side, Hyunjin grabs your sword arm with a ball of flames in his other hand and runs it along the flat edge of your sword, bathing the entire weapon in fire.

You spin around the back of him, continuing the motion around and swipe at the two soldiers’ legs. It only makes contact with one of them, his screams adding to the sounds of battle. 

Even though the other isn’t hit with the blade, fire arcs out from the swipe and catches his tunic. The fabric is immediately swallowed in flames.

The first soldier falls to the ground with a deadly gash across his thighs, the other screeches and jumps backwards, trying to pat at his now fire-covered tunic. Your sword spins in your hand and you stab forward at the on-fire soldier, going right through his abdomen.

He coughs up blood with his scream, it sprays all over your body. 

Your boot comes up to kick at his chest and take your sword out at the same time. He falls down to the ground– dead.

When your attention turns to the other soldier, his eyes widen.

“Please!” he begs. His voice somehow makes it through the screaming around you.

With your sword now free, you turn towards the pathetic pleads.

Oh, the irony. The sick, twisted, beautiful irony.

Deadly anger courses through your veins. It only adds to the adrenaline. 

You take a step closer to the soldier, stuck on his knees as blood pours from the front of his thighs. It’s completely soaked through his tunic. 

Your eyes are wild, your hair is frizzy from battle, you’re absolutely covered with blood and sweat. You must look like a demon straight out of the Void. 

“N-No, please!” he pleads again. His legs are so maimed that he cannot even backpedal away from you. He’s stuck on his knees. 

Your chin lifts a bit as you look down at him. “A Mercy Division soldier begs an Elf to spare his life.” Your hand reaches out quickly and you snatch a handful of his hair in a deathlike grip. “I have dreamt about moments like this before.”

He screams out in agony, baring his teeth. His hands come up and grip your wrist, nails digging into your gauntlets. But you don’t feel them. 

You yank his hair even tighter backwards so his entire neck is bared to you. Again, he whines pathetically and begs and pleads for his own life. “Please, please, gods, forgive me!”

Mercy. He’s begging for mercy.

The irony is almost too good! It’s almost poetic! 

It tickles at the back of your throat like a terrible joke. It bubbles up with a dark laugh. 

He wants forgiveness? Forgiveness for the sins he committed against an entire race? Forgiveness for the genocide he took part in?

How many Elven lives did he take after hearing the same pleas for mercy? 

He’s just another rotten, worthless excuse for flesh. 

“Rot in the void, scum.” Your hand comes up and slides your sword across his throat.

The only sound that comes out is gurgles before you shove his body backwards to suffer for those final moments as he chokes on his own blood. 

His entire body arcs and writhes while he clutches uselessly at his slit throat. 

It doesn’t even phase you, not like it should. 

An explosion sounds behind you followed by a wave of heat. 

When you turn and look, the ladder is missing and the area it once sat is surrounded by ashes and embers. Hyunjin stands five paces away from you, his shoulders heaving with heavy pants. His entire chest moves with each breath.

Sweat is pouring down his face as if he’s emerging from a lake. 

You close the gap between the two of you and stand next to him, overlooking the sea of enemies beyond the wall. 

It’s gruesome.

Bodies litter the ground everywhere. The grass looks like it's submerged in a sea of red. The once beautiful, rolling fields now look like something straight out of a nightmare. 

There’s so much death everywhere. The smell of iron wafts through the air and invades your senses.

What you wouldn’t give to step inside Felix’s healing ward right now just to get a whiff of all the plants that hang along the walls. 

Frantically, your eyes search around the field to catch a glimpse of Changbin. 

Where is he? Where is he? Is he alive? Gods, please let him be alive. 

Soldier after soldier skirts past your vision, none of them wearing the armor you’re so familiar with until he finally catches your view to the west of the fort. He’s no longer on horseback and you’re not sure if that’s a good sign or not. 

He’s sheathed his sword in favor of wielding his battle ax. 

Watching Changbin wield his ax is like watching an artist paint a masterpiece. Every single movement is calculated and perfect, not a single ounce of effort is wasted.

Each and every move hits its target, no one can even get close to him as he cuts them down like trees in a lumberyard. 

While you and Hyunjin try to catch your breath, you can’t help but let your gaze linger on your commander, watching him in his element.

A long, even, horn blast suddenly cuts across the battlefield. The Horn of Miroh sounds once more as Jeongin’s battalion joins in the fight.

An even larger ball of hope settles in your chest. Perhaps hope isn’t lost after all.

Just like Changbin did, Jeongin leads the charge of soldiers on horseback down the hill. The sun catches on his armor. 

Chan would be so proud. By the Six, even you’re proud. He looks regal. Gods, when did his hair get so long? 

The longer you stare at Jeongin, the more hopeful you feel. Is Miroh really pulling this off?

Hyunjin shifts besides you. You don’t think anything of it until his hand comes out to grab your shoulder for balance. 

Immediately, your arm comes up to wrap around his waist and hold him up. Your eyes scan over his face frantically.

“Hyunjin?” you ask quickly, dropping your sword to the ground.

When did he turn so pale? His lips are parted and chapped. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows furrowed.

Is he injured? Was he hit? When? Where? You can’t see a wound anywhere, he’s only covered in soot, there’s no blood anywhere.

“Hyunjin?” you ask, more fear in your voice than you care to admit. “Hyunjin? What is it?”

“I.. I may hav..e..” he whispers, it's hoarse and quiet. You can barely hear it. His eyes are rolling back in his head when he tries to open them. His entire body is trembling.

Bringing your ear down closer to his face, your eyebrows pull together like his. Second by second, he’s leaning more and more weight on you. 

“I may have p… have pushed myself too much…” he finally chokes out. No…

“Fuck,” you hiss out. His body is getting heavier by the second.

He’s losing consciousness. 

There’s a crate on the ground directly behind you, you slowly begin to lower him to sit. 

“Sit, sit Hyunjin, shit – just.. Just relax.” 

You carefully maneuver him to rest on the crate with his back against the wall. He’s leaning to the side, panting deeply, his eyes still shut. 

“Come on, Hyunjin,” you murmur with worry. You kneel down in front of him, cupping his sweaty cheeks in your hands. His skin is so cold when you touch it, it almost feels like he’s made of ice. He’s so clammy.

He must’ve used the heat from his body as a last resort. 

The mage’s entire head lolls forward in your hold, his muscles getting weaker by the moment. You start slapping his cheek to get him to wake up. Not now, Hyunjin, please not now.

You need him. 

“Hyunjin!” you call out to him. In your chest, you can feel your heart rate spiking. “Hyunjin, wake up! Look at me, Hyunjin!”

Can you heal him? How do you even heal something like this? He only taught you how to heal physical wounds. What would you need to do?

Your brain is reeling, meanwhile the sound of battle is getting louder and louder. Bangs ring out underneath you as soldiers pound against the gate with all their might.

Curses and screams echo with it.

“Get up, Hyunjin! Please!” You slap his cheek a few more times. He still can’t seem to catch his breath. His body falls limp against the wall and your breath catches in your throat. “You cannot leave me like this, Hyunjin!” 

He doesn’t even flinch.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hiss and look around frantically.

There’s only one archer left on the wall. Where did that last foot soldier go? Where did everyone go? 

Every time you reach out and slap Hyunjin’s skin, the blood caked on your hands smears onto his perfect skin. You can barely recognize your own hands…

“Shit!” you repeat again even louder. “No, no, no. ”

A chill zips down your spine and it's not from the December air. 

There’s a loud roar that rips across the battlefield once Jeongin’s battalion clashes with the ongoing war. 

An arrow whizzes over your head and embeds itself directly into the remaining archer’s chest. Your blood runs cold as he stumbles backwards and off the wall.

His body disappears behind the wall taking your confidence with you.

It’s just you.

You’re the last one up here.

Hyunjin is passed out and slumped against the stone wall. Fear takes hold of your body and you lunge forward, grabbing two handfuls of his robe. 

“Hyunjin!” you scream. Your voice cracks.Your breathing gets faster and faster as you begin to panic. “Hyunjin! Wake up! Wake up please!” 

Suddenly you’re a little girl again. The years of hardening from battle leave your soul and you’re left with a desperately scared elfling who just had her parents ripped away from her. She’s cold and hungry and can’t stop crying out for her parents.

“Ladders to the front! Ladders to the front!” a soldier screams from below. 

That same fear from that night they were taken from this world is slowly sinking its fingers into your very soul, your blood is running cold and you can barely feel your legs underneath you.

Your heart slams in your ribcage over and over again.

Panic seizes your heart.

“Hyunjin! Hyunjin, please!” You violently shake his limp body back and forth to no avail. “Hyunjin! I cannot do this on my own! Hyunjin! Please! Wake up! Please!”

The sound of wood hitting stone comes from both sides of your body. You’re all too aware of what that noise brings.Those monsters. Those demons.

“ HYUNJIN! ” You shriek. It’s desperate and feral, it pierces your own ears. Never have you screamed like this before. You shake him violently, desperate for any sign of him stirring.

Nothing.

Mercy Division soldiers are crawling up the sides of the fort.

You’re the only defense between the lever to open the gate and those monsters. Your demons are knocking on your door.

And you’re all alone.

Tears prickle at your eyes, the fear wraps around your throat like a snake. It tightens and tightens until you feel like you can’t breathe. 

You’re on the edge of the Void by yourself.

They’re going to kill you. They’re going to maim you. Rip out your innards while forcing you to stay alive and watch. Separate your skin from your body. Break each joint and listen to the marrow slide out.

Hyunjin’s body flops around as you shake him back and forth, desperately wailing for him to wake up. Over and over again you scream his name.

The tears fall down your cheeks as his body slumps to the side off the crate onto the stone ground. You hover over the top of him on your knees, all of the fight leaving your body. All that’s left is the cold grip of panic and desperation.

You’re done.

You’re losing.

You lose, Y/N.

You lost.

And you’re all alone. 

“Please, please, Six, please!” you scream, your body collapses and your face buries into Hyunjin’s chest, wails tearing from your throat.

“Ma! They are going to kill me! They are going to kill me, Pa! Ma, I am so scared! They are going to kill me!”

Your brain stops.

They’re going to kill Hyunjin too. 

Pulling yourself off his chest, you look down at his pale, unconscious face. His skin is still covered in sweat, his hair looks soaking wet.

What will they do to a pureblood Elf?

The fabric in your hands is squeezed tighter and tighter in your fist. Your jaw clenches and your teeth grit together.

You’re still here, Y/N.

You haven’t lost yet. You took an oath that you would protect your fellow court members.

Protect the gate.

Protect Hyunjin.

Fight until the end, Y/N. 

Face the Void with dignity. 

You lean down and press a long kiss to Hyunjin’s clammy forehead. “To my last breath, Hyunjin,” you whisper.

Blindly, you reach down at your side for the sword you previously dropped. Your fingers curl around the hilt.

The sound of the metal scraping against the stone is somehow louder than the screams of death around you.

Once more, the world moves in slow motion.

Soldiers begin pouring over the tops of the ladder, each and every one making a beeline to the last Miron soldier protecting the lever to open the gate of Fort Mire. 

To you. Jarl Bang’s personal Mercenary. 

When you stand up, the tears are still pouring down your cheeks. Your knees feel so weak, like you could get knocked over with one strong gust of wind.

They all charge towards you with murderous intent.

Your sword cuts through the air as you protect both Hyunjin and the lever. 

Left and right. One swipe here, another this way. Punch here, kick here, duck, stab, swipe. Parry this hit, push this one away.

You can barely see your attacks through your tears– instincts are what’s moving your limbs. It’s all fear.

It’s never ending. They’re like a hydra, you cut off one head and three more grow back in its place.

Exhaustion is clawing at your brain. All of your limbs feel fuzzy. Even your gums in your mouth seem to ache. Your throat is constricting even more each second, lungs are desperate for air.

Dig deep, Y/N, go into your soul. Search and find it within yourself.

Your sword collides with another and the two of you arc the weapons around in a grand circle. You step to the side as a soldier behind you stabs forward– his attack goes through his own comrade’s.

A cough claws up your throat but you swallow it.

Hyunjin’s body laying on the ground seems to be the only thing your mind’s eye can see. He has no idea the fight you’re putting up just to keep him alive.

How are they faring down below? How much longer do they need? How much longer can you do this? 

Fight, Y/N, fight.

Grin and bear it.

You can take it. You can take it.

You’ve had worse.

You can hold your ground–

A sharp right hook to the jaw rocks your entire world. Blood immediately tinges your tastebuds. You don’t even have enough time to gather yourself before another punch lands into your gut. 

All the air leaves your lungs in a wheeze. 

No, no, no.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t focus. Your eyes seem to cross. What way is up? What way is down?

Another punch and you stumble backwards. A blow to the back of your head rockets you forwards. Your sword drops from your hand and clangs onto the stone. When your hands come out to cushion your wall, they land on the ledge of the stone wall. Your entire body is leaning against the wall, trying to keep yourself up.

Before you can turn over, a hand grips your hair and your head is kept down in place.

“Open the gate! Open the gate!” A soldier behind you screams.

“No…” you moan. Your voice is entirely broken and raspy. “No…!”

Your body writhes, your boots scramble and slide on the blood-slicked stone, trying to find any sort of purchase to help you stand up. But the hand in your hair is iron-like.

Finally, your eyes focus and you’re met with the gruesome sight of the war below. 

So much death. So… so much loss. 

What…. What happened?

Where are all of Miroh’s soldiers? Where did all of the Erban soldiers come from? There… There weren’t this many before. 

Where’s Changbin? Where’s Jeongin? Are they alive? They have to be alive. They have to be!

Then, you hear it.

Three sharp horn blasts. 

The Horn of Miroh.

A retreat– they’re calling a retreat.

More and more tears pour down your cheeks. 

You lost.

“ Y/N!!! ”

Your bruised eyes look up at the voice that screamed your name across the battlefield. 

Yang Jeongin, covered in blood, his face more desperate than you’ve ever seen is fighting with all his might trying to run to you. Seo Changbin holding him back with every ounce of strength he has left.

Changbin is screaming for him to retreat while Jeongin pushes against his arm.

Over and over again, Jeongin screams your name, tears start streaming down his cheeks. He’s covered in so much blood. So, so much blood.

When the soldier holding you down by your hair grabs your wrist and twists it behind your back, Jeongin screams even louder. How are his vocal chords not collapsing?

The squire tries so hard to push past his commander, but it’s to no avail.

Changbin’s gritting his teeth, biting back his own tears before he finally looks up at you pinned against the stone wall. Even from this distance, you can see the battle he’s having in his head. He wants to run to rescue you just as much as Jeongin does.

But he can’t. He can’t .

It’s only now, as you watch your commander and your squire yank themselves away from the battlefield that you remember your conversation with Changbin all those weeks ago; before this war even started. 

That night in your room where he came to apologize.

“No one expects you to know everything, Changbin.”

“I am the one that everyone will turn to on the front lines to make the tough decisions. I have heard stories of generals making the choice to leave soldiers behind, how am I ever going to make that call?”

He looks down at you suddenly, his eyes full of sorrow. At this moment, he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

“When the time comes, I am confident that you will know what to do.” You nod at him, unknowingly, he mirrors the movement. “But as of right now, no one knows what they are doing. We will have to take each day as they come.”

He nods again and looks back at the wall. His clenched fist slowly loosening.

“And if the time ever comes that you need to make that choice, your soldiers would know it was not an easy one.”

You know it’s not an easy choice. You know it’s killing Changbin just as much as it’s killing Jeongin.

Changbin continues to yank Jeongin away while screaming. The squire is fighting against him with all of his strength. The only thing that’s leaving his lips is your name. Every scream rips through your body.

All of the veins in his neck are popping with how guttural his screams are. Changbin screams over him to other soldiers to retreat.

All you can do is stare.

Behind you, the hand in your hair tightens and yanks you up off the wall.

This is it.

This is how you die.

A grimy, evil face pulls you up to meet their demon-like eyes.

“So, Y/N , you must be pretty important if Bang’s Squire was screaming for you.”

What…?

“This one is the mage!” An Erban soldier calls out to everyone, pointing down at Hyunjin. “He’s one of Bang’s court members.”

You gulp. The Erban soldier doesn’t tear his eyes from you as a sinister smirk pulls at his greasy lips.

“Two court members– it must be our lucky day.” No. “You are coming with us, elf .”

[gretavangroupie]

Secluded

Word count: 9.3k+

Pairing: Sam x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff, Drinking.

Summary: You're so ready for a nice relaxing weekend alone in the mountains, until suddenly you're not alone...

You click the bright pink ‘Book’ button on your screen, sealing your fate for the weekend. Tucked away in the mountains of Gatlinburg, a tiny one bedroom cabin awaits you for a weekend of relaxing and recharging. You had wanted to do this for a few weeks, but work always got in the way, making you push it back another week. When Wednesday rolled along and your boss hadn’t mentioned any big projects for the rest of the week, you took your chance. You booked the cabin and counted down the minutes until Friday. 

You packed everything you thought you might want or need, tossing the suitcase in the back of your car, where it sat until the clock struck 5:00 on Friday evening. You changed in the bathroom at work, putting on more comfy clothes to drive in. It was roughly four hours to Gatlinburg from Nashville and you were looking forward to the scenic drive. You turned on your favorite music, letting it provide the soundtrack for your solo adventure. 

The hours on the road seem to pass quickly, anxious energy swirling in your chest. You couldn’t wait to take a bath in the luxurious tub in the peace and quiet of the mountains. You specifically chose this cabin because of it. That and it was completely tucked away from town. The nearest house miles and miles away. Your GPS read one mile left and you turned on your brights as you navigated the winding mountain roads. You saw the lights on the porch were on as you pulled into the parking space in the driveway. You opened the AirBnB app, and retrieved the entry code as you stepped out of the car. 

You grab your suitcase from the trunk, hauling it up the steps to the front door. You enter the code on the electronic lock and hear it unlock, allowing you entry. A few lights are on, scattered throughout the small living room, and a note is left on the kitchen counter, thanking you for choosing their home, and to have a relaxing visit. 

You roll your suitcase into the master bedroom, and are met with a fluffy and inviting queen size bed. You can smell the clean sheets as soon as you open the door, almost beckoning to you to slide in. But no. You have had one thing on your mind the whole drive, and you were ready.

You walked into the bathroom, and turned on the lights before walking over to the large white tub, turning the lever. You run your hand under the water as you feel for it to come to temperature. You push the drain stop down, and watch as it slowly begins to fill with steamy water. It was so nice to be here away from the city. Completely secluded.

You start to shed your layers, preparing to step into the tub as you hear something in the living room. You quickly shut off the water and listen to see if maybe it was just your imagination. But sure enough you hear it again. You recognize the sound. It’s the electric lock on the front door. You quickly redress yourself, heart pounding as you run through scenarios in your head. 

You step out of the bedroom and into the living room, your cardigan wrapped tightly around your chest as you are met with a man standing in the doorway.

His eyes flick to yours, “Oh, hi, I’m sorry. I am just now here to check in. The traffic was bad coming in.” he says, rolling his suitcase through the door.

You toss him a bewildered look. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean?” you reply.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at it, “I am the renter for this weekend…” he says, showing you the booking on his phone.

“No… I’m the renter…” you reply, terribly confused. “Can I see that?” you say motioning towards his phone. 

He steps in further, shutting the door behind him as he hands you the phone. Sure enough it was the same cabin, but the confirmation was from a different site. The host had double booked their property. 

You hand his phone back to him, “When did you book?” you ask.

“I think it was Wednesday?” he says, pushing his long hair away from his face. “What about you?”

You nod your head, “Wednesday as well. Let me call the host and see what she says. Surely there has to be some kind of mix up.”

He nods his head and finds a seat on the small red sofa near the door.

You call the number listed on the note left on the counter, listening as the line rings out. 

“Hello?” the voice answers.

“Hi! I’m so sorry to call you so late but there seems to be a small issue that has come up. I checked in earlier and as I was getting settled, someone else arrived. We compared our two bookings and they both show a confirmation for this weekend.” you say. You listen intently as the woman goes over the bookings in her calendar, absolutely mortified when she realized that she double booked the cabin on two different sites.

After a few minutes on the phone with her, you hit the red end button and stare at the man before you with a horrified look. “She said that she is so sorry, but there is nothing she can do other than comp our stays…She tried to book another cabin up the mountain that her friend owns, but everything around here is booked, even the hotels in town. I really… don’t know what to do in this situation.” you say.

“I can go… it’s really no big deal. I don’t want to ruin your weekend, and you were here first.” he says, standing up from the couch.

“Well, no hold on a minute.” you say, moving to sit on a bar stool in the kitchen. “It’s really late. How far did you have to drive?” you ask.

“It was about four hours, but honestly it was closer to five with all of the traffic. It’s really no big deal, I am used to being on the road.” he says, tying his hair back into a loose bun. 

You know you should feel scared, you are in the mountains in the middle of nowhere, stuck in a cabin with a man you don’t know, but something is telling you that you’re safe. You don’t need to be afraid. You toy with that feeling for a few moments, as your mouth takes over before your brain can think. “You should stay.” it falls from your mouth before you can even think about the logistics.

He raises his eyebrows in response, clearly playing with the idea and taking the time to consider what that would entail.

“This is a one person listing…” he says, confused.

“I know, but… I saw extra bedding in the closet, and if you don’t mind taking the couch, you could stay. I just can't in good conscience let you drive five hours because I am being selfish.”

“Wow, that is… very kind of you. If you are absolutely positive… I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” he says, “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Well, Sam, I would feel better if you atleast stayed here tonight. We can figure out the rental thing tomorrow.” you say with a soft smile.

“Okay.” he agrees. 

“I don’t want to be forward but I brought some wine with me if you’re interested.” he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

“Actually… I think that is exactly what I need. Good call.” you smile, “I’m Y/N, sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner.” you laugh. 

“No problem at all. I’ll be right back….do you want to see if there are any wine glasses?” he asks.

You jump down off of the barstool, and pad over to the cabinets as he slips out the front door. 

You release a deep breath, letting your brain process exactly what is happening. You find two glasses, pulling them down from the shelf, and deciding to give them a quick rinse. As you dry them, Sam walks back through the door, clearly a little nervous as he tries not to make eye contact for too long.

He joins you at the kitchen counter, opening the drawers searching for a wine bottle opener. He slices the plastic label revealing the cork, before twisting the lever and pulling out the wine soaked barrier.

You slide the glassware to him and he pours the red wine into the glasses. He passes one to you with a smile and you take it as you make your way over to the couch. He puts a wine stopper in the bottle, before grabbing his glass and joining you, however, opting for the chair across from you.

You sip the wine, surprised at the taste. It's not what you would usually go for but it's shockingly good. 

“So, what brings you out here this weekend? Just a quick getaway?” you ask.

“Yeah, something like that. Just need a little bit of alone time. I spend a lot of time around people for work.” he replies. “How about you?”

“Well, I have been wanting to take a vacation but have had to keep pushing it off because of work, but it just happened to work out for this weekend. Well, kinda.” you laugh, taking another sip from your glass.

“Thanks again for letting me stay, I was more than willing to drive home, but I’m not gonna lie, I am pretty glad I don’t have to.” he says with a chuckle.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to drive home tonight either.” you smile.

You spend much of the next hour talking, getting to know each other. You drain the bottle of wine as you talk about living in Nashville, your job and a few other odd topics brought up in random conversation. 

He is sweet, and genuine and not bad to look at either. His chestnut brown hair hangs long past his shoulders. He has a small scattering of facial hair, and dark brown eyes that squint when he laughs. He is tall, way taller than you are. You notice this as he folds himself up into the couch, attempting to get comfortable, his bare feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table. As he continues to talk you notice his accent. It’s clearly midwestern, and very distinguishably unique. The way he says certain words almost makes you giggle. You find yourself almost feeling happy that things worked out this way, and that you are in the company of this intriguing stranger.

“So do you have any big plans for tomorrow?” he asks, setting his glass on the small coffee table.

“Yeah, I think I am going to do a little hiking. There is a waterfall I want to check out, and then I might go to this brewery I read about. What about you?” you ask.

“Actually… I am planning on going on a hike, and then I was going to take myself to dinner.” He laughs, but his expression suddenly changes into something you can't place. 

“I know this is crazy but… would you maybe want to hike together?” he asks, pushing his hair back and grasping at his neck nervously. “It’s totally okay if you don’t want to, I mean you probably already have a trail picked out and everything…” he trails off.

“Actually… I was going to pick one out tonight. But…if you want, we can find one now.” you say with a smile. “Plus I think it's better to not go alone anyways.” you laugh.

His smile is practically beaming as he realizes you have agreed to his proposition. “You can pick, obviously we have similar taste if you picked out the same cabin as I did.” he laughs.

You scroll through a list of trails on your phone, and show him each one until you both decide on one with the best view of the waterfall.

The hours have ticked by as you have continued talking. The conversation flowed naturally, and easily. You glance at your phone to see the time and know that if there is any chance of you making it to the hiking trail at a reasonable time you need to go to bed. 

“I think I need to go to bed if I am going to be outside all day tomorrow.” you laugh, “Let me go grab you that spare bedding.” you say, standing up from the couch. You make your way into the bedroom and grab the quilt and pillows from the closet placing the folded articles on the edge of the bed. 

You pop your head out of the door, “Do you need to use the restroom or change or anything before I go to bed?” you ask, knowing that the only bathroom is through the master. 

“Actually, yes. Let me grab a few things.” he says, standing up and walking to his suitcase. He crouches down and pulls a few clothing items and a toiletry bag from the silver suitcase and smiles softly as he walks through the doorway to the bedroom. 

You watch him as he steps into the bathroom, the solid wooden door closing behind him, catching the scent of him as he walks past. You walk over to your suitcase, retrieving your pajamas and your toothbrush, getting everything ready for bed. The door opens, and you can see that he has changed. A pair of flannel pajama pants hang off of his hips. He has opted for no shirt, but to be fair he probably wasn’t planning on being around anyone. You can hear the buzz of his electric toothbrush as your eyes travel the length of his body in the reflection in the mirror. As you make your way up you catch his eyes in the mirror, quickly looking away as you feel your cheeks flame red. 

You quickly gather your things, and place them on the bed, waiting for him to be done and avoiding any further eye contact. 

Hearing the water splashing, you know he is done and will walk out any second. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and watch as he walks out of the bathroom with his bag and clothes. 

“There’s the extra bedding.” You say pointing to the pile on the bed, trying not to hold his gaze for longer than you have to.

His eyes dont break away from you as he nods. He steps over to the bed and retrieves the pile of blankets, “Thank you.” he says, your eyes return to meet him, “Goodnight…” he says with a smirk, and then he is stepping out the door. You shut it behind him and lock it, before letting out the breath you were holding. What was that all about? 

SAM POV

As you hear the door shut behind you, you blow out a breath between your lips. That was interesting. Your mind is still reeling from everything that has happened tonight. You toss the pillow on the couch before spreading the sheet over the cushions. You spread the quilt out on top of the sheet and admire your handiwork. It will do, and you are used to worse. 

You fold your clothes and put them into your suitcase along with your toiletry bag. You lock the front door, and turn off the lamp at the entry table. You grab the two wine glasses from the coffee table, depositing them in the kitchen sink to be dealt with tomorrow. You grab your phone charger and plug it into the outlet on the counter, as you realize you haven't looked at your phone in hours. You grab it off the coffee table and see a few missed messages.

Jake: Did you make it?

Daniel: How’s the woods you hermit?

You laugh at Daniel’s message, replying to him and Jake, letting them know you made it. You’d tell them the story of the mix up next week, but for now your makeshift bed was calling. You plug your phone into the charger, and turn off the light, leaving the small cabin in total darkness. You pull the quilt down and slide into the small space of the couch, before pulling the soft cotton over your bare chest. You let out a sigh and realize there is not a single noise to try and tune out. 

You turn onto your side and stare into the darkness as your mind races with all of the thoughts you came here to escape. You see the thin strip of yellow light disappear under the door to the bedroom and smile to yourself, as you hear the creaking of the bed as she goes to sleep for the night. 

How did you get so lucky to be stuck in this cabin with such a beautiful girl? Better yet, how did you manage to convince her to go hiking with you tomorrow? 

You saw the way she was looking at you in the mirror. Her eyes lingered a little longer than normal. You’d be lying if you didn’t have the urge to look at her the same way, but you were trying very hard not to get kicked out of this cabin. The way her cheeks turned pink after a few glasses of wine, or her laugh when you told her a joke… it was funny how quickly you felt comfortable around her. Sure, you meet and talk to people everyday, but somehow she was different, and tomorrow you planned to get to the bottom of that. 

—

Your eyes shot open when you heard the sound of the bedroom door being opened. You blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from your eyes, being met with the vision of a blurry figure walking towards the kitchen. The sun was up and pouring in through the blinds on the windows. The sound of footsteps walking into the kitchen had you stretching and groaning as you felt your joints in your ankles popping. 

“I’m sorry I woke you.” she all but whispered into the quiet morning air. 

“That’s okay, I need to get up anyways.” you say, voice still sleepy. You watch as she mills around in the kitchen cabinets looking for the supplies to make coffee. A small smile crosses your lips as you watch her. She stands on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf to grab the coffee filters, her shirt lifting to reveal a bit of her stomach, sending a signal straight to your groin. 

What is this, the 1700’s? It's her stomach Sam. Get it together.

You swallow harshly and stand up, grabbing your toiletry bag and making your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth. As you look at yourself in the mirror, you rub your eyes and try to run your fingers through your messy hair. Pulling the elastic from your wrist, you tie your hair into a messy bun, before beginning to brush your teeth. 

As you make your way back into the living room, the smell of coffee begins to overtake the house. You pull a shirt out of your suitcase and pull it over your head before joining her in the kitchen. She pours coffee into a mug and slides it across the island towards you with a smile. 

“I would ask how you slept but I know it couldn’t have been well on that tiny couch. I totally should have let you take the bed. I didn’t even think about it.” she says. A flutter in your chest causes you to let out a small laugh. 

“I actually slept fantastic. There wasn’t a single noise all night.” you say. “I am used to sleeping in small spaces, so it really was no big deal.” 

“Okay, if you say so…” she says, a moment of silence lingers between the two of you. 

“What time were you thinking about heading out today?” you ask.

“I was going to ask you the same thing… maybe in like… an hour?” she asks.

“I’ll be ready.” you smile.

“Sounds like a plan.” she says, grabbing her mug and disappearing into the bedroom.

HER POV

As you retreat back to the bedroom with your mug in hand, you close the door behind you and let out a sigh.

Your heart seems to be racing and you can hardly stop your mind from spinning. He looked different this morning. Really different. His hair up in that bun, His bare chest, the smile on his face when he took his coffee…You were in for a long day.

You took your time getting ready, making sure your boots were tied correctly, and that you filled your backpack with hiking necessities. When you finally emerged from the room you saw him sitting on the couch waiting for you. His face lit up when he saw you, causing you to blush a little. Dressed in far too short shorts, and a long sleeve t-shirt, he looked effortlessly put together. His blue fanny pack slung across his body, and a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of his head. He had let his hair back down and the waves framed his face. 

“You ready to go?” he asks.

“Yeah, let me grab my sunglasses and we can go!” you say, walking to the kitchen. You grab your sunglasses from your purse and dig around for your keys.

“Oh, I will drive. I am blocking you in anyways.” he laughs.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Absolutely. Lead the way.” he says motioning to the front door.

As you step out onto the porch you see his car is in fact parked directly behind yours. “You drive a Tesla?” you ask, a little shocked.

“Yeah! Probably not the most practical for the mountains but, this rental had a charging station, which is why I picked it. She's all charged up and ready to go.” he says with a smirk.

“You know, you kind of strike me as a Tesla guy, now that I think about it.” you say playfully.

He opens the door and you climb into the passenger seat. As he gets into the driver's seat he starts the car and a cheerful tone plays through the speakers. You look around at the interior before turning back to him and raising your eyebrows.

“It was my first big dumb purchase, don’t judge me.” he laughs.

“No judgment here…” you reply giggling to yourself.

He types the directions into the touchscreen and you set out on the stretch of tree lined road. 

After a few minutes on the gorgeous scenic road you pull into the trailhead and park. You both get out and make your way to the trail entrance. The weather is beautiful and sunny, and you know by the sheer number of cars in the parking lot, that everyone else had the same thought today.

You begin your hike, opting for the less traveled path at Sam’s suggestion. He points at flowers and trees and makes jokes that have you laughing most of the hike. He mentions the waterfall nearby and you set your course heading to find it. 

He asks about your job and your hobbies and what kind of music you like. You have walked about 3 miles at this point, time flying by in his company. As you admire the beautiful scenery you feel his hand brushes against yours gently, sending a flash of electricity through your body and a blush across your cheeks. You continue walking, taking notice of his natural flirtiness, and letting him attempt to woo you.

A while later, as you finish explaining your mutual love for vinyl hunting, you are met with the beautiful sight of the waterfall, hidden and tucked away from the most common path, surely a reward for those who choose to take this one. 

To get to the cliff to view the waterfall, you have to make your way up a small set of boulders and onto the flat part of the cliff. As you go to start climbing up Sam stops you. “Let me go first, and then I can help you over?” he asks.

“Oh such a gentleman…” you say playfully.

“I can’t let a pretty girl go first, what if there is a bear or something?” he says.

“Well then I think we are both out of luck Sam…” you laugh, watching his slender figure maneuver its way up the boulders. 

“Yeah, no that actually sounds right…” he says, pulling himself up to the flat part of the cliff turning to you with an exasperated sigh. After making a scene of looking for bears he says, “Come on up, I got ya!”

As you start to make your way up, you watch as his hand reaches out for yours. Your eyes flick up to his, locking in on the big brown orbs as you reach your hand into his, letting him pull you up and over the ledge. The same spark running through your veins.

“Thanks…” you say with a smirk.

He raises his eyebrows at you, “Sure.”

As you both sit at the edge of the cliff you overlook the waterfalls roaring in front of you.

“It’s so beautiful. I can’t believe there aren’t a ton of people here!” you say, shocked.

“I know, but it’s kinda nice.” he says, turning to look at you. You both sit down, resting your tired legs, stretching them out in front of you as you watch the water fall down into the stream below. You watch as he crosses his ankles and leans back onto his hands, turning his face to the sun. You smile inwardly as you admire how content he looks. The way the sun hits his cheekbones are something straight out of a Greek Mythology book.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, just the roar of the waterfall as you speak, “So you know all about me now, but I can’t help but notice you have hardly shared anything with me about yourself.” 

He turns his face away from the sun to look at you, “Well, what would you like to know?” he asks.

“How about… what you’re doing renting a cabin alone in the woods?” you ask playfully.

“Same reason you are. To get away from work.” he answers.

“And work is?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment before answering, “Work is…I work with my brothers. That should tell you everything you need to know.” he laughs, “It’s a demanding job, we travel constantly. Always together. Sometimes I just need to be alone.” he says, smiling softly.

“Understandable.” you reply, a beat of silence passes. “So you have brothers…where did you guys grow up?” you ask.

“A small town in Michigan actually.” he replies with a smirk.

“Ah ha… that is the accent isn’t it? I couldn’t place it, but… there it is.” you laugh.

“Yeah, yeah… I know, I hear about it constantly.” he mocks playfully.

“No, it's fine, it’s cute.” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. Your face blushes a bright red and you hope he doesn’t notice. But the smile on his face tells a different story.

He stands up suddenly, looking down at you, extending his hand, “Come on.”

You reach up and grab it, but this time he doesnt let it go so quickly. You feel his fingertips brush against your palm, rough and calloused. You almost found yourself wishing he wouldn’t let go. 

When he finally does, a look crosses his face and you can tell he was nervous about overstepping the invisible boundary made between the two of you. 

“Do you want to swim?” he asks.

“Down there?” you ask, pointing to the water.

“Yeah! Let's at least get our feet wet! Come on, it will be fun!” he says, lowering himself down the boulders, before helping you down. 

You walk down the trail a bit until it turns up at the foot of the stream. Sam kicks off his shoes and walks to the edge of the water before dipping his feet in. “Shit that's cold…” he says, pulling his foot back out quickly.

“I thought you said you were from Michigan… aren’t you used to the cold?” you ask, taunting him.

“I mean yeah, but we’ve lived in Nashville for so long now… I forget sometimes.” he smiles. 

You meet him at the edge walking forward into the water, realizing that he is correct it is freezing cold. “Okay, maybe you weren’t exaggerating.”

“I am known to be a bit dramatic but…” he laughs. His laugh is interesting, not a typical laugh. You would be able to pick it out in a line up if it ever came to it. Sam was a fascinating person and he was growing on you as the minutes passed. 

“Maybe the hot tub at the cabin is more your speed.” you joke.

“You know…it just might be.” he says with a twinkle of mystery in his eye.

You make the three mile walk back to the car, cracking jokes the entire way, talking about the people you encountered on the trail and how bad both of your feet hurt, discussing maybe putting that hot tub to use. 

As you finally make your way back to the car you slide into the passenger seat with a sigh. Both of you are spent, but completely fulfilled after spending a day enjoying nature. The drive back to the cabin is mostly quiet except for the music playing through the speakers, old blues music that has your eyelids feeling heavy. 

Pulling into the driveway Sam pulls in next to your car so that he doesn’t block you in, and shuts off the car and the hum of the music. Before you can reach for the handle Sam is at the side of the car opening the door for you. You step out and make your way to the front door, punching in the code and stepping inside. Sam isn’t too far behind you, likely plugging in his car. A thought that makes you giggle. 

As you make your way to the fridge you grab a seltzer and pop the tab, drinking down the fizzy bubbles, hoping the alcohol will relax your tired muscles. 

“Is it happy hour?” Sam asks, walking through the front door.

“It is, would you like grapefruit, or mango?” you ask.

“Mmmm….Mango.” he replies, meeting you at the counter. “So… what is your plan for the rest of the day?”

“Well, let’s see it's 4:00 now… so I’m not sure. Hang out, shower, maybe eat something later. What about you?” you ask.

“Actually… I was wondering… do you think you would like to join me for dinner?” he asks.

You’re taken aback as you reply hesitantly, “Of course I’ll join you but, do you really want me to come to your special dinner?” 

“Well, yeah. I was actually kind of hoping you would say yes. I just called and updated the reservation for two.” he says nervously.

“What if I had said no?” you ask.

“I would have asked again, but laid on my ‘cute’ accent a little thicker.” he says with a wink.

Your jaw drops at his playful remark. His wink causes a flame to ignite within your chest.

“We need to leave here in about an hour…Is that enough time for you to get ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, it should be, do you want to shower first or…” you ask.

“You can go ahead, I will go after you.” he smiles nodding towards the bedroom door.

A bit later as you are blow drying the last parts of your hair you hear the water shut off as he finishes his shower. You smooth out your blue dress, a last minute addition to your suitcase just in case you felt like going into town. You found yourself feeling thankful that you packed it. 

As the door swings open and he steps out in his towel your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His skin is still damp from the shower, glowing almost. His long hair hangs down his chest dripping the length of his torso, meeting the top of the towel wrapped around his waist. 

You try your hardest to pull your eyes away from him, trying not to stare. His eyes meet yours with a gentle smirk and you know you’ve been caught. The blush that creeps over your cheeks also doesn’t go unnoticed by him, causing a slight giggle as he leaves the room. 

You let out a breath as you brace yourself on the wooden bed frame. Fuck, get it together. 

A few minutes later you are ready to go and step out of the bedroom to see him fully dressed and waiting for you. His eyes linger on your bare legs for maybe a moment longer than normal and you watch as he catches himself and meets your eyes. 

“Drink before we go?” he asks, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

You toss him a playful smirk, and nod your head. He pours two glasses of wine and you watch as he focuses on recorking the bottle. You find yourself having a hard time pulling your eyes away from his chest that he has out on full display, only covered by the shirt barely hanging on by a few buttons. 

You bite your lip as you accept the glass from him, sipping down the red wine.

“The sun gave you some color today. You look really good.” he says as he tips his glass back.

“Oh, did I look bad before?” you say playfully.

“No! No I just meant you are glowing a little. It’s pretty. You're pretty.” he smiles softly.

“Well thanks, you seem to have a bit of a glow yourself, but I think you’ve had it since I met you.” you reply.

You see his cheeks grow pink and a smile turns up the corners of his mouth. You both finish your wine and place the glasses on the counter. 

“You ready to go?” he asks.

“Yeah let me just grab my purse.” you say.

You both make your way out to his car, and ever the gentleman he opens the door for you as you slide inside. As he comes around to meet you, you hear the car come to life and shake your head at the situation you have somehow found yourself in. 

He gets in and plugs the direction into the screen, letting it guide him into town. It’s not that long of a drive but the sun is setting and the gentle music playing in the car, combined with the glass of wine, has you feeling the effects from the long hike you had this morning. 

His hand rests on the steering wheel so effortlessly and you can't help but to stare at him. In the short time you’ve known him your eyes have become almost magnetized to him, finding yourself looking at him any chance you get. Your mind wanders wondering how it would feel if his hand brushed across your bare skin. 

No. Stop it. You can’t do this, you don’t even know him. But maybe you want to.

Minutes later you are pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant, gently nestled in the hustle and bustle of the town with a beautiful view of the mountains surrounding you. Twinkle lights hang on the patio of the restaurant, reflecting on the large windows that line the walls of the building. 

“Sam, this place looks really nice, I feel underdressed.” you say, worry lining your words.

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts earlier, he placed his hand on your thigh, as he looked at you, “You look gorgeous, I promise.”

You can feel the redness growing in your cheeks at his complement, as your tongue peeks out to wet your lips. “Thanks, you think so?” you reply shakily.

“Yes, absolutely.” he smiles.

His hand sweeps across your thigh as he draws it back to open his door. The butterflies in your stomach swirling from the brief contact. 

As you step out of the car you meet him at the front to begin walking to the door, when you feel his hand on the small of your back. The warmth that washes over you can be felt head to toe and you wish that the walk to the door was longer. 

He opens the door for you and the host smiles as she looks at him with puppy dog eyes. You can't exactly blame her. 

“Hey, we have a reservation for Sam!” he says enthusiastically.

She fumbles over the menus and hands them to the server without taking her eyes off of him. I wonder what her deal is?

The server takes you to your table and you take your seat at the small table. A white table cloth and a tea light candle is placed in the middle, the glow reflecting onto Sam's face causing his eyes to take on a special glint you can't seem to look away from. 

“Seems like the hostess was sure taken with you…” you say playfully.

“Nahhhh, she was just starstruck.” he laughs.

“Starstruck?” you ask confused.

Panic crosses his face as he holds up the wine list, “Should we get a bottle?” he asks, changing the subject. 

“We can If you want…” you smile.

“Okay, you can pick.” he replies.

“Red or white?” you ask.

“Dealer’s choice.” he replies.

“Hmmm, you're no help...how about a Cab?” you ask.

“Lovely.” he smiles. 

The waitress comes to your table, greeting you and reading out the dinner specials, all of them sounding amazing. You order the bottle of wine and eagerly await its arrival, as you and Sam look over the menu.

“See anything you like?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think I am going to get the special she was talking about. What about you?” 

“Oh I definitely see something I like, but I’m going with the butternut squash dish. Sounds intriguing.” he smiles.

The waitress returns with two glasses and the bottle of red wine, uncorking it and pouring it into the glasses, leaving the bottle on the table. 

Sam lifts his glass to you, “To unlikely circumstances, working out favorably.” he says with a wink.

You feel your cheeks blush, as you tap your glass to his. He is such a smooth talker.

“Cheers, Sam.” you smile.

“Cheers beautiful.” he replies.

Beautiful? You could get used to that...

The waitress returns and takes your order, whisking away the menus, as you sip your wine. The chat continues with more subtle flirting, and you were totally eating it up, hanging on his every word. Even feeling brave and throwing in a few of your own flirtatious remarks.

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight, Y/N?” he asks. 

Feeling a little fuzzy from the alcohol, you reply, “Because you’re cute, and sweet, and you asked.” you giggled.

“You think I’m cute and sweet?” he taunts.

“Well, yeah, and you’re fun and easy to talk to. What reason did I have to say no?” you add.

“Wow, the compliments just keep coming…” he laughs.

“Stop or I will take it all back.” you say.

“Well, I am glad you agreed to come. I would have thought about you the whole time I was sitting here if you hadn’t.” he says.

He would?

“Oh really…” you press.

His eyes flick up to yours as he takes another long sip of his wine, “Actually…I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you last night. Then, I got to spend the day with you, got to know you a little bit… not to mention you are gorgeous. I was really hoping you’d come.” he smiles.

“Sam, you flatter me…” you laugh, tipping your glass of wine to your lips. “But for what it’s worth, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either. There's something about you...”

His eyes grow dark and travel down to your lips, “Good to know…” he breathes.

The waitress arrives with your meals, and places them in front of you, refilling each of your glasses of wine, effectively polishing off the bottle. 

Intentions are exchanged silently as you eat, eyes never leaving each other for too long. With pure confidence rushing through your veins you slide your foot along the inside of his leg under the table. The act catches him off guard as a smile forms at the corners of his mouth.

“Mmmm… careful, we still have to get through dessert.” he warns playfully.

You place your fork over your plate and lean slightly forward in your chair, “I like to have my dessert at home.” you whisper.

You see him swallow nervously as he clenches his jaw and you know you have him. You can tell he is having the same thoughts that you are having.  

You weren’t sure what had come over you, this sudden braveness filling your body. But he liked it, you could tell, and you wanted him.

Your foot continued to rub his leg as you talked, waiting for the waitress to bring the check. You tossed back the rest of your glass of wine and let the warmth wash over your body as you locked eyes with him.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” you say.

“Thanks for not making me leave.” he replies.

“It’s too bad you’ll have to sleep on the couch again tonight…” you say playfully.

“I can be pretty convincing…” he replies.

“We’ll see about that.” you say, just as the waitress returns with the check. Sam slides his card into the opening, sending it off without even looking at it.

“Bold.” you quip, raising your eyebrows.

He tosses a smirk back at you as she sets the receipt down on the table, thanking you and walking away. Sam signs the check and places his card in his wallet before standing and walking over to your chair. He slides it out as you stand, and places his arm around your waist. A fire spreads through your chest at his touch. 

“Now, how about that dessert.” he growls into your ear. 

—

The ride back to the cabin is spent with his hand grasping the top of your bare thigh, and it feels exactly like you imagined it would. Soft but firm. His thumb twirls across your skin and you can feel a rough patch on the tip.

The sexual tension is buzzing through the air, and you know as soon as you get through the door you won't be able to push it off any longer. 

You look over at him, his eyes focused on the road ahead, and you think about his lips on yours. You imagine how he will taste, how he will feel… But mostly you wonder how this person who was a complete stranger to you just yesterday, now has you feeling like no one has made you feel in years.

The car pulls into the driveway and he shuts it off, rushing to your door. He takes your hand as you step out and walks with you to the front door. You enter the code unlocking the lock as you both are rushing inside. You throw your purse onto the couch, before spinning around to face him. His hands are flying up to your face, cradling your cheeks as your mouth meets his. 

His lips on yours are like pure silk. Remnants of the bottle of wine still fresh on his tongue. His hand slides down to rest behind your neck,  pulling you in closer to him as you walk backwards towards the couch. Your lips part from his just momentarily, as he speaks, “Fuck, I have been thinking about that all day.”

You laugh as he presses them back to yours, slowly letting them trail down your neck. A sigh leaves your mouth as he kisses your throat, your favorite spot.

You push him back to sit on the couch, and climb over top of him, straddling his legs. He places his hands on your hips, as you lean down to meet his mouth once again. Your tongues swirl together in perfect rhythm as you tangle your fingers into his hair, eliciting a soft groan from his chest.

“Oh, you like that?” you whisper.

“Feels good.” he whines.

Feeling brave you unbutton the rest of the buttons on his shirt, letting it fall open as you run your hands down his chest. His skin is tan and glowing, his cheeks pink from the sun today. He sits up and throws his shirt over to his suitcase, before returning his mouth to your neck and collarbones.

“Sam…” you breathe.

“Yeah, baby. Tell me what you want.” he says. That alone sent a spark right to your core. 

“I want you.” you whisper.

“Oh I have been waiting for you to say that.” he growls, wrapping his arms around your waist and carrying you to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours. 

He pushes the door open with his foot and tosses you on the bed. He shuts the door and crawls over the top of you. “You want me, huh?” he asks, peppering your chest with kisses. 

“I want you too. Can I have you?” he whispers against the curve of your breast.

“Please.” you beg.

He sits back on his knees and slides his fingers into the straps of your dress, gently pulling them down your shoulders. He grabs the fabric at your waist and slides it down, slipping it over your legs before throwing it off the bed. 

A groan grumbles in his chest as he rakes his eyes down your body. “Stunning.” he breathes. 

You reach behind you, unclasping your bra and tossing it to the side, leaving you bare beneath him. 

“How about now…” you ask playfully. 

He brings his fingers up to your nipples, twisting the buds until they harden, as you groan at the sensation.

“Even better, shit.” he says, shaking his head. 

He leans down, eyes connected with yours as he flicks his tongue over your hardened flesh causing you to arch up into him. 

“Eager little thing. God you’re so hot.” he says, before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking the sensitive bud. He repeats the action on the opposite side before pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He works his way down your stomach, stopping right at the top of your panties. 

He sits back on his knees again, before sliding his calloused fingers over the wetness accumulating on your underwear.  

“Are you ready for me? It looks like you are…” he smirks.

“Take them off, please…” you beg.

“Tsk. Tsk. Begging already…” he says, hooking his fingers into the fabric and sliding them down your legs. “God you are just perfect everywhere aren’t you…” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to you bare heat, your hips bucking into him as he does it. He places a hand on your stomach to still you as his tongue slides through the wetness, a moan leaving your lips.

“You are so sensitive, you respond to me so perfectly.” he says, before licking another stripe through your heat. 

You feel his fingertip teasing your entrance as his tongue starts to circle your clit. Your breathing begins to grow heavier as the pressure builds in your stomach. 

“Relax, take a deep breath. I’ll get you there.” he says. Just then you feel his finger slide into you, as you tense around him. 

“Shit, Sam.” you whine.

His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit as the pressure continues to grow. He slides a second finger in, rubbing your g spot with every motion. 

"Oh my god, why are you so good with your hands?" you whine.

He smiles as he continues, causing you to tense around him.

“Damn you feel so good on my fingers baby…I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” he breathes.

“Please…now.” you beg.

Pressing one last kiss to your core, he removes his fingers, and fumbles with his belt buckle before unbuttoning his slacks and throwing them to the floor. He climbs back over top of you, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting his tongue trace along your lip ever so slightly. 

You wrap your arm around his waist and pull him down closer to you, needing to feel him immediately. 

He lined himself up with your entrance and pressed into you. You both groaned at the sensation, his length bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” he whines, eyes squeezed shut.

His hips begin to move and you feel him start to slide out of you before he shoots himself back into you, hitting your sensitive g spot so perfectly.

He grabbed your hips and held you as he began to thrust in and out of you, his hair swaying around his face. The faces he was making as you clenched around him were sending you barrelling towards your release.

You grabbed his hand, and pulled it towards your face, sucking his finger into your mouth. He let out a groan as his hips began to snap into you quicker. You could tell he was getting close by the jagged breathing and the inconsistency of his thrusts, but you were there with him, holding on as long as you could, not wanting this to end. 

“You gonna cum for me sweet thing? Gonna let go and let me feel you all over me?” he asked, short of breath and teetering on the edge.

“Yes… yes, please….” you begged.

“Say my name. Say my name as you cum all over me baby.” he demanded, and with those words you were sent spiraling into your orgasm, his name falling from your lips as you let the sensation wrack through your body. The second his name left your mouth, he was reaching his own climax, spilling inside of you as he groaned through the pleasure. 

He pulled out immediately, watching himself spill from you, with a satisfied look.

You were still breathing heavily, as he made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a wet washcloth. He returned, cleaning you up before himself, still showing that even though his words in the moment were rough and demanding, he was still the gentleman you came to know. 

Still reeling from the euphoria that washed over you, you laid there, a smile plastered to your face as you watched him slide back into the sheets next to you. 

“Oh, you think you’re sleeping in here?” you say playfully. 

“I’m either sleeping in here, or we are both sleeping out there. Either way, I’m not letting you go tonight.” he said, placing a playful kiss on your cheek.

You turn to face him, propped up on your arm, “I can’t believe you were a stranger to me 24 hours ago.” you laughed. 

“We don’t have to be strangers anymore you know…” he says, letting his finger tip trace along your bare shoulder. 

“Well, I think we just got that out of the way, didn’t we?” you laughed.

“I mean, yeah, but I meant like… when the weekend is over.” he trailed off. 

“I'd like that. I like you. Are you leaving in the morning?” you ask.

“Yeah, I have a work call at 9am, I will probably take it from the road.” he answers. 

He gets a funny look on his face as he reaches over you, grabbing your phone from the side table. He holds it in front of your face to unlock it, before going into your contacts. He creates a new contact, and holds the phone over your heads, turning to kiss you on the cheek as he snaps the picture. He types in his number and sends a text to himself, effectively sending himself your number. He leans back over you and sets it back on the table, before placing another gentle kiss on your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” he says, rolling onto his back.

“You’re only being sweet because I let you fuck me on the first date.” you joke.

“Maybe. But I plan to fuck you after the second, third, fourth, and every one after that.” he replies.

You roll over and turn off the lamp, leaving the two of you in the dark silence of the old cabin. 

“You really think you want to do this again?” you ask.

“Yeah baby, I do. You like me for me. Not for who you think I am.” he replies.

Huh?

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Nothing, let’s go to sleep. It's been a long day.” he whispers, pulling your body into his. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as you both fall asleep in the bed, meant for two.

—

The morning came early, both of you packing your things, and wishing you had more time together. You shared a kiss goodbye, and felt hopeful that you two would see each other again in Nashville soon. After all he did promise you another date right?

Packing your suitcase into your trunk, you took one last look at the cabin, and laughed at how crazy this weekend ended up being. You got into your car, still shaking your head and pulled away wondering if you’d ever be back. As you finally got onto the interstate you had better radio signal, and could finally pick up a few channels. You scanned along until you found one that wasn’t fuzzy. 

You listened in as the radio host spoke, and let your mind wander as he talked in the background. As the new hour rolled in, a new host came on the air, talking about a band touring this summer for their new album and making a stop in Nashville. Intrigued you turned up the volume to listen in and see if you would be interested in going. 

She played their new single and much to your surprise you loved it. It was nothing like you’d ever heard before. Just as it ended the host said that one of the members was joining her on the air.  ‘I’m joined by Sam Kiszka of Greta Van Fleet, how are you doing today?’

‘Hey! I am doing great, thanks for having me on the show!’

That voice. You would know that voice anywhere.

Sam? Your Sam? No. It couldn’t be right? It was just a coincidence, right?

When she began asking about growing up in Michigan with his brothers you knew it definitely wasn’t just a coincidence. Your heart was racing, surely you just didn’t sleep with a famous musician…He continued to talk, answering her questions, being the perfect gentleman that you knew. Full of jokes and laughter, but also insanely smart when talking about his music. 

You couldn’t believe it. But then it clicked. That’s what he meant last night…

‘You like me for me. Not for who you think I am.’

The interview ended, and you shook your head laughing. His work call, the starstruck hostess, his crazy work schedule… it all made sense. 

You pulled out your phone, and found his contact, the picture of the two of you last night sending a smile to your lips.

You: Just heard the craziest thing on the radio…

Sam: Did you?

Just then, your phone rang through your car speakers, it was him.

“Well hello…” you answered.

“I’m more of a talk on the phone kind of guy…” he laughed.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard…” you replied.

“Did you know that you can’t pick up many radio stations very clearly in the mountains?” you ask.

“Hmmm, really?” he replies.

“Yeah, luckily I was able to find one. A local one, right out of Nashville. 105.9… Ever listen to that one?” you ask playfully.

“You know… it sounds really familiar.” he laughs, knowing he’s been caught.

“How long until you were going to tell me that you are some big famous rockstar?” you ask.

“Mmm… maybe never, or maybe next time I saw you. Oh yeah, I have something really important to tell you. When are you free?” he asked, laughing through the thought.

“Oh really? Well, when did you have in mind?” you laughed. 

“How about tonight?” he replied, you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“It’s a date.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

@gretavansara@jordie-gvf-admin@starshine-wagner@gretavanfvckface@gretavanmoon@gvfjess @misshunnybeebee@fretaganvleet@gvfpal@joshkiszkas@ascendingtostardust @raviolilegs@sammysprincess@gvfpal@objectsinspvce@lallisonl@gvfpal@raviolilegs@jaketlover@ascendingtostardust @indigostreakmorgan @jakemarrymeibeg@fakeplastiqtree@radmads-gvf

[em-prentiss]

burnt toast, sunday (you keep his shirt, he keeps his word)

----

Emily needs a midnight snack. Whilst preparing it, she accidentally wakes Aaron.

(He doesn't mind.)

Word count: 2k

----

She instantly knows what wakes her: a deep, bottomless chasm. 

Emily feels her stomach gnaw on itself as her heavy eyes crack open, a low groan escaping her. Turning on her side, she clutches her stomach just as it grumbles, the sound almost as loud as Aaron’s snores.

She digs her face into her pillow and closes her eyes, forcing herself to just ignore it, the inky dark outside telling her it’s nowhere near morning. Her heavy lids fall closed and her body melts into the bed, her knee pressing against Aaron’s thigh, the heavy comforter over them chasing away the cold.

She almost thinks she’s got it, tumbling back into blissful sleep, when her stomach rumbles again.

“Fuck,” Emily whines, her voice rough and clouded from disuse. Aaron is blurry when she looks at him, but she can see his face smushed into his pillow, his back rising and falling in deep sleep. 

She almost reaches over to shake him awake, get him to make her something, but his exhausted snores make her drop her hand with another groan. Emily turns her blurry eyes to the ceiling, fruitlessly willing the hunger to go away.

Two seconds later, she gives in when her stomach rumbles again. Emily throws the covers back with a scowl, her eyes catching the clock on her nightstand.

3:22.

“Fucking hell,” she grumbles, goosebumps breaking out on her skin at the sudden cold. Aaron’s t-shirt doesn’t cover much, but she ignores the raised hairs on her arms and stumbles out of their room, quietly opening the door and shutting it behind her.

The house is dark, but she knows it in her sleep—literally. Using her fingertips to trace the length of the walls, Emily keeps her eyes almost shut until she reaches the kitchen.

She turns on the stove light and bites back a hiss at the brightness that assaults her eyes, the soothing darkness replaced by a currently not-so-soothing orange light spilling over the stove. Emily presses her palms into her eyes and rubs them roughly, forcing her vision to adjust.

Her stomach gives a weak rumble as she opens the fridge door. Tired eyes skipping over cheese and eggs and milk, she reaches for spreadable cream cheese on instinct, too exhausted to think of anything more sophisticated.

She shuts the fridge door a little too forcefully, movements clunky and uncoordinated, and walks over to the counter. Dropping the cream cheese, she reaches for the bag of toast and pops two slices into the toaster. Emily slides the lever down and drops her face into her palms, elbows digging into the cold marble of the counter.

The weak heat of the toaster chases away a little of the cold in her hands as Emily leans against the counter, resting her whole weight on it. Her eyes fall closed and her breathing deepens in the few minutes it takes for her toast to warm up.

The toast slices pop out with a ding and she jolts awake.

Emily yawns as she takes them out, her fingertips burning from the heat of them. “Hold on,” she mutters when her eyes scan the slices, white and still soft. She looks at the dial and groans when she finds it at 1.

“Dammit, Aaron,” she whines to herself, slamming the toast back in the toaster and turning up the dial to 3. She’d told him a hundred times to dial back the heat after he’s done eating his pasty toast. 

Her stomach gives another weak rumble as she drags a stool over to the counter and plops onto it, scowling as she once again rests her elbow on the counter and sets her chin in her palm. She doesn’t expect to nod off again, but last night’s case wrung her dry and in seconds, she’s asleep again.

This time, it’s not the ding of the toaster that wakes her. The bitter, acrid scent of burnt toast forces her awake. Her eyes fly open.

“Fuck.” Emily hisses, the smell making her eyes water. She drops the blackened toast directly on the counter, her fingertips burning from the heat of them. They smoke on the counter and she pouts, reaching for the bag of bread as her stomach gives another pathetic growl.

Eyes still half closed, Emily drops another two pieces of toast in the toaster and turns the heat down to 2 and a half just to be safe. She slides the lever down and rests her elbow on the cold counter again, chin in her palm but sleepy eyes trained on the toaster.

She yawns and shivers as the cold seeps in under her thin shirt, goosebumps breaking out on her skin. Resting a cold hand on her knee, Emily looks away from the toaster and startles when Aaron appears in the doorway, adorably mussed and rumpled.

“What’re you doin’?” He slurs as he walks to her, rubbing his eye. Emily reaches a hand out and pulls him to her when he takes it, craving his warmth.

“Hungry,” she supplies unhelpfully, bringing his arm to wrap around her waist as he drops his head on her shoulder. Emily yawns and threads her fingers through his messy hair. “Makin’ toast. Did I wake you?”

“The smell did.” Aaron mumbles and leans further against her.

She’d have fallen if not for the stool supporting her as she brings him closer, winding her arm around his waist. “I told you to set the damn dial back,” she scolds into his hair, her words weakened by her sleepy slur and roughened voice. Emily closes her eyes as she breathes him in.

Aaron squeezes her waist. “Sorry,” he runs his palms up and down her arms, his large hands easily covering her skin. “You’re cold,” he whispers.

Emily breathes out a laugh and presses her lips to his temple. “Warm me up then.” She mumbles into his skin, a bare whisper of slurred words against his forehead. 

Aaron immediately obliges, covering her cold arms with his large, sweatshirt covered ones as he wraps her up in his embrace, warm and safe. Emily sighs when his clothed thighs press against her bare ones, the heat from his body overflowing even through layers of fabric. She doesn’t think it gets better than that, but then he lifts his forehead from her shoulder and presses his cheek against hers, warm, stubbled skin chasing the cold away from her own.

His lashes flutter against her cheek as his eyes fall closed. Emily tightens her arms around his waist as his weight grows heavier against her, her own eyes falling shut, too.

She gets two seconds of blissful darkness before the toaster dings again.

Aaron flinches against her and Emily laughs, a soft, low thing as her heart squeezes with love for him. “Go back to bed,” she pats his cheek, clumsily, but he still feels the love, “’m fine here, baby.” She mumbles.

“’S’okay.” Aaron shakes his head as Emily unwinds an arm from around his waist and drops the—perfectly toasted—toast directly on the counter, next to the burnt ones. She doesn’t bother with a plate as she slides the drawer open and grabs a knife. That’s about all she’s able to do, with Aaron wrapped around her like a vine, her arms trapped beneath his.

Emily turns her head, her lips catching his cheek. “I’m gonna need my arms, honey.”

Aaron grunts and drops his arms, shifting so he’s holding her sideways, palms on her waist and leaving her arms free. “This okay?” He whispers as he slots his face into her neck.

Emily smiles, vision blurring again as she reaches for the cream cheese. “It’s okay, baby. D’you wan’ some?” She asks as she spreads the cream cheese thickly over her toast—hardly her best work, but it’ll do. Crumbs litter the counter as her knife scrapes against the toast.

“Nu-uh,” Aaron replies, words lost in her hair, slurred on his tongue. Emily sets the knife down, dusts the crumbs off her hands, and picks up a slice, biting the edge of the toast between her teeth as she turns back to Aaron.

Eyes heavy lidded, half circles of drowsy brown peeking down at her, and brows scrunched in a tiny, unexplainable frown. Emily suspects if not for his arms around her, he’d have fallen to the floor. She shifts on her stool until she’s half hanging out of it and pats the empty space next to her, “Sit.”

Aaron’s brows draw into a deeper frown. He shakes his head and withdraws his arms, taking the warmth with him as he stumbles over to the island and grabs another stool. Setting it down next to Emily’s, he climbs onto it and drops his head on her shoulder again. The cold slowly chills her right side as Aaron wraps both hands around her left arm, hugging it to his chest as she eats.

Emily turns a little to slot one of her cold legs between his. Aaron shifts with her so that they’re facing each other, his head on her shoulder as his hands drag lower to wrap around her forearm.

The fabric of his sweatpants warms up her skin again and she closes her eyes as she bites her way through her toast, slowly chewing, lazily swallowing, filling up her ravenous stomach bit by bit. Her crunches are loud in the deep silence of their kitchen, but Aaron’s breaths evenly hit the skin of her neck, undisturbed, lulled back into unconsciousness at her presence.

By the time she’s finished her toast, her stomach is blissfully quiet. Emily rubs her hand against her leg, dusting away the crumbs, and brushes her finger along Aaron’s cheek.

“Aaron,” she whispers. He startles awake again and raises his head from her aching shoulder, his brows drawing in confusion before his expression clears. 

Emily lifts her free hand to brush away the bangs falling over his eyes. “You can hug me now,” she whispers. He smiles and she does too, their lips softened from sleep and each other’s presence, love etched into the corners of their mouths as Aaron gathers her in his warm arms again.

“Bed?” His voice rumbles against her ear, rough in a way that always makes her heart ache.

“Bed.” Emily confirms softly.

Even so, they linger. Stomach full and wrapped up in Aaron’s embrace, warm and fuzzy, Emily’s eyes start to droop as he presses his lips to her cheek in a soft kiss.

“C’mon.” He rubs her back, gently coaxing her off the chair as he slides off himself. She yawns as he quickly throws the knife in the sink and returns the cream cheese to the fridge. 

Aaron takes her cold hands and they pad out of the kitchen, him growing a little more awake as her vision starts to blur again. The mess in the kitchen lays forgotten as they walk back to their room, fingers intertwined, the house quiet but for the shuffling of their feet.

Emily sighs when she walks into their room, immediately making her way to the bed and sliding in. The mattress dips as Aaron settles in next to her, the sheets cool as they slip over her skin, devoid of both their body heat for a while.

“You should brush your teeth,” Aaron nudges her when she drops her head on her pillow, shifting on her side and reaching for his hand.

“I’m not doin’ that.” Emily yawns, folding his hand under her chin and holding it close to her chest, “Thanks for keepin’ me company.” She throws a leg over his, the material of his sweatpants rubbing softly against her skin.

“Always.” Aaron smiles, not trying to take his hand back, knowing it’ll only be a matter of time before she falls asleep and her grip loosens. Her lips tilt up in a smile but her eyes remain closed as she squeezes his wrist. Three times.

Full, satisfied, and chilly-but-steadily-growing-warm, Emily finally falls back asleep as the clock ticks 3:56.

Taglist: @kllingdaddy

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[mrprettywhenhecries]

i don’t think you notice (what you did to me) [b.h]

one. | the new arrival

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (oc)

✗ w.c. 2.9k words ✗ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, suggestive language, smoking ✗ a/n: I decided to update/rewrite parts of this fic, and repost it, changing it to eventual Billy/oc/Steve further down the line in a completely self-indulgent move. Most of the major changes will begin in part two, but there will be slight changes/additions in these next few chapters, and hopefully some of ya'll will still be interested. Even if not, I'm still excited to tell Win's updated story. 💚

[ masterlist ] [ win's bio ]

7:00 AM.

It was the innocuous click of Win’s clock radio that woke her.  Ever since she’d moved to Hawkins, sleep had been elusive. It was too quiet – the familiar sounds of the city that used to lull her to sleep were long gone, now replaced with nothing but the lonely chirping of insects and the wind.  She thought waking up to the radio would make the process easier, but she usually ended up hitting snooze before the music even began to play.  

Groaning, she rolled back over, pressing her face into her pillow.  She thought after nearly three months she’d be at least a little used to Hawkins, but it was starting to seem like it would never feel like home.

A faint sound from the kitchen caught her ear and she lifted her face.  The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air – the strong brew her father liked after a long shift at the lab, even if he often fell asleep in his chair after drinking only one cup.

At least some things never changed.

He’d actually made it home before she had to leave; most days she never even saw him, leaving for school before he returned home and going to bed before he woke.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before her alarm went off again, Win pushed herself up to get dressed, turning her alarm off as she went.  By the time she washed her face, applied her makeup and fixed her hair, shaking it out as she sprayed a cloud of Farrah Fawcett hair spray to give it that bounce, she’d have just enough time to toast some Eggos and down a glass of OJ before her ride arrived.

When she finally walked into the kitchen, she found her dad leaning heavily against the counter, coffee cup forgotten in one hand, half raised to his lips as he stared blankly off into space.  

“Dad.”

At the sound of her voice, he roused, nearly splashing the scalding liquid over his wrist in alarm.

“Shit, sorry,” he breathed, hastily setting the cup back down and running his hands through his thin dark hair.  “I was just… thinking,” he mumbled, shaking his head wearily.

“They’re working you too much,” Win said, crossing the kitchen to the fridge, pulling out the carton of orange juice before opening the freezer for her waffles.

“There’s a lot going on.  You wouldn’t understand, sweetheart.”

“You always say that,” Win muttered, placing two frozen waffles in the toaster and pressing down the lever with more force than necessary.  “Why can’t you just go back to your old job?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of juice.  “If you’re going to be working the same lame hours, can’t it at least be somewhere better than here?”

“You know I can’t do that,” David sighed, adjusting his thick glasses on the bridge of his nose.  “We’ve talked about this, Win.  You’re just going to have to make the best of it here.  You’ll make new friends, find fun things to do,” he insisted.  “What about those girls that drive you to school?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the street.

Win snorted, collecting her waffles and dropping them to her plate, letting them cool a moment before taking a large bite and downing her juice.  “Heather’s nice, and Tina’s alright, but Vicki Carmichael and Carol Perkins are her friends,” she said, as if the distinction were important.

David sighed, the long deep tired sigh Win came to expect from him.  “Just… just keep your head up.  Things’ll get better,” he finished wearily.  It was his mantra–the only thing he could think of to say anytime Win complained about their situation.

Win rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue, knowing it was fruitless anyway.

“It would be nice if I had my own car to drive,” she ventured, not for the first time.

“You’re not driving the Chevelle,” her father said, knowing exactly what she was hinting at.

“But–”

“No buts,” he said, cutting her off.  “Do you know how much that car cost?  Besides, that’s not a car you drive every day, not with the price of gas as it is now.”

“That’s bullshit,” Win grumbled, the sound of tires on gravel pricking her ears.  “You just don’t trust me.”

“We’ll get you your own car once I get some money saved up,” David said, trying to placate her, avoiding her last comment.

“Yeah, a piece of shit,” Win muttered under her breath as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

If her father heard her, he made no sign of it.  “Plus, look on the bright side, at least you don’t have to take the bus.”

Just then, Tina honked her horn impatiently, and Win scowled.  “Yeah, I’m super lucky,” she mumbled, pulling open the front door.

“Try to have a good day,” her father sighed, following her to the door.  “Love you!” he called and Win raised her hand in acknowledgement as she made her way to the back passenger door, yanking it open.

“What took you so long?” Tina asked as soon as Win slipped into the seat, reaching for the seat belt.

“Arguing with my dad about the car again,” Win replied, leaning back in her seat to look out the window as Tina pulled back onto the street and drove off.  The trees that slid past were already in full autumn bloom, the ground beneath decorated with fallen leaves.

“Ugh, he’s so lame.  It’s not like you’re gunna wreck it,” Tina scoffed in solidarity.

“Is he one of those guys that treats his car like his baby?” Carol asked with a derisive snort.

“Sort of, but not quite that extreme,” Win explained.  “He always says it's for special occasions, but like, what if I want every day t’be special?”

“Speaking of special,” Vicki segued, already tired of the topic, “What is everyone wearing to Tina’s Halloween party this weekend?” she asked,  flipping down the visor to check her lip gloss in the mirror.

“I’m dressing as Madonna from the ‘Like a Virgin’ music video,” Tina exclaimed excitedly.

“I’m going as Alex Owens from Flashdance,” Carol added with a grin.

“How about you, Win?  Do you have a costume planned yet?” Tina asked and the others turned expectantly, waiting for her answer.

“I was thinking of going as the Road Warrior,” Win answered, tearing her eyes from the Indiana scenery to look at them.

“What?” Vicki asked, her face scrunching up.

“You know, Mad Max?” Win added. “But that’s a dude,” Carol pointed out, giving Win a strange look.

“So?” Win asked, meeting her stare head on.  “I look good in leather.”

“Ooh, all leather. Sounds bitchin’,” Tina laughed, pulling into the school parking lot.

As Win stepped out of the car, the roar of an engine filled the crisp air and a dark blue Camaro with California plates whipped into the stone lot, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake.  Parking a few spots over, the car screeched to a halt, its engine still revving loudly, competing with the heavy metal music blasting from its speakers.

Suddenly the engine cut out and the driver’s door swung open.  A booted foot hit the ground, and moments later Win got her first glimpse of the occupant.  Clad all in denim, save for his tight white undershirt, one of the most gorgeous guys she’d ever seen straightened, shaking out his rumpled golden curls as he fixed the collar of his jean jacket and surveyed the parking lot, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Who is that?” Vicki exclaimed, gaping at him shamelessly.

The other girls stared just as enthralled, their gazes following him as he passed.

“I have no idea, but would you check out that ass?” Tina gasped, her mouth falling open as she ogled him, twisting a lock of dark hair between her fingers.  “Just look at it go!” she giggled, biting her lip.

Win rolled her eyes at their reaction, but found herself looking nonetheless.  His snug Levi’s left little to the imagination, hugging his hips just right, making looking at anything other than his ass nearly impossible.

“He has to be new,” Vicki exclaimed, hurrying to shut the car door behind her and follow after.  “I would have definitely remembered that face.”

"Or that ass!" Carol laughed.

“C’mon, let’s go find out who he is,” Tina said, grabbing Win’s arm and hauling her toward the entrance.

It didn’t take long for the new kid’s name to be on everyone’s lips, his appearance the most interesting thing since Win’s own arrival.

“Did you hear?  That new kid, Billy Hargrove, is from California!” Heather Holloway exclaimed as Win set her lunch tray down next to hers.

“Yeah, I saw the plates on his car.”

“Do you think he knows how to surf?” Heather mused, resting her chin in her hand.  “He’s so bodacious!” she sighed.

“He certainly is,” Win agreed dryly, bemused by her friend’s reaction.  “He might even give Steve a run for his money,” she murmured, catching sight of Steve Harrington as he walked past with his underclassman girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and her lips twitched downward.  Before Billy had arrived, Steve was the best looking guy in their class, but he was decidedly off the market, much to Win’s chagrin.   

“No way.  Billy’s way hotter than Steve,” Tina argued, joining them at the table, followed by Vicki.

“I’m gunna make a move and ask him for a ride home,” Vicki said, wearing a smug grin.

“You do that,” Win muttered as she opened her milk carton.

Wanting to sneak a cigarette before afternoon class, she finished her lunch quickly, slipping away while the others were preoccupied, still discussing boys.

Pulling her half empty pack from her jacket pocket, she plucked one of the slim rolls free and placed it between her lips as she made her way to the bleachers by the practice field.  A group of guys were lounging near the top and Win spotted none other than Billy Hargrove’s windswept mullet as she made her way to her secret hiding spot.

Ducking into the shade under the metal bleachers, she fished her lighter free and lit up, inhaling deeply.  Blowing the smoke through her nostrils, she felt the instant calming effect of the nicotine roll over her and she leaned back against the support beam, closing her eyes.

It wasn’t long before the boys’ conversation above drifted down, pricking her attention, and Win tilted her head to listen in.

“What’s it like there?”

“No man, what’re the babes like there?”

Billy let out a scoff.  “They’re way hotter than any of the cows you have around here.”

Several guys laughed, clapping Billy on the shoulder while a few others–the ones with girlfriends, no doubt–muttered under their breaths, not wanting to seem lame in front of the new cool kid.

“You saying you haven’t seen any chick you like yet?” Tommy Hagan asked, and below, Win rolled her eyes, flicking a line of ash from her cigarette.

Wait til he hears his girlfriend has a hard on for his new hero, she thought smugly.

“None that I’ve seen.  I’m starting to think high school girls might be beneath me anyway,” Hargrove answered and Win had to fight back a derisive snort.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, crushing her cigarette butt underfoot as the bell rang.

The rest of the afternoon passed unremarkably and Win was rather relieved she didn’t share any classes with Billy.  She didn’t think she could stomach any more girls fawning over him, especially after what she’d overheard at lunch.  Just because he was attractive didn’t mean he was a catch.

“Win!” Tina called as the final bell rang and everyone funneled out into the hall.  “Help me pass out the party invites?” she asked, pulling a stack of orange flyers from her backpack as Win waited for her.

“Yeah alright,” Win agreed reluctantly, taking half the stack, knowing she wouldn’t be able to leave until Tina’d passed them all out anyway.  At least with the two of them handing them out it would go faster.

“Great, you’re the best!” she chirped.  “Meet me by the parking lot once you’ve handed them all out.  Oh!  And only give them to upperclassmen, okay?” she called as Win headed in the opposite direction.

Sighing, Win positioned herself by the bottom of the staircase, handing a flier to every student that passed, whether they were seniors or not, just wanting to get the task over with.

“Halloween night, come get ‘sheet-faced’ at Tina’s!” she exclaimed flatly, reading off the words on the page.

“Oh hey, can I snag one of those?” Steve asked, shrugging the strap of his backpack up higher on his shoulder as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Uh, yeah, you thinking about going, Harrington?” Win asked, passing him one of the orange fliers.

“Yeah, it’s been too long since I’ve just cut loose and partied,” he admitted, looking over the sheet before slipping it in his bag.

Win had heard stories about King Steve, and how he’d lost his touch since dating Nancy Wheeler, at least according to Carol.  Apparently she, Tommy, and Steve had been pretty tight up until last year when they had some falling out and Tommy had beat the shit out of Steve.

“This’ll be my first official party in Hawkins,” Win mused.  “I kinda doubt it’ll hold a candle to the parties I’m used to though.”

“Probably not,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head ruefully.  “But I’m sure it’ll be fun, nonetheless,” he shrugged.  “Beats staying home.”

“I guess you’ve got a point,” Win agreed, sharing a small grin with Steve.

“Well, I better get going, I gotta find Nance,” he said, glancing at his wrist watch.  “See ya, Win.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Win muttered, sparing him a glance as he walked away, her grin souring.

Once she’d been wiped out of fliers, she went in search of Tina, finding her just finishing up as well.

“Do you think Billy’ll come?” Tina asked as they walked to the parking lot together.

Win huffed an annoyed breath.  “Who cares?  That jerk’s so full of himself,” she muttered, noticing his blue Camaro was still parked ahead.

Tina’s brows rose, wondering what Win could possibly have against him already.  “That’s fine, if you’re not interested, all the better for the rest of us,” she laughed, flashing Billy her best smile as they approached.

True to her word, Vicki was already at his side as he leaned against his car, chewing on a toothpick, as if waiting for something.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Billy mused as he smirked, looking Win up and down appraisingly, completely ignoring Vicki.

Before Win could sling a snappy comeback Tina answered for her, eager to please.  “This is Win, and I’m Tina,” she added, batting her eyelashes at him.

Billy rolled the toothpick to the corner of his mouth, his tongue lazily swiping across his bottom lip.  “You’re not from around here, are you?”  he asked, still looking only at Win, though it was less of a question and more an observation. “You can tell that just by looking at me, can you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

The low chuckle he let out in response made her stomach somersault, but she kept her face straight, not giving anything away; reacting would only fuel his ego.

“Oh, I can tell a lot by just looking at you.”  Billy’s words held a cocky insinuation and though Win couldn’t deny how fucking attractive he was, there was nothing she wanted more than to knock him down a few pegs.

“I thought High School girls were beneath you,” she said, wearing a calculated frown, her brows pinching in faux confusion as she repeated what she’d overheard back at him.  At her words Tina and Vicki gaped at her as if she’d grown another head.

Billy, however, merely huffed in amusement.  “That’s till I met you,” he said, leaning in closer, his blue eyes flashing at the unspoken challenge.  “I’d definitely like you beneath me,” he said, tilting his head as his gaze flicked up to hers, a coy smirk playing at his lips.

Win’s own lips twitched as she stared back, a wicked grin suddenly gracing her features.  “Too bad, I prefer being on top,” she said with a shrug.

Without another word, she slipped past him, smirking at the look on his face, while Tina shared an incredulous look with Vicki before giving a start and hurrying after her, directing a wistful look back over her shoulder as she trailed behind.

“Your sister coming, or what?” Vicki huffed, jealous of the almost predatory way Billy’s gaze followed Win.

Annoyed at the interruption, he tore his eyes away, a scowl marring his features.  “She’ll be here, she knows better than to make me wait.”  He pulled the toothpick from his lips, turning his head and spitting.  “And don’t call her that–” he snapped, pointing at Vicki over the top of his car.

“What?” Vicki asked, frowning at his sudden shift in mood.

“Sister,” he exclaimed.  “She’s not my sister.”

“What the hell was that?” Tina cried, rounding on Win as they reached her car.

“What was what?” Win asked innocently, waiting for her friend to unlock the doors.

“I thought you weren’t interested!”

Win fell silent, unsure how to answer.  As she climbed into her seat, she looked back toward Billy’s blue Camaro, trying to ignore the way he’d made her insides flutter.  Maybe he was a smug bastard, but Win couldn’t deny there was something dangerous and exciting about him, not to mention the fact he was sex on legs, and unlike Steve “the Hair” Harrington, single.

“I’m not,” she insisted, though it was clear she wasn’t fooling anyone.  

Tina rolled her eyes as she put the car in gear. “Yeah, sure.”

✗ Taglist. (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know!) @super-unpredictable98 @thecatkingsthrone @heartbreak-sandwich @sailorskunk

[danielarlngton]

A Huguenot, on St. Bartholomew's Day, Refusing to Shield Himself from Danger by Wearing the Roman Catholic Badge (1851–52) is the full, exhibited title of a painting by John Everett Millais, and was produced at the height of his Pre-Raphaelite period. It was accompanied, at the Royal Academy of Arts in London in 1852, with a long quote reading: "When the clock of the Palais de Justice shall sound upon the great bell, at daybreak, then each good Catholic must bind a strip of white linen round his arm, and place a fair white cross in his cap. —The order of the Duke of Guise."

It depicts a pair of young lovers and is given a dramatic twist because the woman, who is Catholic, is attempting to get her beloved, who is Protestant, to wear the white armband declaring allegiance to Catholicism. The young man firmly pulls off the armband at the same time that he gently embraces his lover, and stares into her pleading eyes. The incident refers to the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre on August 24, 1572, when around 3,000 French Protestants (Huguenots) were murdered in Paris, with around 20,000 massacred across the rest of France. A small number of Protestants escaped from the city through subterfuge by wearing white armbands. Millais had initially planned simply to depict lovers in a less dire predicament, but supposedly had been persuaded by his Pre-Raphaelite colleague William Holman Hunt that the subject was too trite. After seeing Giacomo Meyerbeer's opera Les Huguenots of 1836 at Covent Garden, which tells the story of the massacre, Millais adapted the painting to refer to the event. In the opera, Valentine attempts unsuccessfully to get her lover Raoul to wear the armband. The choice of a pro-Protestant subject was also significant because the Pre-Raphaelites had previously been attacked for their alleged sympathies to the Oxford Movement and to Catholicism. Millais painted the majority of the background near Ewell in Surrey in the late summer and autumn of 1851, while he and Hunt were living at Worcester Park Farm. It was from a brick wall adjoining an orchard. Some of the flowers depicted in the scene may have been chosen because of the contemporary interest in the so-called language of flowers. The blue Canterbury Bells at the left, for example, can stand for faith and constancy. Returning to London after the weather turned too cold to work out-of-doors in November, he painted in the figures: the face of the man was from that of Millais's family friend Arthur Lemprière, and the woman was posed for by Anne Ryan. The painting was exhibited with Ophelia and his portrait of Mrs. Coventry Patmore (Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge) at the Royal Academy of Arts in 1852, and helped to change attitudes towards the Pre-Raphaelites. Tom Taylor wrote an extremely positive review in Punch. It was produced as a reproductive print by the dealer D. White and engraved in mezzotint by Thomas Oldham Barlow in 1856. This became Millais's first major popular success in this medium, and the artist went on to produce a number of other paintings on similar subjects to serve a growing middle class market for engravings. These include The Order of Release, 1746 (Tate, London), The Proscribed Royalist, 1651 (Lord Lloyd-Webber Collection), and The Black Brunswicker (Lady Lever Art Gallery, Port Sunlight). All were successfully engraved. There are smaller watercolor versions of the picture in The Higgins Art Gallery, Bedford, the Fogg Art Museum, Harvard University, and a reduced oil replica in the Lord Lloyd-Webber Collection, all by Millais.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Duke | The Good Stuff

Okay, so if you can't tell I've been going through some of your stories again and catching up on updates and asdfjlk you're such an amazing writer! The personality you give the characters is so good it makes me want to scream and your prose? *chef's kiss* Is it alright if I hit you with another prompt? You've written a lot of Janus comforting Roman (which I love), but I just got caught up in Come Now, Little Prince (I think it just might be my favourite of your stories) and Janus comforting Remus filled my heart in ways I can't describe. Could we get more of our favourite danger noodle comforting, protecting, and being possessive of the trash rat? – twoalpacas

Read on Ao3

Warnings: gunshot, blood loss, passing out from injury, mentions of being on heavy painkillers/drugs

Pairings: dukeceit

Word Count: 1420 (it's what he would've wanted.)

Remus had never seen Janus fight before. That's why he's there—to get hurt for him, to do the dirty work, to pull the necessary levers and little administrative violences. But Janus was a breathtaking fighter. If Remus hadn't already been clocked rather hard on the head, dazed and on the ground, ready to pass out, he might have swooned at the sight.

The attackers dropped.

Janus was at his side in an instant, expression intent.

"You don't like getting your hands dirty," he slurred.

"I don't like losing my best operative either. Don't worry, I'll get you to clean the blood off my hands on your knees when you're not dying," Janus said, still a little too concerned to be his normal unflappable self, "restore the order of the universe."

Remus snorted and regretted it. Wounded was not good for laughing.

"Come on, then," Janus said, grunting as he slid an arm under Remus's back, "these new clothes are coming out of your budget if you can't get them clean."

An order was an order. He gritted his teeth and hauled himself up, an injured hand pressing against the gunshot wound. An involuntary hiss through his teeth as pain ravaged his limbs followed by a moment of surprise as Janus's body pressed warm and solid against his side.

"Stay awake until we get to the car," he muttered as they slowly made their way through the carnage, "then you can pass out."

Get to the car. Get to the car. Get to the car.

He was still conscious by the time they finally made it to the car, but Janus was practically dragging him to the door. Air passed weakly through his lips as he fumbled woozily for the door handle.

Janus's voice mumbled something but it sounded like it was coming through syrup. Pain fluttered like static across his field of vision and his head slipped down.

He opened his eyes.

A ceiling stared back at him. He blinked. Outside didn't have ceilings. He must be inside. But cars didn't have ceilings that looked like this. So they must be inside inside somewhere. Did he make it to the car? He hoped he made it to the car. Janus said to make it to the car.

"Good. You're awake."

Remus turned his head to see Janus pulling a chair up to the bed. He…how long had he been like this?

"You've been out for about an hour," Janus said, "welcome back."

Remus swallowed. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "Why…why'm I so…sthlow?"

"A combination of your injuries and the sedatives, plus the gauze in your mouth." Gloved hands reached up to pry it out, leaving his mouth slightly less cottony, but only slightly. He blinked slowly. Janus tutted and reached back up, brushing a bit of hair from his face and whistling lowly. "They got you good, huh? I've never seen so much blood all over your pretty face."

If Remus hadn't lost so much blood, he probably would've blushed.

"Wha—" he tried to swallow some of the cotton— "wha'd Doc say?"

"Let's just stick to the good news for now," Janus said darkly, "which is that you're not dying anymore."

Oh. That was good news. As Janus stood and turned away, he remembered something. He gritted his teeth and started to get up.

"And what," Janus said sharply, "do you think you're doing?"

Remus gestured weakly. "Your hands."

"And what about my hands?"

"'M supposed to clean them."

Confusion furrowed Janus's brow until he realized what Remus was talking about and he rolled his eyes. "Get back in the bed," he said, exasperated, "you're not out of the woods just yet."

Oh. A bed. Is that was he was laying on> But his bed didn't look like that. Or feel like that. His ceiling didn't look like that either. But orders were orders.

Janus had disappeared by the time he lay back down. He blinked, still slightly woozy. Blood loss, probably. Or the pain. But he couldn't feel much pain right now. That was bad, right? When you couldn't feel that it hurt?

"Don't shift around too much," Janus said lowly, sitting next to him again, "just because we've got you on the good stuff doesn't mean you won't do any more damage."

He stilled, lying there motionless, until Janus sighed and shifted.

"I've never seen you this quiet before," he said, "outside of a stakeout or when you're asleep."

Remus didn't say anything.

"Here." Janus turned his head gently so it lay facing him. "There's still blood on you."

Remus just blinked as Janus started to dab at his forehead with a tissue. His brow was drawn in concentration, his gaze on his work. He caught Remus looking and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

Remus blinked. Several expressions flickered across Janus's face and he dropped the tissue.

"What is it?" he barked. "Tell me what hurts, right now. Did they wear off already?"

"'M sorry."

"Don't apologize, just tell me what hurts. Did you pull your stitches out?"

"'M sorry, Boss."

Janus paused, gaze darting all over Remus's face, before he reached out and cupped his cheeks in his hands. "Tell me what you're sorry for," he instructed softly, "and then tell me why you're crying."

Crying? Remus was crying? Oh. That was bad. This was wrong. Janus wasn't kind to him. Janus wasn't gentle with him. He was only kind and gentle when he was lying or when he wanted something. Maybe that was why he was being kind and gentle right now, because Remus did so bad.

"I did bad," he mumbled, voice catching and hiccupping a few times, "I—I did bad."

"What did you do," Janus asked, hands still warm on his face, "what was bad?"

"Y' said 'good stuff,'" Remus managed, "good stuff's only for…for when it's bad and—and if it's bad then I did bad. I did bad."

Janus's eyes widened. That was bad too, right? Yes. If he did bad then that meant it wasn't good and if it wasn't good then Janus would be mad and if Janus was mad then that was bad.

"Oh, you poor thing," he heard distantly before the warm hands were on his torso, "come on, now, up you sit. Sit up, just like that, that's it."

He couldn't breathe properly. Why couldn't he breathe properly? Breathing hurt. Breathing wasn't supposed to hurt. If he did so bad that breathing hurt then Janus would be really mad.

"Easy, now." Something warm settled on his abdomen. "Slow in down. Nice and easy, come on, relax."

But Janus was mad—

"I'm not mad, sweetie," the gentle voice said, "calm down, now."

The gentle voice began to lull him, breathing becoming less and less like dragging himself over razor wire and more like just inhaling and exhaling. The warmth settled on his face again.

"I expect my agents to fear me," he heard distantly, "but not like this. I don't like seeing you like this. If you're ever like this again, you come and you find me, do you understand? I'll make it better."

Remus blinked.

"…you can't understand a word I'm saying, can you?" The warmth passed over his face. "You poor thing. Oh, you poor, sweet thing…"

Remus let out a whimper as he was moved.

"Shh, shh, it's alright now. No more thinking for you right now. You go to sleep while the drugs wear off, okay?"

S-sleep? He could sleep?

"Yes, you can sleep. It's okay, just fall asleep whenever you need to. I have you." Something soft and slightly damp pressed against his forehead. "I'll look after you for now."

The last thing he thought he felt was something warm and wet cleaning the blood from his hands.

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[justbusterkeaton]

“As a child at the actor’s colony, Buster tore into each summer day as if doubting tomorrow. He tried every athletic sport and launched his lifetime avocation of gadget building. His simplest Muskegon gadget was the Clown Pole; the most complex, the Ed Gray Awakener. Over the years, certain qualities have come to define the Keaton machine: it has brought the inventor no money and only a passing local fame; it is often, though not always, a thing of staggering complexity; and it does its job with outstanding effectiveness. Its unmistakable aura is a genial, disarming madness.

Buster invented the Awakener for vaudeville monologist Ed Gray. Gray, a bachelor, was notably lazy. “It's a nightmare getting up,” was his habitual opening midafternoon remark to the world in general. Constant ribbing about it finally spurred him to buy an alarm clock. It rang its little heart out in vain. Buster then stepped in with an invention to guarantee prompt rising with nothing dependent upon Gray's willpower, if any. Automation in an early form, Buster's brainchild almost, but not quite, anticipated the electronic computer. It had an Orwellian, Nineteen Eighty-four quality.

"What time shall it be?" Buster asked. Gray went through an obvious struggle before saying, "Ten." So at 10 A.M. each and every summer weekday, Gray's alarm clock went off unheeded, naturally. But Big Brother was watching. The mechanism gave Gray thirty seconds to rise and turn it off, but he never did. Thereupon, hell broke loose. A lever operated by the clock started weights and counterweights of the greatest complexity all going at once: the gas was turned on and lit under the coffeepot (by a match scratched on sandpaper); a mechanical arm snatched off the sheet and blanket, if any; and an electric motor, operating through eccentric cams, made the bed rock like a foundering ship. Another day had dawned for Ed Gray.

"You know," says Buster, "in a month or so, that infernal gadget really trained him. Sometimes he'd even get up earlier all by himself and eat. A real trouper."

-Keaton by Rudi Blesh 1966

[stobinesque]

the firmament in you ✨

For Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge! Thanks again for putting this together, @thefreakandthehair! rating: T | wc: 4k | cw: Insomnia, Sleep Paralysis, Suicidal Ideation, References to past self-harm, hurt/comfort | tags: Stobin, Stargazing, Dancing, Post-Season 3 prompt: Dancing under the stars [ FIC PLAYLIST ] [ READ ON AO3 ]

Robin stares up at the ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark stars she’d stuck there when she was a kid winking back at her. The only sounds she can hear are the hum of the box fan in her window, and the rasp of cicadas beyond it. She’s resolutely refusing to turn her head to the side and face the blinking numbers of her clock taunting her.

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees smug faces leering down at her. Feels Steve’s dead—not dead, just slack, just passed out—weight strapped to her. She invents horrors that never happened.

If she keeps her eyes wide open, she only catches it in snatches and brief whispers.

Who needs sleep, anyway?

She thinks maybe the meat-monster spider should be getting more traction in the waking nightmares of her insomnia. And there are certainly times when she squeezes her eyes shut and fireworks burst behind them to a soundtrack of shrieks and groans and echoing fears. But they haunt her far less than the memory of cold fear gripping her chest when she thought, for just a moment, that she had a corpse tied to her back.

She moves to burrow herself into Steve’s side, hoping his warmth might trick her brain into thinking she’s safe.

It’s not a trick. We are safe.

There’s no way of knowing that for certain.

There’s no way of knowing anything for certain.

She rests her head on Steve’s chest and feels his heart rabbiting against her cheek. It makes her lever herself right back up to get a look at his face. She can barely see it in the darkness of the room, but the pale light of the streetlamps filtering in through her curtains is just enough to make out the way his eyes are darting back and forth beneath his eyelids. His breathing is coming in ragged pants, broken up by the occasional pained moan. Fine tremors course through him, like he’s fighting against something, but can’t actually move.

Robin’s own heart kicks up to a racing beat. Steve has spent the past couple weeks trying to explain the last two years of horror to her, and she can’t help the panicked thoughts that start running through her head. What if it’s back? What if it never left? What if it has Steve? Because apparently possession was totally on the table in their lives.

“Steve? Steve! Can you hear me? You’ve gotta wake up.”

His eyes stutter open like he’s being dragged to wakefulness. Hazel eyes stare back at her; unadulterated fear glinting in them. The small whines and groans he’d been making shift into muffled humming, like someone trying to talk through a gag. Like he’s trying to say something, but can’t form his mouth into words.

Robin is seconds away from grabbing the phone off her nightstand and calling anyone and everyone who might be able to help—wishing she had a walkie instead to radio out an all-purpose Code Red—when the dam breaks, and Steve sucks in a giant gasp of air and jerks upright like he’s surfacing from underwater.

“Steve! Steve, are you okay? Are you there?” She’s gripping his shoulder so tight that her nails are biting into flesh, but she can’t loosen her hold on him because if she lets go, he’ll float away.

“Couldn’t—” he gasps out. “Couldn’t move.” He’s nearly hyperventilating; chest heaving as he sucks in big gulps of air like he’s just been drowning. “Tied up. Frozen. I can’t—” He bites out each word like it hurts to speak. “Robs, I can’t—” He breaks off as something seems to crack in him, and collapses into her chest with a muffled sob.

“Hey, it’s alright,” she murmurs, trying to force her voice low and comforting as she wraps an arm around him. “I’ve got you.” She rocks him back and forth, gently, like she’s trying to coax a scared child back to sleep. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s all over now.”

It has the bitter taste of a lie on her tongue, but she just has to pretend that it’s true for now. Between the two of them, they can just barely afford a scrap of empty hope.

“—The kids are safe, and the gate is closed.” She knows Steve won’t really accept that until he sees everyone with his own eyes. But they’ve gotten used to telling each other these kinds of lies in the dead of night.

The band that’s been tightening around her chest snaps, and a tidal wave of exhaustion crashes over her. Sleep is all but a lost cause for the night, but they’ve each been at their wit’s end since Starcourt, and the unending turmoil of it all is finally catching up to her.

“I’m so tired,” she whispers into Steve’s hair.

“Robs.” his voice is croaky—strangled with some emotion she can’t quite place—and a calloused thumb sweeps across her cheek. She hadn’t realized she’d started crying.

“I’m tired too,” he admits. He lets out a shaky exhale. “I just want it all to be over.”

Fear catches in her throat. The way he says it makes her think he’s not just talking about the monsters and the torture. She remembers the scars she’d found littered across the skin of his thighs the other day. Remembers tracing a finger over them gently; begging him to never leave her.

The fear she felt in that moment is still lodged in her, tucked firmly behind her heart. But in the grey emptiness of the witching hour, she thinks she understands him.

“We should get out of here,” she says, not really knowing the scope of what she means when she says it.

“Where would we go?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Anywhere? Paris, maybe.”

Steve laughs, but it’s watery. “Might be hard to do on short notice.”

“Let’s just drive then. See where the road takes us.”

Steve sits up and looks at her, expression open and honest. “I mean…I’ve got the Beemer back. We could, if you wanted?”

Robin hooks her fingers through his. “Maybe just for the night?”

They sneak through the house, careful not to wake her parents. They haven’t bothered to change, so Steve’s still wearing an old marching band shirt and checked boxers; Robin, a Hawkins Swim Team shirt with a worn neck, and a pair of Steve’s sweatpants.

They pile into the car silently, Robin curling into the passenger seat, tucking her socked feet underneath her, and resting her head against the window. Through some unspoken agreement, neither of them makes a move to try to pick through Steve’s glove compartment of mixtapes. Steve just reaches over to tune the radio until he lands on something that seems to suit his mood well enough, and turns to her with a questioning tilt of his brow.

…because a vision softly creeping / left its seeds while I was sleeping / and the vision that was planted in my brain / still remains…

Robin’s breath hitches, and she turns to look at Steve, whose face is now glowing in the light of the streetlamps. His hands tighten on the wheel, and the corners of his mouth are drawn tight. She doesn’t want to ask what he saw. She thinks she can guess. Even with the whole gallery of horrors his mind has to choose from, she thinks there’s only one that would leave him paralyzed.

The song bleeds into another as Steve pulls out of her driveway, a soft bass line humming beneath a lilting guitar riff, filling up the car like it has physical presence. It leaves an ache in Robin’s chest, and she reaches out with a shaky hand, laying it palm up on the center console. Steve’s slots home a moment later.

They pull up to the quarry. The chorus of crickets and cicadas echo so loudly it’s like they’re the only sound left in the universe, even though she can still hear the music drifting like smoke from the radio (stars fade, but I linger on…)

“Here?” Robin turns to Steve with a frown. She tries not to think about them standing together at the precipice. Tries not to think about the drop. Tries not to think about how much a part of her wants it.

L ’appel du vide.

The thought scares her, and she has to force herself to back away from it.

Steve meets her gaze with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “There’s a clear view of the sky,” he says. “Thought we could stargaze.”

Robin’s face twists up into an expression she doesn’t think she could put a name to, even if she was looking in a mirror. Eyebrows scrunched, lips twitching upward. She feels some funny mix of fondness and bemusement, tangled up with love. “You wanna go stargazing?”

Steve shrugs. “Figured you’d rather see the real things.”

Robin doesn’t say anything, just stares at him. In defiance of all sense, Steve always drifts to sleep fairly quickly—his troubles are always with staying there than getting there—so she’s had no reason to think he’d noticed her tendency to go cross-eyed staring up at the stars on her ceiling.

“That…that would be great, yeah.”

Steve nods once, decisively, and turns the engine off, but leaves the car on so the radio keeps playing. Robin steps outside, wiggling her toes where she stands. She stretches them out wide; presses them down against the rough, rocky ground.

“C’mon, hop up.”

Robin jerks her head around at Steve’s voice. He’s produced a threadbare quilt from somewhere and is throwing it onto the hood of the car, before climbing up and patting the empty space next to him. Robin settles at his side and under his wing.

“So. Tell me about the stars.”

Robin looks up at him. “What do you wanna know?”

Steve shrugs, rustling her hair. “Dunno. They’re all, like, stories, right? Tell me one.”

Robin hums, considering. “Okay.” She grabs Steve’s hand, arranging his fingers so he’s pointing up at a spot in the western sky, a bit above the horizon. “See that group of stars up there? Looks kind of like two trapezoids smushed together, with little spokes coming out from the corners?”

“I…think so? Maybe?”

“It’s kind of hard to find sometimes, because there aren’t any, like, super super bright stars in it like there are in a lot of the other big constellations? Tonight’s a pretty good night for it, though, especially out here away from all the streetlights. And the new moon, too—it’s always harder to see things when the moon’s out—she’s so bright, you know?” Robin directs Steve’s hand along the constellation’s path. “If you wanna do this again some time I can bring my laser from home and help point things out to you that way.”

Steve nods against the top of her head. “I’d like that.” He lets his hand drop back down between them, but keeps their fingers entwined. “So, which one is that supposed to be?”

“Hercules,” she says. She raises their hands again to continue tracing over the constellation’s shape as she speaks. “That’s his head. And those are his legs—he’s kneeling—and sometimes people draw him with a club in that arm.”

Steve hums. “He was like…some big hero guy, right? Had to kill a bunch of monsters as, like, his job or something?”

Robin chuckles. “That’s not really what ‘labor’ means in this context, but yeah, that’s the basic gist. His whole story’s actually pretty long and complicated, though.” She rubs her thumb over the back of Steve’s hand. “Hercules—or, really, Heracles, if we’re talking Greek myth; the constellation is just named Hercules because that’s the one people know—anyway, he’s kind of cursed from the beginning. His mom gets pregnant with him after Zeus tricks her into sleeping with him, and then Hera—that’s Zeus’ wife—basically makes it her life’s mission to make sure this kid doesn’t exist, right? To the point where his mom just abandons him, because she’s so scared of what Hera might do.”

“Wait, if Zeus tricked the mom, why is Hera taking it out on the kid?”

“Great question! The actual answer is probably that the men telling these stories had really shitty opinions of women. In the context of the story, though, I think it’s supposed to be like…Hera is the queen of the gods, right? And the Olympians as a whole are a mess; they’re fucking mortals left and right, and also fucking each other indiscriminately, but at the same time they’re all, these, like, fundamentally prideful and jealous creatures? So Zeus constantly sleeping around with other people isn’t just a betrayal of Hera, it’s also humiliating to her. But what can she actually do to Zeus, right? So instead, she goes around trying to eradicate all the symbols of his infidelity.”

“That’s dumb,” Steve says. He stares up at the sky. From her vantage point Robin can’t quite make out his expression, but she thinks maybe it’s contemplative. “There’s probably a decent chance I have a half-sibling or two running around out there. And I guess it’s different, because if I don’t know about them, that means no one who would matter to my mom is likely to either. But I still can’t imagine her going out of her way to make another kid’s life miserable just because my dad fucked their mom.”

Robin’s brow wrinkles. Steve hasn’t really talked about his parents. Just told her that they usually spend summers outside of Hawkins, and otherwise carefully side-steps any allusion to the subject. The silence speaks for itself, though. Or so she thought, at least. The way he’s talking now…there’s a bitter edge to it, but he also talks about his mom like he loves her, if in a messy way. “I think…I think that, maybe, it’s easier to hurt people who can’t hurt you back.”

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything. Robin doesn’t either.

Morissey’s crooning slips out from the Beemer. I am human and I need to be loved…

“Yeah, that makes sense, I guess,” he whispers—more like he’s talking to himself than to her. “So how does the rest of it go?”

“Athena finds him, and takes him to Hera, without telling her who he is. And the irony of it all is that she’s the goddess of, like, marriage and childbirth? And since she doesn’t know who the baby is she feels bad that he got abandoned, and she ends up nursing him. But baby Hercules is already so strong that he bites her breast so hard that she spills milk all across the sky—and that’s how we got the Milky Way.” Robin brings their joined hands up again to run along the bright band of stars cutting a path through the heavens.

“…what the fuck?”

“Mythology is super fucked up, dude.”

“That feels like an understatement!”

“Yeah, well, how else would you explain the Milky Way if you didn’t know about astrophysics yet?!”

“Not with some chick’s breast milk!”

Robin purses her lips and gives an exaggerated head shake. “You just don’t appreciate the power of the female form, Harrington.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s it.” Their hands are still raised high above them, and he idly plays with her fingers. “Tell me the rest of it.”

“You are so demanding,” she scoffs, but carries on anyway. “After he accidentally creates the Milky Way—or, I guess, accidentally causes Hera to create the Milky Way? Whatever, not important. After that, Athena brings him back to his mom to raise him. Which, y’know, passes more or less uneventfully—except for him murdering his music teacher, in some retellings—”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t really get it either. It’s just kind of a blip, and then he’s passing from ‘boyhood’ to ‘manhood’ and has to make a choice about whether to follow the path of Vice or Virtue for the rest of his life.”

“Isn’t that a little late since he’s just murdered someone? Also, that seems…overly literal.”

“Yeah, well, it’s mythology. They’re all basically parables.”

“Isn’t that a type of graph?”

“No, it’s like…fables? Moral tales.”

“Sure. Okay. But that still doesn’t make sense, because it’s not like you just make a decision like that once and never get the chance to try again.”

“Well, take that up with Prodicus.”

Steve blows a raspberry, and Robin can picture him rolling his eyes in disdain.

“Do you want me to finish this story, or not? You can give your review at the end.”

Steve is silent for a beat. Squeezes her hand. “Yeah. Keep going.”

“Okay! So, he’s having trouble deciding which path to take, when these two women approach him. One claims to be ‘Happiness’—nicknamed Vice—and the other, Virtue. And each of them presents their case for why he should follow their path. Vice runs up to him first, promising a life of wealth and happiness, and freedom from hardship—”

Steve snorts.

“Have something to share with the class, Harrington?”

“You told me to wait until you were finished!”

“And yet you still interrupted me.”

“What, so I’m not allowed to make sounds?”

“Not like that!”

Steve shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re unbelievable! Keep telling me your little parabola, then.”

Robin rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Vice promises him untold riches and blah blah blah, and then Virtue comes up and tells him that there are no good things in life to be had without hard work and sacrifice, and that following her path is the only way his memory will be honored and immortalized in death.”

Steve lets out a small disapproving sound. “And? Which does he pick?”

“He picks Virtue, just like any good hero, right?” Robin’s goading him intentionally now, but it’s worth it for the way he actively works to stifle a groan of annoyance. “Anyway, then he starts going on various adventures as a big hero man. He helps defend a city against an invasion, and the king is like ‘here, marry my daughter’ as a reward.”

“Yikes.”

“Very. But the two of them end up being pretty happy together. They get a house, have lots of children. Happily ever after, right?”

“Something tells me the answer to that question is gonna be ‘no.’”

“Yeah, because Hera’s still obsessed with getting revenge. So she induces this, like, godly madness in him, which drives him to kill his wife and kids—”

“What the fuck!!”

Robin shrugs. “Like I said, Greek Mythology, man. Anyway, that’s how we get to the part of the story most people know: Heracles goes to the Oracle of Delphi and asks how he can atone for what he’s done, and that’s how we end up with the Twelve Labors of Heracles/Hercules.”

“Absolutely none of that made any sense. Why would going around killing a bunch of monsters make up for killing his entire family? Especially when it wasn’t even really in his control? Also, if this is how he ends up with his name getting immortalized or whatever, how is that any better than just choosing vice? He didn’t actually really sacrifice anything! His family did! If the way you get to have honor or glory or whatever is by killing your loved ones—even if you ‘atone’ for it later—how does getting those things make you any better than the person who chose happiness?”

“All great questions, young Padawan,” Robin says, affecting an exaggerated, sagely tone. “To answer the first one: arguably, it isn’t. The Oracle was basically working for Hera and sent Hercules to offer ten years of servitude to a king who hated him. As for the others: I don’t know, something to think on, I guess. But. It’s not like Hercules knew he was going to lose his family. And Vice’s path hinges on exploiting others.”

“I don’t know, it just sounds like either way you spin it he’s choosing a path based on what he thinks it’ll get him.”

“I think the way the Greeks thought about morality is probably different from how we do now.”

Steve makes a sort of disgruntled sound. “I guess that makes sense.” He sighs and presses his face into her shoulder. “So, tell me how these ‘labors’ go, then.”

She does, launching into dramatic retellings of Hercules slaying the Nemean Lion and the Hydra; capturing the Minotaur and the Erymanthian Boar; stealing Hesperides’ golden apples, and King Diomedes’ mares.

The music from the radio keeps playing in the background, a strange sort of backing track. Robin hasn’t been playing close attention to the songs as they roll through—just enough to notice that whoever’s in charge of the late-night programming has been doing the musical equivalent of throwing spaghetti at walls. It suits them, though. She’s halfway through regaling Steve with Hercules’ capture of Cerberus when conscious awareness of the music knocks into her by way of Steve bopping along to the opening bars of “Dancing in the Moonlight.”

He’s up and off the hood of the car before she can say anything.

“Steve!” she yells in protest as he yanks at her arm for her to join him. “I wasn’t done!”

“You can finish later! We’re not going to pass up the opportunity to literally dance in the moonlight when the universe decrees it, Bobbin!”

“There’s no moonlight tonight, dingus!”

“Starlight, then,” he says, shimmying his shoulders at her with a wide smile on his face.

And Robin is a lot of things, but immune to the delight of one Stephen Richard Harrington is not one of them. He starts doing a little swaying and snapping number, beckoning her to join him.

This was how the early seeds of their friendship were planted. Dancing to Dolly and Madonna as they mopped the floor; yelling and laughing together as they worked. It’s easy to slip back into. Into that space where Robin was just starting to see the first glimmers of who Steve Harrington could be—who he is. That time when she started to suspect that—maybe, just maybe—he could be something like a friend to her. Before they were SteveandRobin, sure, but also before they were trapped in a metal box with two kids they’d led into danger. Before Steve was bloodied and bruised for information he didn’t have. Before Robin learned that monsters were real, and the Russians were punching holes through reality to try to reach them. A time when—for once in Robin’s life—it felt like there was moonlight in the darkness of her life.

So she dances. Shoulders swaying, and feet tapping. Hips bumping with Steve’s. Lets him twirl her under his arm like he did in her kitchen last week while teaching her how to make the best grilled cheese sandwich of her life.

She smiles, and she laughs, and for a moment she forgets about heroes, and monsters, and gods.

Her cheeks are aching from smiling so hard, and even though it’s a short song, she’s panting with exertion by the end. It trails off into the night air, and Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” fades into place.

This time she extends her hand to him, pulling Steve into her arms. She’s never been that great a dancer—clumsy, and awkward, with limbs that won’t heed her command—but she’d dragged her father to a father-daughter dance thing during the handful of years she was a Girl Scout, and she’d picked up some basics. Enough to know how to lead in a dance without structure.

Steve follows without comment, making himself smaller so he can tuck himself in against her. It actually makes it a little harder to steer them without occasionally stepping on Steve’s feet, but she takes it as the unspoken request to be held that it is, and she dances in the starlight with her best friend. Feels it sparkling through him.

She knows the constellations that dot his skin, the streaks and starbursts of light of his scars, and his nebulae of bruises. The stories written on his skin are just as mythic—just as full of heroism—and all the beautiful contradictions those things entail. And she hopes he knows it. Hopes that she can show him someday.

Notes:

This fic is in the same universe as my other Stobin-centric Summer Challenge fic, which you can read here, and to my Steve-centric fic lay your cuts and bruises over you skin, which can be read on AO3 here. I'm including this at the end since this fic works just fine as a standalone :) Also, my Classical Studies major partner feels it is imperative that I point out that Robin's description of myth vs. parable vs. fable is inaccurate. These are each distinct categories of stories, and not all of them have or are meant to have a moral. (She's right. Don't believe everything fictional teenagers say when explaining complicated concepts to other fictional teenagers :P )

taglist of people who have requested snippets of this as I worked on it! @devondespresso @theheadlessphilosopher @delta-piscium @steves-strapcollection @bifuriouswaterbender @spicysix @inairbinad and @starryeyedjanai. thanks for all the encouragement, pals!

[chara-hugs]

a/n: Hey! This is my contribution to the Princess Philly Birthday Challenge! Happy birthday, lovey! 💛

Don’t get any ideas though, me writing isn’t going to become a regular thing because I’m preeeetty sure this is hot garbáge.

Here’s a link to the challenge prompt (which is on going, btw).

The prompt I chose was: Jodeci - Freek’n You + Syverson

Warnings for content: SMUT! MDNI 18+ I must make that abundantly clear. You are responsible for your own media consumption, and will encounter: unprotected piv, domestic fluff, auto shop owner!Sy (ig?), a pinch of existential angst, and terrible writing.

Word count: ~1.5k

It had been one of those paperwork days that Sy just fuckin’ hated. He knew they were necessary, but he didn’t like the feeling of being chained to a damn desk. He liked to be moving— go where he wanted, when he wanted, and do as he pleased. He’d spent enough of his life on somebody else’s clock. His facial hair was at the itchy stage of growth and he knew he needed to shave. If it got any longer he’d start seeing someone in the mirror he wasn’t prepared to meet with again just yet. All he could think about was getting home, calling you, and trying to unwind from the day. He sighed, easing his truck into the driveway.

Then he noticed your car.

All his heavy thoughts left him as he made the short walk up the front path, cleared the three steps up the porch, and swung open his front door. The house smelled amazing.

Coming in further, Sy found you sitting on the couch in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of ratty sweats. Your hair was out of your face, covered by the silky scarf you liked to wear when you cooked or lounged around. Your face was bare; dewy from your skin care. You turned your head, smiling at him where he stood in the doorway. You were an angel; a vision. He could swear he was half-hard at the sight.

“Hi, baby!” Your voice was so sweet sounding after a day of grumbling and metal clanging out in the garage. A breath of fresh air. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

He was listening. He promises he was listening. Sy heard everything about you stopping over on your lunch break to get the beef stew going in the crockpot. How you hoped he didn’t mind you using his key, but you wanted to make something comforting tonight because you knew how much “your man of action” hated office days. How you’d made a quick bread when you got home after work. How the stew was just thickening a bit now. He was listening, you were just distracting.

“Babe?” He watched your eyebrows furrow. “Are you feeling alright?”

Sy nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he cleared the living room in four long strides. He braced one of his big paws on the back of the couch, levering himself down to kiss you soundly. Lips cloying and devouring, tongue rolling sinfully against your own. He left you dazed as he drew back.

“I’m gonna fuck you good, then we’ll have dinner. Alright?” His eyes locked on yours with such intensity, you could only nod. He made a pleased rumbling noise in his chest.

Sy grabbed you up by your hips, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, and marched off down the hall to the bedroom.

“Alotta nerve you got. Sittin’ on my couch, makin’ me dinner, lookin’ like ya do,” Sy grumbled, voice and accent thickening. If you didn’t know him better, you would think he was upset. His large hands palming the globes of your ass said differently.

“Yeah? My sweatpants doing it for you, baby?” You teased, running your nails lightly over his scalp.

He stops in the middle of the hall, his body pinning yours to the wall as he rolled his hips. You could feel the heat of his hard length as he pressed against your core.

“Sugar, everything you say, everything you do. In silk and lace, or one of my old t-shirts, you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sy panted against your temple, his hips rutting against yours made your head tip back.

He plotted kisses over your exposed neck, one hand winding its way over the top of your thigh and into the cradle of your hips. Slipping under your waistband, Sy cupped your mound. Dexterous fingers stroking to find your entrance, wet and desperate. He teased your clit as he sucked on your pulse point. Gratified as you arched into him, exposing more of that elegant neck.

“I dream about you. Your smile, your laugh. How you’re too fucking pretty to be real.” Sy sank two fingers into you with ease. You keened, body feeling electrified.

“Miss Kitty’s so needy for me, ain’t she, pretty girl?” He purred, fingers hooking to rub at that spongey sweet spot. “You gonna let yer man take care’a you?”

You nodded, frantic.

“Good girl.”

~*~

You were face down, ass up, creaming on his cock. You weren’t sure how half the pillows and the duvet wound up on the floor, you were more focused on clinging to the bed sheets. Sy was gifted. He stretched you and stuffed you and fucked you so deep, you could feel the head of his cock kiss your cervix as he pressed himself to the hilt.

You arched your back, pressing your face further into the mattress; desperate to muffle your incoherent babbling. He could get you to promise him anything when he fucked you like this. Working orgasm after orgasm from your body. Sy wasn’t lying when he said he was going to fuck you good.

His large, callused hands roamed over your back and sides. His fingertips sank into your hips as he ground against you, feeling your walls clench as your body tensed, then drooped to the bed below.

Sy withdrew from your weeping hole carefully, and gently rolled you over. His cock was still hard and beading precum when he settled back on his haunches. Sy splayed your legs how he wanted, and the thrill of being so boneless that your man could move you around however he pleased tickled something at the back of your brain.

He wore the softest look as he stroked the flushed, wet head of his cock through your puffy, glistening folds. Sy was transfixed with each twitch and jolt of your body at his teasing.

“You know the first thing I saw when I got home today? Hmmm?” He asked, his flared head nocking at your entrance. You shook your head. The best reply you could give was a ‘nuh-uh.’ Lost in the feeling of Sy slowly sinking back into you.

“Your car in your spot in the driveway,” his voice was a rumble in his throat. The way he tenderly plotted kisses over your face and neck a contrast to his sharp, punctuating thrusts.

“And I knew you were home.” Kiss. Thrust

“Where you’re ‘posed to be.” Kiss. Thrust.

“With me.” Kiss. Thrust.

Your legs came up to lock around Sy’s waist. Needing to cling to him as his pace picked up. Overstimulated, slightly overwhelmed, but desperate for him to cum.

“Every bad thought left my head,” he swiped a rogue tear off your cheek. Enraptured once again by the beauty of you, and the pleasure he could pull from your body. “Everything was replaced by you.” You keen, back arching as his fingers find your clit to work circuits over it again.

“All I do is think about you,” he grunted, climbing closer to the edge. “How I’d take ya on the hood of a car in the shop, or how you’d look in a weddin’ dress. How good you taste, or how sweet you smile.” His pace was bordering on brutal now, wet skin slapping in time with the bed frame’s creaking. Your limbs tightened around him, cresting one last time; blocking out light, sound, anything that wasn’t the feeling of pleasure and the hot puffs of Sy’s breath against your chest. Did you scream? You weren’t sure. You watched his brow furrow and wiped the sweat from his temples as lucidity began to bleed into your consciousness.

He came with a roar and a gush of sticky, sweet release. Hips grinding down into yours to prolong the feeling of you, stuffed full and shivering around him. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing deeply. Sy shivered at the feeling of your blunt nails tickling the skin of his back.

You basked in the afterglow for a moment. Relishing in the feeling of his heartbeat and sweaty skin against your own.

“You okay, baby?” Sy broke the silence, voice husky and soft.

“I’m perfect,” you reply, craning your neck to kiss Sy.

“Good,” he slipped from you, spent, but was quickly on his feet. He took you in for a moment. Skin dewy again (but for a different reason this time), and prickled by beard burn, pussy stretched and stuffed. “You stay right there and look pretty, I’ll bring dinner back for us.”

“We’ll get breadcrumbs in the bed, babe.” You would have cringed, if you weren’t so blissed out. Sy shrugged.

“Gotta change the sheets anyway, baby.” He threw a laughably bad wink over his shoulder to you, then left the room. You sat there and watched him disappear down the hall toward the kitchen, naked as a jay bird.

(This is insurance so the page break doesn’t eat the end.)

[gallus-rising]

UGGGGH FINE. Give me your best mouth washing pitch I’m intrigued

OH BOY ok i'll try my best. this is kinda rambly and all over the place. i'm trying very hard not to spoil

first off here's the game blurb

The five crew members of the Tulpar are stranded in the empty reaches of space, shrouded in perpetual sunset. God is not watching.

and here's the top review on Steam which i think captures the Vibes really well

This feels like a trolley problem but there is no lever and there is no alternate track. you are simply watching a group of people suffer

game is first person PSX psychological horror in space, and i mean some real psychological horror shit. Pony Express long haul ship Tulpar gets stranded in space after an act of sabotage. you will run out of food several months before air. no one is coming. you bonce back and forth between Jimmy, co-pilot suddenly turned leader after a devastating ship failure, and Curly, former pilot turned crispy meat man after a devastating ship failure. the psycho-sexual tension between them is radical

the reason the game is called Mouthwashing is because it's revealed early on that the ship's highly important cargo? the thing you are under absolutely no circumstances to touch? something that needs a full 5 man crew monitoring it 'round the clock for a full year?? mouthwash. tons and tons and tons of mouthwash. this is the only thing the crew has to possibly supplement their diet, which i feel like really sets the tone. from there things go from bad to worse to worse to catastrophe to worse. just. the whole domino effect of how things collapse is one of the best i've ever seen

the characters aren't bad people (mostly >.>), they're just perfectly normal dudes just trying their best. the game then goes on to show what happens when a group of perfectly normal dudes are pushed to the absolute brink. what if you were trapped in an elevator with your coworkers who you only vaguely get along with. hell is other people. but also hell is yourself and how you're treating those other people. also i can't call them out for obvious spoiler reasons but multiple instances of characters just causally dropping a line that had me like. "oh. oh shit. OOOOOHHHH SHIT!!!!!" love it when something like that happens

people smarter than me are dissecting the Imagery and Symbolism in the game like crazy holy shit

ok i think that's as much plot stuff as i can get into without major spoilers (tho since i'm Mouthwashing Posting non-stop everyone here has already seen plenty of spoilers lol, but i feel like this game has a lot of stuff that makes fuck all sense outta context) ok gameplay stuff now

for reasons i'd need an entire separate post to explain Mouthwashing is the sort of story that can only be told via a video game. there's a lot of unique things about video games as a media that people are only really starting to dig into, so if you're even a little interested in that i recommend checking out the game on that alone. the story is told non-linearly to excellent effect, and if you're looking for some good unreliable narrator?? OH BOY!!!! 👌👌 i know the term "walking simulator" is typically used derogatorily but i fucking love a good walking sim. it is really, really hard to pull off a horror walking sim imo given the genre is sorta chill by nature, so that's also a feat of it's own. you are watching people suffer, you are undergoing suffering. it is a game that feels like it actively hates you for playing it because by playing it you have let all this happen

the game is about 2-and-a-half hours, only like 13$ on Steam, and will probably go on sale for Halloween. if you wanna watch a playthru tho (like how i discovered it lol) i highly rec Vinny Vinesauce's 👌

hhng i hope this is a suitable pitch and sorry for the ramble orz

[I HOPE IT HURTS]

this game is heavy so if needed spoiler/trigger warnings for:

as graphic violence as you can get with PSX graphics, alcoholism, starvation, some proper fucked up cannibalism, suicide, murder, referenced sexual assault, scopophbia, and the general hopelessness/claustrophobia/agoraphobia/sanity slippage you would expect from a space horror. all subject are handled tastefully imo. but yeah. it's a lot. if any of that seems like it'd be too much but you're still interested def give the playthru a shot

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 28 (Late): Shy

SWTOR

Time: Very beginning of 3639 BBY (13 ATC)

A/N: This is the Cole Cantarus fic that ran off. Clocking in at 1035 words. @vexa-legacy, here he be.

~~

All was quiet in the hangar.  His breath sent up smoke in the frigid air.  This had been one hell of a year.  He’d started as a CorSec man, finished as a Republic officer, with accolades for restoring his planet to membership in the Republic.  He’d earned his bloodstripes.  He wasn’t the only one. 

Not bad for a hoodlum with an attitude problem.

Cole Cantarus sat in his personal fighter.  He had one, because he’d been captain of the guard for the Corellian Council before they turned traitor.  He’d stripped off the “guard” aspect of the decal, leaving behind symbols of Corellia and his rank: Captain.  Then the Republic had requested his assistance – no joke, they had asked him to help out at Ilum.  If Cantarus had done so well at Coronet City, why not an ice ball?

His canopy was up, indicating that he was in there.  No secret to anybody. 

...but he was relishing the time alone.  It was the first time he could enjoy the silence, here on this frigid planet.  Everything had been loud since the Corellian crisis had started, and it hadn’t died down since he helped blow up the Foundry – some ancient Sithy workshop that Malgus had found.

Most of the credit for the last item went to someone else.  And her Wookiee. 

Eva Corolastor had earned her first-class Corellian bloodstripes too, twice over: she’d liberated the planet and personally had killed a member of the Dark Council.  Sphere of Technology, supposedly. 

As if the very thought of her was magic, Cole heard her footfalls in the hangar.  She permitted him to hear her; he knew how quiet and stealthy she could be.  Cole grabbed the lever on his pilot’s seat and ratcheted it so he was sitting up, rather than lying down (mostly). 

“Hey, Captain.”

“Hey, Captain,” she returned, bright and easy.  “Did you have the same idea I had?”  She unhesitatingly grabbed the bottom of the ladder that led up to his cockpit.

“What’s that?” Cole asked her.

“Leaning back in that pilot’s seat –”

“Uh huh –”

“And fogging up that canopy with someone?”  Eva Corolastor popped her head over the edge of the cockpit and flashed him a winning grin. 

Cole perched his hands on top of his head and guffawed.  “Stars, you aren’t shy.”

“And I’ve managed to avoid frostbite to this point, and I like pressing my luck.”  Eva was very used to getting what she wanted, when it came to men.

He tried to smile back, but even that came reluctantly. 

…he couldn’t give it to her.  Wouldn’t.  Shouldn’t.

And now he’d smiled awkwardly for too long.  “What, been too long since I did a good deed?” Eva asked. 

Now he smiled.  “Naww…”

She teased him, “If you don’t think I haven’t heard about your juvie hall record, you really underestimate me.”  A pause.  “And we did a hell of a thing on the job together… what about off the clock?”

Cole must have shaken his head, slightly, and the lack of words – Eva filled them in herself.

Suddenly, that haunted look he’d seen back on Corellia filled her face.  “Right.  Damaged goods.  Sorry for bothering y--”

And then she disappeared from view, and Cole leaned over the side of his fighter.  She’d slid down the ladder in near record time and was already making tracks back out of the hangar, out toward wherever her ship was parked – he knew the name, he just forgot it so she could escape and he wouldn’t have to lie to cover for her.

God.  Dammit.

“Eva!”

Cole swung himself down onto the ladder, slid down without hesitation (he’d done it every day for weeks now), and ran after her.

His legs were longer than hers, and he managed to catch up and even beat her to the entryway.  “Listen –”  He physically planted himself in front of her, bracing his arm against the doorframe. 

“I get it, Cantarus.”  She looked up at him, just to show him she could do it, and then she looked out into the darkness and the white that was spiral out there. 

“It’s not what… you said.”  Cole didn’t want to get into everything she must have been going through.  He reached out and grasped both of her arms.  “Eva, you are incredible.  But I know you are at the top of the galaxy and at the absolute bottom of it right now, at the same time.”

Cole had heard about the lynch mob.  How Pollaran had slutshamed her, only to have her turn that on its head and have him caught out as a sentient trafficker…and then ---

She was the most powerful criminal in the galaxy, slumming with guys like him.

She was barely 23, and he did know better.

She was wounded, and he wasn’t going to be able to fix it. 

Eva peered up at him with those flat eyes that she pulled out when dealing with officers and hoity toity traitors.  Somehow, she knew what he was thinking.  “I don’t need you to make it feel better.  I just need you as a distraction –”

“I don’t think that’s honest.  For you or me.”

Eva lifted her chin slightly. “Nobody has to know what happens in a hangar with the security holos pulled.”

“I’d know.” 

She stared at him.  Eva did, not the flat-eyed creature.  He felt good about scaring it off. 

“You are such a noble bonehead.” 

Cole looked at her in disbelief.  “Was that supposed to hurt?  No wonder you can’t get rid of Corso Riggs, if that’s all you got.”

He hoped it was enough, just enough –

Then she guffawed and looked more like herself.  “Don’t want to get rid of old Corso anyway.”

“And it hasn’t been that way with him?”  Cole decided that he wasn’t going to be coward about this, and he was pretty sure he could take a punch from her.  She’d probably drop him, but he’d live.

She shook her head, immediately, no hesitation.

Wordlessly, Cole motioned at himself.  “Go for a drink?  As friends with … minimal benefits.”

Eva raised one of her dark brows.

“You pay.”

@fluffyfebruary