#MUSIC. / STRUMMING MY PAIN WITH HIS FINGERS.

[atlas-affogato]

Killing me softly with his song

[thecuriousquest]

Yandere Levi making his favourite cadet cockwarm him while he does paperwork and when she accidentally comes without permission he punishes her 😮‍💨

The Favorite

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, cock warming, orgasms, anal punishment, possessive tendencies, controlling tendencies, nipple play, clit stimulation

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

Sitting on Levi’s cock while he does paperwork at his desk is unbearable. He takes his sweet time, sipping on tea. While he holds his pen in one hand, he brushes his thumb over your nipple. All you want to do is start bouncing, but you know you’ll be punished if you do.

You try to be still, but it’s so difficult. He’s not allowing you to do anything. You can’t even talk.

Squirming for the third time, he pinches your nipple rather harshly, causing you to yelp. You jump from the pain, and with Levi’s hard cock being left inside of you for so long, that little stimulation was all you needed to come.

“You didn’t,” accusation laces his tone.

Blushing so much that the heavens could see your rosy cheeks, you begin to trip over every word of justification that attempts to come out of your mouth. “I…I didn’t mean to…Captain, I swear, it was an accident!”

Putting his pen down, his free hand leaves your nipple. Both paws go straight to your hips as he lifts you up. The amount of juice dripping from your pussy shows just how long you’ve been sitting on his cock.

Hours. You’ve been there for two fucking hours.

“Mhm, didn’t I tell you not to come?”

Your eyes scrunch shut. “I’m sorry.”

“‘I’m sorry’ isn’t an answer, cadet.”

“Yes, I came without your permission. I couldn’t help it, Captain, please!”

“Don’t whine like a fucking brat.”

He finally lowers you back down on his lap, but you feel the tip of his cock in a different place now.

“Oh, Captain, please, it’s gonna hurt…”

“Hush, Darling, it won’t hurt as much since you came all over my dick.”

Slipping through your back entrance is jarring to say the least. You’re shocked at how painful it is, and you bite your lip to keep quiet. However, small whimpers climb from the depths of your throat and work past your swelling lip, giving the captain something to chase as his hips thrust into you.

You want to be still, you want to be good, but it’s too much stimulation. You find yourself leaning back against him. He pays you no mind. Ripping your shirt open with both hands, he pinches your nipple. Using his free fingers, he rubs your sensitive clit in circular motions.

Gasping for air you didn’t know you needed, you rut against him, fucking into his hand with glazed over eyes. It all feels so powerfully good.

“This is why you’re my favorite cadet. You just want to please your master. Such a submissive- hmmm- little fucking slut. Ah, fuck, look at you. You’re not even fighting it.”

You barely even hear him whispering and moaning in your ear. With your tongue hanging out, panting like a messy little pet, you find yourself nodding even though you can’t understand a word he says.

“You’re fucking enjoying this shit. Isn’t that right?”

Mindlessly agreeing, you nod. You couldn’t speak even if you tried. You’re trapped in a white space of bliss, surrounded by pleasure. It’s no longer painful, in fact, it’s peaceful.

“No other man gets to fucking have you like this. Only me. I’m the only one who gets to see you so vulnerable. Fuck, Y/N, I’m the only one who gets to have this tight little cunt.”

Suddenly, you two find yourselves gushing at the same time as he empties himself into you. You leak all over his white pants, too tired to care about the mess.

He pulls you off of him, and you’re so exhausted that you can only lean your head against his shoulder as he holds you in his lap. You can feel him still strumming your bare nipple like the strings of an instrument.

To him, you are his little instrument of pleasure. Your moans and screams are music to his ears, and he conducts you like a symphony. The way he can control every single one of your vocal chords to produce a capturing song is magnificent.

You can’t help giggling at this realization.

“Something amusing to you, cadet?” He looks at you with a stern expression.

“I’m like your little violin.”

You can tell he’s contemplating this by the soft, questioning “hmmm” rumbling in his chest. “Care to explain?”

Yawning, you shift your head on his shoulder, becoming even more comfortable. “I’m your favorite instrument to play with.”

As your eyes finally close, you miss the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Indeed you are.”

[cal-writes]

read some of my wips for the zolu conflic story and figured id share

-

"Ignorance is a bliss is it not?" Brook offers, his skull crooked as she glares down at him. He plucks a single string on his guitar.

"It's not." Nami tells him.

Brook sighs - as much as he can. "Ah, that's unfortunate." And strums an idle melody.

It's late in the evening, just before dinner so there is commotion by the kitchen as Sanji tries to keep Luffy out of it and Usopp and Franky have been hammering away at something all day, perhaps only to fill the silence.

"Brook." Nami says with a sigh, letting her hands fall to her sides. "What did Zoro do?"

Brook's next note is off key as he pretends not to be startled by the question. "What gave you the idea he did anything?"

"I'm not stupid." She wraps her arms around her middle, feeling the cold chill of Thriller Bark seep back into her bones. "What happened between him and Kuma? It can't have been a fight or Luffy wouldn't be so mad."

He plucks his strings, discordant melodies filling the room in between their silent standoff. "Isn't the important thing that we are all still here?" He asks and his voice sounds far away. It stifles the instinctual reaction that bubbles in her throat. The urge to make her frustration known. Brook shakes his head a little to return to the here and now and tilts his head towards her. If he still had eyes, she imagines he would be blinking.

She takes a shaky breath. "I'll just imagine worse."

"Ah." Brook says softly, chin falling. His hands shift on the instrument and he adjusts his finger bones. "A deal was made." He says in tune to the new song he starts.

"What kind of deal?"

"An exchange, of sorts. Kuma had been ordered to bring our dear captain in."

Nami closes her eyes, lets the music wash over her. "Zoro offered himself." She concludes. It seems so simple in hindsight. Brook hums his affirmation in harmony. "But he was still there when we came to."

Brook looks off into the distance, fingers dancing over the saites. "I didn't quite understand it myself at the time. The man, Kuma. His devil fruit ability is truly something else." He shakes his head a little as if to dislodge the memory. "Perhaps Kuma meant it as a test. Trying to discourage Zoro from his resolve." Brook says and Nami almost scoffs. As if anything would be able to stop Zoro once he'd set his mind to something. "He took away all of Luffy's pain and told Zoro to bear it in his stead."

The notes of Brook's song fall heavy in the aftermath.

She swallows hard against the lump in her throat. "What?"

"I mostly heard the screams." Brook says idly, detached and Nami shudders. She can't remember the last time she heard Zoro scream in pain. "Kuma was certain he would perish."

"But he didn't."

"He did not, no." Brook says, inclining his head.

Nami's breath leaves her in a shudder. She'd tried to forget Thriller Bark ever since it happened. The creepy castle, getting kidnapped and nearly married against her will - Brook and Lola were the only good things to come out of that dreadful place. Zoro, so near the brink they weren't sure he was ever going to wake up, much less recover from it all. After Sabaody she had worried, during some lonely nights, if he really was okay. If wherever he had been sent would give him time to heal.

When they had seen each other again he had seemed as good as new if not better and it felt best not to bring up old ghosts.

"Please do keep it to yourself." Brook urges her quietly and with a start she realizes his guitar has fallen silent. "I don't think he ever wanted us to know."

She blows out a breath. Remembers that foolish young man that cut open his own wound before facing down Buggy's crew mate. Who jumped into a pit of water, surrounded by fishmen and rope with Mihawk's wound carved onto his chest. Who found her in Alabasta, wearing more of his blood on his body that could still be inside it and still carried her.

"Of course he doesn't." It comes out more bitter than she means it to.

[pjmsneverland]

Notes: This fic is in the growing pain collaboration with the awesome @napofamoon. Haven’t written this much in a long time and this really inspired me so thank you.

Warnings: shy!reader, rockstar!gyu, musician!reader, vocalist!reader, unprotected sex(don’t.), public sex, implied squirting, dom!gyu, light choking, mention of trauma.

Summary: When Beomgyu and his band meet yn at auditions in his hometown for an opener he finds he’s attracted to more than just her voice and insane guitar skills. Beomgyu makes it his mission to get her alone while on tour and really give her something to sing about. He fears she’s already his new favorite.

Sometimes you think you do a little too much trying to justify your hopes and dreams. Maybe it’s the trauma, the copious amounts of coffee or the fact that you have not shut the fuck up since you discovered your ability to talk and sing. You pant as you wipe down the tables of the diner in preparation to close shop as your coworker, Mark, laughs at the way you hastily switch from table to table.

You had an audition to get to early in the morning and after classes you only had a thirty minute gap to rehearse your song before you had to clock in for the lunch rush.

“Excited for auditions tomorrow?” You crack a smile at him and give a shrug.

“I hope it goes well. Apparently the lead singer, Beomgyu, is super picky so there’s a chance I won’t make it past the first note.” Your stomach plummets at the thought but you chuckle to alleviate your apprehension. Mark rolls his eyes as he pulls out a chair to sit on to give you his undivided attention.

“You release good music and people listen. You’re gonna kick ass yn.” He encourages sincerely.

You smile at the boy shyly and nod.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Of course. Don’t forget me when you're famous.” He quips, rising up from the chair before he pushes it back in.

“Forget you? Never that.”

Mark’s stomach drops at your words but he shakes it off, playfully shoving you before urging you to go home. You insist on staying to close with him but he denies you the pleasure when he snatches the rag from your hands.

-

You carefully cross the busy street of the city as you look around constantly, anxious that you might be in the wrong place but your doubts are put to rest when you see the line outside of the exact building you suspected. The people in the line converse while fans are occasionally getting escorted out for showing up in hopes to meet their heart throb of a boy band. You are wide eyed and curious at the things happening in front of you. Reality starts to set in as you realize you can’t mess this up.

Taking deep breaths is the way you choose to ground yourself as the line gets shorter and shorter until it is your turn to walk on the stage where a table is set up with three of the members sitting with varying expressions. You make a note to yourself to not make eye contact or hold it too long but before you can take your own advice your eyes lock with one of them in particular. He’s dark eyed and his hair is cut to a length that frames his face so beautifully. He smirks as his eyes examine you from head to toe.

“Contestant 7Z please set up your equipment and introduce yourself when you are done.”

You are brought back from your trance at the sound of the man who sits next to the one you were shamelessly drooling over before you begin setting up your electric guitar swiftly. You strum a few times to ensure it is in tune. When that is done with , you put your soundboard on the stand before standing up straight in front of the mic with a wide smile decorating your beautiful face.

“Hi, my name is yn. Hope you enjoy my sound.”

Your fingers begin picking at your strings as you nod your head to the sound before moving over to your soundboard and picking the bass option and singing your first note confidently into the mic. Your performance is not yet interrupted so you continue singing verse to verse and chorus to chorus until you get to the last line and stop your soundboard before playing the last chord.

“Thank you.” You say softly before stepping back and letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Disconnecting your equipment from the jack hastily you zip your guitar back into its case.

“Yn please make your way to one of the seats in the auditorium.” Beomgyu speaks loudly. Your eyes meet his again when he smiles promptly and leans in to whisper something in his bandmates ear, all while keeping eye contact with you. Your stomach turns as you walk down the steps and find a seat. Keeping an eye on the fact that no one else has made an appearance on the stage for the past thirty minutes has you gaslighting yourself into believing that you passed the audition. That or the lead singer is fucking with you and not in the way you would prefer. You stare down at your feet and pout at your anxious state before a shadow looms over your figure and you look up to be greeted with Beomgyu. He startled you and there’s no way you were subtle about the fact.

He chuckles, “ I really liked your song. Best one we’ve heard all day.”

“T-thank you.”

I am going to go home and bury myself in the deepest hole ever.

You think to yourself but if anything it draws Beomgyu in. Who would have thought the girl that can shred on the guitar is so modest with the way she carries herself. You know you’re good but you don’t gloat about it. You seem a little shy too but he doesn’t want to assume since he hasn't gotten the chance to know you yet.

“That being said. It’ll be a pleasure to have you on the road with us.” He leans in closer as his voice lowers to a whisper. Your eyes drop to his lips that he bites down on, attempting to hide his smirk. He’s flirting. He has to be. Your thighs squeeze together at how close he is to you. His skin shines in the auditorium light and you’re quickly realizing you would peel back all your morals if he asked you to.

“Is that a yes, darling?”

“Yeah I’d like that.” You nod and answer softly.

“Good.” He leans in more, making your lips slightly graze his and your pussy jumps at the gesture and Beomgyu’s rationale has flown out the window at this point as he presses his lips to yours gently. He’s testing the waters by trying to be gentle although he wants to bend you over the auditorium chair and make a mess of it. Your body responds late as you didn’t expect to have him on you this soon. Your hand has a mind of it’s own when it finds the way to his long tendrils to tug on them slightly, eliciting a groan from him that vibrates through your whole being.

“Hey! Beomgyu stop eating our opener please?” A voice booms. Beomgyu looks back at his bandmate and smiles mischievously.

“Can’t make any promises!” He shouts back with a wink before turning to face you again.

“Come with me will you?” Beomgyu asks, holds out a tempting hand

All while flustered you nod and take his hand before you are dragged to god-knows-where.

-

You swear your skin is hot as asphalt as Beomgyu kisses every inch of exposed skin he can find before his lips meet yours again and your hands are finding their way under his shirt. His skin is as soft as you imagined and the thought makes you moan into his mouth before you can stop it.

“Fuck. I love your pretty noises.” His hands palm at your tits and your body is leaning into his touch and your questioning what has gotten into you to make you act this way.

“I don-I don’t usually do this.” You say between each of his lustful kisses that fall onto your lips.

“Do what, Pretty?” His voice has your panties soaked and you can’t help but let out a giggle.

“We just met and I’m considering letting you- ya know.” You shy away from saying the term and his eyes that burn holes into you. You know after tonight you won’t be able to mix business with pleasure so the pros seem to be outweighing the cons.

“Stop thinking so much. Do what you think is right. We can stop whenever. Do you want me to stop, Darling?” He tilts his head. You shake your head. Not trusting your voice to not waver.

“You're so quiet. Let’s fix that.” He says lowering himself onto the floor of the bathroom stall, letting his head disappear beneath your skirt. Your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip in anticipation and you feel the rough pads of his fingers move your dampened panties to the side.

“You are soaked, pretty.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, maybe if you pray hard enough you’ll disappear into thin air. He blows onto your wet folds before wrapping his lips around your clit without warning causing your breath to hitch before your mouth falls open in pleasure. Your hands bunch up the frills of your skirt to give you a better view of the beautiful man devouring you like you're his last meal that he will ever have. Audible squeals are leaving your mouth as you try to force yourself to be quiet but Beomgyu finds entertainment in the fact that because of him you are struggling to keep your quiet and shy act going much longer.

“Want you so bad.” You moan out.

His eyes meet yours as he his mouth makes out with your clit and your hands frantically search for something to hold on to and before you have time to solve the issue yourself Beomgyu is lacing his fingers through yours as he sucks on your clit in the most perfect way. So perfect that it has your mouth falling open and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Ungh yes right there! Mm-”

Your body is on the edge of finishing when he breaks away from your center and kisses your lips with your essence glistening on his lips and chin. It’s messy and in any other case you’d find it gross but here in this bathroom stall you want him to take his dick out and ravish you mercilessly.

“Taste so fucking good.” He whispers against your lips.

“Please.” You say, looking into his eyes.

“Please, what baby?” He smirks cockily.

“Fuck me, Gyu.”

He’s shocked at your words as you stare at him all docile and doe-eyed while speaking such vulgar words. Your hands trail down to the button of his ripped jeans and undo them slowly before following up with his zipper. You keep eye contact with him as the plush of your pink lips are gnawed on by his teeth. Your movements are slow and cautious as you stare at his face to gauge hiseaction.

You’re taken aback when he smacks your hand away and turns you around so your ass is facing him and your cheek is pressed to the cold wall of the stall.

“If that’s what you want.” He breathes out as he palms at his hard length. Letting his other hand touch your center slowly. You’re soaked and with every touch he’s becoming more and more full of pride that it’s because of him. His tip grazes you, testing the waters as he lets his length rub your clit as you hiss, sensitive from all his ministrations and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding when he enters you. Your whole body shivers in content as he starts thrusting into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking me so good.” His hand finds the back of your neck ,pushing you further into the cool wall, keeping a firm hold on you. You know you’re not gonna last long at this rate. You’re struggling to keep quiet as moans tumble out of your mouth.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He whispers, warm breath hitting your scorching skin.

“Yes-please right there-”

He gives a particularly rough thrust, eliciting a gasp from you as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. The gesture is quite romantic, out of bounds for the image you created for Beomgyu but you’re too far gone to dwell on it.

“Gyu, I’m gonna cum-” You whimper out, feeling tears form in your eyes.

Beomgyu tuts at your words, pulling out of you and flipping you around so you’re facing him now. His lips capture yours in a rough kiss as he lifts you on the ground, guiding your legs to sit around his waist.

“Wanna see that pretty face when you cum.��� He says, keeping intense eye contact that you attempt to stray away from but he realizes and he’s having none of it. His hand grabs your face firmly, getting the timing just right as he thrusts into you once again.

“Look at me. Or I’ll stop.” He’s stoic although he’s enjoying this more than you are. You, wet as can be as you hang around his neck like the finest diamond. Finer than any Cuban link that’s ever adorned his neck. You’re a moaning, squelching mess and he knows you're close as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

“T-too much-fuck,Gyu don’t stop.” Your eyes roll back in ecstasy and his thrusts become more brutal as he’s determined to give you what you’ve been waiting for.

“Nuh-uh eyes on me, he adjusts your gaze with his hand again. Your fucked put face bringing him to his end as he puts his fingers in your mouth and fucks you roughly.

“I’m-right there, yeah.” You mumble around his fingers, body shivering.

“There?” He teases, knowing the answer.

“There!” You clench around him so beautifully as he watches moisture fall out of you onto the ground.

“Fuck baby.”

His hand that isn’t occupied toys with your clit as he pulls out of you to let his hand bring you to another dimension and that it does as you scream in pleasure and push his hand away from your center.

“Want me to stop?” He asks, searching your face.

“Yes-no-fuck. S’ just a lot.” You speak clearly when he removes his fingers from between your pretty lips. He smiles, drunk on you and your body. His new favorite. You.

[matty-bear]

♫ Guitarist! Matt ♫ Head-canons

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: sfw, fluff, brief mention of blood

summary: what it’s like to date matt when he’s a guitarist! 

notes: first actual post so bear with me if it’s lowkey ass. thinking about making dummer!chris head-canons so lmk if you’d like that! 

dialogue color guide! pink: you blue: matt

WC: 790

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

♪ takes his practice VERY seriously. he usually practices with chris in his room when they wanna learn a song together but if he’s not in his room, he’s chilling with you in y’all’s room. 

♪ he would spend hours on end attempting to learn a single song or riff. (especially if he’s learning one of your favorite songs or if you gave him a recommendation. he wants to give you the best yk) you have to force him to take breaks sometimes because he just refuses to stop until he gets it perfect. 

“baby, I think you should take a little break. you seem a little too worked up over this.” 

“i’m almost there! i just need to get this riff down.” 

♪ you’ve had to take the guitar away from him when he was playing so much to the point that his fingers were bleeding. he ends up putting up a fight every time and reassures you that it doesn’t hurt at all.

“matt, blood is on your strings. how does that not hurt?”

“it’s natural, love! i’m used to it, don’t worry. If i was in pain, i would’ve stopped by now.”

“let me clean your fingers up at least.” 

♪ he then allows you to drag him to the bathroom to help clean up his fingers. winces every time your brush over the blisters with rubbing alcohol, which earns a light scolding from you telling him that he should pay more attention to what he’s doing. 

♪ gets so excited when you tell him that you wanna learn. he doesn’t allow you to find another guitar teacher since he’s right there. 

♪ when he’s teaching you, you’re sitting on his lap with his guitar on your thighs. he takes his hand in yours and gently walks you through each chord. (uses this as an excuse to hold your hand) 

bonus! gives you a small kiss on the neck or cheek whenever you strum a chord correctly. he loves to see you get flustered when he does it. 

♪ you stay up with him pretty late to watch him play. you often fall asleep when he plays slow songs. shits just so calming. 

♪ you enjoy kissing him on the lips, forehead, and cheek when he successfully plays through a song he’s been struggling with as a little reward. the faint blush on his cheeks that follows is absolutely adorable and you tend to tease him a little about it. 

♪ you’re his no1 fan when he records covers for his instagram and tiktok. when he finally posts the cover, you’re the first to hype him up and comment on how amazing he did. (the fans adore how supportive you are) 

♪ when he’s in a clingy mood and needs to practice, he’s lying against you while you sit up or sitting on your lap. as he plays, you card your fingers through his hair, massage his scalp, and rub his shoulders. he gets so relaxed by your touch that he ends up ditching his practice to nap against you. 

“what about your practice? you’ve been complaining all day that you need to get this song down before tomorrow.”

“too tired, it can wait. can you keep going please? i love when you play with my hair.”

♪ enjoys when he asks for a kiss every time he plays something correctly. even if he already had the song down, he demands for a kiss from you to keep him “motivated.” 

“please love? just one more kiss.” 

“baby, i played the riff right. don’t you think i need a little reward?” 

♪ when you’re struggling to fall asleep, he plays a soft tune on his guitar to lull you to sleep. it works EVERY time. 

♪ you love going to the music store with him and watching him geek out over guitars. (y’all end up leaving with him buying a new guitar and gear)

♪ you comment on how you think a certain guitar is pretty? he’s buying it right then and there and is playing it until it breaks or you say another one is nice. 

♪ you find this hobby of his SO attractive. like yes, you deeply enjoy listening to him play but watching how his long and slim fingers dance once the fret and strings just causes you to freak out a little. you’re a mess when he’s in an all black outfit and is lazily strumming his guitar. he just looks so good ?!? (he ends up teasing you when he catches you staring at him with rosy cheeks) 

♪ sometimes plays so loud to the point that nick has to yell at him to turn it down before they get another noise complaint. 

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Musician Dilf Miguel O'hara x Reader HCs

MDNI!! (Large age gape, thinking of making a nsfw part two!!) I have not been able to get this out of my head 😩 I have so much to say, so let's begin! He's very soft in this one <3

Musician Dilf Miguel, who started his career MUCH later than others in the industry. After years of sorting out a very messy divorce, he realized that even though he's just broken the barrier between 39 and 40, he has too much life left to live it unhappily. He began writing songs, poems, and relearning the guitar.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who got a small gig on Friday nights, singing at a cafe you work at. You can't help but become entranced by the older man, distracted every Friday while attempting to pay off at least a bit of your student debt.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who despite his strong build and serious demeanor, sings melancholic and slow songs. He strums away at a mahogany acoustic guitar, his voice singing softly into the shoddy microphone, smooth like honey. His cheeks are flushed slightly from the strong heating in the small perimeters of the cafe. He pours out his most painful and private emotions, thick fingers creating a delicate melody under his meaningful lyrics.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who begins keeping you company every week while you close up the shop. You caught his eye just as quickly as he caught yours. Sometimes, it feels like he's singing to you. He can't help it, once his eyes meet yours, he just can't break it. The two of you quickly click, making conversation as you wipe down the counters. Miguel always insists on helping, and you always insist on saying no.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who you started seeing romantically a couple of months after his first gig. He's never met someone that makes him feel the way you do (not even his ex-wife 😬). One Tuesday evening, just before closing, you hear a small bell as the door opens. You huff, rolling your eyes at the person who ignored the CLOSED sign displayed in the window, "I'm sorry, we're 10 minutes from closing-" As you turn to look at the unwanted customer, your eyes quickly light up as you see an almost shy Miguel, hiding half of his blushing face with a huge bouquet of deep red flowers, his prominent cheeks matching the tint. You walk over to him, wiping your busy hands on the apron tied around your hips. "What's all this for?" You ask as he extends his strong arms pushing the flowers to your chest. "Dinner?" Was the only thing he could mutter out. It's hard to believe this is the same man who pours his heart out on stage.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who you encouraged to quit his dead-end office job after being offered a contract. He spent months hopping around different bars and cafes taking advantage of open mic nights. He's not the type to take risks though. The thought of a music career flopping after quitting his steady job made him sick to his stomach. You were the one to push him to follow his dreams. "Do what you think will make your heart happy. I'll be here no matter what happens."

No one has ever said that to him before.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who quickly BLOWS UP. He released his debut album after signing with a label, unsure if it was the right move. However, his doubts were soon soothed after he grew a massive fan base. You tease him after his debut album sold a whopping 3 million copies, telling him you knew he could do it.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who can't stand anything that has to do with publicity, but damn is he good at it. Advertisements, photoshoots, interviews, you name it, he's incredible. Miguel is as charming as ever in interviews, making viewers at home swoon and rush to stream his latest song. Although he hates to admit it, he was born for this.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who writes most of his songs about you. Despite the millions of fan-girls, or the pretty celebrities he's surrounded by at events, the only girl he has eyes for is you. A love song he wrote for your 1 year anniversary became one of his most popular, charting almost immediately. Comments ranged from melody lovers, to desperate, feral fan-girls.

"I need the tabs for the guitar part at 2:37"

"Use the like button as here before 50 million"

"Find yourself a man like this 🥺"

"I'm 68 years old this year. Haven't heard music like this in a long time. He must really love that girl... reminds me of my late wife 👍"

"He's such a dilf 😩😩I need this man RELIGIOUSLY. I want to wear his skin."

It's safe to say he's quite popular.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who loves to show you off, slinging his arm around your shoulder when he spots a paparazzi. You're favorite new pass time is looking at news articles, laughing at the ridiculous nature of them all.

"Who is y/n l/n? Everything we know about Miguel O'hara's girlfriend."

"Fourty three and twenty five: The hottest celebrity age gaps"

"New it-girl alert! Y/N L/N, Miguel O'hara's girlfriend shows off stylish new nail trend in latest Instagram post."

"Y/N L/N shows off legs in new poolside pics... Click here to see photos!"

"Watch: Miguel O'hara gushes over girlfriend in latest interview, 'She's my muse'."

"Since the beginning: The unlikely and adorable love story of Miguel O'hara and Y/N L/N"

The press loves your relationship (for the most part). Sometimes, the attention is overwhelming, but it's almost always entertaining. Miguel constantly reassures you that if anything upsets you, he can easily take care of it.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who loves when you attend his concerts, eyes searching for yours in the sea of devoted fans. He has to actively stop himself from staring at you throughout the entirety of the show.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who tightly holds your hand as the winner of Album of the Year is about to be announced. He couldn't even focus on his nerves for half the night, too busy thinking about how beautiful you looked in your custom Chanel dress, but now it's all sinking in.

"And the Grammy goes to... 'Un Amor Más Fuerte Que Los Diamantes', Miguel O'hara!"

As applause explodes throughout the room, it's muffled out by the pure adrenaline coursing through you veins. The two of you jump out of your chairs and immediately, Miguel's arms are wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight. You hold him, quickly kissing him, before ushering him to get up on stage. His usual stoic expression is broken as he smiles bigger than ever. Miguel looks at you while making his speech, thanking you for believing in him and telling you that he loves you more than anything.

Musician Dilf Miguel, who took you engagement ring shopping the very next day.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[ecruvianfancontent]

FIDDLEFORD PSA!!!!!!

OKAY, THIS HAS BEEN DRIVING ME ABSOLUTELY BONKERS FOR A WHILE NOW.

Dear Fiddleford McGucket fanartists:

First of all: draw how you want. The following is not intended to be judgmental, just educational. <3

On to business:

Here is how you fingerpick a banjo.

This is three-finger. There are more styles, but this is how I play. (I did not include fingerpicks because Fidds doesn't use them in the show and they're a pain to draw; you can also play just fine without them, although they are useful.)

Fingerpicking is usually done on a five-string banjo. Old Man McGucket's theme sounds like it's fingerpicked to me. Please note that your pinky and ring finger are planted on the banjo itself, next to the strings.

The first two images are to show posture, the third image is what it would look like to draw:

When I'm just holding my banjo and not playing it, my pinky and ring finger just naturally rest this way because it's comfy.

Here is how you play clawhammer style.

This is just an approximation; I almost never play clawhammer. The big thing is that your fingers curl in in a "claw" and you pick with your thumb.

Here are the tuning pegs on a five-string banjo.

In the show, Fiddleford has a four-string banjo, not five-string. (We see two banjos; they are both four-string.) Honestly, that surprised me. I'm not sure what the folk scene looked like in the 80s, but most players you see today have five-strings, so I think they were just streamlining the design.

EDIT: I was wrong! His banjo has a disappearing and reappearing fifth nut!

A four-string banjo has four tuning pegs at the top, like any other instrument. The fifth tuning peg is about a third of the way down the neck.

BONUS: Nobody gets into this much detail, but clever eyes will notice that the string widths look funny. If you have played a bass or guitar, you're used to the top string being lowest and thickest, the bottom string - which is the "first" string - being highest and thinnest. A four string banjo is tuned like this, but with a five-string banjo, the fifth string is the same diameter as the first.

Anyway, there are plenty of great banjo video and image tutorials on the internet if you want to get into the weeds, but I got the impression that a lot of you have literally never seen a banjo being played often enough to even realize how different it is from a guitar. Some people absolutely do strum banjos like guitars - in fact, I think that's more common with four-strings - but the McGucket music we hear is very obviously not being strummed.

There! Now you may freely choose to draw his hand however you want to, and it won't be from a place of ignorance. <3

(Oh, one last thing: that round thing that comprises the body of the banjo is literally just a drum. Drumming it is fun. You can and should draw Fiddleford tapping his banjo with the tips of his fingers like I do.)

[desomniis]

to ask for your hand (I just pray that its mine) | Chapter 3 excerpt

After clinching his third career win at the Vegas GP, Carlos wakes up to a wedding band on his finger and his teammate, Charles, wearing the exact match.

WIP | 3/5 | 18,130 words | Accidental Drunk Marriage in Vegas AU | Fluff | Angst | Drama

‼️WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD‼️

“No! I will set the music,” Carlos argued, keeping Charles at arm's length so he could scroll through Spotify, looking for the perfect song for their first dance as newlyweds. They were in his suite’s living room, just the two of them. Lando and Pierre already back in their own hotel rooms, shit-faced drunk.

“I think I will choose a better music, please.” Charles plead.

“Ah, so you think you have better taste than me.”

“I definitely have better taste than you. I play the piano.”

“And my theme song is Smooth Operator. The best song ever.”

Charles laughed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Carlos laughed along. “Yours does not make sense either.”

“Baby, come on, please. I want to pick our song.”

Carlos considered it for a moment. “Okay, but no sad music. I know you.”

“I’ll choose something nice, I promise.”

“And you won’t argue with me when I teach you how to dance,” Carlos added.

Charles nose scrunched ever so slightly. “You make it seem like I’m so bad at dancing.”

“You are. I can already feel you stepping on my toes. So, do you agree or no?”

“Okay. I won't argue.”

Carlos handed Charles the phone, a pleasant ache settling in Carlos’ chest as he watched Charles excitedly pick their song. After a moment of scrolling, the soft strums of guitar filled the room. Lover of Mine by John Vincent III, the screen showed.

“Okay, Professor Sainz, show me how to dance.” Charles stood stiff, hands on his sides like a soldier.

“Professor Sainz-Leclerc,” Carlos corrected, emphasising on Leclerc.

Charles giggled. “Oh, I’m sorry, Professor Sainz-Leclerc.”

“Corretto! Such a good student. Now, let’s see how you do. So, first, you go like this,” he took one of Charles’ hands and placed it on his shoulder, resting his own on Charles' hips. “Then, give me your other hand.” Their hands aligned, palms open. Their fingers interlaced with each other, fitting together as seamlessly like two pieces of a puzzle. Charles' hands were cold, just like the gold of his ring, glinting under the light. Carlos remembered the words etched underneath: Finchè no ci separi. ‘Till death do us part.

Carlos continued, “And then—watch my feet—you move like, ta, ta, ta, ta and ta, ta, ta, ta. Simple.” He moved his feet just like how Mama taught her.

“Ohhh, Easy! I got this,” Charles said, mimicking Carlos’ movement, focusing on his feet. It went well the first few steps before he managed to step on Carlos' toe. Charles’ head shot up, wide eyes, lips pursed and dimples out—guilty as a deer caught in the headlights. He burst into a fit of giggles—music to Carlos’ ears—his head instinctively falling on Carlos’ shoulder, making him stumble a little.

It would've made Carlos’ heart flutter if he wasn't trying to stomach the pain. “You got this, you say,” he chided.

“I’m sorry. I swear, I won’t do it again,” he promised, looking back at his feet to make another attempt.

“Uhuh, you say, but then you’ll step on my— Agh!” Charles stepped on his toes again, as predicted. “Now you’re just doing it on purpose.”

“No, I promise, I’m not. I thought I got this.” He was still giggling. “Show me again, please. I want to get it right.”

“You have to move together with me, just follow my steps.”

"Okay. Together," Charles repeated, shuffling his feet, trying to get it right. "So, we either move together or nothing.”

“That’s right. Together or nothing.”

Carlos showed him again. And again. And again. Until Charles stopped stepping on his toes, until he finally found the rhythm, until they were actually dancing, swaying slowly around the room. Just the two of them in each other's arms, hands intertwined, together in their own world.

Read the whole chapter here. Ask me questions!

[frenchbreadandeggs]

Willow

CW!: attempted r*pe, violence, fem! reader

°This took me a while and I am surprised this finished first than the Yasuo fic I was writing. I haven't proofread this so you have been warned!

Kayn had yet to wander around the woods again.

Or any place that has woods really.

He had successfully beaten Rhaast unintentionally but with a cost of loneliness. Talking to the scythe or per se the Darkin was all he had after Zed died and killing Jhin.

This happens whenever he slanders groups or goblins that he finds in his way. Stealing their valuable belongings and selling them to merchants. It's rare for him to take any interest in them, he just wants power—to kill. He would then go to the nearest forest, walk around or take a stop and listen to the whispering sounds of the trees.

He thinks it's much better than silence and denying the fact that he missed Rhaast's Darkin ramblings.

Today was different or so he thought.

He saw a camp with small bandits and thought of a chance to swiftly kill them and steal goods. The unlucky part was that they called reinforcements, almost catching Kayn and leaving wounds around his body as he escaped.

Almost

He thought, it was fine at least. It is better to go home with heavy wounds than to be dead.

Kayn limped to a village, a possible scenario coming in his head: as he limps towards the village, someone would spot him, help him clean and heal his wounds, and with him fully healed he can have the chance to steal—if they resisted he would not give them any chance to live.

Instead of lively markets and kids running around—he found an abandoned village.

"Today is not my lucky day, I see."

Despite the calmness, he wanted to throw a fit and scream. He can't die because of blood loss from a big wound given by a stupid hunk taller than him. He shouldn't be!

Kayn rested his back on the brick wall of an abandoned house and sat. He couldn’t see or hear any noise but the wind passed by his ear as it sang.

The sun was going down, a sunset. Colors of orange-red and the faint yellow slowly disperse as a deep blue color rises into the sky with the glittering stars. Other than listening to the silent melancholy of the forest, Kayn thinks the sight of the night sky is beautiful. He can make out the constellations or even make a new one.

He looked down at his resting body, dried blood and grime. Kayn grimaced when he moved his body to make himself comfortable. He should think of something that could help stop the blood, wrap a cloth around it before he could drop on the sandy floor and slowly die from blood loss.

A soft melody he heard. His ears perked like a cat hearing its prey. Kayn shakily stood up, the scythe as his support. Putting his weight on the brick walls Kayn limps again to follow the sound lingering to his ear.

The moonlight glowed on a tree—a weeping willow tree perhaps. Its leaves softly danced with the wind, the melody becoming louder. There he saw a lone girl, sitting under the tree a lute cradled with her hands.

Kayn stopped and stared at the girl in silence. Eyes would move to the birds flocking around the girl and look back at the girl. He could see her fingers strumming on the strings and her eyes closed as if she is also drowning in her music as Kayn is.

He felt tired. The heaviness on his shoulder didn’t help, his head then started to spin and his vision went blurry.

Pain shot his side, Kayn gasped for air and cupped his hands at the side to grab his scythe. His heart fell when he couldn't feel the familiar weapon. Noticing he was sitting on a bed almost smaller than him and the bandages neatly wrapped around his wounds.

"You're… awake." A soft voice emerged from the door he didn't notice. 

His eyes widened at the person standing at the door, "You… you are that person playing the lute." Kayn internally cringed at the roughness of his voice, he saw the flinch of the girl's body.

An easy target

You placed down the wooden tray beside him and poured tea on his cup and gave it to him, "Drink it, it will regain your strength—or at least help you."

Kayn reluctantly accepted the cup from you. He couldn't trust you immediately, though he is injured and the scythe is nowhere to be found so he is helpless in your hands.

At least he could try befriending you before killing or selling you.

He quickly drank the tea clean and right after Kayn asked your name.

"...I don't tell my name to people like you."

Kayn's fake smile fell, "What?"

"No—I can't tell you my name." You didn't elaborate why and left him alone in the room, leaving the tray beside Kayn.

He tried to stand up and catch up to you but the gash on his torso sent him a painful feeling. Kayn cursed under his breath, the wound had opened and blood started to seep in the pristine bandages. 

Have you ever tried to stitch his wound while he was unconscious? Or were you doing it on purpose knowing who he is.

Nothing to do, Kayn laid down on the bed and stared at the dully looking ceiling, cobwebs in each corner of the room. His eyes squinted, there were drawings on the ceiling from stick man to trees and ugly looking houses. This might have been a child’s room, he wouldn’t know at first because there was nothing in the room other than the dresser and the bed he’s using. 

What are you doing right now? Maybe you found out that he is a wandering assassin and also found his scythe—

He shot from his bed, he winced loudly enough for you to hear.

“What is wrong with you!?” You cried as you ran to the assassin curling in the bed. 

You shoved his arms away from his torso to take a look at his bandages. Horror filled your face. The bandages you wrapped around him in the morning have been soaked by his blood, you lightly touched the bloody part of his torso, red painted your whole palm.

“Ev-everything is blurry.” 

The assassin weakly stretched his hand toward you as you hurriedly took your lute.

“Don’t move.” You said as you prepared your lute. Surprisingly, he followed and slowly lay down on the bed. His eyes never left you.

You closed your eyes and started to strum your lute.

Slowly, Kayn’s eyes were closing and his breathing became calm, but you didn’t stop. The faint green glow from the assassin’s torso brightened as you quickly played the instrument. Your breathing became rigid and your heart quickly ran, you needed to at least close his wound completely, forget the anesthesia later.

When you felt the wound slowly closing you stopped playing and took a deep breath. You never healed a person for awhile, especially this critical. You were taught to heal small scratches and cuts from knives, not in this kind of situation.

You placed the lute beside the bed and opened the dresser to take the bandages. 

Slowly, you removed the soaked bandages with a swift cut after you reached out to pluck a tone out of your lute. You throw the bandage somewhere in the room, you take note to throw it in a proper place later after patching the man’s wounds.

You took your lute and the bloody bandage and left the room.

Bard! That man is dangerous!

“I couldn’t let him lay there bloodied.” 

He is a wandering assassin! Zed’s child!

“You, little bird, should stop snooping around people’s business. Also I don’t know who Zed is and I don��t want to know what he does.”

You shaked off the sparrow and walked outside the house to do the things you usually do. You swing the lute behind you and throw the dirty bandage beside the work table.

Were you injured!?

Bard there is an injured fawn! Help him!

You ignored the question and hastily followed the forest wolf to the woods.

“Ah, stepped on a bear trap.” You winced as you looked at the trap gritting on the fawn’s left leg. The fawn turned its head at you and tried to run but fell. You slowly walked towards the forest animal, careful not to startle it.

“It’s okay, I can help you.” You said with softness in your voice, scared that it would try to run and hurt itself even more. You reached your hand to pet the fawn’s body and it calmed, its head slowly laid on the grass. This was your time to use your lute again.

Thank you for treating my son, bard of healers. Said the mother. You are the only one I trust among the humans.

“There are others that are like me, you don’t see them often.” You said to the mother deer who is laying down in front of you with her children, the fawn you healed is on your lap as you continuously pet his head.

Quite unlucky then. Unlike you, they hunt us and use our heads as trophies, I am glad a person like you exists. A gem.

“Well I exist to help the injured, nothing special about the bard of healers mama doe.”

Hmpf! Nonsense, you do not place traps in the forest.

“Speaking of traps, I will remove them so you and the other families can roam freely.”

You stood up, the mother followed you and her other children. The fawn who laid on your lap ran to his mother.

What do you say to her?

Thank you bard!

“You are most welcome.” You said, putting your green cloak on and its hood over your head.

You waved the family goodbye and started to walk back to the village to get your pack for taking out traps and ropes scattered in the forest.

“I did not know you were strange.”

You froze on your tracks, the crunch of leaves slowly drew near you. It stopped when a hand grabbed your arm and forced you to turn around. Gosh you hate having those eyes stare at you like you were prey. You tried to shake his grip on you but it tightened instead.

“Let go of me.” You gritted between your teeth. How could this man recover so quickly even losing that much blood, you couldn’t imagine the possibilities that this man is immortal.

Your heart dropped when he chuckled, his wicked smile fading when he looked at you.

“Not until you explain what you did to my wound.” 

Kayn aggressively dragged you down the hill, ignoring your trips on rocks here and there. When you two reached the house Kayn’s grip on you let go as he almost threw you on the wall. You gripped on the chair beside you.

“Sit.”

It was risky if you tried to fight him and you were drained from healing two things an hour apart. So you sat, quietly as you stared at his eyes. He stared back at you while he leaned on the door frame, ready to capture you if you tried to escape.

“Obedient. You are smart not to go against me.” Kayn said as he lifted himself from the frame, slowly advancing his way towards you.

“I recommend you not to hurt me.” You spoke, clutching your back to ease the aching pain Kayn had caused. “That will cause you problems.”

Kayn scoffed, leaning down at the level of your face. Your noses an inch close to touching, “Why? A healer isn’t rare around the place, no?”

You bit your lip. Healers… were not rare— not, until slave traders raided the village and took everyone except for you. This person might not know about the abduction years ago or he is insulting you and your people.

“You don’t know what is circling in your veins.”

“My veins?” Kayn’s eyes widened as he stood away from you, his brows then furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Your wound, the big one on your torso is infected. The weapon used might be spelled by venom, if you kill me no one will heal or help you.”

“Why?”

“You’re a wandering assassin.”

You quickly raise your arm and slashed Kayn’s arm with a whip. He quickly dodged but the end of your whip still hit him, earning a slash on his arm. You saw him raising his hand to his back, his face fell when he realized there was nothing hanging on his back.

“Where is it?!” Kayn screamed, his panicked cries caught you off guard. He looks like a child throwing a tantrum because he couldn’t find his toy. You would expect more anger from him, charge at you immediately when he noticed his little toy was taken away from him.

Kayn looked around the empty room, hoping he could find his scythe and kill this girl for threatening him. You rolled your temporary whip and hung it at the back of your waist, walking up to him you looked down meeting his eyes.

“Let me be your companion, then I can heal you.” As you stared at him you pointed the lone cabinet at the other side of the room. Expected, Kayn scrambled up to his feet and ran towards the cabinet and opened it.

Kayn smiled as he raised his scythe as a trophy, “Hah I have you again—” he turned around, “Oh I can not wait to have your blood on my scythe hea—”

You were not in the room. Kayn had realized, his smile becoming sickening knowing that you had run away—scared of the scythe, him. Kayn likes a swift death, a death the victim could not expect but he likes it when people try to run away from him, beg for his mercy—it was his definition of fun . With his grip on the scythe Kayn walked out of the room to chase you down.

Or so he thought.

He saw you, instead of running, was on the floor packing things in your big bag. Kayn stood there, confusion painted on his face, confused why were you not running away—crying for your dear life. You had noticed his gloomy presence behind you as you finished packing your things with a big zip of the bag.

You stood up from the dusty cement and swinged the bag to your back.

“I do not think you have anything with you, we should go.”

"You know I could kill you—"

"But you did not." You said as you whirled around to face the assassin. His messy hair, uneven breathing as he desperately gripped his scythe gave you the hint not to push his buttons. Simply, you turned against him and continued with your business.

Walking to the workshop standing at the back of your house, you gave it a swift brush on the surface and whispered i will miss you and stretched your hand to let the birds rest. Years of using the desk, you finally—maybe buy a new one if the possible journeys with the assassin give you money.

You looked at the empty desk, remembering the memories and the things you made with it.

‘I’m going to have a better one’

Stay with us!

I miss you already!

She is old enough to make her decisions, let her be.

Glancing at the birds on your arm, their bickering and attempts to talk to you made your lips twitch a smile. A yellow bird flew on your shoulder, you can hear its small chirps in order to talk to you.

“Now now,” You laughed, as a hoard of animals surrounded you. “Let’s not be mushy, it will be hard for me to leave.”

“I have not accepted you coming with me, healer.” A hushed voice hissed at you, making your eyes roll and politely made the animal get off you.

Looking at him with a hard gaze, you crossed your arms, “Then you can leave without me,” Your face softened, but your lips pressed in a thin line, “But you are going to die in a few hours or so.”

“What is it?!” Kayn desperately asked, his eyes intensely looked down at your form.

“A venom spell from black magic, only born of healers, could remove that from a human’s body.”

A white barn owl flew past Kayn, hitting his head on purpose and landed on your shoulders. You smiled as you communicated with your feathery friend, as it asked to be your animal companion in your adventures.

Kayn could only stare at you, if he is fully healed by you, later on he will kill you.

Kayn thinks of how he could kill you in a hundred ways while traveling city to city, while you on the other hand are talking to your now new companion. Animals who talk to you don't necessarily need to open their mouth and speak with barks, meows, or chirps—they would look at you and speak in your mind, you don’t know how that is possible but you are determined to figure it out while on your journey with the assassin.

Be careful around him, I can’t be that much of a help—but I will try my best to protect you.

“Do not fret about it, there is a reason I own a work desk for items I use around the forest.”

I trust you, bard. I am your animal companion after all.

The owl broke his gaze from you for a second and turned his neck to you.

He is deep in thought I suppose.

You looked at your back to see Kayn talking to himself, you couldn’t figure out what he was saying, you hoped it wouldn't be the ways on how he could kill you.

“I mean, he is the first man who came here after a few years… of the raid. So he would be a good shot, I can’t wait for another ten years for a person to find this place.” 

I agree, Ishlacan Village is a hidden place.

‘was’  You frowned at your thought of the hidden place of your village being found.

Your owl noticed the change of your expression and flapped his wings to get your attention.

Let us… call the assassin, he might lose his mind.

"You," you called, earning the assassin's attention, "Your name."

He looked at you, both of his eyes going up and down to yoir form as if you were something before replying to you.

"Kayn."

" Kayn? " you narrowed.

He glared, "Kayn."

"Alright, Kayn. I decided to be your traveling companion until I found clues about my people's disappearance, and of course, until the venom is cured and you are fully healed."

"A horrible decision."

"But it benefits us both, is it not?"

He didn't say anything to your commentary, so you think he agreed. He slightly agreed . Walking up to him, you handed a bottle to him—it was runny and clear like water, but it was sparkling.

"What is that?" Kayn eyed the bottle like a picky kid, his eyes looking at you and to the bottle.

"Medicine for the venom in you— I do brews with my magic, it is convenient when I can't use my magic." you replied, crossing your arms after Kayn reluctantly accepted your medicine.

"Does it fully heal?"

"No,"

Somehow you think you saw Kayn's ears flop like a sad wolf for a minute before you continued.

"I have them packed with me so do not worry. You drink once a day—when emergencies then you will drink extra."

What happens when the emergency comes with no medicine of yours, bard?

'Then we have no one to guard us.'

"Does this actually work?"

"Obviously,—are you doubting my magic?"

"This is brewed—"

"By my magic, I made it so we won't be stopping minute by minute to unwrap your bandage and heal you directly inside the deep forest."

"You get tired by using your magic?"

"Like all people who wield magic, it drains us like how people fight using their energy."

He looked at you before drinking the whole bottle, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his palm. You reached your hand to him, he stared at it before realizing that you needed the bottle back. 

The bottle now stashed in your bag, you whispered to your owl before he flew away.

“Where is it going?” Kayn looked up at the sky trying to look for your animal companion.

“Tyto is scouting for anything unusal.”

The walk was silent, you were actually nervous as you disabled the traps you see. Kayn could kill you here and there in the deep woods, after all that is what an assassin does, excecute you in times you don’t excpect, or in the dark—but fortunately he was just there following you, the crunch of the dead leaves against his boots audible to your ears.

It was a bad idea to have him follow you at the back, but you know Tyto is looking down at you—ready to call for assistance from the animals living in the forest.

After you disabled a trap, you heard Kayn clear his throat.

“What?” You said, not looking at him but looking for the traps you could find.

“What happened to your people?” He asked. It made you stop. You never get that question very often, not only there were no people stumbling on your abandoned village but the animals you talked to had witnessed it.

“Gone. Kidnapped by raiders.” You continued on your way.

It was silent. You sighed.

“You want a story time? Sure.”

You took a stick and used it to poke the ground.

“My ancestors were mages, but a few hundred years ago we were seperated in groups by what magic we could do. I was born with the hands of a healer, we are named Ishlacan—we often have special abilities when we reach the age of six. And I, can speak and understand animal language.” You raised your sleeve and showed your inner wrist to the assassin, a green tattoo of the caduceus to distinguish your people from others and to be a proud healer.

You lowered the sleeve to your hand where it couldn’t be seen, “ I remember it was daylight when it happened, children my age are running around with me near the fountain waving their hands to boast their newly formed magic. We would laugh and run away from their scolding mothers telling us not to play the magic blessed to us.”

Your grip on the stick tightened, “There was a scream, then before I knew it the raiders found our village. Taking children, women, and even men—the ones who go against them were knocked conscious or beaten into submission.”

Both you and Kayn immediately looked up after a familiar screech. Tyto flew to your shoulders.

A marketplace up ahead, there are swarms of people.

“What did it say?”

“A marketplace,” You placed your hood up and looked at Kayn, “Are you coming?”

“No,” Kayn replied, his brows knitted as if you said something wrong, “I prefer in the shadows.”

You handed out your hand to him. Kayn looked at it questionably.

“Give me your coins, I know you have them.”

He deadpanned at you, shoving his hands in his pockets and aggressively handed you a handful of coins—some fell on the ground but you didn’t bother to crouch down and take them.

“This will do,” You turned away from Kayn and faced your owl. “Stay here, we won’t want people to look at us.”

Will do.

You then walked towards the marketplace Tyto directed you before going back to the forest by your command. You never did look back, thinking there would be people alreadly looking at you, so you walked with the swarm of buyers in the marketplace.

There were nothing but meat and skinned animals hanging on each stall. You scruched your nose and immediately walked to another place where no stink of dead meat invaded your nose.

The crowd never died, some people still pushed you here and there though you do not mind. Around you were filled with vegetables and fruits, some sell spices and sweets in the corner. 

Now this is what you want.

You wanted a healthy dinner later, especially for Kayn—he was healing after all and needed the energy for his athletically fit body, so it is possible he needed big portions and healthy food. This was never your first time cooking for someone (who is human), your grandparents would teach you how to cook the basics—what is good and what is to avoid eating. You would get compliments as a kid, the people telling you that you indeed have the hands of a healer even without magic.

With those ego boosting words, you’re hoping you still have it to this day.

In a flash, you stood at the front of the vegetable stalls. The greens are freshly laid on the wooden crates on display for you to choose. After picking the ones that passed your “who is the best” test, you hand them to the trader with the coins Kayn has given to you.

Thanking the old man, you proceeded to the next stall which was filled with oranges. You could feel the freshness of the oranges by just a touch.

“They were freshly picked just this morning.” the merchant said, moving a crate full of oranges.

This would be good for his skin while he heals.

When you didn’t respond to the merchant, he eyed you up and down. You were… ordinary, like those people who are obsessed with hiding their faces or cloth themselves head to toe. As you reached for another orange his eyes squinted at your wrist, something green popping out from your sleeve. His eyes widened, just to be sure the shopkeeper reached his hand to yours while you were busy looking for the perfect orange to feed to Kayn.

“I will buy five of these—” 

You gasped when a body collided onto yours, hands a snake— it slithered around your waist with lips near your ears for you to hear the whisper.

“Play along,” whispered by a familiar voice. “I was looking for you and here you are standing in front of a stall that sells… oranges.”

The man was hooded like you, but you knew that voice—spiteful and hushed. Right now he sounded like he was trying hard to be enlightened by finding you standing in an orange stall. You could feel his firm hand grip your waist tightly, he wanted you to respond.

“O-Oh, I was looking for fruits for us to eat at home.” you half-truthfully said.

“Then I will pay for it, you already paid enough let me do it for you.” 

With a swift you and Kayn are already outside the marketplace with five oranges in your bag. Kayn removed his hood and stood in your way, his amber eyes angrily stares you down.

“You almost got caught. ” he said with gritted teeth.

“What do you mean by that,” you looked at yourself, there was nothing visible even your hair. “I have myself perfectly covered.”

You gasped when he took your hand, showing your tattoo peeking out of your sleeve. When you get a good look he lets go of your wrist.

“I saw the orange merchant reaching out to your wrist, he saw your tattoo.” Kayn angrily said, his eyes looking around if there is someone lurking at the both of you. He sets his gaze on you as he reaches the hood to place it on his head.

“We need to stay low, stay in the forest.”

“What? That is dangerous!” you resisted.

Staying in the forest for the night was the least you wanted. Sure you talk to animals and you live near a forest but that doesn’t ease you anyhow. Even when you can talk to animals, some you can’t persuade.

“It would be more dangerous when we go straight to a city, they can easily spot us,” he turned around. “After all there are a dozen or more of them in the city.” 

“But—”

“If you want me to be with you,” Kayn bent in front of you, his eyes directly staring into yours, almost making a hole. “You listen to me.”

‘How atrocious!’

You could only curse in your mind before stomping to follow Kayn into the woods. Tyto flew back on your shoulders, his wings flapped gently before settling down to rest on you.

What did he say?

‘We are staying in the woods for the night.’

Hm, I can rest on branches how much I would like then.

‘Please not also you’

I could not help myself, sorry in advance.

The walk to the woods was silent, only Tyto’s fluttering wings were heard whenever he flew back to you after surveying the area. Other than that there was nothing but you and Kayn’s light footsteps.

“Do you have at least a blanket to lay on?” you asked him when he found a good spot to stay in for the night.

“No,” he said. “I don’t need one.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. How can this man be comfortable resting in this forest? You could only sigh and place your bag down and take out the things you needed for the night: a blanket, a small pot, and a knife.

Here are some sticks, bard.

Tyto laid a few sticks in front of you. Thanking the owl, you started to make a bonfire.

Kayn stared at you before walking to another direction. His scythe in hand.

"I will look for more." he said before disappearing into the shadows.

Sighing, you rested your shoulders and took the food you bought from the marketplace. Luckily you had the small wood for you to cut the ingrefirents and poured the water from your waterskin into the pot and lit the bonfire.

While waiting for the water to boil. Would you play music, bard?

"If you say so.”

With a swing from your hand, music played out in your lute. Humming in the tune your grandparents taught you when you were a child. It was a song mostly played in your village, a classic, like by old people to children, maybe it is because it was one of your people’s traditions.

“It’s late to play music,” in a swift Kayn appeared from the shadows, startling you. He noticed you immediately putting away your lute and grabbed a stick to poke it to the fire.

Putting the scrapes of wood he collected, Kayn sat down across you with his eyes staring down on the cooking pot with eagerness.

You knew he was hungry, so you took a cup and poured the soup in it with a spoon and handed it to Kayn. He thankfully accepted it with his right hand, amber eyes now bore at you.

"You have been doing this for…?"

"Almost ten years."

Kayn hummed in reply. Softly blowing the hot soup served to him. You told him more about your people while both of you were eating dinner, he would ask things like what your village’s customs were and so on. Thankfully he didn’t ask anything about you. Like you have something to say about it anyways.

“Your tattoos, are they part of your clan?” you asked, gazing over Kayn’s bare body. You never pay attention to human features even when you patched Kayn while he was unconscious. You were too busy trying to save his life.

“No, they are not—though I was a part of an Order.”

You raised your brow, “Order?”

"Order of Shadows, it was run by my old master, Zed, but later on he was killed by the Golden Demon we were trying to catch. After my master's death, I searched for the Golden Demon high and low until I found him and killed him myself."

Zed

You remembered a bird mentioning that name to you. With curiosity you asked Kayn about the order, what happened after his master died, why is he wandering instead of becoming the new master?

He looked at you for a moment, disbelief painted on his face. Are you not scared that you asked too many questions about him and his order? You should be, yet you are here sitting across him, eager to hear his story like a child.

Kayn shifted on the lumpy ground, then told you the story and even answered your questions. He was there, Kayn’s eyes not leaving Zed’s bleeding body. There were no words exchanged between them, only silence and the shifting of brushes from the escaping Golden Demon. He gave his master a proper burial, the Order in chaos, of course, knowing that their master had been killed by the Golden Demon himself after they faced each other. 

At some point in his life he wanted to be the master and surpass Zed. But all he is after right now is the Golden Demon, Jhin. Not so long he met the demon, but before he could strike him down something has taken control of him and woke up to a dead Jhin a few steps away from him, brutally stricken down by the scythe multiple times.

“Does that explain your appearance right now?” you asked.

“It… doesn’t, I shouldn’t be like this or be even the Kayn you know right now.”

You gave him a confused glance, he could only shrug at you.

“So the whole thing taking you over was supposed to be permanent?” you shifted, more eager to know about him now, “Did you bargain with the Devil?”

Kayn gave you a look, “No,” he turned away, “It’s late and we should rest for tomorrow’s energy.”

You groaned, “Tell me about it?”

“No, what I said tonight is enough. Ask another day.

Kayn grunts as he lays on the tree trunk, his scythe beside him. You looked at him before turning to your bag to shuffle at something, throwing an old sleeping bag in his way, he caught it with his hands. He raised his eyebrow and glanced at your way but you were already laid on the sleeping bag with your blanket, your back facing him.

His face softened, unfolding the sleeping bag and laid on it, not engulfing himself inside the fabric knowing that there are still dangers lurking in the woods.

☤

“Kayn,” you said, poking Kayn’s shoulders.

He slowly opened his eyes as he adjusted from the rising sun’s light. You sat besides his resting body, a vial in your hands. After he saw the vial, he rose up looking at you expectantly.

“Drink this, then remove your bandages after I’ll try to heal it faster.” you said, turning around to stir the pot after Kayn took the vial from you.

He removed the cork and drank the contents of the glass then started removing the bandage around his torso. Kayn waited for you, looking at your form, your arms moving from putting food into the bowl.

Turning around you handed him his serving and took your lute.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

You only nodded, not having the energy to talk.

You hummed, slowly but steadily strum the strings of the lute. Your hands began to glow faint green so does Kayn’s bruised torso. He could only stare at you, the bowl you gave him was untouched because of how mesmerized he was while you were healing his wound.

With the last strum you sighed, plopping yourself on the ground.

“The venom should be gone by the next few hours, you might get your strength back soon,” you breathlessly said, “Tyto found a nearby city, I think we should hit up there, he said there is a library. I should not miss it.”

You looked at him, he did not notice until now how tired you are, sweating like it was a hot summer day even though it was just morning and the day’s winds are cold and breezy.

“Did you sleep last night?” he asked, putting the bowl down.

“Yes.”

“Properly?”

“Uh… somehow.”

Kayn stood from the sleeping bag, took his cloak and grabbed your bag.

“H-Hey!” you shouted, wanting to stand up but exhaust washed over you, “At least take a sip of the soup I made? It’s not good to drink a magical medicine and leave it with an empty stomach.”

He looked at you before snatching the bowl and took a big gulp, finishing it an instant.

“We should go to the city and find an inn, I don’t trust you having a ‘proper’ rest, you could not even stand up by yourself.”

Your face turned red, suddenly you feel hot, though you did not try to stand up on your feet. You are tired. Kayn sighs, walking up to you and outstretched his hand for you to reach out. He helped you to your feet and placed the cloak over your shoulders and fastened it above your chest.

“Wait here, I’ll pack up the rest.” he said, putting your bag down and taking the things from the camp and stuffed them into your bag.

Kayn stopped, “Did you eat?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why did you look tired then?”

You sighed, “I put all of my effort removing the venom, thus I am tired. You see two big bowls there?” Kayn looked at where you were pointing at, “That’s how big I ate before I healed you. I did have a proper rest.”

“Good then,” Kayn stood, your bag on his shoulder, “Where is your owl.”

You two stared up at the sky when Tyto screeched, earning your attention. Kayn looked at you and began to walk by your side, following Tyto who is leading you to the nearest city.

The city is bustling with merchants and shops. Children screaming and running around the streets with laughter passed by you and Kayn. The assassin stuck by your side, as if he is going to lose you to the noisy crowd. Tyto was nowhere to be seen but you can feel his sharp gaze on you.

“There,” Kayn pointed, “An inn.”

He pushed through the crowd, you still by his side as the both of you walk towards the inn. With a shut of the door the noise was muffled by the wooden door and was replaced by soft clinks of glass and someone playing the drum followed by soft chatters and laughter.

“We would like to rent a room,”

“Twenty for two, sir,”

“One is enough."

Kayn placed ten coins on the shopkeeper’s counter. You gave a look at Kayn, he was not looking at you but to the shopkeeper who walked out of her counter and led the way to the room.

“Here’s your room,” she said, “Though I recommend not to be loud, especially at night, I don’t want angry customers drumming on my counter. Call me when you need anything.”

Before you could explain that she misunderstood the shopkeeper had already left and Kayn closed the door. He placed the bag on the floor and removed his cloak to reveal his bare body. You looked away before he could even catch you staring at him, walking towards the bed to sit.

“Go and rest, I’ll go outside to scout anything unusual.” Kayn said, putting his scythe behind him.

“What about you?”

“I slept and felt better than ever thanks to you,” he stopped, “You should really rest.”

After hearing an  ‘okay’ from you Kayn left the room. He walked down the stairs and opened the inn’s door and stepped outside, hearing the clamorous place again. He leaned back on the wall, observing the city street. Normal he thought and very noisy . Kayn could only shake his head, if he wanted to settle down, the city would not be his fit with all of the noise coming from people and the wagon’s noise.

“Hi mister!”

Kayn looked down to see a child, about the age of six, he had a stick in his mouth and his other hand holding something, a candy.

“You look lonely,”

He gets that commentary often, he did not mind. After all, he is destined to be lonely after Zed’s death and Rhaast’s mysterious disappearance. You being his companion will be temporary, knowing after you found your people you will leave too.

“Here,” the kid stretched out his little arm, holding out the candy to him, “To keep you happy.”

Kayn took the candy from the kid, saying thank you after. The kid waved him goodbye and left. He looked at the thing, hard and somehow translucent when it’s color red.

He put the candy in his pocket and stood there for a while, until frantic claws found its way to Kayn’s bare shoulder.

“Wha—”

He turned around to see Tyto flapping his wings aggressively, small screeches coming out from his beak. Kayn can’t figure out what the owl was saying, he doesn’t have your magic to understand and talk to animals, he could only see an owl trying to scream at him.

Tyto, forgetting that Kayn can’t understand him flew over the inn’s door, pecking it frantic like something is—

“Fuck!”

Kayn opened the door, entering the inn, Tyto following him. He hurriedly took the stairs, almost tripping on one of them. Opening the door, he found you on the bed, a buff man’s arm around your neck and a mage’s hand beside your head, visible electricity running on the mage’s hands. He looked at you, your face terrified as you gripped on the muscular arm. You mouthed no at Kayn when he reached for his scythe.

“An inn,” said someone. “Not likely to be used by an assassin I’m afraid.” They came out from the shadows—no it’s not him, looking at his light armor and an obvious mark on the shoulder pads of his armor says that he is a raid leader.

He could be the one who took all your people or maybe another person. He has white hair, a bald spot on top of his head, face covered with freckles and  wrinkles.

Too old

Kayn reached out for his scythe, only for the arm around you to tighten—threatening to break your neck. Kayn lowered his hand and the arms loosened around you, giving you time to breathe.

“You will get your dearest here with her severed head if you try to take a hold of your… weapon there.” the old man said as he eyed Kayn's scythe.

Kayn gritted his teeth, not knowing what to do when you are held hostage.

“Put your weapon down, slowly, kick it towards the guy in the cloak.” the man nudged his head to the left. Kayn had no choice but to slowly put his weapon down on the floor and aggressively kicked it to the person in the cloak.

The man chuckled at Kayn’s attitude, a biter, he thought.

“Zubair is my name,” said him, “and you are?”

“Is it necessary for you to know?”

“Yes, your information is helpful when it comes to shipping you out. Less work.”

“What do you want?”

“Not telling me your name?” Zubair scoffed, “Zap the healer to dea—”

“KAYN!” he screamed, earning Zubair’s attention, “Kayn is my name.”

Zubair smiled grimly, “Kayn, I see, what a beautiful name.”

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“If you do what I tell you, then she will be safe as a pet living in luxury.” Zubair turned around to face you, gripping your chin for you to face him, “It is a waste to kill off a rare breed of a descendant of ancient mages. A pretty face too.”

You winced when Zubair flicked your face to the side. You are scared, you don’t know what to do now that Kayn is unarmed and open. You don’t even know destruction magic, healing magic and healing magic only. Tears started to swell up but you tried to stop them, not wanting any of these men see your weakness, or even Kayn.

“Anyways, sack their heads, tie up Kayn and don’t let a single scratch leave on the healer. We are going now.”

Darkness engulfed your vision, the constant shuffling of cloth and metal was heard. No noise, not even from Kayn, everything is quiet. You let out a gasp when unfamiliar arms wrapped around the back of your knees and brought you up on someone’s shoulder.

With a few steps, you were placed on something wooden, and suddenly something—or someone was thrown besides you.

“Bastard.” you heard Kayn’s whisper.

“Kayn,” you called out to him with a shaky breath, “Where will they take us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kayn, I’m scared.”

“I know,” he softly said, “I’m here, I won’t leave.”

Kayn shifted towards you, bumping his knee against yours as an attempt to calm you down. There was this warm feeling inside your chest, you could not figure out what it is, though that is the least of your problems and you two are facing a big one. What matters right now is Kayn at your side. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, hoping that sooner this will end.

You were woken up by a demanding voice booming in front of you. Kayn is forcefully dragged away from you, your face dropping on the wooden floor. You winced at the pain stinging on your cheek, before you could recover a hand grabbed your arm and dragged you down the wagon (or what you thought they used).

“Kayn?” you said in worry, not knowing where he is because of the sack still covering your vision.

“I’m here,” you heard his faint reply. To your demise he is far away from you he won’t be at your side as you are to be surrounded by unknown strangers.

“Walk.” a deep voice commanded you.

You did, following where the person is leading you. They stopped, their hands still tightly holding your arms, you heard a door opening and you were led again. You were forced down to sit on a soft chair, the sack removed from your head.

You were in a room, a bedroom to be specific. It is not big nor is it small, a normal room that can be used by one person. The color of dark red painted most of the room, even the sheets of the bed are dark red silk. Brown dresser beside the door and a vanity from the corner of the room where the bed is, and the floors are completely covered with velvet carpet.

“Am I supposed to be in jail?” you asked the large man leaning on the door frame.

He shaked his head, somehow he looked like you are not supposed to be here. Or somewhere worse.

“To women like you captured by Zubair, this IS prison.”

Your heart dropped, “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t think he will care talking about him,” the man sighed,

“Zubair is a raid leader, he also takes the people he raided as slaves, some were sold off to rich people.”

“Am I going to be sold off?”

“No.”

Your heart lightened.

“What will happen to me?"

“Something not good.”

The door opened, revealing Zubair. He walked inside the room with women scarcely any clothing covering them followed behind him. Zubair stood in front of you but kept distance as the women surrounded you like pigeons flocking on little pieces of bread. They swarmed you, touching you with no permission. Gaze at your skin, your face complimenting how perfect they are, and even look at the whole of your body judgingly.

A clap stopped the women from touching you further, when Zubair flicked his wrists the women who surrounded you were out in a flash. It was only you and Zubair in the room, the bodyguard you talked to earlier was long gone, maybe was told off by Zubair when the women looked over you.

“What do you want?” you spoke, hard even you know you are scared of what will happen to you.

Zubair smiled, he stayed put, no intentions to go near you or touch you.

“Oh it’s nice to see an Ishlac again.”

Again

You felt anger bubbling inside you, “You were there—it was you.”

“Surprising isn’t it?”

“What did you do to them?” you kept yourself intact, even if you tried to attack this man your fate won’t end well.

Zubair only shrugged, “I don’t know exactly, they could be everywhere—slaves— dead .”

“What did my people even do to you?”

“Nothing really, it is my line of work. No grudges, nothing personal, just about work.”

“Selling people? Hurt them? Put them as slaves? What are you trying to achieve here?”

“None of your business.”

He walked to the door before he could go outside, Zubair looked back, his smirk not leaving his wrinkly face.

“Oh, to inform you Kayn will be shipped out tomorrow. Though I don’t give goodbyes to my employees.”

You sat on the stool, Ravika, a woman you met who is nice, paced from the vanity to you as she was doing your makeup. You shifted on your seat, uncomfortable in the clothes provided to you by Zubair himself. It was disgusting, there was barely any cloth covering you, only shining rocks hung around your skin.

“You’ll get used to it,” Ravika said after seeing your discomfort with the dress, “There, it’s finished I’ll lead you to the sofa room where he is.”

After she placed jewelry from top to your ankles, she led you to where Zubair was waiting. The gold and diamonds you wore tinkle every step you take, eyes are on you as Ravika assisted you to the sofa room.

“Ah, Kalos,” Zubair greeted. He sat on the biggest couch you’ve ever seen, you could even sleep there if you want to.

Ravika patted you on the shoulder, you gave her a nod and she walked away. This man for sure loves the color velvet, every furniture and things were in color of velvet and gold. But mostly velvet.

“Come, sit, here.” he pointed beside him.

No

With no choice, you obeyed, walking up to him and sat.

Please

Uncomfortable, you could only think, your attention was caught by something in front of you. It was the nightclub, neon colors filled the dim room, you tried to find Ravika only to see her serving drink for those filthy men.

“What do you want from me exactly?” you asked, so boldly.

Zubair raised an eyebrow, but answered your question nonetheless, “You are the only one left of your people, you are deemed to be a big-ticket.”

He is telling you you are worth something so much that he wants to flaunt how rich he is and how horrible of a person he is. You could only stay in silence, not wanting to have a conversation with Zubair no more. Your worries lay more on Kayn, you don’t know where he is or what they could be doing to him. You need to find a way.

As Zubair minds his own business looking over the nightclub you look around the room. Everything is decorated with expensive things, even throphy animals were hung on the wall. How cruel . You saw a jug of water placed on a glass tray with golden cups surrounding it, it was beside a metal pot. There were no guards inside or even outside the room, you know since the room has a doorway, the outside is empty.

“Say, should I pour you a drink?” you ushered, hoping that he will say yes.

He looked at you and raised an eyebrow at your action, you could only shrug at him, “Isn’t it more flashy if the last of the Ishlac is serving you?”

He smirked at your statement, “Smart, go on, I could use a drink for myself.”

You stood up from your seat, walking up to the metal pot, looking behind you making sure he was watching the nightclub. To be less suspicious you used the jar and poured wine on the cup, putting it down and reaching for the pot.

Slowly, you walked towards him, the metal in hand.

“Why are you taking a while to pou—”

Before he could fully turn around you, you smashed the pot on his head giving him a good night’s sleep. You grabbed his collar before he could fall on the floor and slowly laid him on the sofa, you placed the metal pot on the floor. Looking at his body, you turned around and ran for the doorway only to be stopped by a large figure. Your heart dropped, looking up to see the man you saw in your room earlier looking down at you.

“I—I—”

“Turn three lefts and the fifth right, you can see the dungeon where your pretty boy is.” he said, “Go, before he wakes up.”

He steped aside for you to walk out, you looked at him, shock still plastered on your face. You could only whisper a thank you and rush out of the room, not looking back.

You followed the man’s directions given to you, after entering the fifth right, dark metal gates loomed. It was open, you took a peek looking left and right if there was someone inside. You entered, trying to find the cell where Kayn is.

“Kayn?” you whispered.

“Kayn?” you said. Louder this time.

“Healer?”

You ran to the voice that seemingly called you, you never told your name to him. Grabbing on the metal bars you saw Kayn walking up to you, his face inches away from yours, the bars keeping you from him.

“I—I don’t know where the keys are.”

“No need for keys,” he still has his eyes on you, scared that you might disappear, “Take the scythe and give it to me.”

You looked at where he pointed, the scythe was laid on the brick wall, besides it was your lute. With haste, you ran to the scythe and took it. Before you could take another step towards Kayn’s cell, your hair was immediately pulled making you scream in pain, letting go of the scythe having it fall and slide on the floor, you tried to grab the hand gripping your hair.

“You dare to smash a metal pot on my head?” Zubair whispered to your ear, “You will regret that.”

You were thrown on the cold floor, knocking off your flute in the process.

He saw the lute, he smirked and took it, smashing it on the wall, green smoke emmits from the lute then it disappeared. Leaving only a dull broken lute.  You could only look at the broken lute in horror, all those wood from your village, the handicraft made by both of your grandparents. Gone.

Zubair loomed over you, his hand wrapped around your neck, choking you. You tried to gasp for air as you squeezed on Zubair’s hand. His other hand started to take a hold of your clothes, you panicked, you tried to wriggle while his hand was around your neck.

You choked a cry, Zubair smiled, “You look beautiful this way.”

Disgusting

You closed your eyes and screamed, “Kayn!”

Then it was silence, the hands prying on you were gone, you heard a thump followed by a warm liquid pooling around your feet.

“Don’t open your eyes, stay here.” said Kayn, you followed what he said, in fear of what you see in front of you after you heard a loud thud earlier.

Everything was silent, though you could hear muffled thuds through the walls of the dungeon. You still have your eyes closed, followed by heavy breathing from you, you heard footsteps. It stopped when it found itself in front of you. You felt a cloth placed on your shoulders, keeping you from the cold and giving you warmth. Arms found itself around you to help you stand on your feet, you felt the warm ooze on your sole. You decided to ingore it and followed the arms that are guiding you.

“We are safe now.” Kayn whispered into your ear, “Don’t open them yet.”

You only nodded, finally knowing that you are now safe in the assassin’s arms.

“Steady your stance,” Kayn said, “Swing it towards me.”

You swung the dagger to Kayn, he easily dodges it.

“Not fair, I don’t have your skill.”

“That is why we are doing this,” he positioned himself, you could only groan in frustration.

After the incident and knowing what happened to your people, you and Kayn ventured around taking small quests or even participating in Kayn’s work and meaning by his work means him killing bandits, stealing their things and selling them. You were willing to help him, not knowing what it is, and when you knew you promised to yourself you won’t be helping him anytime soon.

He asked you what you will do now that most of your people are gone or scattered around the world. It is almost impossible for you to find them, you just told him you will be his company from now on. He was silent, of course, since you knew in your first meeting with him he was not willing to take you as his temporary company until you found out what happened to your people. You told him it’s fine if he doesn’t want you—though he cuts you off, telling you he likes your company.

Then here you are, getting trained by the assassin Kayn.

“Okay, time out, that was tiring.”

“I’ll be cooking this time then.” Kayn said, walking to your camp, leaving you in the temporary training grounds you use.

“Well at least your cooking is getting better, so go on.” you smiled, placing your dagger down on the stump and followed Kayn.

You sat on the ground, looking up at the sky. Night will soon take over.

“Hey,” you called out.

“Yeah?” Kayn replied.

“Come look at this.” your eyes never left the turning sky, colors of orange-red disperse as the darkest blue took over with glittering stars in the sky.

You heard a soft thump beside you, Kayn sat close to you.

“Beautiful,” Kayn smiled, “Reminded me of a senario that happened a few months ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is the same sky, same time where I first saw you in your village, playing the lute under the willow tree.” He looked at you with such intensity in his eyes, too close to each other, you were liking it. “Such a melody caught me almost in trance, before I fell.”

His face was an inch away from yours, “Hey I—”

You kissed him on the cheek, cutting him off guard. You could only look at him and smile.

“Kayn you’re too obvious, even Tyto noticed it too.” you laughed, a screech from Tyto you both heard.

“Dang bird, did he tell you?”

You nodded, he smiled.

“Well my intentions have been exposed,” he held your hand, “Then?”

“I have nowhere to go, my people are gone, some are around the world far away from me to which it is impossible to find them. You accepted me as your companion with your adventures… and as your look out when you do your assassination work. I think this is obvious too, Kayn.” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“More than that actually, as my—uh—parnter?”

“Of course, aren’t we already?”

“Oh,”

You could only laugh, you felt his shoulders shake, trying to prevent himself from laughing.

“Do you love me then?”

“Depends.”

“...”

“...I do.”

You smiled, placing your head on Kayn’s shoulders as you two both lay on the soft grass while looking at the starry night. Bodies cuddled together for warmth from the cold night. You liked this, no doubt Kayn too. You hoped this would last forever, forever in his arms.

[losfacedevil]

Because You Loved Me // J.T.K

a/n~ I started this last month after coming off of a 6 day long migraine attack and somehow forgot it existed until this months 6 day migraine attack hit.  It’s just a bunch of fluff, and migraine pain related babble, idk.  Word Count ~ 3.4k

A stripe of marmalade orange danced across his face as the sun peaked through the blackout curtains; morning surfacing quicker than they would have liked. A deep sigh slipped past his lips as he arched his back, stretching the entirety of his body as she rolled over; hand reaching out to find him. 

“Morning, Sweet Girl.” His voice was soft; the rasp of sleep causing the corner of her lips to quirk up in a smirk. 

“Just five more minutes.” She whined, scooting over and resting her face in the crook of his neck welcoming the warmth of his arm as his hand found her side. He nodded, nuzzling his nose into the crown of her hair. She pulled her body almost fully on top of his, leg tangling between his as she pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. 

“Do you have to go to work today? Can’t you just stay home with me?” He couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped past his lips knowing full well what her answer would be. 

“My boss is coming, I can’t. Though I’d much rather stay right here warm and cozy with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she fought the wave of sleep that was trying to overcome her. 

“My boss is coming.” He mimicked her, hand finding purchase on her thigh. 

“Tell your boss where to stick it. Stay in bed with me, lovely.” A giggle slipped past her lips, the fluttering of her eyelashes tickling his neck sending a shiver down his spine. 

“I wish I could, but I have to get ready.” He groaned, rolling so her body was pinned beneath his, peppering her face with soft kisses. 

“Just five more minutes, right? That’s all we need.” His voice held a sultry tone as his lips connected with the soft spot beneath her ear. A whine escaped her, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his shoulder length hair. 

“Jake,please. Later, I promise.” He sighed as he let her guide his head backwards, using his hair for leverage before crashing his lips down onto hers. She whimpered into the kiss, body betraying her as her back arched into him. 

“Later, Jake, later.” She spoke between kisses, reaching out both hands to cup his cheeks. He pulled back, ceasing his attack as his bottom lip jutted out. 

“Lovey,” he whined, rolling his hips down into hers. She giggled, knew full well she was being a brat; but also knew she couldn’t be late for work. 

“Later, sweetness, scouts honor!” She giggled, placing one last kiss to his lips before he rolled off her, allowing her to get up. 

________________

It had felt like the longest day in the history of her career. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, her boss was breathing down her neck for the silliest reasons and her stress level was sky high. Stepping out of the store into the cool winter air was like transporting into a different dimension, the cool air dancing around her body seemingly lowering her stress level as a familiar pang tugged at her right temple. A sigh slipped past her lips as she flipped the hood of her sweatshirt up on her head, covering her ears to hopefully ward off the headache she knew was going to take hold. 

~*~*~

Her fingers were pressed firmly to her temple, rubbing soothing circles into it as she jiggled her keys into the dead bolt to their shared apartment. She could hear the music before she even opened the door, knew he was sitting on the couch with his beloved guitar resting on his thigh strumming away. She couldn’t help the grimace that she knew her face displayed, screwing her eyes shut as she tossed her keys on the table beside the door. 

His strumming ceased as the door shut, scrambling to pull her sweatshirt over her head before he saw the look on her face. She heard him shift, placing his guitar down on the couch next to him as he turned to face her. 

“Hey sweet girl, how was your day?” Jake asked, rising to stand as he stretched his back. She kept her back to him as she hung her sweatshirt up, taking a deep breath as she fixed her face and willed the migraine away. He slunk up behind her, wrapping his arms around her midsection as he nuzzled his face in the junction where her neck met her shoulder. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut at the welcome warmth of his body against hers. 

“It sucked, I feel like shit.” She mumbled, pulling a deep breath in through her nose as he placed a gentle kiss to the hollow below her ear. He reached down, intertwining his fingers with her and tugging gently. She let him turn her around, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. His arms came to rest around her shoulders, his nimble fingers tangling in the hair at the back of her head as he rubbed soothing circles into her scalp. He felt her shoulders fall, the stress of the day melting away as he unknowingly soothed a pain he didn’t know existed. 

“I’m sorry today was bad, is there anything I can do to help?” His voice was soft, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he pulled his fingers gently through her long locks; sending a shiver down her spine. She shrugged, arms tightening around him as he smoothed down the hair he had been playing with. 

“Maybe start dinner so I can rest my eyes?” Her voice cracked as her reserve broke, she hated asking for help even when she needed it the most. He nodded slightly, running his fingers through the hair by her temple, sending soothing tingles through the side of her head as he tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“Of course baby, do you have anything in mind?” She nodded, wincing as the movement shot pain through her head. 

“There’s a recipe card on the counter I wanted to try.” She mumbled, rubbing her nose against the exposed skin of his chest.

Jake broke away from the hug first, bringing his hands up to cup her cheeks, noting the slight pout on her lips. Leaning forward slightly he rested his forehead against hers, their eyes both fluttering shut. They stood that way for what seemed like an eternity, his fingers slowly putting pressure on her temples as he rubbed soothing circles into them. He took note of her reaction, the sigh of relief slipping past her lips confirming his suspicions as her arms fell a little further, more tension from the day escaping her. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head slightly, slotting his nose perfectly next to hers and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. Another sigh escaped her as her fingers slipped under the hem of the back of his shirt. 

“How about this, you go lay on the couch and I’ll take care of dinner? You won’t even have to lift a finger.” His voice was soft, not wanting to cause her anymore pain. She nodded slightly, lost in the feeling of his hands pulling back through her hair, scratching her scalp in a soothing manner. 

“Are you sure?” Her voice sounded strained, like she was fighting herself. Jake nodded, taking a step back to break her embrace and took her hand in his, leading her to the couch. Pulling the throw pillow off of the arm chair he turned at the waist, tossing the pillow onto the couch and scooping up his guitar in one swift move. 

“Of course I’m sure, now sit.”

She let herself fall onto the couch, kicking off the crocs that still hugged her feet as she pulled her legs up underneath her. He placed his guitar down gently, leaning it up against the arm chair holding his hands out in front of is as if telling it to stay put and not fall over. A sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he turned back to her, her arm thrown over her eyes to block the light from seeping past her eyelids. He took a few steps towards the kitchen, turning back to ruffle her hair and scratch at her scalp once more before making his way into the kitchen. 

~*~*~

“Ah, fuck.” 

He jumped backwards as the plate he had teetered precariously on the edge of the sink slipped, crashing to the ground and shattering into a hundred pieces. He sighed, feet glued to the spot he was standing in as he assessed the damaged, shards of glass scattered all across the kitchen floor. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth he reached up, scratching the back of his neck as he eyed the broom and dust pan halfway across the room. He ran a hand down his face, silently cursing himself for being so clumsy as his eyes snapped to the break in the wall leading to the living room. A sheepish smile played on his lips as he saw her leaning up against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I’m so sorry, babe. Can you hand me the broom and dust pan please?” He asked, pointing in the direction of what he needed. She shook her head, snatching up the broom and dust pan, leaning the free standing dust pan up against the kitchen table before she started sweeping. 

“I got it, just finish what you were doing.” She mumbled, shooting him a meaningful smile before he turned back to the counter to continue putting their left overs away. 

She sighed as she grabbed for the stand up dust pan that sat behind her, the broom resting in her left hand. She turned her body and in one swift movement her grip on the broom faltered causing the handle of the broom to whack into her lip. A soft gasp escaped her as his eyes snapped to her having seen the broom snap in her direction in his peripheral vision.

“Oww.” She whined, reaching up to cup her jaw in her palm. A soft chuckle escaped him, picking the broom up off of the floor, sweeping the remnants of the broken plate into the dustpan. 

“How do you manage to do these things?” Another chuckle escaped him as his gaze met hers, the smile slipping off his face almost instantly. 

Her eyes were wide, tears threatening to spill over her lids as she placed her finger inside her bottom lip, checking for broken skin and blood. She pushed her bottom lip out in a pout as she brought her right hand up, resting it over her right eye as her head throbbed. His expression matched hers, stepping forward he wrapped her in his arms, bringing his hand up to rub the side of her head soothingly. 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I didn’t mean to laugh.”  She shrugged her shoulders, wrapping her arms around his midsection as she buried her face as far as she could into his chest. 

“It’s okay, you can laugh at my misfortune.” He chuckled, shaking his head before pressing a kiss into the crown of her head. 

“Stop it, you know if you didn’t have a headache you’d be giggling at that too.” 

For the first time that night a smile spread across her face as a soft giggle escaped her, nodding in agreement to his statement. She pulled her head back, wincing as the fluorescent kitchen light shot a lightening bolt of pain through her temple. 

“Yeah, I’d probably be laughing my ass off if my head didn’t feel like it was going to split.” She lifted up on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He smiled down at her, peppering kisses over her cheeks and nose as his hand continued to rub soothing circles into her scalp. 

“Go get comfy and lay down, I’ll be there in a second.” He cooed, capturing her lips in a soft kiss before pulling back. 

With a slight nod of her head she turned on her heel, slowly making her way to their shared bedroom. She welcomed the darkness of the room, opting to change into her pajamas and climb into bed in the dark; knowing full well he would be flipping on the bedside lap as soon as he came in. 

The soft pad of his bare feet caused her to stir, her eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the darkness, making out his silhouette as he stepped over the threshold. He instinctively reached for the light switch, going to flip on the overhead light as a soft whine slipped past her lips. 

“Not the big light, please.” She whispered, throwing the pillow over her eyes in case he didn’t hear her. A mumbled ‘sorry’ slipped past his lips as he pulled out his phone, using the soft illumination of the screen to see where he was going. He made quick work of getting ready for bed,

ridding himself of his pants as he plugged his phone in; tripping over his own feet as he tried to kick his jeans to the side and landing on the bed causing her head to jolt against the pillow. 

“That’s what I get for trying to keep you comfortable.” He grumbled, reaching down to tug the jeans off of his foot and toss them to the side. A sigh slipped past her lips as she sat up, fixing her mountain of pillows while he swung his legs up into the bed, laying back against the headboard and getting comfortable. 

“It’s okay.” 

Jake held his arm out to her, jerking his head to the side in a silent question. She leaned into him, nuzzling her face into his neck, breathing in a scent that was unmistakably him. He sighed as he let his hand tangle in her hair once more, knowing the only thing she’d be searching for was his fingers dancing across her scalp as she let sleep overtake her. A sigh slipped past her lips as she tossed her arm over his midsection and wiggled her ankle underneath his as her leg lay across his. 

“Yknow I appreciate everything you do for me right?” She mumbled, her tone becoming deeper as sleep threatened to overtake her. He nodded, turning his head slightly and pressing soft kisses against her forehead. 

“I know, sweet girl. Now get some sleep so your head feels better.” He chuckled, never ceasing the soft circles he was rubbing against the side of her head. Her fingers danced lazily over his side, sending shivers up his spine. 

“I love you.” She mumbled, tipping her head slightly and pressing a soft kiss into his jawline. 

“I love you too. Now, shhh.” He reached over with his free hand, pressing his index finger against her lips to silence her. She couldn’t help but giggle, knew he meant well. 

She nuzzled her face farther into the junction of his neck, breathing a sigh of relief to finally be in bed wrapped in his arms. Jakes nimble fingers continued to dance over her scalp, alternating between rubbing circles into her skin and gently threading her hair through his fingers until her breathing became shallow and even, indicating to him that she had finally fallen asleep. He pressed one more kiss to her forehead as he shifted downwards, resting his chin against the crown of her head and willing sleep to envelope him. 

~*~*

She woke with a start, bolting upright in bed as a lightening bolt of pain shot through her head. Her stomach lurched, a wave of nausea crashing over her as she tossed back the covers and bolted from the bed. Her sudden movement startling Jake awake as the bathroom door slammed shut. A groan slipped past his lips as he cracked his eyes open, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. 

3:25 a.m

“Babe? What’s going on?” He croaked, sitting up in bed as he heard the shower turn on. He stood from the bed, a sigh slipping past his lips as realization hit him. Bare feet padding down the hall was for only noise that could be heard over the shower running. A few gentle knocks delivered to the bathroom door before he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. 

She sat on the floor in front of the toilet, knees pulled up to her chest as she held her fist against her mouth; silently willing the nausea away. Her eyes were screwed shut, anxiety etched in the lines around her eyes as he turned off the shower, sinking to his knees behind her. 

Gentle hands pulled her hair backwards over her shoulders, gathering it all in one of his hands as he ran his other through it, gently detangling it. A shiver danced up her spine causing her stomach to lurch once more. She shook her head lightly, swallowing thickly past the lump that was forming in her throat, her mouth beginning to water incessantly. 

“Are you okay?” His voice a gentle rasp against the otherwise silence of the night. She shook her head, trying to get her mind to shift its focus to his fingers trailing through her hair. 

“Your head still?” She nodded slightly, the movement being just enough to trigger her stomach to turn once more. A cough bubbled up her throat as she lunged forward, hands slamming down on each side of the toilet as her stomach emptied its contents into the bowl. A soft sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he scooted forward, rubbing his free hand up and down her back. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl.” He cooed, hand slipping under the hem of her sleep shirt as she sat back, reaching for something to wipe her mouth with. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks as she leaned back into him, head resting against his shoulder. He pressed soft kisses into her temple, reaching the hand placed on her back around her, resting it on her stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out, pulling a deep breath through her nose as her eyes fluttered shut; willing her heart to stop pounding in her chest. His brows furrowed, shooting her a confused glance out of his peripheral vision. 

“For getting sick?” He asked, fingers dancing lightly over her stomach, the skin sticky with perspiration. She nodded, the tense muscles of her stomach finally relaxing as the nausea subsided. 

“It’s so gross, I hate when you have to witness it.” She mumbled, finally relaxing every tense muscle in her body. He chuckled, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong it is gross. But love makes you do things you typically wouldn’t.” He shrugged, slipping his hand out from under her shirt to brush back the hairs that fell in her face. 

“Aww you love me? Even with vomit breath?” A genuine laugh slipped past her lips as she pulled away from him, moving to pull herself into a standing position. 

“Even with vomit breath.” He chuckled, cupping her elbows in his hands and pulling her up with him as he stood. 

She spun where she stood, wrapping her arms around his midsection as she rested her head on his chest. He was stunned for a second, arms held out at his sides as he glanced down at her before slowing snaking his arms around her shoulders. Her grip on him tightened, burying her face further into the soft material of his shirt. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of her head.

“You really needed a hug, huh?” He cooed, reaching up to cradle the back of her head in his hand. She shook her head lightly, a soft sigh slipping past her lips as his nails scratched gently at her scalp. 

“No, I really needed you. It’s just, you make everything bearable and I don’t think I could do this without you anymore. No one’s ever loved on me enough to help me through an intense migraine before. You don’t just tell me it’s all in my head.” She mumbled, tilting her head back so her chin was resting on his chest. 

“Well it is all in your head, no?” A soft smile spread across his lips as her jaw dropped open, feigning shock. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Brush your teeth and come back to bed, vomit breath.” She shook her head, pressing her hands to her chest as she pushed him backwards towards their room. 

_________ Taglist: @jordierama​

[inherstars]

Rest | The Last of Us (3,407 words)

This takes place the first winter after Joel an Ellie return to Jackson. The two versions of Joel need to be written differently, and I had the TV version in mind when penning this one, but I actually think it works for both. Joel gets sick, and Ellie takes it upon herself to care for him.

His voice wavered with amusement. Maybe exasperation.  Where Ellie was concerned, it was usually both.

“You have to--you can’t skip the rest.”

“The what?”

“The rest.  Look--you see this thing here?” He reached out, tap-tapping a fingertip to the sheet music before her.  Ellie frowned at it.  “Yeah, that’s not just there to look pretty, it means something.  All the notes mean something.”

She was getting aggravated.  Joel estimated she had another five minutes left in her before she declared the lesson done for the day.

“Well what does that note mean?”

“It means rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

He draped both arms atop his guitar and put his forehead down on them. Christ, this fucking kid.  Ellie’s head hung back, taking her turn with exasperation.

“Whaaaat?”

“Okay.”  He sat up again, fixing the grip on his own guitar.  “Look--no, don’t look at me, look at the notes and listen while I’m playing.  I’m going to slow it down, but follow along.”  He tapped the measure on the paper. “You ready?”

Her head bobbed in a single nod. “Ready.”

“Okay.”  At a slightly-less-than-annotated pace he strummed through the chords, the coarse timbre of his voice moving calmly through the lyrics as he went.  “...I keep a close watch on this heart of mine--rest--I keep my eyes wide open all the time--rest, rest--do you see?”

“Ohhh.  There’s more than one.”

“Right.  You need to learn them and watch out for them, at least until you start to pick up the natural rhythm of how the song flows.  Usually after the first go-through it will stick in your head where you’re meant to pause, and for how long.”

She reached out, picking up the folded booklet and scanning ahead.  She reread the notation, the rests, the lyrics.

“Holy shit, is this song about you or what?”

Joel took it from her with a sigh.  “Wow, you made it three whole minutes longer than I thought you would.”

“What? No--wait, hey!  Give it back!”  He held it easily out of her reach, pivoting his arm away when she tried to stand and grab for it instead.  “How am I supposed to practice without sheet music?”

“You’ve got like three books in your room, you can practice with those.”  He closed the music, tossing it behind him on the bed.  “Besides which, you need to work on your chord progressions some more.  Focus on that for now.”

Ellie sulked at him with an exaggerated pout, by which he was moved not an inch.  He bumped her with his elbow.

“Git.”

She stood, swinging her own guitar around by its strap, letting it rest at an angle across her back.

“Stupid Johnny Cash.”  Her voice dropped a mocking octave. “Steady like a train, sharp like a razor.”

Joel shook his head, looking back and forth between his picking and his silent fingering on the frets.

“Should’ve never let you watch that movie.”

She made it to the doorway and turned in place as she backed out, batting her eyes at him.

“Love youuuuuu.”

“Git,” he said again, head bowing further, but the crooked curl of a smirk betrayed him.

Ellie was halfway down the hall to her own room before she heard the distinctive sound of Joel’s sneeze.

“Bless you,” she called out, and paused to listen for a response.  Nothing.

Then, faintly, “M-hm.”

He was so weird.

In good faith Ellie practiced for awhile, grimacing through the slow but unavoidable pinch and pain of developing the stupid calluses Joel kept going on and on about.  After a half hour she could no longer feel two of her fingers, so she supposed that was a good start.

All throughout, and in-between the occasional inept chord change, she heard bursts of his crackling cough from the other room.  When she finally unslung the guitar and returned it to its case, she realized it had been a background noise for most of the day.

“Hey Joel--” she called out, standing, then startled as he appeared abruptly in the doorway. “Jesus!”

“Hey,” he interrupted, snagging in a rough sniffle.  “Tommy’s on the horn, bunch of the hogs got out. I’m gonna run over and give him a hand, but I don’t know how long I’ll be.  You OK fixing yourself dinner, if I’m not back in time?”

“Oh shit,” she said excitedly. “Can I come?”

“No.” Unflappable. “You got homework.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.  Do your homework.  Maybe clean this up while you’re at it,” as he backed a way he made a vague gesture around the perfectly… well, mostly acceptable state of her room.  “Already looks like a sty.”

Ellie followed him only as far as her own threshold, frowning as he picked up his buckskin coat and shrugged into it.

“How do you know I have homework?”

“It’s like you forget I already did this with one smartass kid before you ever came around.”  He barely got his arm into a sleeve before he had it pressed to his face, shoulders hunching with another shotgun sneeze.  He sighed.  Sniffled.  Muttered a barely audible, “Shit.”

Ellie came forward a bit more, zeroed on him. “Hey, what’s with--”

“Homework.”  He snagged a scarf and was already halfway out the door.  “And eat something other than pickles for dinner.”

She stood frowning, even after the shudder of the shutting door had quieted, then turned reluctantly back to her room.

“Fuck you, pickles are awesome.”

*******

Ellie polished off homework in record time, and even managed a dinner of something that contained, but was not exclusively comprised of, pickles.  She was a woman of her word, if nothing else.  Halfway through packing both their lunches for the next day, the front door finally blew open with blustering drama, and Joel made his return.

Or something vaguely in the shape of Joel.

The overall size and dimensions were right, the buckskin coat was the same, though both it and his hair were heavily mantled in snow.  He was nothing but mud and slush from the knees down, hands evidently so frozen that all he could do was stand there and paw ineffectively at his gloves, trying to get them off.

Ellie took in the exhausted, punch-drunk slump of his shoulders with sympathy and amusement.  Good thing she didn’t join him after all.

“You look like you smell awesome.”

“Fucking hate hogs.”

“But you love bacon,” she countered.

“After tonight, I only like it for the sense of revenge.”  After watching multiple unsuccessful attempts to remove his gloves, Ellie finally came to his assistance.  She didn’t even want to touch them, gunked as they were with mud, ice, and probably pig shit, but it was either that or watch him stand there all night, swaying like a Mortal Kombat character.  Just as she got the second one off he planted a bare hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her from him as he raised his other arm to his face.  

“Ellie, stand clear--”

“Huh?”

He buckled into his elbow with another sneeze, this time lingering his arm in place afterwards, long after he should have simply relaxed and moved on.  By the time it dropped away, he found Ellie ogling him with arch worry.  He sighed, apologetic, and the hand still at her shoulder squeezed once before letting go.  “Sorry.”

But she just stood there, still holding his gloves, having unexpectedly run dry of all sarcasm.  She didn’t like this.

“Are you sick?”

“Nah, I’m…”  Well, yeah.  But also, no.  “The weather’s just kicking the shit out of me.  I’m fine. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re saying fine way too much for it to actually be fine.”

Joel had just enough strength for another sigh.  He took the gloves from her, doing an awkward flamingo balance from one foot to the other to climb out of his boots.  The feeling of ice-cold, mud-soaked denim on his bare skin made him grimace. “You finish your homework?”

No no no.  She wasn’t being put off.  Not like this.  “Joel.”

He flicked a mild look to the kitchen. “That pickle jar looks a lot emptier than I remember.”

“Joel.”

“Hey.”  He reached out, cupping the subtle angle of her jaw, framing her entire face in the warm, rough cushion of his palm.  Calluses, burred knuckles, wind-chapped skin and a touch so gentle she could cry.  “It’s fine.  I’m just beat.  Gonna leave all this shit outside, I’ll worry about it in the morning, then I’m gonna shower and hit the sack.”  Her eyes were searching him still, burrowing into him the same as when he’d sworn that his story about the hospital in Salt Lake was true.  That was the look of reckoning, and it chilled him worse than any winter storm.  “Homework’s good?  Got enough to eat?”

Her gaze softened and dropped, the same as when she’d chosen -- willingly or otherwise -- to believe his last lie.

“Yeah.”

His hand fell away, and he gave her a small, punctuating nod.

“Alright, good.  You lock up for me?”

“Okay.”  

Joel finally got free from both boots, his coat, depositing everything carelessly on the snowy mat outside.  He squeezed her shoulder again as he soldiered tiredly to his room.  “Night, kiddo.  Love you.”

Only her eyes tracked him.

“Love you too.”

*******

She didn’t know why she thought sleeping would help.  Useless idea.  Total mistake.

Ellie even put it off for as long as she could, hoping that if she fucked around and wasted enough time doing other dumb, meaningless, time-consuming shit that eventually her brain or body would concede that, okay, sleep did sound pretty appealing.

Nope.  No part of her was having it.

It didn’t help that, despite his best efforts, Joel couldn’t just lay there and suffer in silence.  With clockwork regularity the silence and stillness broke with his wracking cough, the occasional bedframe squeak revealing the restrained force of it.  By midnight he just gave up trying to sleep altogether.

Ellie lay awake, listening, and saw his dark silhouette lean into her room just enough to gently close her door, trying to preserve her own presumed sleep.

Five minutes later she fumbled a hoodie over her pajamas and padded out after him.

He spotted her just as he heaped limply onto the sofa, and immediately sighed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, El.  Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”  She yanked the hoodie’s zipper up with satisfaction. “I’ve been up the whole time.”

Joel loosened a slow breath, regarding her… then the empty living room… then back to her.

“On account of me?”

She didn’t want to lie, but also didn’t want to burden him with any additional guilt.

“One way or another. Kinda.”

He grunted, disappointed in himself, and his own once-again-stellar parenting. “...you oughta be in bed.”

She roughened her voice in an approximation of his own, mimicking a slightly surly swagger to the couch before flouncing down beside him. “So oughta you.”

Joel side-eyed her.  She tucked her chin down, eyes upturned, lips pressed in a thin but irrepressible smile.

“...fuckin’ hard-headed, stubborn, pain-in-my ass--”

“Yeahyeahyeah, I’m a total superstar, I know.”  Ellie reached for his arm, lifting it well over her head, then curled it around her shoulders.  Joel let her manipulate him without complaint, only turning his head away and uncurling his fingers to shield her from a single, congested cough.  When he turned back, she plastered her hand over his forehead like she’d been waiting for the chance.

“What is this,” he asked.

“This is what it feels like when somebody cares about you.”  She met his eyes.  “Dumbass.”

“Hm.”

Her palm was heavy and cool, the pressure of it on his brow oddly comforting.  Judging by the way she frowned, and searched him, and nervously licked her teeth, she didn’t like what it told her.  Joel sighed and reached up, taking her hand down in his own.

“Come on.  Enough of this.  You need to get back to bed.  Get some actual sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll… I don’t know, try to lie down for a couple more hours before work.”

“Before work?  Are you kidding me?” “Shit’s gotta get done, Ellie--”

“Yeah,  by somebody else, Joel!”

“More hands makes--”

“Fuck that dirty-south, cowboy, Marlborough-martyr bullshit for two minutes, would you?”

He leaned way back, rolling the whites of his eyes at her.  “Dirty south?”  When she thumped her palm against his shoulder he feigned an injured, “Ow!”

Inwardly he struggled not to laugh. Holy Christ was she angry.  Despite his perfect deadpan, there was still a tiny warble of amusement in his voice as he demanded, “What’s got into you?”

Oh, she’d been waiting for that.  She’d knocked at the door and he’d opened it all the way.

“Rest,” she accused, emphatic.  “You can’t skip the rest.”

Joel rubbed sorely where she’d thumped him, relaxing from his recoiled lean.

“Don’t know why you’re so mean to me.  Probably too many pickles.”

Ellie stuttered with a sniggering laugh, shoving him with both hands.  Gently, this time. “Asshole.”

“Hm.”

“I mean it.”

“Alright, you mean it.  I’ll tell Tommy in the morning, I need a day.”  He checked her with a look and leaned away again. “Maybe two.”

“Good.”  She pushed up from the couch, hands jammed into her hoodie pockets as she marched off.  

“Now where are you going?”

“To get you a blanket.  And I don’t know… soup, or something.  On account of you being so bad at looking after yourself.”

He watched her go, itching a knuckle under his nose.  “Think you can manage tea?”

Ellie cheered immediately, already detouring for the kitchen.  “Oh yeah, good idea.”

“Alright, then.”  He let his head rest back, smirking faintly. “Hope I don’t regret this.”

*******

Ellie stared, fascinated, the TV battering them softly in blue and white light.

“None of this makes sense.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much the entire theme of the 1980s.”  Joel set his tea aside and picked up the cardboard VHS sleeve beside him, garishly patterned with the box art from season one of Full House.  “You had to be there.”

“I’m kinda glad I wasn’t.”

She’d managed to brew him a decent mug of tea, heavy-handed on the honey, just how he liked it.  He’d been hesitant to waste a bowl of perfectly good soup on his already anemic appetite, but Ellie brooked no argument and brought it to him anyway.  They’d decided what to watch by reaching blindly into the box of old VHS cassettes, and now she was nestled close against his ribs, head rested back on his shoulder, marveling at the grainy, laugh-tracked evidence of a world gone before she was ever conceived.

Every now and then Joel looked down at the crown of her head, grateful, always returning to the TV before the little fragments of thankfulness could become too much for him.

Despite the contentment, the cold remained a persistent thorn in his side.  Every time Ellie felt his chest expand abruptly against her she sat forward slightly, giving him room to half-twist away with a cough or sneeze muffled to the inside of his far arm.

He’d let the breath back out of his lungs, bleary, and face the TV with a few blinks to clear his eyes.  Ellie would retake her place, squirming to close the gaps between her back and his ribs.

“You OK?”

“I’m a’right, kiddo.”

“OK.”

Every time, deliberate, with a sincerity that tattooed her like ink, ever deeper and indelible, into his skin.

Every ache and pain and exerted muscle from the past few days was catching up with him now, his sinuses blocked miserably shut.  After a particularly strenuous coughing fit he turned back around to find Ellie’s eyes more focused and ferreting and worried.  He needed to work a little harder to put her back at ease.

“Here, look,” he croaked, redirecting her to the TV.  “See this guy?”

“Mr. Goofy Fucking Hawaiian Shirts?”

“Yeah.  He used to date Alanis Morisette.”

“No way!”

“Yeah.” He chuffed, head shaking.  “Wild, right?”

“She’s so angry!  I love her.”

“Yeah, well. She’s angry about a lot of stuff you hopefully won’t have to worry about for quite awhile.”

“I guess. She still wrote good songs.”

“That she did.”

“Hey, speaking of, what does it mean to go down on somebody?”

Joel paled, making a long, desperately uncomfortable noise in his throat.  Ellie let him suffer for a good five seconds before donkeying with laughter.

“Relax,” she cackled, ear-to-ear grinning.  “I’m fucking with you.”

He flattened a hand at his chest.  “Jesus. How is this helping me feel better?”

“Oh my God. That was amazing. I almost wish I’d saved that one until I could actually see your face.”

“You know you can go back to your own room any time, right?.”

“And miss this?  Hell no.”

Joel quieted, checking her again in the dimness, watching the play of light on her face, her lingering grin.  He smiled faintly to himself before his eyes relaxed back to the TV.

“Yeah, it’s pretty alright.”

“Yeah it is.”

He didn’t remember drifting off, but at some point his mind disconnected from the brightly-colored spectacle glowing in the dark before him, the rising and falling tide of canned laughter.  Eventually Ellie’s hand spread lightly open at his chest, jostling him just enough to stir him awake.  His head picked up, eyes cracked open to see her cast in luminous blue.  Her face, serious but calm.  She curled the backs of her fingers to his forehead.

“You’re still really warm.  How come we don’t have a thermometer?”

“Someone’s gotta have one.” He blinked groggily.  “We’ll ask tomorrow. I’m sure I’m running a temperature… suppose it doesn’t matter how much.”

She started to peel the blanket from him, and he stopped her.

“Joel,” Ellie chastened.  He stilled her hand with a touch.

“No, it’s alright.”

“You need to lie down.”

“I know, I will. I’m gonna sleep out here.  I wake up coughing if I try to lay too flat.”

She wasn’t entirely pleased with this answer, but it was enough of a concession that she was willing to negotiate.

“Okay, I’ll help.”

He technically didn’t need the assistance, but clearly it was important to her to be a part of his recovery.  She lifted and transferred his legs to the couch by the ankles, assembling exactly the right pillows behind him so he could recline without hurting his neck.  His eyes followed her, lips softly smirking, as she pulled the blankets back over him and tucked them in at the edges.  When there was nothing left for her to fuss at she stood back, hands jammed into her hoodie pockets.

“You want me to turn the TV off?”

Joel’s head lolled to observe the glowing blue square, a single white NO INPUT blinking in the top corner.

“No, leave it.  It’s comforting.”

She looked at the screen.  Looked at him.

“You’re super fucking weird.”

Joel’s hands lifted, rotated outward from the wrist, and dropped limply back to his chest.  Look, what can you do?

“Get some sleep,” he urged.

“OK.  But you’re not going to work tomorrow.  We have like… I don’t know, forty more seasons of this stupid show to go through. Somehow.  Hopefully that hideous baby gets cuter.”

“She really doesn’t.  You know there was actually two of them playing the same kid?”

“What?”  She broke into a helpless grin.  “That’s… awful.  Imagine giving birth to a horrible-looking gremlin baby, and you’re like, oh well, at least there’s just the one.  And then: OH NO.”

Joel erupted with sniggering laughter, hiding his face against the inside of his arm as it devolved into another coughing fit.

“Fuck me,” he crackled. “Get out of here, please. Go to bed.”

“OK.”  Ellie leaned in and bent over him, kissing his forehead.  “Feel better.”

“Working on it.”

She started to turn, but Joel caught her wrist.  Ellie looked back, expectant, but he just lay there a moment, holding her hand, his thumb caressing into the crease of her palm.

“Thank you.”

She softened, awkward, fingers curling around his thumb in a single, meaningful squeeze.

“Of course.”

“I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too.”  She held onto his hand until both their arms were extended, then let him go with an impish smile. “I ate like six pickles.”

“Jesus Christ, girl.”

She receded into the dark, giggling, leaving him in the backwash of blue light.

“Good night.”

[delopsia]

Human | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 1,300  Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB! Reader, post-argument make-ups. Argument is never truly elaborated on, brief mention of alcohol. Slight hurt if you squint, but mostly comfort. This was a warmup I didn't intend to be posted, but Lewis added Human by Cody Johnson to his Rhett playlist, and well 🧍‍♂️ here's a snippet of the growing pains that come with Rhett learning to be more than just a cowboy 💕  

The moment your eyes close, music starts to play. 

Distant. Muffled. The barely there strummings of a guitar that you could have sworn was still sitting by the dresser. Reluctant, your eyes flicker open again, invisible flames licking at the corners of them as you look toward that old, hand-welded guitar stand. Already know what you'll find. Yet, surprised to find that confirmation.

Empty.

Just because there is music doesn't mean you need to face it. 

You can very well close your eyes again. Sleep off the exhaustion and deal with this in the morning when your mind is clear, and your heart is too sleepy to ache. But dealing with it in the morning means waiting and fitful sleep, brought on by the looming, empty space behind you. Lacking the warm, protective presence you've grown so accustomed to.

Your feet hit the cold floor at the same time that the guitar's player misses a note. This old hardwood has yet to creak as you walk across it, so familiar with the noisiest spots that you avoid them by instinct, and yet, the player seems to sense you coming. A once-perfect melody dissolving into a cluttered array of noises that hardly resembles what it once was.

The screen door squeals as you push it open, effectively silences the old guitar altogether.

It's dark; hard to see when you have nothing but the moonlight to go by, but you don't need it to know who's sitting on the old porch swing. Ankles crossed, the spurs on his boots glinting in the light. The ones you got him for his birthday last year because he kept glancing at them in the store. Never able to tear his eyes off the things he wants the most.

Like now. 

The full moon is just bright enough for you to see the way he tears his gaze off of you, only for it to flicker back as you cross the porch. Even now, he can't hide it. Your mouths remain sealed as you settle into the space next to him, the swing gently swaying as you do so. It's hard to talk when your throat is raw and your voice is weaker than the sleepy breeze that sweeps past.

On its own, your hand raises; he stiffens. Unable to move as your fingers curl around his jaw, your thumb rising to smooth over a bruised cheekbone. Some parting gift from a bull he rode last weekend. Those eyes glimmer a little more than they did before. Bottom lip quivering like a leaf in the Autumn breeze. 

That old guitar shakes as he sets it down, unable to keep it in his grip for the few seconds it takes him to do it. Eyelashes flutter, fighting back a flood that they're not strong enough to stop because a tear rolls down his cheek anyway. Caught midway by your thumb, only to be joined by another, and another, and another. 

"Rhett."

He breaks. 

Features scrunching. Collapsing into you so quickly that the swing sways with it, rocking back and forth. Your arms wrap around him, hardly able to cling to his shuddering frame. That usually cold nose of his is hot, burning against your neck as he buries his face into it. 

"I'm sorry," his voice breaks, interrupted by a hiccup. Can't quite get his voice out, and it's not because of your not-so-tame argument earlier. 

"It's okay," there's a soreness in your throat that makes it difficult to get around those syllables, overused and inflamed; you don't sound much better than he does, "You didn't mean to do it."

But Rhett's head shakes. A small, barely there motion that you doubt he notices he's doing. "No, it's not," his arms are tight around you, not letting go, even as he leans back to meet your eye, "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you in the first place."

You can argue with him on this; you're better with words than he is, know how to sell your point like a used car salesman during a recession. But you're not going to; too much of your evening has been spent bickering and pushing points that matter a whole lot less than they seem to. No, you're much happier with leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering there a moment too long.

"I don't know if 'm doin' this right," this close, you can catch the hint of whiskey on his breath; barely there, a whisper of what it could be. Doesn't assault your senses like it does when he's had enough to get himself drunk. You don't know how recently he's had it, but he's sober enough to notice you catch the scent. "Had half a glass, 's all."

Dramatic, your eyebrows raise. "Only half?" Raising your palm to feel his forehead, then his cheeks. "Are you feeling alright?"

The corners of his eyes turn upward, brought on by a watery smile, "was that sour apple shit my mom gave us."

"That bad, huh?" You really should address your argument, settle it while you're both too tired to get riled up again, but as he pushes your noses together, rubbing back and forth in that ticklish little kiss, it goes flying out the window. Not every argument needs to be solved right this second, but it's hard to ignore the wetness remaining on your shoulder. Tears, drying against your nightshirt.

Rhett's quiet again. 

Yet, somehow, that's all the answer you needed. 

It's easy settling into this rocking chair, bodies leaning into each other without care. One of his arms drapes around your shoulders, drawing you into his chest, while the swing rocks back and forth. A soothing dance that lulls your eyes shut, unable to keep them open any longer.

"Thank you." He murmurs, lips tickling your temple.

"For what?" 

The arm around you tightens, pulls you a smidge closer, erasing the last of the space between your bodies. One of those subconscious things he does when he's biding for more time to find what words he wants to use. "For not making me feel like something that needs to be fixed." Pausing again, interrupted by a stray hiccup. "I know I can...be a lot to deal with."

He says it as if you didn't know what you were getting into with him. Like you didn't already understand that cowboys like him all have the same burning issue. 

"You're learning," reaching for his hand as you speak, watching how yours practically disappears in his grasp, "I can't fault you for that."

Because everyone knows that Rhett Abbott was born and raised to be a cowboy. To spend his life working the family ranch, pick up for his brother's slack, and, if he still had the energy after all that, make his father proud by winning the county rodeo. A man worth bearing the Abbott family name. Something to brag about during family get-togethers. 

All those expectations, and they forgot one simple little thing.

They never raised him to be human. 

But he's getting there. 

His boots hit the floor, not so subtly telling you that he's about to get up but not quite going through with it yet. The wateriness in his eyes replaced by a childish sparkle fueled by whatever is brewing behind his growing smile.

"Y'wanna dance with me?" 

How did you know he was about to ask that? "You don't know how to dance." 

"Maybe," leaning closer, bumping your foreheads together, "But you always laugh when I trip and fall on my ass." 

He's barely held his hand out before you're taking it. Letting him pull you up from the swing, off to spin around in the grass until someone inevitably falls. Already giggling before you've even made it off the porch together.

Dancing in the middle of the night won't fix things, but maybe they don't need fixing. 

[thequeenrains]

“And then I see you... And I love you all over again.”

Tags: midnight talks; closure; kinda painful ig; unrequited love (or is it)

Summary: Sometimes, we all try to find peace in the midst of the chaos that is happening within our lives. But how can you find chaos if the same person that brings you that same problem is also someone that you find hard to let go?

Word Count: 2697 words

The moon shined brightly above the horizon, in its full glory, putting those who are a witness to her beauty in a tranquil daze at such a magical encounter. The dark surroundings were slightly luminated by her gentle light, bringing forth to the vision little details of the path to the city and silhouette of the trees that, at that hour, seemed like they hold such mysterious secrets kept for decades. The stars twinkled and danced along side the bright luminous moon, shining on their own rhythm, singing to the light of their almighty companion.

You felt the kiss of the evening breeze, which in turn made you hug your ukulele. You let your gaze wander through the dark silhouettes of the sleeping city, the sound of the insects humming in a choir in the distance serving as your accompaniment to the acoustic music that you were trying to create at that hour. 'My', you thought to yourself,  'I wonder what's in store for me?'

Through the moment of silent contemplation, and the staring and trying to make sense of the silhouettes painted in the distance, your fingers found itself lingering on to the frets of the instrument that you held tightly between your grasps. With clueless hands and a wandering mind, you let whatever music that may be produced from your thoughtless fingertips on for the silence of the world to hear. With each motion, the small scarf tied to the neck of the ukulele made a little moving motion, slightly tickling your leg. Shifting slightly from your position, you continued on to play to the insects and the darkness.

Mindlessly, you found yourself playing the intro of a song you know by heart. As if on instinct, your hands knew the correct tempo, the precise rhythm, and the correct placement of the chords that you didn't have to take a second glance to know where your fingertips were at, because your heart knew where to place them. And with each breath you took serving as the metronome for the rhythm and the tempo.

Your phone then rang, throwing you off of the daze that you found yourself caught on. You glanced at the contact saw that it was Hiro. Smiling a bit, you placed your phone on the window sill and answered the call. You pressed the speaker button and smiled as his voice soon filled the silence of your solitude.

"Hello," you greeted.

"Hey," he replied, his voice noticeably deep.

"How was your nap?" You asked with a little giggle. He chuckled and you could hear a yawn from the other side, signifying that he just, indeed, woke up from his nap.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping? It's already late."

You giggled a bit and eyed the moon up above, humming a bit before answering his query. "The moon's beautiful tonight."

Your hand began to strum your ukulele. You let a few notes hang in the air for a moment, before you began to hum along the lyrics of the song that you were playing earlier. Somehow, you found yourself being sucked into the small world that the melody brought forth, and you almost forgot that you were in the phone with someone.

"Hold on, I have to grab something," he said, which then somehow snapped you out of the little reverie you caught yourself onto. You could hear the shuffling of the covers from the other line and you hummed in acknowledgement. Continuing to strum your ukulele, the pattern over the past second became more and more consistent, and each strum becoming more and more familiar. You waited for the cue and then began sing the first lines of the song Heavy Crown by Trixie Mattel.

"Heavy head and a heavy crown, had a few since you came to town. Where are you gonna keep them still?"

"Winning's losing with a couple strings, it's a choosing between two things. It's a two-piece suit or all the frills."

You giggled a bit when your finger strummed the wrong string. You then paused and eyed the moon above, continuing on with your contemplation all the while waiting for the other person form the other side of the line to come back.

"Why'd you stop?" Hiro suddenly spoke.

His question made you blink. Needing a moment to process his question, you stayed silent, slightly confused. When you finally caught up, you could feel your eyes widening in shock and your heart stopping for a moment.

"O-oh? You heard that?" You asked, flustered. You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. No one ever heard you sing, you didn't let anyone listen or at least hear you open your lips to hum a certain tune or even a melody.

His sweet chuckle from the other line made your cheeks grow redder. As if that wasn't already embarrassing enough. "Yeah I did. You have a beautiful voice. C'mon, you need to sing more often."

You nervously laughed and bit your lip. "Uhm..."

"It's the first time I heard you sing actually. C'mon, sing a tune."

You stopped yourself from smiling at his compliment. You weren't going to lie, that felt great. It felt good to somehow be appreciated for the small things that you felt quite shy about. However, you were still embarrassed from earlier so you said; "No. I don't..." you cleared your throat and eyed the horizon above, "I don't sing anymore so I'm quite, y'know, rusty... and bad. Really bad." You said the last sentence in a whisper.

Unfortunately for you, Hiro heard that. "Why? I think you have a good voice. It'd be a waste if you're not singing anymore."

You let out a sad laugh, the stars twinkling in the horizon also gave you the impression that they were laughing at you too. "Well, it's just... people used to laugh at me and stuff when I do sing so like... yeah."

Utter silence from the other line.

You waited for a moment, playing with the scarf around the neck of your ukulele before you looked back at your phone to see if the line was cut off or not. Strangely, it was still connected. So he just wasn't talking...

You raised a brow, confused. "Hiro?"

"Yeah? Oh sorry. Hold on, I'm just thinking of ways to hunt that someone down," he said with a grunt from the other line.

You cracked a genuine smile, something that you really can't manage especially after recalling such a sad memory that you kept at the back of your mind, never to be remembered. You giggled a bit at his statement and sighed. "Well, what more is there to do now? I mean, I still suck at it. And like, it still is traumatizing me at this point so..."

"Look, whatever you're thinking right now— stop. You have a good voice and I would die just to listen to that again."

You couldn't help the smile breaking onto your face, the heat climbing up your cheeks, and the tears that somehow found itself up to your eyes.

"Oh you," you said with a laugh, in an attempt to push down the tears from pouring out of your eyes.

"What? It's true. Now, who ever laughed at you for singing, well, I would like to have a little chat with them. Just... just a chat," you can hear the humor in his voice and you couldn't help but keep laughing at his silly remarks.

"Is this a tactic to get me to sing to you?" You asked him, tone playfully taunting.

He hummed from the other line, "No...? Well, I'm just trying to prove my point here. What do you have against that?" You could literally hear his smile from the way he said his statement.

You shook your head, although he couldn't see you. "Nothing. Just... trying to find out the intent behind these flattering words."

"Not a single ill intention," you could hear his chuckle, "I just wanted to give you the words that you needed to hear."

"Well, how kind of you," you said with a giggle, feigning formality like that of a princess. Hiro laughed from the other line. You then let silence fall between the both of you.

You eyed the moon above —  still on her full glory. You never know what is it with the moon and the way it does always give you the feeling of safety, but here you are — basking in the comfort of her dim light, listening to the insects in the distance, and laughing without a care in the world with your friend over the phone. You also have a feeling that Hiro was also peering out of his window, eyeing the moon. You wondered for a moment if he was feeling the same as you were at that very moment — at peace.

You can picture him perched on his window sill, phone in hand and probably doing something else whilst listening to you, like what he always does.

In the midst of the silence, he called out your name. You hummed in return, telling him that you were still there, listening.

"I'm sorry."

You blinked, confused. "For what?"

"For... for everything." You could hear the defeat in his voice from the other line.

You couldn't help the sad smile. Biting your lip, you ran through the things that you wanted to say to him. But since things already happened, and there was no turning back now, you only settled on; "There's nothing to be sorry about, Hiro—"

"Look, I know I messed up big time but I..." he took a pause, as if trying to regain his composure, "I just don't want to lose you." You sighed at his statement, but nonetheless, continued to wear that same smile that you would always give him as something to assure him. But at that moment, it seemed that the emotion was directed to you — you were assuring yourself.

"Well, it's okay." It's fine. You're okay. "And I'm still here Hiro," you assured him. But as you did so, your smile slowly began to lose its emotion. There were moments that you had to put yourself aside just so you wouldn't ruin things for the both of you. It was hard, yes. But... somehow, you were fine. You just had to gather whatever courage you had for yourself and silently fight the battles that you were left alone with.

"Yeah but I... I'm still sorry."

"It's okay. I don't blame you, okay? There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Your feelings are valid. Always. Remember that, okay?"

"I..." somehow, you could hear him battle out his own demons just judging by the tone of his voice. And there it is again, you thought to yourself. At this point, you knew how to read him as if he was an open book. He was guilty. You took a deep breath and thought of whatever you can say to him that'll somehow put him at ease.

Somehow, despite the hurt that he gave you, you still found compassion for him. You wanted to hate him for what he did, but oddly, you can never find it in yourself to loathe him. You can never find it in yourself to be angry at him entirely. You care too much. You have no idea if that is a blessing or a curse. Nonetheless, you still found words to somehow put him at ease, and you're hoping it will give him peace.

"Hey, don't be too harsh on yourself. Things happen and you shouldn't beat yourself up for it. Don't worry about me, just focus on Megan, 'kay? I'm fine. Trust me. I'll be here when you need me."

"...okay." He sighed, defeated. You smiled at that. Then silence engulfed the both of you once again. Your fingers began to feel for the strings of your ukulele, then soon, the silence was then filled by the rich melody that your hands created, soothing the heavy ambiance that somehow wiggled its way between the both of you. Little by little, there was consistency in the chords that you played, and you found yourself being pulled into that little daze that carries you anywhere but the ground, only brought forth by music. But the melody was broken when he spoke once more from the other line, causing you to stop playing.

"Sing it."

You paused. "Hmm? Sing what?"

"That. That song. You should sing it."

You paused and bit your lip. But you nonetheless followed his request. Taking a deep breath, you opened your lips to start the first few lines of the song.

"And I don't smell you in my sheets. And I don't hear you in the hall. Without your cologne, your calls on the phone, I don't know you at all..." to begin with, you had no idea why you chose this song, but it just somehow explained your side...

When you were finally told that he was dating Megan... It felt so much like a slap in the face. Somehow, at the back of your mind you were expecting that. But you never really thought of how hard that might hit you when you were finally coming face-to-face with that fact.

"And I'm growing older, I know that we're over, the way we'd always have been. And then I see you... And I know you all over again." There was never a 'thing' between the both of you, but maybe... it was just because you were secretly hoping for more. But when the chapter has to finish, and the book is coming to a close, you have no choice but to stop writing the pages and bring it all to an end.

For you.

And for him.

For your peace, and for your happiness.

Because you deserve better. You deserve so much more.

This song... somehow became your closure. With each word that you sang, you could feel everything being left behind. As if all the events that unfolded became nothing but distant dreams of yesterday's escapades. Just remnants of silly conversations, and little decisions that led to actions that felt so much like a strange fever dream. And just as it always will be — nothing more than just... that.

You know to yourself that if you wanted more, you could always gain more. But it felt like this is all where it's headed. And thus, you'll let it go.

What a waste. But what is there to throw away wherein there was nothing to waste in the first place? Nothing fruitful grew out of it, and thus, nothing will be withered away. Not a single one.

And with the final chorus, you felt your heart ache from the bittersweet feeling that you got. "And then I see you... And I know you all over again."  It felt bittersweet, because it was like saying goodbye to a million what-ifs and what-could've-beens. But what are those worth when the outcome of letting it all go is the never ending peace that you longed for in what felt like a while?

"And then I see you... And I love you all over again."

With the final strumming rhythm and with the final hums of the strings of your instrument dissipated the chaos that you have been fighting with for months on end. With the final vibrations of the melody came the silence that welcomed the peace that calmed the storm that kept raging inside your heart for months. So, this is what it felt like before.

For the first time in months, you felt as if you could finally breathe. You let yourself take a deep breath, and you could've swore that it never felt so easy. As if millions of worries were suddenly lifted from your chest and it just felt so... freeing.

You thanked the moon, the stars, the universe, and the heavens. Because finally, the chapter has ended.

And that night, you finally slept soundly on your bed.

Yet little did you know, the final words that you sang left a footprint on Hiro's heart. A tear rolled down his cheek and he couldn't help but eye the moon and question; "Why?"

[starspray]

White Flowers

written for @nolofinweanweek, also on the SWG

(minor warning for canonical character death)

.

“Do babies always take this long to be born?” Turukáno asked Findekáno. They were perched in the tallest tree in their mother’s garden, which gave them a great view of the house and the surrounding countryside, and the walls of Tirion not far off, gleaming white under Laurelin’s radiance. Turukáno had been banished from the house early that morning when Anairë had felt her first labor pains, and Findekáno had come out to join him after a while, claiming that he recalled how lonely and worrisome it had been for him when Turukáno had been born.

“I don’t know,” said Findekáno, swinging his legs idly as he leaned against the trunk. He had a lyre in his hands and was plucking at the strings absently. “You didn’t take very long, as I recall, but I have been told that it varies.” He strummed a few chords. To all appearances he was utterly unconcerned and at ease, but Turukáno could see his eyes flick toward their mother’s windows every few seconds. Figures were moving about inside, and occasionally a faint cry reached them in the garden.

At last, the windows opened, and Turukáno heard a sharper wail as their father leaned out to call them in. Findekáno immediately leaped to the ground, and caught Turukáno when he jumped after him. “Where are you going?” he asked, when Turukáno did not immediately follow him to the door.

“Wait for me!” Turukáno said as he gathered a bunch of flowers, tiny white ones with a sweet scent that grew in clusters like little stars, and one or two pale pink dahlias that his mother loved. He ran after Findekáno, inside and upstairs, where their Aunt Ëarwen opened the door to usher them in.

Their mother lay in bed propped up on a mound of pillows, and their father was beside her, holding a small squirming bundle. “Flowers! Oh, thank you, my love,” said Anairë, taking the bouquet and kissing Turukáno on the nose. “Come, meet your sister.”

“What is her name?” Findekáno asked as he leaned over Nolofinwë’s shoulder to peer at the baby. When Nolofinwë handed her back to Anairë, Turukáno finally got a look at her, little and flushed and wrinkly, her tiny hands balled into fists. She was the loveliest thing Turukáno had ever seen.

“Irissë,” said Anairë.

Irissë opened her eyes and cooed, reaching up for the flowers. Her grip was strong and tight, and once she had hold of the stems she would not let go, and tiny white petals rained down on her face, making her sneeze and the rest of them laugh. “Hello, Irissë,” Turukáno said, reaching out to run his fingers through the soft dark hair atop her head. “Hello, baby sister.”

.

The sun shone with blinding brightness and heat down upon Gondolin. All was quiet. No bells rang in the towers, and there was no music, no singing, no flutes or drums or harps. Even the flowing fountains seemed muted. Outside the city gates, upon the green grass of Tumladen, a cairn was being prepared. In life Aredhel had rebelled against walls, and so in death she would rest outside them, where the wildflowers grew and the wind passed whispering through the grass. How bitterly Turgon wished he had kept her inside the encircling mountains in life—that he had kept her safe.

The funeral would be held late in the afternoon, as the sun began to sink and the air cooled. Until then Aredhel lay in state, and all who wished could pass by to say farewell. Turgon stayed away. He did not want to witness others’ grief, nor to have witnesses to his own outside his own household. He did not know where Maeglin was—nor what he would say when he saw him again.

The flowers that had grown in their mother’s garden outside Tirion long ago did not grow in Beleriand. There were similar blossoms, tiny white things like stars, but their scent was not as sweet. Turgon still grew them, and he gathered a small bunch before at last descending. The crowds were gone, and the room empty. Aredhel lay upon silken cushions, clad in her favorite gown of white shot with silver brought across the Helcaraxë from Valinor, with a silver girdle and a circlet of diamond and pearl resting upon her dark hair. Her favorite bow and quiver had been laid at her side. Were it not for her unnatural stillness, and the grey pallor of her skin, she might have been asleep. The only sound was the whisper of Turgon’s own robes as he crossed the floor to stand at her side. Her hands rested one over the other on her stomach, and were cool when he laid his own over them. Carefully, he tucked the flowers into her fingers. “Farewell, Irissë,” he whispered into the stillness. “Forgive me, baby sister.”

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - It's Not Me

Young Silco is fierce.

Young Sevika is fiercer.

But Jericho is fearsome.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Mild NSFW

Snippet:

After a while, Silco felt the hot weight of her stare. When he looked up, she said, "You look like crap, Sil."

"Oh?"

"You don't even notice, do you?" Her eyes raked him up and down. "You're like a wraith. Could cut somebody with those cheekbones."

"A few missed meals. That's all."

"You need a good old-fashioned bender," she said bluntly. "With a big bottle of single-malt. The good stuff. Not the swill they're peddling lately." She took another swallow of gin, and made a face. "Some days, I'd swear it’s battery acid."

"I can’t." Silco swirled his cup absently. "Five rats—" runners"—missing. Five-hundred pounds of chaff—" bullets "—needing to be shipped. A dozen crates of sardines—" rifles "—waiting to be delivered." His fingers tapped out the numbers. "And that's not even half the list. I'll be old and grey before this is done."

Sevika's eyes grew pensive. "Old. Grey. Like Nandi."

"Your sister was barely twenty-seven."

"No. But now she's—" In an urn. With effort, she caught herself. "You remember the lines on her forehead. The way she'd squint. She always said her eyesight was getting worse. It was the smog, she’d say. It's like a sneak-thief. You get so used to the haze, you don't see what it's doing to your body."  She rubbed her own eyes. "Sometimes, I feel it too. A tightness here." She tapped between her brows. "Like a thread pulling through a needle."

Silco smiled, barely. "That's a migraine, love."

"It's a pain in the ass." She drained her cup, setting it aside. "But every day, I’m sorry she can't feel it. Can't see the rust on the stairwell. Can't see the cobwebs strung in the hallways. Can't see the gasoline rainbows in the puddles." Her lips pinched at the corners. "She had a rough life. But she still saw beauty in the ugliest things.” A wry aside, “Guess that's why she picked you."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm kidding, Sil." She elbowed him. "You were good for her.  Nothing like the louts here."

"She was easy to be good to." His fingertip circled the rim of his cup. "Sometimes I wonder..."

"What?"

He fell quiet, his eyes hooded. "Maybe I wasn't good enough."

"Bullshit. I knew my sister. She didn’t get the life she deserved, but you made her happy. She'd say so, if she could." 

Silco nodded. It seemed the thing to do.

Sevika's scrutiny didn't abate. "She'd also say you need some shut-eye. When's the last time you had a decent sleep?"

"When's the last time I had a decent anything?" Silco lifted his cup, and drained the dregs. Bitter in, bitter out. His lips sketched the barest smile. "At least the company's good."

"Company's always good." Sevika took a bite out of the bergamot. Juice twinkled on her chin. Her tongue ran over her lips, an idle provocation. "I could make it better."

Silco's features stilled around the smile. "What?"

"You heard me."

"You can’t be drunk already."

"Please." She dropped back on her elbows, so her breasts stood up between the loose folds of her shawl. Heavy handfuls, the nipples taut against the fabric. Sevika never bothered with binders back then. "I'm dead sober. And I've never needed liquor to speak my mind."

"Not if your mind's—" He stopped, a sharp swallow like a barb. "—what it is."

"And what is it, exactly? Bent? Broken?"

"You've had a skinful of hurt."

"Wouldn't mind a skinful. Or two fistfuls, and a mouthful, for good measure." At his stare: "Sisters aren't like brothers, Sil. We'd tell each other everything. I mean: everything."

"Everything," he echoed, flat. "Or whatever you'd pester Nandi into sharing."

"Same difference." Her grin held a sly curl. "She told me you had hands made for music. Not the kind played on the fiddle. You'd strum her until she nearly sang the building down." She nudged his leg. "That's high praise. My sister was picky as hell. I can count on one hand how many men made it past our threshold. But you..." She laughed, but not merrily. "She'd do everything short of tying you up in a bow to keep you from walking out."

"She didn't need to tie me up." He set the cup aside. "Four years, I never looked elsewhere."

"Yeah, you were a rarity." She tipped her chin. "Maybe that's why I'm asking. ‘Cause I know you're worth the gamble."

He shook his head. "This isn't a game, Sevika."

"You think I'm playing?" 

"With my last nerve, yes."

"Am I?" She tugged the neckline of her halter, and for moment he saw a glimpse of areola, deep bronze on the paler breast. "Then why're you still here?"

His skin prickled under his clothes. The heat, the heaviness, the memory. Nandi's breasts, the dark smoothness of her thighs. Silco's own hands, tracing her freckles. His lips following. Nandi, sighing: "Here. Here. Here." A constellation, with him as the shooting star.

Where had he fallen? A thousand miles away with her blood-sister.

Her sister, who'd always been listening through the door. Whose presence was a visceral echo of Nandi's, but whose eyes were different: hard, hungry, never satisfied.

Like him.

"Sil?" Sevika's tone downshifted. "Hey—where are you going?"

"Back to work." He rose, dusting off his lap. "I’ve heard enough."

"Hey, c'mon!" A tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm not good at this stuff."

"Good at what?" A bite of temper cracked through his calm. "Toying with Nandi’s leftovers?"

She flinched but held firm. "It's not like that."

"What, then?"

"She's gone. You are too. I never see you anywhere. Days, you're cooped up in the Drop. Nights, you're never at your flat. You're not grieving, Sil. You're running." Her fingers tightened around his sleeve. "I'm just… worried."

"So you thought you'd screw it out of me?" He slipped free of her hold. "I've no time for this, Sevika."

"You NEVER have time!" she exploded, and several diners glanced their way. "Not for me, or anyone! You think you're the only one hurting? There's plenty of us going through the same thing, and you're shutting us all out! If you go down, so does this whole fucking city!" Her breath hitched, once. "I don't know what else to do. How else to get your attention."

Silco's face didn't shift. "My attention isn't for sale."

"And the rest of you?" She gestured angrily. "That's fair game?"

"That's not your business."

"Then whose is it? The slags who pant after you in the Drop? The cutthroats who creep after you in the ginnels? The drecks and the dregs whispering in your ears whenever you pass?" She barked a harsh laugh. "Half of 'em would sell their soul for a chance. The other half already sold theirs. But it's the people who matter you're running from!"

Silco's temper, already frayed from nightly arguments with Vander, tugged at its seams.

"I am trying," he hissed, "to keep everything from falling apart."

"By hiding behind your maps and plans and lists?"

"Better than ash in an urn." His stare went inexorably dark. "Now unless you'd like us all to end up in one, I suggest we drop this."

Sevika fell silent. In the background, Jericho's fry-pan sent up a cloud of sizzling steam. The heat seeped in, threading into Silco's veins. His cup was empty, but his hand stayed clenched around it. The cold cut through the warm haze, a tether to sanity.

He waited for Sevika to speak. To curse him out. To signal the end of this conversation. To do anything but sit there, with that strange expression on her face. Like he'd gutted her. 

Finally, she whispered. "Can I kiss you?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Just a kiss." She bit her lip. "That’s all."

"Why?"

"Because."  The red shawl slid down her bare shoulder. "Because I haven't kissed anyone since she died."

"You'll find your pick of punters."

"I don't want punters!"

"Then find a sweetheart. A regular. Someone to—"

"To what? Fill the gap?” She tossed her head, miserably defiant. “Already got a hundred gaps in me. Got a hole the size of the fucking sun. And the worst part is, everyone keeps trying to fill it. With booze. With drugs. With empty promises. It’s all bullshit! I try to eat, and nothing stays down. I try to sleep, and all I see is blood. I try to breathe, and all I feel is—is—" She hauled in a sharp breath. "I miss her, Sil. Every fucking minute. I can't take it anymore! I need a fix. Something. Anything!"

Silco was silent. For a moment, all he could see was the corpse on the steel table. The ash in the urn. The blood on his knife.

The dark, and what lay inside.

"It's not me." His voice echoed back at him; hollow. Like he was on ether. "Whatever's your fix, Sevika. It's not me."

He turned on his heel. He was ready to escape into the night. Down into the labyrinth of his own creation. Anything to flee the pain in Sevika's eyes. All his deepest hurts were mirrored there. Two orphans, born in a city built on odds. And the odds were rigged against them.

Rigged forever—unless they broke free.

He started to walk off. The half-full pitcher bounced hard off his shoulder with a metallic clang. Gin sprayed everywhere. He spun, and Sevika was right before him: tall as a Valkyrie, her eyes full of fire. Seizing a fistful of his collar, she shoved him against the table.

"You selfish rat! You'd leave me to go cold-turkey, wouldn't you? Leave me to rot, with nothing but the nightmares in my head? All for what? Because I'm not HER?" She shook him. "Well, fuck that! I've lost my sister! I won't lose you, too! You can kiss me, or hit me, or do whatever you want to me! But don't fucking walk away from me. Not after—"

Whatever she said next was lost. Jericho's bristling silhouette arrested them both. A butcher knife was brandished in his fist.

"W̶̼͒̆ḧ̴̼͚́a̴͈͌t̶̼̻̄̈́'̵̫̌s̵͇͚͛ ̷̫͒̿t̷͎̺̉̕ḧ̶̖̹́e̶̥̜̾ ̷̖͒͊ŕ̵̪̯̑ǘ̷̙c̸͕̙̓̚k̴̞̭̀͆u̸͔̒͝s̸̪̜̐?̸̡̑ͅ?"

Sevika and Silco traded a glance.  Instinctively, Silco encircled Sevika and put her behind him. He took a step forward. "My fault. Always making the girls cry."

The hulking chef's eyes slitted. "M̴̛̩͈̋͒o̴͙͎̻̝͈͐v̸̭͖̠̭̌͆͐̎ě̸͕̥̘͓͚̂.̶̡̛͖̹̙͂̓͆̀ ̴͙̰̆̌S̸̘̐́̔h̸͓͍̉̒̇̈́̈e̴͎̤͕͙͂́̀̓̃'̵͎̞̞̇̒͠s̷̩̜͚̅̓͋ ̷̺͚̰̍͝g̴̛͔̅̒͆̋o̵̟̳̥̿̚t̴͓͍̙̟͙́͆̈́͗ ̴̯̤͙̬̑̚t̸̡̼͉̥̤̋́̀͐o̷͓̻̲̓ ̴̳̓́̂̊͝p̷̡͇̑̿͒̈́a̵̟̺͒͐̃ẏ̵͍͈̃̽̍̑."

Silco raised his palms. "Put it on my tab. All of it. You know I'm good."

"Y̵͖͗͋̍͊o̸͍͕̫̯̣̔u̷̙̟͕̤͂̿͋'̵̪̪̗̃̌ͅr̸̪̬̺̣͑͑̍͘ĕ̶̬̿̀ ̴̧̰̹̕͜s̴̨͙̫̝̅̀ĉ̵͎͗͂͝ȃ̴̡̙̣̆̅͐͌r̷̡̊͂́ǐ̸̼͔̉͛͝n̷̡͍̱̫̆g̶̯͚͔̠̏̽̈ ̵̡͑̏̎̅̕m̸̨͈͕͐̊̋̈́̓ÿ̵̩̲͖̙́ ̴̛̫̱̬̑̈́c̸̛̜͝u̵̢̻͍̭̔ș̴̫̀ͅẗ̶̹͕̥̰̖͑͠o̸͕̗͍̔ͅm̴̙̖̿́e̷͉͇̺̖̠̿̄̓̈́ŗ̶̉̆͑ş̵̲̬̾͛͌͂͝ ̶̣̮̺̋̇͊͝o̷͈̱̟͛f̴̮̀̀f̸̬̼͇́̿͆̂̉.̴͔͓̐̅̀̃͜͜͜͠"

"It's over. It won't happen again." Silco dug into his pocket, and pressed a few coins into the Vastayan’s hand. "For the pitcher."

Jericho's maw was still bridling. But coin smoothed the creases. "Ṱ̵̢̼́̄͝͝r̷̰̩̒̋o̴͚̾u̷̢͑̔ḇ̶̱̹̓͑͆́ĺ̷̹̚ȇ̷͍̣̱m̷̱͋̀̚ȧ̴͓̭̤̈́͘k̷̺̖̹̎̕e̶̪͖̠͎͆̑͛r̴̛͚̰͜s̵͖͕͙̫̔͌.̴̜̝͔̓̏͜ ̸̯̜͗̅̏͜͝B̵͔̾͑́o̵̳͈̯̜̐͋̇t̵̢͔̗̆h̶̩̜̫͗̒ ̴̰̺̇̓̒o̸̳͉͓̻̔́f̸̯̪̊̿̀ ̶̮̰͈͕̿y̵̨̘̅͂͝o̶͔̍͗̈́̾u̶̥͇͐̆͐.̷"

"We'll be off."

[steeldaisies]

Yankee Rose- E.M. x afab!reader SMUT!! NSFW!!

Minors stay away I have a spray bottle full of water!!!

Summary: Eddie is really good at multitasking.

Pairings: Eddie Munson X afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ cock warming, sexual teasing, p in v, going raw (dudes wrap it before ya tap it), pet names (babe, sweet girl, hun/honey, baby girl and good girl), Eddie calls reader a whore once, dom!eddie, sub!reader, calling Eddie sir, kissing, smoking, I know I’m probably forgetting somethings but just know it’s pure dirty smut (idk what else to tell you)

Word count: around 2.5k

Let me know what you think, this is my first smutty fanfic! So please be extra kind!!

//Also, please don’t copy my work but feel free to reblog, comment, and like!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There you were, with Eddie’s hard cock nestled deep inside of you. How did you get into this… uhh -situation? Let’s take a step back to a few minutes ago when you were relentlessly teasing the poor man.

“Eds please… I’m so bored!” You whine throwing your hands in the air as you’ve been pacing for the last five minutes.

“Babe please stop.” Eddie begs dryly as he strums his calloused fingers over the strings of his acoustic guitar. His eyes focused on the sheet music laying out at his feet. You’ve been begging for his attention the past hour and Eddie is at wit’s end.

You settle beside him as he’s sitting on the edge of his bed. Your ass resting on your calves as you come up with one last attempt to get him to look at you. Poking his cheek and sporting a pouty lip, you look at him gauging his reaction.

Getting your wish he looks at you with irises practically black as they bore into your own. His facial expression set into a hard pissed off scowl.

“That fucking does it. You want my attention? Fine you got it!”

You’ve never seen this look before or heard him speak that way to you. It sends a shiver down your spine and your cunt dripping. With a doe eyed stare on him, you’re frozen where you sit. Eddie sets down the guitar on the bed and grips your hands in his larger ones. The calluses rubbing harshly against your soft skin.

“You are going to sit still on my cock like a good girl or else punishment will come later,” his voice was as rough as his hands felt.

The intrusive thought in your mind slips past your lips before you could stop them.

“I could make you cum later,” you mutter under your breath with a snort.

“What was that?” He said giving a stone look of warning as if to say try that again.

You couldn’t think of a good way to cover what you said so you just looked back at him blankly. He nudges you off the bed and onto your feet, avoiding the sheet music.

“Take off your clothes then come over here and turn your back to me,” he says, giving explicit instructions.

“Okay,” you respond, voice coming out small as it fails to sound confident.

“That’s yes sir,” he corrects sternly.

“Yes sir,” you parrot back to him so he knows you understood the correction.

Quickly you remove every article of clothing avoiding the dark look in his eyes. Eddie licks his lips like a lion staring down its next meal. You turn around waiting for his next instructions. Head starts to cloud hearing the jingling of his belt, sliding of a zipper, then the crumpling of fabric as he pushes his pants and boxers off his legs. He throws his shirt off to the side so you can see where it lands. You rub your thighs together in anticipation.

Breath stuck in your throat as you try to swallow. Suddenly you feel his warm hands on your hips guiding you. He removes one hand to steady his cock, lining it up with your entrance as you stand above him. His other hand wraps around your waist. Without warning he pulls you straight down, but not too fast to avoid any intense pain. Eddie grunts hearing you whimper as he bottoms out inside you. His free hand moves to cup your jaw so he can speak into your ear.

“Now sit still and be quiet for me honey,” his voice set in a low growl sending another shiver down your spine.

Eddie places his guitar across your lap locking you in place. He put his chin on your shoulder to look down at the sheet music. Every now and then his cock twitches just to keep him hard deep inside of you.

The hum that reverberates from the guitar sends little vibrations to your clit. He may or may not know this is happening as you unknowingly let out a hum almost in tune with the chords he was playing.

You try to distract yourself, trying to think of anything to keep you from accidentally rutting your hips against his. Looking around the room even. There’s a pile of clothes you need to wash later, the bag from the burgers he picked up for you both earlier in the day needs to be thrown out. The handcuffs are hanging on the wall- the handcuffs. Oh the things he does when he’s out of your reach. Those don’t help distract you one bit. If anything it’s made it worse. So you decided to try talking to him instead, even though he asked you to be quiet.

“What song are you working on?” You ask him timidly.

“Yankee Rose… for the show on Tuesday.” Eddie grips your hip as he leans around you to look down at the sprawled out papers.

The one he’s looking at is a little further away. As he leans past you, his cock twitches just right hitting your sweet spot. You dig your hands into the sheets for purchase, trying so very hard to not accidentally squeeze your walls around him.

Eddie smirks to himself, seeing your eyes closed and your hands gripping for dear life. He knows that the past several minutes you’ve tried very hard to be a good girl. Deciding enough is enough, he puts the guitar on the floor leaning against the bedside table.

He leans in close, his lips pressed to your ear. His rough fingertips tickling the tops of your thighs as they glide up towards your cunt but going back down before they meet. Eddie’s smile is a hungry one as he forces his cock to tap your sweet spot again and again… and again.

“You’ve been such a good girl…” he coos into your ear.

Hearing those words elicits a quiet moan to pass your lips. Eddie, satisfied with your reaction, decides to continue teasing you. One hand moves to lightly trail his fingers up between your breasts. The other moves to hover over your heat, fingers barely touching your clit as it starts to circle. Your sadistic boyfriend knew exactly how to get you right where he wanted you. Begging.

“P-please Eddie… baby I-I fuck… I’ve been so good for you.”

“Oh. My sweet girl… sweet like honey. That’s who you are. You’re my honey and that’s how everyone sees you. What they don’t see…” his fingers put a slight bit of pressure on your clit pulling a groan from your pouting lips. His laugh brushes your ear. The heat from his breath cools against your warm skin, making your nipples harden.

“Is that when we’re alone like this… you’re just a whore for my cock. So neeeedy. My honey so horny and begging. What should I do with you hun? Use your words, tell me.”

“Eddie please I’m s-sorry for being impatient earlier. I just missed your touch. Want you so bad. Please! Please fuck me!” You beg so well for him.

“Hun, you got your wish.” He pulls your arms in front of you, crossing them as he wraps his own arm around your waist while the other he uses to brace himself on the bed.

Eddie pulls you up slightly by your waist and begins pounding up into you. He slides in and out of you so easily. Fuck, how are you this wet soaking his cock like that?

He throws his head back grunting as his thrusts hit deep inside of you. Your walls gripping his cock tightly like it never wants him to abandon it again.

“Eddie baby, you feel so good!” You cry out to him.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust. Eddie leans to the side getting a nice view of your blissed out face and your dripping cunt as his balls slap up towards your clit.

“Sweet girl you have no idea -oh fuck- how much I love your cunt -the way it squeeeezes on me.” With that last statement he slowly pushes cock farther up into you.

“I’m -I’m already so close.”

“No nononono honey. You’re gonna hold onto it. You, my sweet sweet girl, are not allowed to cum…” he growls into your ear. “You have to make me cum first.” Eddie chuckles letting you sink down onto his cock as he stops his thrusts.

He removes his arm from around your waist and leans back, giving you full control. You feel his cock shift inside of you as if it were saying your move.

It only takes you a moment to stand up and turn around. You crawl onto his lap, grabbing his cock with one hand as you steady yourself with the other hand on his shoulder. As you lower back down his eyes lock with yours, just as dark with lust as they were when you instigated this.

“That’s it hun, just like that -nice and slow.” Anytime he get the opportunity when having sex with you, he loves watching his cock slowly disappear into your cunt. You're just too pretty to not watch.

You raise your hips to where the tip of his cock is barely inside you. Eddie gives you a questioning look and is about to ask what you’re doing when you quickly drop down, earning a guttural moan from him. You do this two more times then bounce at a fast pace before he can beg you to stop teasin’ and get movin’.

“Baby -fuck, just like that. You’re so good to me honey. Goddamnit!” He yells out. Smiling you grab some of the hair on the back of his head giving a harsh tug. He hisses at the pain but the smug smirk on his face let’s you know to keep it up.

“You’re gonna try and get rough with me now sweet girl? Aww one would think you’d know better than that by now.”

That earned you a sharp slap on the ass as he spanks you. Your jaw drops and he takes the opportunity to shove two fingers into your mouth.

“Suck.”

You don’t have to be asked twice. His fingers always felt so good in your mouth. You roll your tongue over them as you continue to bounce on him. You wrap your hand around his wrist urging him to push his fingers deeper towards the back of your throat. He quietly mumbled an oh fuck as you gagged on his fingers.

“Careful baby. I’m gonna need this pretty little throat later.” He tried to say with bravado but his voice cracked slightly.

You try so hard not to cum hearing those words but you’ve gotta hold on for him. And hold you will do. Sneakily you lower one of your hands and grasp his balls in your nimble fingers. There were two things that could for sure bring him to his knees:

The mere sight of your cunt. Whether it be covered by your soaked panties or bare before him like a grand feast.

Anytime you interacted with his balls. In your hands or in your mouth he would die a happy man either way.

“Honey, you can’t just grip my balls like -mmm. You can just do that to me -s’cheating babe.” His cock twitched and this time you know it was because he was close to cumming. You release his finger from your mouth. He wipes away a string of drool with his thumb and brings it to his lips to suck it clean.

“Baby I’m just doing what you asked” you said innocently enough to convince him.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He challenged you.

Fuck you’re definitely going to need a nap after this. Was that his goal this whole time? To fuck you to sleep so he could keep working on the song? Just as you were about to ask this of him he slaps your rear again. You cry out as your head land on his shoulder.

“You were getting so brave hun” he mumbled into your ear and pressed a kiss to it.

“I am brave though!” You tried to argue with pouty lips. You stop bouncing and grind on him pivoting your hips back and forth.

He took this opportunity to collect both of your hands behind your back and lock them in place with his belt. When the fuck did he- you know never mind.

“Prove it to me sweet girl. Make me cum deep inside you.” He whispered, his breath fanning over your face before he caught your pouted lips in a kiss.

You moan into the kiss, making the final decision to give him what he wants. What you both want. You begin to bounce on him again, more urgency this time. You were determined to make him cum and he was caught up in just how beautiful you looked above him like this.

“So beautiful,” he runs a hand on your thigh. He adores how soft you are. How angelic you look. He agrees with himself that this is definitely what he wants for the rest of his days.

You hum in response. Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and under your bound hands. His other, still on your thigh palms at the supple flesh. This is his tell. Eddie always gets super touchy and grabby right before he-

“Shit fuckfuckfuck -FUCK BABY OH MY GOD CUM! NOW!” You didn’t need to be told twice.

You cum together and it’s ethereal. A combination of moans, feral grunts, curses, sweet nothings, and praises from the both of you is the sweetest of symphonies.

As you both begin to relax, your head back on his shoulder, he breaks you of your binds made from his belt. His arms wrap around you caressing your head and rubbing up and down your back. He places a few sweet kisses to the side of your face as your breathing calms. This is how he is when you don’t antagonize him for attention. But you would totally do it all over again.

Eddie notices how he’s supporting your weight as you begin to doze off in his arms. He hums your favorite song to you as he moves the both of you, laying you down on the bed. He pulls the blanket over you, still humming as he leaves a few more kisses to your cheek and forehead.

He climbs to the edge of the bed, puts on his boxers, lights a cigarette as the song he hums drifts to Yankee Rose. He picks up his guitar and looks back at you, making sure you’ve fallen asleep. He shakes his head as he takes a drag and puffs out the smoke. He continues to hum the lyrics as he reads the sheet music and plucks at the strings. Back to work.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list:

side note- my sincerest apologies to those tagged I know I promised to have this posted Wednesday but some personal things happened so hopefully I’ve made up for it!! Enjoy!

@im-julessssss @lightvixxen