#he would’ve had to live 3 towns over

[somethingoriginal127]

something that i think is so interesting about ship wars is people arguing their opinions as facts

like people who hate jiara think it would be stupid and random bc kie has already “dated/messed around with john b and pope (that rlly isn’t unrealistic or automatically misogynistic i think it’s more misogynistic to assume writing her to have a little fling with her only guy friends is misogynistic but that beside the point.

people who don’t ship them go on and on about their lack of chemistry and again how random the pairing would be but it’s so wild because as someone who likes the ship i kid you not with no influence no gun to my head i shipped them from the end of the first episode on my first watch of the show ever before i saw a single post about the show at all

from the beginning if she show, the literal jump, i was like … oh he’s in love with her, i like their dynamic best for sure

so you can hate them but if you were to argue it with me by saying they have 0 chemistry i would just be like “what do you mean i was feeling the tension from season 1”😀bc i genuinely was lmfao and i’m taking with NO outside influences

[embrosegraves]

𝕊𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕔𝕖 𝔸𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥

(request) Kimi Räikkönen x Fem!Reader Kimi only allowed one person to truly know him. You.

Warnings: a bit of cussing, poorly google translated Finnish, and extremely brief research of cities in Finland. Briefly edited.

Kimi famously never allowed his emotions to be on open display for the people around him. He never let people see behind his frosty facade. He never let people get close enough for them to figure him out. He always kept everyone at a distance so there was no possible way for anyone to truly know the type of man he was. Excluding his parents, there was only one exception to all of it.  

You. 

Kimi never intended to bump into anyone on his break between seasons. He had chosen Pori specifically because he knew that no one he worked with knew enough about Finland to know where Pori was. None of his colleagues knew that Pori was roughly a 3 hour drive north west of his home town. With a population of 83 thousand compared to Espoo’s 310 thousand, it wasn’t an extremely well known place. 

Kimi supposed he shouldn’t’ve been so surprised when he bumped into you, causing your coffee to spill everywhere. But he couldn’t help it. He never would’ve expected to literally bump into someone he worked with. 

“Katsu se!” You exclaimed. Too busy trying to wipe off the spilt coffee before it could stain your coat too badly. [Watch it!]

“L/n?” 

Of course you knew who it was, how could you not? It wasn’t like you spent a majority of the year around him, battling it out every weekend for top spot on the podium. 

“What Räikkönen? Didn’t expect to see me over break?” You finally looked up and made eye contact with the Finn. 

“Why are you in Finland?” 

“Am I not allowed to go home during winter break?” This had stunned Kimi more than bumping into you. 

“Home?” 

Your annoyance had disappeared a while ago, the whole situation was too amusing for you to be truly annoyed. “Räikkönen, just because I race under a different flag doesn’t mean I’m not associated with another country. I was born in Pori, spent 14 years here before moving overseas.” 

After that the rest was history. You ended up spending more and more of your winter break around Kimi. So much time that the Finn found himself opening up more and more around you. At first he had been the same cold, closed off Kimi that you were used to, but soon enough his metaphorical ice walls began to melt around you. He learnt that your mother had been born in Finland and had met your father while on holiday. You told him that your father had moved to Finland to be with your mother and that you always spent winter break in Pori. You travelled so much for the rest of the year you found there was no point travelling between seasons. 

Throughout your time together, Kimi found himself telling you things he had only ever told his parents. He told you how he had wanted to eventually settle down and start a family. He told you that he truly did believe that Formula 1 was a hobby, that it wasn’t just something he said for the cameras. He told you that sometimes, in the privacy of his own home, he often thought about his imaginary daughters running around and filling his house with giggles and bright smiles. 

Eventually, the winter break would come to an end, and you would both have to go back to the rush of racing every weekend. About a week before preseason testing, you had been hanging out with Kimi in your living room. Talking about everything you had done so far in your careers. Kimi had smiled when you started to laugh at the story he had just finished telling. 

Watching you laugh at something he said had him feeling almost giddy with nerves. He had never felt this way with a woman before. Not one to let an opportunity slip by, he spoke up softly. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes Kimi?” You responded, trying your best to calm down from laughing.

“Let me take you on a date.” 

“Kimi- what?” 

“I want to take you on a date. These last months have let me understand that everything I want in life, I want them to be with you.” He said. Taking your hand in his, he spoke with a sincerity you had never seen or heard in a man before. “Let me take you on a date and show you.” 

Your free hand had covered your mouth as he spoke. A month ago, when you realised what your own feelings for him were, you had become determined to never mention them. There was no way The Iceman of all people would feel the same about you. Yet here he was. Sitting on your couch and asking you to go on a date with him. 

“Yes.” 

Kimi gave you a smile that had become less and less rare the more you spent time with him. 

“Thank you.” 

It had been three years since then. In that time you had gone on dates in every country you had travelled to. You both celebrated every win and comforted every loss. Two years into dating, Kimi had asked you to move in and marry him and during the mid-year break, surrounded by both your immediate families, you had become Y/n Räikkönen. Kimi hadn’t cared about telling the other drivers or the media, and you had agreed saying that it would be far funnier if they found out on their own. So nothing had changed in your public routines. In your head you thought the funniest part of it all would be that no one on the grid knew you had even started dating each other. 

Neither of you had gone out of your way to avoid the other, in fact the other drivers often saw you both hanging around each other. Nobody had any inkling that You and Kimi were together as more than friends. Many gossip sources chalked it up to the two “outcasts” of the grid hanging out and left it at that. So it was a surprise to everyone when some fans had pointed out on social media that your signature had changed from your race number and maiden name to Räikkönen. 

Jensen and Fernando, being constantly online, had dragged Sebastian to immediately start searching for the Finn. What they had found was more surprising than your change of signature. Opening the door to Kimi’s drivers room, the three of them saw you sitting on the couch with Kimi lounging on your lap, asleep. You had one hand running through his hair as he slept while the other was scrolling on your phone. Looking up as the door opened, you smiled when you saw who it was. 

“Hello boys. Anything I can help you with?” You asked. Fernando was too shocked to say anything and Jensen had just started stuttering out incoherent sounds, so it was up to Sebastian. 

“There are fans saying that your signature has changed.” 

You huffed a gentle laugh, trying not to disturb your husband from his rest. “That’s because it has.” 

“But why?” Jensen had managed to get his English under control enough to start actually speaking. 

“Why’d you think it would change Jense?” You were having too much fun with this. 

“But you have never shown any interest in Kimi. And Kimi doesn’t show interest in anything, so when?” It was Fernando’s turn to get over his shock. “How long have you been married? Why did we not know?” 

By now Kimi was definitely awake, though he made no show of it. You could feel Kimi’s hand that was resting between you and the couch back start to gently stroke your thigh. You knew he was also amused. 

“I wasn’t aware I needed to tell you who I was interested in. If I’d known I would’ve told you three years ago.” 

“Three years!?” The three of them cried. 

Eyes still closed, Kimi mumbled to you. “Käske heitä naimaan. Nukun.” [Tell them to fuck off. I’m sleeping.]

“Luulen, että olet levännyt tarpeeksi, rakkaani.” You replied laughing. All Kimi did was groan. [I think you’ve rested enough, my love.] 

“If you wake up properly, I’ll give you a kiss.” 

Opening his eyes, Kimi briefly glanced at the three flabbergasted men still in his driver's room, before looking directly at you. “Teet kovaa kauppaa, vaimo.” [You drive a hard bargain, wife.] 

He sat up nonetheless and moved so you could place your legs over his lap. He looked at the others and spoke. “What else did you want to blubber about?” 

 Kimi was aware that he had a resting bitch face, and most times he didn’t mean to glare at people, but the three men in front of you had clearly been terrified of what Kimi might do if they stayed, so they quickly made their way out of the room. 

“I told you they would find out from the fans.” You laughed. A smile broke out on Kimi’s face. 

“I really thought they were smart enough to figure it out themselves.” 

“Sebastian I could understand, but we’re talking about Jensen and Fernando here, my love. They were never going to figure it out on their own.” 

“That’s true.” Kimi shifted you closer to him, so that you were sitting on his lap facing him. “I believe I was promised a kiss, Wife.” 

“How could I ever deny you, Husband?” You whispered, leaning in close and gently placing your lips to his. His hand moved to the back of your neck to pull you closer and deepen the kiss. Both of you aware of the three drivers that had yet to move from the other side of Kimi’s door. 

It wasn’t your fault if they saw something they shouldn’t’ve.

Okay, time got away from me for a bit but here it is!

I hope you all enjoyed!

Likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 14)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,355

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Masterlist]

Notes: Okay I'm a lil sad for my baby azzy in this part 😭

_________________________________________

“Listen kid,” the tattoo artist across the table from him sighs, and Azriel already knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.

This interview hadn’t been going well since he stepped through the door to Steppes Ink. The guy who was supposed to be conducting the interview for an apprenticeship at the parlor—a lanky lad tatted up with the worst ink Azriel’s ever seen…is that a clock dripping blood for fucks sake?—had forgotten he was even giving an interview today.

He—Brad? Chad? Something or other, he suspects—hadn’t listened to a word Azriel said when he spoke about his time tattooing. That it was his passion. That he wants to make a career out of it. Instead, the guy had kicked his sneaker clad feet up onto the edge of the table and flipped through his portfolio, not allowing Azriel to speak on his work.

He’d seen the look the fucker had given him when he’d pulled his portfolio out of his bag. The way he stared openly at his latex gloved hands as he held the book out, stuffed full of drawings and pictures of tattoos he’s given both at parties and his art focused study groups.

Azriel thinks it’s an impressive show of skill, but this fucker doesn’t.

He doesn’t even want to apprentice here anyway, not after all of this, but he’s running out of tattoo parlors to apply to in town. He’s not against driving out to the next town over because he has a reliable source of transportation, but driving all the way out after his classes is something he’d rather not have to do.

Azriel sets his jaw. He’s more than ready to pack his things and leave, maybe swing a fist at the fucker on his way out. He had been ready to go when the second comment out of this shithead's mouth was, “Taking cleanliness to a whole new level there, ey kid?” In response to his gloved hands. He’s glad he’d worn them, because he knows if he hadn’t, it would’ve been something much more insulting spewing from his lips instead.

He’s had better interviews with the same result. The fact that he keeps putting himself through this shows his determination, but Azriel would be lying if he said that the plethora of no’s he receives wasn’t disheartening. He feels like he’s come a long way since his accident, when he’d essentially had to relearn how to hold his pencils, charcoal sticks, and tattoo gun.

All of that pride he felt is slowly deteriorating like an ages old painting.

“I think you’re very talented with your sketches, but it’s not translating into your tattoos,” the man starts, scratching his patchy beard. He sucks his teeth, but it doesn’t help get rid of the cluster of food jammed between them that Azriel has been talking to for the past forty minutes. Yeah, he really does not want to work here. Not only is this guy disgusting, he’s seen at least three violations the second he walked into the parlor alone.

Imagine if he had to put up with this shit everyday.

The man continues, because he doesn’t really know how to shut up. “Your lines are all jagged, and we can’t have that. I’d be happy to look at your work again next semester when you have a little more experience.”

No. Fucking. Thanks.

Azriel grinds his teeth because he doesn’t know what else to do. How many times has he heard this line before? He knows, Mother help him he fucking knows that his lines aren’t the straightest, but he’s come a long way, and his more recent tattoos aren’t suffering because of it. 

Why won’t anyone just give him a fucking chance?

“I understand,” Azriel nods, and it takes a lot more effort to keep his tone neutral when he replies.

He’s thankful that the guy can’t see how white-knuckled his fists are under the table.

“What made you want to get into tattooing, anyway?” The man flips his portfolio shut with a harsh snap. The way he says it makes Azriel feel like he’s about to be told that he should find a backup plan. He has one already, but this fucker doesn’t need to know that.

Who does this guy think he is anyway? He has a bleeding clock and a lion head on his arm for fucks sake. It even has a mechanical eye. And he’s sure that if he lifts the sleeves of his cut off flannel, he’ll be showing a plethora of gears forever marked onto his pale skin, too.

“Every tattoo has a story,” Azriel answers, because it’s something he believes with his whole heart, and maybe, just maybe, this fucker can relate to that.

The idiot has the audacity to cock his head, questioningly. “Is that so?”

“The one’s I get do,” Azriel responds stiffly, and he hopes that this interview is over because he can’t bear to sit here a moment longer. What’s with all of the follow up questions? He’s already said no, so why the fuck is he still interrogating him?

Azriel is being looked at like he’s some dumb college kid with no idea what he wants to do with his life, and he fucking hates that. He knows exactly what he wants to do once he graduates, and that’s to be a tattoo artist, hence trying to find an apprenticeship at a local shop. Right now, he’s starting to wonder if all of the shop owners have meetings together where they talk about the kid in black gloves and tell each other not to hire him. 

Either way, he’s beyond fucking annoyed.

“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Azriel says, gathering his things. The guy looks at his gloved hands again and he knows that the question is on the tip of his tongue so he hurries, shoving his portfolio into his bag and standing from his chair. 

“No problem kid. Like I said, work on it and maybe next semester—” 

“Right,” Azriel forces a smile like he’s never had to before. It feels like cutting steel, and he’s sure it looks more threatening than genuine. “Thanks.”

He dips out of the shop before the fucker can ask anymore questions.

He’s glad he didn’t even care to remember his name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The wind against his body and the rumble of his motorcycle makes things slightly better.

Azriel tries to let the interview roll off of his shoulders with the current pressing against his body, but it just isn’t happening. 

Usually, he enjoys the ride. The way taking the curves a little too fast makes his heart stutter in a rapid pace, the smooth asphalt beneath his wheels wiping his worries away, but there’s something about tonight that has him feeling like he’d rather just put on some music, wallow in his bed, and work on his sketches.

He’ll show that fucker.

It had gone shittier than all of the other interviews he’s had. Four, to be specific. Four interviews, where three of them had mentioned his shaky linework, two of them had told him to come back next semester, and one had been conducted by a total fucking idiot.

His hands are shaking now, memories of the accident dredged up from the way the last interviewer was staring at him. He can still feel his beady gaze on his hands, like he was some fucking specimen to be examined under a microscope. Maybe if Azriel had peeled back the latex and showed him the damage of his scars, the guy would’ve left him the fuck alone.

He knows that that’s not how it would’ve gone, though. Guys like him always ask more questions, and Azriel does not want to repeat that story to someone like that.

His gloves are still on, clenched tightly around his handlebars. He can’t ride like this, needs to stop, but he’s two blocks from his apartment now and he just wants to be home.

The fact that he can still feel the phantom touch of your body pressed up close to him every time he rides his bike now helps distract him. It subconsciously eases the trembling in his hands, and Azriel relaxes only slightly. He still doesn’t like you, but the way your thighs had pressed so firmly around his body had felt like being completely doused in warmth. He hadn’t even needed his jacket while the cold rain pounded down on the both of you, because with your chest pressed tightly against his back, your hands around his waist, he was nearly sweating.

He wonders if you had felt the same. Like there was lightning zipping up your rigid spine. If your heart was thundering as loudly as his. If you just wanted to keep going like he did, pass the town up and go on to the next—

Azriel nearly passes the apartment building whilst he’s distracted. Cassian’s big, beat up bronco is a red flag waving at him from its usual spot in front of the building. Literally, the crimson rust bucket is an eyesore, and he’s surprised they haven’t gotten any complaints from the landlord about it bringing the value of the building down.

He jerks to a stop and backs his motorcycle up in front of the truck. Always parking in the closest to the corner, Cassian had said, so that no one can block him in. Azriel hadn’t known if it had been a slight jab from when he’d trapped your and Feyre’s moving truck in on your first day here, but he’d laughed nonetheless.

There are people wandering in and out of the building. Giggling groups of girls and guys carrying racks of beers on their shoulders, hooting and hollering, eye-fucking the girls in their short skirts as they wait for the elevator. There’s parties up and down the building all weekend, and Azriel prays that for once, Cassian has decided to wander down a few floors to find a fuck instead of hosting another party.

His prayers are not answered.

When Azriel shoves through the stairwell out onto the fourth floor, the music hits him like a fucking truck. It’s bass-heavy, blaring down the hall like a goddamn rave. Internally, he groans, shoving his way through the people loitering in the hall, ignoring the more than interested looks he receives from a group of girls, staring him down like a pack of hungry hyenas.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

It’s late enough that the pregame should be finishing soon, but knowing Cassian, it’s only just beginning.

Azriel had stopped off at the local diner for something sweet to take his mind off of the awful interview. It hadn’t helped his shakiness at all, the anger coursing through his veins, not even when his favorite waitress Rita had brought him a small fry on the house and put an extra cherry on top of his shake, then proceeded to sit with him for a bit to check in.

He loves Rita. He, Cassian, and Rhysand used to frequent the diner often during freshman year, when they had no transportation and were broke art students. Rita had always taken care of them, but now, the tradition seems to have dwelled as they’ve gotten older and are able to attend bars and have the money for restaurants that don’t only serve smash burgers and shakes. 

Azriel’s pretty sure he’s the only one that still visits out of the three.

His apartment is packed to the brim. He can smell the alcohol and sweat in the air, the stench of it makes his nose scrunch. He could use a fucking drink right now, he thinks, but he doesn’t do it often because it only makes his hands shake more and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

Upon first glance he doesn’t see either of his roommates, and then Cassian is barrelling through the crowd as if he has a sixth sense for knowing when Azriel enters a room.

“Hey, man,” Cassian grins wildly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. The drink in his cup sloshes precariously close to the rim of his glass, and Azriel grimaces. His roommates eyes are blurry with drink, and he’s swaying a bit, leaning his body weight against him. Hopefully, he hasn’t tripped and crushed anyone with his sheer size, because it wouldn’t bode well for the person trapped beneath the behemoth. “Are you setting up tonight? There’s these two chicks that want to get tatted up. Underboob.” Cassian waggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s just caught a glimpse of heaven. “Matching.”

“Not in the mood,” Azriel grunts, pushing past his roommate. He hates every second of shoving through this crowd, bodies plastered against his own like the ink on his arms. He wonders if the loud music is bothering you on the other side of the thin wall, and then he shoves that thought straight from his mind because he doesn't care.

He does care that it’s bothering him, though.

Azriel digs his keys from his pocket. The lock on his door was added after their first party and he’d found a couple right about about to fuck on his bed.

He’s the only one that gets to do that, even if he hasn’t touched another girl in months. He’s been too much of a surly bastard to even want to pursue a girl, and he knows they wouldn’t want him touching them with his fucked up hands, despite the glowing eyes feeding off of his appearance in the hall. 

Someone bumps into him and he nearly smacks his head into the door. Azriel chokes back the growl threatening to crawl from his throat, and decides against whirling around to bark at whoever’s run into him. His grip on the knob tightens.

There’s a soft light emitting from his room when he opens the door, the lamp beside his bed glowing. Azriel releases an exasperated huff, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it skyrockets when he notices the lump tucked tightly into his covers.

It’s you, and you’re in his bed.

Two thoughts pass through his mind so quickly he can hardly discern one from the other.

One, what the fuck are you doing in his bed?

And two, who the fuck let you in his room?

Okay, so the second question is easier to answer than the first. It’s obvious that Cassian must have let you into his room, because he’s pretty sure the fucker had made a copy of the key the second day he’d put the lock on his door. Azriel hadn’t let him in when he’d been trying to get him to smell four different colognes he got as samples in a magazine, so his roommate took it into his own hands to make sure Azriel could never be in his room in peace.

The first question, however, makes no sense. You live right next door for fucks sakes, so what the fuck are you doing here?

Azriel stares. He can’t help himself, he’s frozen in the doorway until Cassian’s belting voice complaining about the pop song that the playlist has switched to snaps him from his stupor. He ducks inside of his room, shoving the door shut behind him, and flicking the lock.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. 

He’s staring at your sleeping form like you’re only pretending to sleep, armed with a weapon and hoping he comes closer. You’ll pop out at him and scare the shit out of him and then Rhys will fall out of the closet laughing and Cassian will burst through the door, falling to his knees in hysterics.

But you’re not moving. You’re curled up on your side, and a metal mixing bowl sits on the table next to his bed, the small stack of books that is normally stacked there spilled haphazardly, one face down on the floor. 

There’s a glass of water next to the bowl, and Azriel doesn’t like that it sits so close to his books, despite it being only half full.

His bag falls from his shoulder and he slings it over the back of his desk chair, all while keeping his eyes pinned to your sleeping form. His dark sheets rise and fall shallowly with each breath you take, your lips parted slightly, unbothered by the intrusion and the loud music shaking the walls.

You must be used to it by now.

This is weird. This is so fucking weird that Azriel doesn’t even know what to do with himself but his feet move him closer to the bed against his better judgement. No, this is fucking beyond creepy now, with him looming over you like this, watching you sleep.

His fingers itch and he rips the gloves off of his hands, tossing the latex into the trash by his desk. His fingers flex, and Azriel gulps down a fresh breath of air now that his sweating hands can breathe. 

Doing so doesn’t stop that feeling, though. The one where he wants to feel that familiar pencil in his hand, charcoal coating his fingers. There’s a blooming in his mind, inspiration swiping the foulness of his interview away. He need to grab his sketchbook and flip it to a clean page and start drawing the curve of your—

No. He scolds himself, shaking his head furiously and backing away. He trips over your shoes, discarded in a pile on the floor, but he doesn’t eat shit. Maybe if he did it would help clear his mind from this. The way your presence has painted over his tainted night, when he should be more angry to see you occupying his space, but instead, he feels more intrigued.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be looking at the way his sheet is draped across your body. You’re still clothed, and Azriel is more than thankful for that. He shouldn’t be admiring your quiet, peaceful side, not when he’s so used to seeing that crease between your brows and frown tugging your lips whenever he’s around. He shouldn’t be brushing the strand of hair falling across your face behind your ear—

Azriel jerks his hand away from you. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer, had been leaning in like what? Like he was going to caress that smooth skin of yours? No, that’s not happening. Now or ever.

He bolts from his room, but not before making sure he locks it behind him. He feels frantic again, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones. He needs to find Rhys because the music is making his head spin and he’s so, so close to spiraling right now.

Stumbling through the living room to the other side of the apartment, Azriel reaches Rhysand’s door. He hopes it’s unlocked, because being alone right now sounds even better than having to be around anyone right now. 

It’s fucking locked.

Azriel pounds on the door. There’s an urgency to it that Rhysand must hear, because he’s cracking the door open a bit and Azriel is met with his glowing violet eyes and naked chest. 

“What’s up Az? I’m a little…busy at the moment.”

He doesn’t need to peek over his shoulder to know that Feyre’s waiting for him in his bed right now.

“I, ah—nothing man. It’s nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from the door. None of his questions are being answered. If everyone's over here, why is no one at your apartment? Why aren’t you in your own bed? “What the fuck,” he grumbles, scanning the crowd of gyrating bodies in the middle of his living room.

He spots Cassian somewhere near the middle, a group of girls rubbing their bodies up against his. They’re so close together they look like a pack of sardines, and Cassian is their king. He’s laughing, making suggestive eyes at at least three of them.

Sometimes, Azriel wishes he was that carefree. 

With nothing else to do, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

He needs a fucking drink.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r

[swingingthehatchetnow]

Pete always averted his eyes around the homeless man downtown. Whether it was because he got awkward around social interaction or felt unwarranted guilt about the man’s situation, he’d never managed to look the man in the eyes before. He couldn’t describe his face if he tried.

That changed after Jägerman.

The things that used to be uncomfortable really weren’t anymore. After holding court with the Void, a man on the street really doesn’t seem all that intimidating. Ruth and Richie would’ve made fun of him if he was scared of the little things after the whole ordeal, he knew. It helped him to imagine their reactions. Coping and whatnot.

His walk home was lonelier. As were his study sessions and social life. But the walks home were when he really felt their loss. Even though Pete and Ruth lived in the opposite direction, they’d walk with Richie to his place, and then cut through downtown to get back to the other side of town, where he and Ruth would part ways near the Coldstone, both going to their respective homes.

He still followed that route. Coping. And whatnot.

It was just after noon. Pete had his AP statistics final in the morning, and had no class in the afternoon, because his teachers were proctoring other exams around the school. So here he was. Peter Spankoffski, walking through downtown Hatchetfield, alone. Steph had a full school day, so he wouldn’t see her until later.

“Excuse me, do you have a minute to talk about saving our planet?”

He turned. The Green Peace girl was at it again, with a wide smile and a clipboard in hand.

“It’ll only take a minute of your time,” she continued, now holding out a brochure. Trying to reduce the amount of time he had to talk to her, he took it wordlessly.

“I, um—” his voice cracked, and his face flushed red. Nobody else his age was still having voice cracks. He cleared his throat. “I’ll take a look at it. Saving the world and all.”

Not like he hadn’t done that once already.

The Green Peace girl smiled even wider, and did a little bouncey turn on her heel. The way she bobbed off reminded Pete of Steph when she was in a particularly happy mood. This thought relaxed him a bit.

He tucked the brochure into his pocket and continued walking, though he didn’t get far before he was cut off by someone else.

“Spare change for the homeless?”

Of course he knew that voice. Anyone who spent more than five minutes downtown knew about the homeless man.

Before he even looked at the man in front of him, Pete reached for his wallet. He’d just gotten a bonus at work, so he figured he had a few dollars to spare. Besides, his movie theater job paid surprisingly well.

He grabbed a $5 bill and turned to the man.

“Here you—”

He knew that face.

Older, sure, and a little lost-looking, but there was no doubt about it. Pete was looking at…

“Teddy?”

The 20 year age gap between the Spankoffski boys left them with an interesting dynamic. It was hard to feel like brothers sometimes when one of them was coming home from kindergarten while the other was getting a full time job at CCRP.

But they had their moments. When Pete was learning how to drive, Ted would let him use his car, even though he hadn’t gotten his license yet, or the night before freshman year, when Ted gave Pete his ‘Spankoffski guide to charming the ladies’ guidebook.

Hand trembling, holding out the $5 bill, Pete looked into the cloudy eyes of his older brother. His older older brother.

Somehow, some way… Ted was standing in front of Pete, a shadow of his former self.

“That’s way cool, man,” he said, taking the $5 from Pete. No sense of recollection could be seen.

“Ted, what happened to you…?” Pete watched Ted pocket the money. And then Ted… walked off. Just like that.

“Ted, wait!” Pete called after him, but Ted didn’t turn around. He simply tugged his hat down over his ears and walked off.

With trembling hands, Pete reached for his phone. He spent no more than 3 seconds looking for his brother’s contact info and hitting the call button.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four…

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Pete sighed in relief at the sound of his brother’s voice on the other end of the line.

“No,” he said, “my AP exam was today. Ted, I—” he paused, realizing he had no idea what he was going to say. How do you ask someone if they know that they’re the homeless man from downtown.

He lost his nerve.

“…I was just wondering if you want to hang out later. I— I got a new game, and—”

“Yeah, sure whatever. I get off work at the usual time.” A sound came from Ted’s end of the line, fabric shifting, like he’d adjusted how he was sitting. “Is that all? Because I was about to pull the ol’ Spankoffski charm on this barista that Paul is trying to snag.”

The familiarity of the conversation was enough to ease Pete’s worries. Sure, he’d held court with the Void, lost his two best friends, nearly got shot executioner-style, and ran into what he was certain was some version of his brother in the streets… but all that didn’t matter because somewhere in downtown Hatchetfield, Ted Spankoffski was fine. And so was Pete.

“I don’t say it a lot, but I’m glad you’re my brother, Teddy.”

“Sorry, I was talking to Charlotte. Did you say something?”

Pete smiled and hung up.

Maybe the universe was bigger than he knew and could ever understand.

So what.

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 3)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 2

Days turn into weeks and they fall into a routine. Y/N and Haymitch lead different lives for the most part. He likes to stay in, she needs to go out. To see people. To prove to herself that the world didn’t actually change, only she did.

“My father wants you to come over for dinner.” Y/N tells her husband, upon her return from town.

“He wants me?” Haymitch frowns.

“Well, it’s a family dinner,” Y/N shrugs. “You haven’t really met my family.”

“I know your family.”

“I didn’t mean…” Maysilee.

“You said your mother struggles,” Haymitch remembers their conversations. Every word she’s ever said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to see me.” The boy who won, the year her little sister died.

“My dad wouldn’t have asked if he thought it would be too much for her. He’s very protective of my mother.” Sometimes at the expense of his own daughters. “It would mean a lot to me.”

“Fine.” Haymitch takes a long swig from his glass. “We can play happy family, why not?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to put on a show. Just be yourself.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d almost think you like me.” Haymitch smirks.

“Good thing you know better.” Y/N grins, turning away from him.

————————————————————————

“Well, Haymitch, it’s good to see you again.” Mayor Undersee claps the other man on the back as he steps over the threshold into Y/N’s childhood home.

“Nice to see you too.” Haymitch forces a smile.

“Please, come in and make yourself comfortable at the table. Dinner will be served momentarily.”

Y/N gives Haymitch’s hand a squeeze, kissing her father’s cheek, in greeting, before leading him deeper into the house. If Haymitch could even call it a house. More like a mansion, similar to the ones they occupy in victor’s village.

Madge and Mrs. Undersee are waiting for them at the dinner table. The girl glares up at him from her seat. She’s younger than Maysilee was, when Haymitch met her in the arena, but it’s still like seeing a ghost. It hurts to look at her.

“Madge pie, this is Haymitch.” Y/N smiles at her little sister.

“I know who he is.” Madge bites out. Y/N never had many nice things about him, until a few weeks ago when she up and married him.

“Y/N talks about you all the time.” Haymitch tells Madge. “All good things.”

Madge scowls, and says nothing.

“I understand that this is confusing for you. I know he and I don’t have the best track record.” Y/N sighs. “But what I need you to know is that Haymitch is good to me; he’s so good to me and he’s…important to me.”

Haymitch stares at Y/N, snapping his mouth shut as Madge huffs, but agrees to drop the subject.

He was important to her? Haymitch stews on it, through dinner. He couldn’t be important to her, he isn’t good enough. It’s his fault they’re in this mess to begin with.

But Y/N seems…happy. Happy with him and her family all together. Happy to make him part of her family.

Perhaps things have changed for her too.

The Undersees are nice enough, but they make Haymitch long for his own family. To have people he could bring her home to meet. His mother would’ve loved her. His little brother. His father was a man of few words, even still, Haymitch is sure Y/N could’ve pulled a smile from him.

When they are stuffed from their meal, the table disbands. Waving Y/N and Haymitch goodbye, from the doorway.

The victors set off, back to their village. Their foot steps falling in tandem atop the melting snow.

“I think they like you.” Y/N says, after a moment of silence.

“Your kid sister wants to string me up.” Haymitch chuckles.

“Madge will come around. She just needs time.”

Haymitch nods. “Well, they invited me for an encore next week. So at least there’s that.”

“You can tell them no, you know?” Y/N reminds him.

He shrugs, “happy wife, happy life.” You’re important to me too.

They manage to make it home, to the new couch in the foyer, before they’re a mess of lips, tongues and wandered hands.

“I want you.” Y/N breathes, staring up at him above her.

“You have me.” Haymitch assures her.

“Please?” She is prepared to beg. Because surely that wasn’t allowed.

They haven’t…not since their wedding night. Never just for them. Never just because they wanted to. Mostly, they exchanged a few words and then did this; kisses and heavy petting.

“Angel,” he sighs. She couldn’t possibly want that, she must want comfort and to be close to him. “This is enough, I’ll stay right here.” With her legs wrapped around him like a vice. “We don’t have to do anything else.” He nuzzles her nose.

“I want to. Just for us. Unless you don’t-”

“Oh believe me, I want.” His cock is hard and pulsing between them. “But only if you’re sure.”

Y/N nods. “I’m sure.”

Haymitch kisses her then, letting her set the pace. Their clothing hits the floor and Y/N keens as he slips a hand between them. She’s so wet.

“Please.”

“Anything you want, anything you need.” Haymitch murmurs, lining himself up with her entrance and easing inside.

“Fuck,” Y/N says. He angles her hips upward, hitting that spot with each pass.

“Is that all you want, angel?” He hums, cupping her breast in his hand. “I’ll keep you full of me and make you cum until you can’t think straight. Is that what you want?”

Y/N nods.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he all but growls. Leaning back on his heels, driving into her faster. “I want that too.”

He can’t avoid her like this, or feign a shred of indifference. All he can do is love her and love her and love her. Fuck, how he loves her. Even though he isn’t supposed to, even if he’ll only admit it to himself when he’s balls deep. Haymitch is in love. In sinking, festering, all consuming, inconvenient, love.

Y/N kisses him reverently, because Haymitch makes her feel things. He’s one of the few people who can, after the games. Like parts of her went numb in the arena. She feels nothing at all. But he sets her ablaze. Sometimes with rage, other times with passion, but she’s never felt this way about anyone before.

It is real, so very real.

The coil in her belly goes hot, impossibly tight. What is he doing to her? “I-” she begins to protest. “Uh!”

“You’re ok.” Haymitch assures her, pressing his hand to her lower belly, adding to the sensation.

“Oh god,” Y/N gasps. It’s unlike anything she’s ever felt before. Building and building… “Haymitch!” She claws at his forearms, in warning.

A rush of wetness greets him. Her cheeks heat up, but Haymitch won’t allow her to be embarrassed. “I want you all over me- make you cum on every piece of furniture in this damn house.”

Y/N whines, lost in him. His words, his touch, his eyes, boring into her soul as he ruins her. Until there is nothing left but him. All of him and all of her, splayed out for the other to see.

————————————————————————

Things are different after that. Haymitch becomes very…attentive. Bringing Y/N little gifts. Anything from books he found at the hob, to flowers he’d found growing around the back of their house.

Because it has become theirs now, not just his. Little pieces of her are everywhere, twining themselves into his DNA.

Y/N takes an interest in fixing his favorite meals, watching his face light up.

“Went down to the hob today.” Haymitch tells her, lying his latest offering on the dinner table.

Y/N turns away from her pot on the stove, flipping the burner off. “Oh?”

“Funny enough, they asked about you.”

“Haymitch-”

“Whatever you’re doing down there,” supplying them with things to sell, bringing money back into the district, “is grounds for execution. Even for a victor.” Haymitch reminds her. “So you’re gonna stop doing it.”

“I can’t stop, Haymitch. Those people, our people, they need that money. They’re starving!”

“I’m taking over. You supply the goods, I’ll pitch in some things of my own. But you stay away from the hob. Peacekeepers can’t see you there, nobody can see you there.” Haymitch continues.

“I’ve been doing this for years.” Since before the games. “I haven’t been caught.”

“You got lucky.” He reasons, “or maybe you didn’t.”

“What?”

“What are the odds that the mayor’s daughter gets her name called at the reaping? You didn’t have to take tesserae, so your name was in there once? That’s some incredibly bad luck on your part. Or maybe somebody did know that you were trying to help the people in the seam.” Haymitch lifts a shoulder.

“My aunt’s name was in there once. Just one time. It can happen and it does.” Y/N crosses both arms over her chest.

“Look, I don’t want to fight. I know this is important to you, but I can’t have you there. It’s too much of a risk. I’ll be the middle man.”

“Fine,” Y/N sighs. Reaching down for his glass and taking a swig. The liquid is foul, burning her nostrils and throat, causing her to sputter and gag. “Is that fucking rubbing alcohol?”

“That’s the hard stuff, angel.” Haymitch claps his hand against her back as she continues her coughing fit. “Should’ve started off with wine or champagne.” Something sweet for his sweet girl.

“It tastes different when…” Y/N’s eyes dart to his lips. “When it’s on you.”

“Interesting,” Haymitch muses. Suddenly he’s having her for dinner.

Part 4

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila

[miley1442111]

Hi! I don’t know if you were already planning this but I was wondering if I could request a part 2 of your new fic ‘Regrets’? Maybe like a few years later they see each other again? You can decide if it’s a happy or sad ending, I love your work!

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regrets, part 2- s.reid

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting, i think this is becomign a series !!! (aka it's got it's own google doc, yay!)

summary: 5 years after you and spencer call of the engagement, he's back in your life. For a case. obviously.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: fighting, brief spencer in prison mentions (nothing about the storyline though dw), set a few years after so ik he's 'no in the bau' but just go with it please.

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You didn’t see him. For 5 long years in your new town of Colorado. You became a nanny for a wonderful family, you were paid well, and you were happy. That was until one fateful day. 

When Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareou, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, and Luke Alves, showed up at the doorstep of the O’Connor family mansion. 

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

Knock knock knock

“One second!” you shouted, juggling Annaleise, the youngest of the O’Connor children, in your arms as you tried to peel a banana for Xander’s, the second youngest, breakfast. “Xander, stop playing with your porridge, eat it!” You playfully scolded, resulting in a laughing fit from Xander, and the surrounding four children. 

Annaleise was 2, Xander was 3, Jamie was 6, Poppy was 9, Juliet was 14, and Megan was 16. All the kids adored you, you lived with them as their parents went on various business, and pleasure trips. They were typical rich parents who didn’t exactly care about their children, but you did. You cared about them alot and you’d grown to love taking care of them.

“Coming!” You shouted as you bounced Annaleise in your arms and rushed to the front door.

You wished you hadn’t opened it. Then, the world wouldn’t have stood still. Then, you wouldn’t have seen Spencer. You wouldn’t have seen the awful dark rings under his eyes, his sunken and pale skin, the shock in his eyes when you came to the door with a child. “Hello?” 

“Mrs. O’Connor-” David started. 

“I’m not Mrs. O’Connor. She’s on a business trip with Mr. O’Connor,” you explained quickly. Had you not been making eye-contact with David, you would’ve seen how Spencer’s entire body untensed. The small breath of air he didn’t realise he’d been holding left his mouth in a spluttering cough of sorts and Jj had to slap him on the back to stop him from choking on his own spit. 

“My apologies, Y/n how are you?” David had always been kind to you. 

“Fine, I’m good David. Thank you,” you smiled. “I’m the nanny.”

“Do you mind if we come in to ask you some questions?” he asked, flipping over his FBI badge. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you came in but everyone is getting ready for school and this isn’t really an ideal time. Would you like to come back later?” You asked and Emily nodded. 

“That’d be perfect,” she smiled. “It’s good to see you Y/n.”

“You too,” you smiled and went back inside, 5 sets of eyes on you. 

“Who was that?” Megan practically screamed. 

“Old friends,” you lied, rushing back to get everyone’s breakfast plates away, and Annaleise in his chair.

5 voices were speaking over each other, aided by Annaleise’s incoherent babbling and you genuinely had to shout over all of them. 

“Get in the car!” You shouted. “We’re going to be late!” You reminded them. Soon, everyone was springing into action, grabbing their bags and packed lunches, and piling into the car, Megan and Juliet getting into Megan’s car to drive to their high school. You dropped Xander to his Montessori first, then Jamie and Poppy to their grade school. 

All was calm in the car as Annaleise babbled to you from the backseat. 

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

“I can’t tell you anything,” you answered., “I signed an NDA.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed and he sighed. “This is a murder case Ms.-”

“And I will go to prison if I break my NDA. I'm sorry and I really wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

“Y/n, we can get a warrant,” Jj reminded you.

“Jj, I know that. I’d honestly prefer if you did,” you sighed. “What’s this about anyways?”

“Human trafficking,” David answered and you sighed. “When will Mr and Mrs. O'Connor be back from their trip?”

“3 weeks time,” you answered. 

There was a collective eye roll from the entire group. 

“Alright, Spencer stay here with Y/n while we get a warrant to search the house,” Emily ordered and both your faces fell. 

“Emily-” He tried but she gave him a look. One that made you feel that there was no room for arguing. 

“Right,” you stared at the ground, trying to find your footing in this new dynamic. “Hi Spencer.”

“Hi,” he squeaked out.

You sat in silence in the kitchen as Analeise slept in her bassinet in the next room. “Do you want a drink or anything?” You offered. 

“Just some water, please,” he smiled softly. You grabbed a cup out of the drawer and handed him a full glass of water. For the brief split-second where you two were touching, everything felt… different. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m… I’m alright, yeah,” he clearly lied. 

“How’s your mom?” 

“She’s good,” he chuckled. “She misses you.”

You smiled. “Well, you can always tell her that I miss her too.”

Spencer chuckled sadly at your words and nodded. “I will.”

“I like your hair,” you smiled. “It suits you.” 

Spencer hadn't looked in a mirror in what… three weeks? He usually refused to. “Thank you,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-you look good too.”

“Thank you,” you nodded. 

“I should’ve never snapped at you like that,” he shook his head, trying to keep the multitude of emotions that were threatening to spill over at bay. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. We’re both happy now,” you shrugged. "It was a long time ago-"

“I’m not,” he admitted. “Everyday, I spend my waking moments just thinking about you. Where you went, what you were doing, everything! Anything. And now you’re here in front of me. And I don't know what to do.”

“What do you mean Spencer?” you asked, suddenly the air was turning sour, just like your opinion of him. “You broke up with me.”

“And I wish I hadn’t-”

“But you did Spencer. You did. And I moved to another state to get away from it. And now you’re here, saying all this shit about ‘us’. As if there is an ‘us’ anymore,” you scoffed. “That’s a joke Spencer.”

He nodded, his eyes falling to stare at his dirty, broken converse. You’d gotten him a pair just like these. A red pair, to match the red scarf you’d made him. For his birthday, back when you were just the cool girl he had a huge crush on. Back before you were his. Back before he ruined it all. 

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

“Happy birthday Spencer,” you smiled from your spot on his living room couch. He had been shocked that you’d even shown up, let alone brought him a present for his 25th birthday. “Open it!”

He did. And what he would find inside was a hand-written note (one that he’d treasure forever, with the rest of the notes you’d give him while you were together), a pair of red converse in his size, and a crocheted, chunky scarf that looked warm and comfortable. 

“I know you usually match something in your outfit, so I thought this would be good,” you smiled. “But there’s a gift receipt for the shoes if you don’t like them. The scarf is for keeps though.”

Both of them were for keeps. You were for keeps. 

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

“If you’d just excuse me for a moment-” he started, trying to get up but you just pulled him into a hug.

“But I’d really like to be friends,” you whispered. “I miss all of you. But you most of all.” 

His hands felt into their rightful place, around your waist as you held him close. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[reidrum]

carry the weight of you | s.r

A/N: i had this posted on an old blog but here's this, idk if i like it but it's also one of my first fics so if lemme know if you have thoughts <3

cw: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader is sad, depression ?, spencer is a cutie who just wants to love, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

it was supposed to be a routine case. well, not a routine case. those don’t really exist in the bau, but one that had a clear MO and decent enough leads that garcia could easily use to find the unsub. it wasn’t even a case that was especially creepy in nature, lord knows those give the whole bureau nightmares for days.

so why did you feel this way?

you were relatively new to the team—having one year under your belt to your near decades experienced colleagues. but you had rightfully earned your spot in the bau, and you deserved to be there.

but right now you had no energy to believe that. the ache in your chest was ever present from your younger days, courtesy of the circumstances from your upbringing, and you should’ve expected that joining the fbi would’ve only made it heavier. you bared it nonetheless because that’s what you were taught to do. you felt beaten down by the last few days, and just couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into your bed.

the team had wrapped up the case, and you all were on the jet flying back home to the district. sat next to the ever observant dr. reid, he noticed your glazed eyes and distant aura exuding from you.

“you okay?” he bumps your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me.” you replied curtly and tried to fold into the crevice between the seat and the walls of the plane.

“bold of you to lie to a profiler while on a plane full of profiles,” he chuckled lightly, “seriously, you look troubled. are you sure you don’t wanna play honesty hour right now?”

“spence, i’m okay, I promise.” you tried your best at a genuine smile that was as see through as a windexed window. he returned it with his own thin lipped smile and left you be. 

were you okay? you don’t even know how long you’ve felt like this. small, insignificant, nothing. you do great work at your job, tarnishing evil and saving lives. but you can’t help but find it ironic that it’s your own mind working against you that seems to be your demise. 

the jet landed around midnight and the team shuffled through the bullpen to gather their belongings before going home. everyone offered their goodbyes and goodnights and spencer was waiting for you by the door. you both lived in the same apartment building, only because when you first moved to quantico you had no one and knew no one. spencer took it upon himself to help you out, being the newest young rookie on the team, a position he was all too familiar with. his next door neighbor had moved out for an immediate job offer and was looking for a subletter and lo and behold, spencer had become your best friend.

in the few months that you were getting accustomed to the area spencer invited you over for nightly chess games and doctor who marathons. morgan always teased the two of you saying you should be going out on the town having fun only young people can have, and spencer would blush and stammer something out but you would have the brightest smile and look at him saying they were the most fun you’ve had.

so he was surprised to say the least when those nights started to become far and few. you would politely decline and spencer would assume you’d finally listened to morgan and got better plans. but he could hear the patter of your footsteps and the occasional expletive from when you’d hit a table corner and wondered what he did to make you recluse yourself again.

spencer was a profiler after all, mix that with being your closest friend and he could pinpoint the moments you started to change. you’d started making less jokes, even during moments where the team would pause and wait for a little quip from you but hear nothing. you were harder to gain attention from, usually needing three or four calls to get you to even look up. and he just saw you distancing yourself, almost like you didn’t want anyone to perceive you.

spencer loved you. he wouldn’t say it out loud or admit to anyone but point blank he loved you. he felt understood in a way that no one else made him feel. you were kind, smart, funny, and the empathy you held for others was enough to make him tear up. you were there for him when maeve died, letting him cry on your shoulder, and as fucked up as it sounds he realized he loved you in those moments leaking tears onto the stomach of your sweater.

so here stood spencer in front of your desk, “you heading home?” you nodded, “mind if i ride with you? i don’t feel like taking the metro this late.”

“okay, let’s go.”

the walk to your car was silent, and somehow the ride back to your apartment complex was even more silent. walking up the stairs to your apartment doors, you turn the key and step in when spencer goes, “hey actually i think i left my book at your place do you mind if i just look for it really quick?”

you stared at him blankly. you just wanted to be alone and he wants to get his book now? unbeknownst to you spencer was desperate to get to the bottom of your melancholia, and needed any in he could find right now to get there.

nonetheless you nodded your head and left the door open behind you so he could walk in. you dropped your bags and shoes at the front door and trudged through your apartment to your kitchen to put tea on the kettle. you softly called out to him, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“i’d love a cup.” he says sitting on your couch.

you’re fussing around the kitchen getting two mugs out— one doctor who and one snoopy mug. you fill the doctor who one up and add a lemon slice and turn around grabbing your snoopy mug. when you turn back towards the kettle you hit the corner of the island table and watch as your favorite mug drops and shatters into millions of pieces.

when they say a straw is what breaks the camel’s back you fully understand what they mean now because how are you about to lose all your shit over a snoopy mug. you don’t even make an effort to move, just staring at the broken pieces on the floor, trying to make sense of them like a kid pointing out cloud shapes. it’s like you can see the pieces molding into the demons that keep you up at night, the thoughts of uselessness and lethargy personifying in front of you.

spencer has to call your name three times before you finally move your eyes to meet his. you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear him, his hands are out as if he’s telling you to stay put oh wait he is. you wait as he finds your dustpan and broom and brushes up the remains into the trashcan. he slowly approaches you and maneuvers you towards the living room where you sit still glossy eyed and trembling.

he sits down next to you and places a hand on your bouncing knee to soothe it, “why won’t you talk to me?”

you shake your head, “it’s nothing spence, it’s not a big deal i can buy a new mug.” push it down.

“not that, something’s not right. and i want to help. will you let me help you?”

you feel the tears making their way up your face to make their grand exit, and you hold on to last bit of resolve you can as you shakily breathe, “i-, i can’t, it’s stupid and we see so much worse stuff so i have to keep it together and i am but today was just-“ you abruptly got up to get water from the kitchen before finishing your sentence. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it up at the sink, and gulping it down with shaky hands. you set the glass down and placed your hands on the cool counter in an attempt to tether yourself to some string of reality that was left. you couldn’t burden him. you wouldn’t.

spencer gives you a minute alone before rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. he approaches you slowly from behind, mirroring his hands on top of yours, entrapping you in his warm embrace. “i think you’re carrying so much,” he whispers gently in your ear, “you don’t have to do it by yourself. it’s okay to not be okay.”

the tears win and start streaming down your face silently. spencer continues, “what we do, it’s hard. we all have ways of not letting it get to us. rossi and his cigars, hotch and jack, garcia and her tchotchkes, i mean even emily with her sin city weekends.” you let out a wet laugh in response.

spencer doubles down and intertwines his fingers with yours, “my point is, you are not alone. i am here. let me carry some of it for you, please.”

letting out a soft sob you twist in his arms and burrow yourself into his sweatered chest. this was a new feeling for you, letting someone in to see the horrors that you worked so hard to suppress. why would anyone want to brave that journey? surely you weren’t worth the effort.

but as spencer tightened his arms around you, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back and placing a kiss at the crown of your head, you felt that even if the walls of your resolve came crumbling down that spencer would be there to catch as much as he could. and that was enough.

“thank you,” you mumbled tearily incoherent.

“i will always be here for you, no need to thank me sweetheart.”

his kindness overwhelmed you. how could someone who sees so much darkness and been through so much still hold the level of kindness he does?

you lifted your head slightly as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, “so, what do you have?”

he hummed quizzically in response. you continued, “you said everyone has ways of getting through it, what’s yours?”

“it’s you,” spencer softly says with the most tender loving look in his eyes, smoothing your hair back as he looks down at you in his arms, “it’s always been you.”

your eyes welled up even more and squeezed him tighter if it were even possible. spencer had you. and now you had spencer.

the next day you show up to work, a snoopy mug with a gift bow sits on your desk. 

[lovebugism]

Hi I am begging on my knees for more of your steddie x reader it’s so good I’m crying

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | baby fever

summary: steve's got a bad case of baby fever. it's not so bad until you start getting sick with it too. eddie has to come up with a solution before all of you fall ill.

pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson

a/n: i just realized i haven't posted anything steddie related in almost three months. i am so sorry. this is a total travesty. please enjoy this 3k blurb and find it in your heart to forgive me <3

You squint at the grocery list scribbled on a bright blue sticky note. It’s a mish-mash of all your different handwritings. Some are certainly neater than others. “This just says crabs… I think...”

“It doesn’t say crabs, you loon,” Eddie laughs from where he mans the shopping cart beside you. He’s steering the thing about as well as his van. “It says cereals.”

“No, it says a bunch of gibberish that no one can read but you,” you retort with a giggle of your own as you follow him down the breakfast aisle. “And we just need one box of cereal, alright? Singular.”

He turns to you with a cartoonish pout on his lips. “But why?”

“Because you’re like a kid, Eds. You eat the entire thing in one sitting, and then you’re absolutely haywire for the rest of the day.”

And, just like a child, the boy stands in front of the vibrantly colored boxes of cereal with a wide grin on his face.

The local grocery store was smaller compared to the others in town, but they had every brand of the breakfast food known to man, stacked in neat rows from the floor to ceiling. 

Eddie’s got a twinkle in his eye as his gaze runs over them all. And even though you think it’s all boyish and hilarious, you let him have his fun. 

He grew up unable to enjoy all the goodness of overly sweet cereal because bills and food with actual sustenance were always more important. Now, he’s got a halfway stable job with Wayne at the car shop, and he’s living at his own place with his boyfriend and girlfriend, and he can buy whatever the hell kind of cereal he wants. 

So, as far as he’s concerned, everyone who said he’d never amount to much can suck it. 

And you know you’ll let him buy the whole damn grocery store out of their cereal if that’s what he wants. It’s the least you can do for the world’s best boyfriend — a title he begrudgingly shares with Steve The Hair Harrington.

You’d give him the world if you could, but for now you’ll have to settle for a couple of boxes of Lucky Charms.

“Okay, so the OJ’s we got last time tasted like absolute shit,” Eddie mutters, mostly to himself as he crouches to peer at the lower shelves. “I saw a commercial for Waffle-O’s this morning, and they looked pretty good. But I know you like Breakfast With Barbie and Steve ate a bowl of C3PO’s every day for, like, two weeks, so…”

You stand by the cart and laugh at his rambling. You turn to look behind you with a lighthearted joke sitting on the edge of your tongue. It dissipates when you realize Steve isn’t next to you. 

Instead, he’s still standing at the end of the aisle with his back to you and Eddie — like his feet forgot how to work when he caught sight of the family across the store. It’s a mother and a father, dressed in their mid-weekday finest, with a baby swaddled at their chest and a toddler bouncing in the seat of the shopping cart. 

And you know it’s got the boy totally lost in his own head. You know he's picturing you and him and Eddie as that happy family — the one fills every store you walk into with baby babbles and bubbly laughter. 

Steve told you his senior year of high school he wanted a baby, that he wanted six of them, and that he wanted them all with you. And you were just a stupid seventeen-year-old girl who would’ve done anything he asked you to, though you definitely drew the line at babies. 

But you’re older now, and far more settled than you had been all that time ago. Steve’s ready for a family, but you don’t think you’re anywhere close.

“How about we just compromise and get all three?” Eddie finally concludes with the boxes already in his arms. He dumps them into the cart and notices that your attention is elsewhere. He realizes then that Steve’s gone too because his attention is stuck on a nice family minding their own business. 

“Not again…” he murmurs to himself while you go rescue the boy.

“I’ve never seen someone so sick with baby fever in my life,” you laugh as you drag Steve back to the cart by his wrist.

“I can’t help it!” he defends weakly. “They were so cute! They were all matching and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I can’t wait to coordinate outfits with our baby. Doesn’t that sound like the cutest fucking thing ever?”

“It sounds very adorable, Stevie,” you nod understandingly and try to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of him and his baby girl wearing matching pastels every time they step out of the house. “And we can be just like them in five years—”

“Five years?” he gapes.

“Maybe even ten,” Eddie shrugs and nonchalantly tosses a box of Count Chocula into the cart.

“Ten years— You guys are insane if you think I’m waiting ten years to have a kid!” Steve protests with a pair of buff arms crossed boyishly over his chest. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know that, right?”

“You’re twenty-five, Steve, stop being so dramatic. We’re just now trying to get settled. I’m still in school, you’re still working at Family Video, Eddie’s still… Eddie. Don’t you think we should have actual careers before we have a kid?”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even though he knows you’re right.

It’s not like he wants to keep working at the stupid store on Main Street. He keeps putting off the conversation with his dad about another job, because he puts off every conversation with his dad. He’s scared of what asking for a position at his firm will do to his pride.

“She’s right, and you know it, Steven,” Eddie tells him, then scoffs. “I mean, can you really imagine me with a baby strapped to my chest on tour?”

You and Steve both pause and tilt your heads to the side as you picture the sight, terribly in sync as always. You can imagine it, quite perfectly actually, tangible enough to touch.

“Well—”

“That’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Steve finishes your thought for you.

Eddie cowers at the sudden attention. “Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, alright? We are not having a kid right now. There’s no fucking way.”

Steve all but deflates at the rejection as Eddie pushes the cart down the aisle, desperate to escape the bubble of tension the conversation had created in the cereal section.

You smile sheepishly over at Steve and wrap your arms through the crook of his elbow, standing on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He’s being grumpy about it, but he’s right… It’s just not a good idea right now— but it will be, okay? One day. Just not… to-day.”

┄

The day, for you, comes exactly seven of them later. 

You accompany Steve on his morning run and his routine stop for coffee. You’re not quite sure how he’s still mobile because your muscles are screaming, even after the warm shower you took to soothe them.

You left him alone for all of half a second to use the bathroom while he ordered drinks for him and you, and something extra for Eddie for when the boy decides to roll out of bed.

When you return, you find him bouncing a baby on his hip — a young thing, maybe three if you had to guess, with two buns in her hair like bunny ears and a sparkly pink dress to match the bows she wears in them.

Steve smiles down at her, talking to her in a baby voice and saying something you can’t hear because you’re frozen in place. You resemble him at the grocery store a week ago, when he was thrown into a daydream so suddenly that his body all but shut down. 

You look at him now, tickling the baby’s sides just to hear her giggle, and you see him with your firstborn — sleep deprived, covered in spit-up, and still the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.

You have to shake your head to remove the thought before it ruins you entirely. 

Freshly jostled from your stupor, you walk over to him. “Steve… Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby.”

He laughs. “What? No! She was just a little fussy, and I offered to take her while her mom looked for something,” the boy explains. You look just behind him to see the woman bent over at one of the smaller tables, sifting vigorously through a large baby bag.

“She doesn’t seem very fussy now,” you observe, eyes flitting between his and the child's and noticing they’ve both got matching grins.

“She doesn’t, does she?” he smiles, softly scratching at her sides again to make her laugh. And she does, most enthusiastically so, tilting her head back and letting the giggles spill from an open mouth.

He turns back to you, with wide eyes and raised brows and a bemused grin. “I like she likes me.”

“Of course, she does,” you scoff. “Babies always like you.”

The mom returns with a snack in hand and a relieved smile. Steve passes the baby back to her with little effort. She whines at the loss of him, though the brightly packaged treat is quick to quell her sorrow. 

“Thanks for taking her,” the mother's grateful smile falters with exhaustion. “If I don’t give her the same snack at exactly the same time every day, she tends to go a little nuts.” 

Steve tells her that it’s no problem, that he was a part-time babysitter at one point in his life, and that her kid was better than those little shits combined. He censors himself before the swear slips out, though.

You go your separate ways when the barista calls out your drink orders and walk hand in hand back to your place.

“Did you get their names?” you ask him before taking a sip of your latte.

“The mom’s name was Maeve and the kid’s name was Harper—”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Steve snaps his head over to you because he thinks you’ve burnt your mouth. Instead, he finds you with a distant smile on your face.

“Those are the cutest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something out of a fucking cartoon or something.”

“Yeah…” is all he can say because his mind is preoccupied with a million other thoughts. He doesn’t tell you them, obviously, but you know they’re there. The sly smile pulling at his lips makes it obvious.

“…Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Because I’m totally gonna wear you down,” he grins and brings his coffee to his mouth, sipping through his smirk.

You only scoff in response. “Never.”

┄

It doesn’t take you very long to realize that Steve was right.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about it — about him with a baby and how perfect he'd be as a dad. The thoughts plague you far more than they usually do. They take up the entire frontal cortex of your brain and make it nearly impossible to think about anything else.

You’re self-aware enough to beat yourself up about it. 

You were just telling him that it wasn’t time yet, and you knew you were right. As far as you’re concerned, you still have another few good years before you’re ready to even start seriously considering it. 

But here you are, having to calm yourself down every time the thought of Steve Harrington with a baby, your baby, crosses your mind.

You wait until the boy heads to bed to talk to Eddie about it. You find him in the kitchen, eating handfuls of Breakfast with Barbie like a maniac. You’re too preoccupied to make a snarky comment about it.

“Steve wasn’t lying,” you warn him.

“..About what?” he wonders through the mouthful.

“About him not waiting ten years to have a baby! He wants one now!” you explain through a yell-whisper hybrid. “And he told me he was going to wear me down, and he was right.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide too, like he’s just learned you caught some sort of plague. You have. It’s called baby fever, and it’s only a matter of time before the entire house is afflicted. “Shit…”

“So you have to be the strong one, Eddie.”

“Oh, god,” he whines with pinched brows. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because I saw him hold a baby today.”

“…And this is a bad thing?”

“Of course, it’s a bad thing! My hormones went crazy, okay? It’s like my brain stopped functioning, and I started thinking with my ovaries or something! All human instinct told me to lay down and procreate the second we got home!”

Eddie laughs to himself. “Are you sure it was human instinct, or was it just you on a normal Wednesday?”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you tell him, a sudden solemnity to your features. “You have to put your foot down whenever Steve talks about it because I will cave.”

“Alright, alright, have some Barbie cereal and settle down,” he tells you with a playful grin.

He offers you the box and you pout for a moment before sticking your hand into it and pulling out several red and purple butterfly pieces.

The boy wraps an arm around you with his free hand. He pulls you closer and noses at the crown of your head. You sigh as you relax into him. 

“I’ll take care of it, okay? I actually have the perfect idea.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you waver through a mouthful of cereal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he lilts with a grin, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of it.”

┄

You and Steve are tangled in bedsheets, both slowly rousing but trying desperately to go back to sleep. 

You’re laying on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow you clutch to your head. Steve lays halfway on top of you — his legs knotted with yours, arm splayed over your back, and softly snoring in your ear. 

Both of you noticed the lack of Eddie’s presence, but chose not to linger on it too much, figuring he must’ve gone for a breakfast run. 

He returns hardly a moment after the thought of him crosses your mind. You hear the door open and shut again, then the shouts of your names entwined with a muffled barking.

You groan at the intrusion on your sleep.

Steve huffs and shifts against you, voice gruff with fatigue as he wonders: “Why do I hear a dog?”

The mixture of confusion and subtle knowing has you both shuffling out of the bedroom and trudging into the living room.

You round the corner and find Eddie standing by the door with a rowdy goldendoodle bouncing at his feet. He’s trying hopelessly to undo its leash when the thing starts to squirm at the sight of you and Steve.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the both of you when he notices you standing across the room. A smile bursts like early morning sunshine on his face. “Surprise!” he beams.

The metal of the leash clicks when he finally gets it unbuckled. The dog dashes your way, all but jumping into Steve and then spinning in circles with excitement as it tries to figure out who to accept attention from. 

“You got us a dog?” the boy wonders, head cocked back to dodge the thing as it licks at his chin.

“You said you wanted a baby,” Eddie shrugs. “So, I got you a baby.”

“This is so not what a meant,” the boy grouses in response, though he’s got his arms wrapped around the dog like he’s hugging it. “I mean, it’s not even a baby— it’s huge.”

“The woman at the shelter said he was eight months old. And he is a he, so stop calling him it.”

You crouch beside Steve, scratching the dog behind his ear. He pants with his tongue sticking out, almost looking like he’s smiling. It makes you smile too. 

“We don’t even have dog food. Or toys. Or a bed,” you stress. “What are we even gonna name it?”

“Well, I took care of exactly one of those things,” Eddie lilts with a grin. “They only had that gross artificial shit at the grocery store, but they did have some badass collars and an engraving machine, so…”

You and Steve peek through the dog’s golden curls and find a black band with silver spikes dotted around the neck. “Super metal, huh?” you hear himEdiejoke as you reach for the dangled heart pendant handing around the collar.

“…Ozzy?” you recite.

“See what I mean?” he beams. “Metal.”

[heavenlyvision]

ahh yay !! okay sooo… vamp!Tomas x fem!reader where tomas and the reader both like each other but never really said anything because they are both shyyy but after tomas gets turned by nitara tomas becomes a lot more cockier and confident causing him to cockily confess his feelings !! (smut? 🤍)

ty lovely and ofc have a good day/night <3

I love this request! I have written far more for it than I initially thought I was going to, I got carried away and couldn’t stop writing. I hope you like it anon! Thank you for gracing my inbox <333 sorry it took me so long to fulfil this request. I wish you a lovely day/night and I hope this lives up to your expectations :)

Dearest

Wc: 6k

Pairing: Vamp!Tomas x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angsty for like a minute, thigh grinding, cunnilingus (over the panties 🤭), p in v sex, creampie, spanking (1), I think that is all :)

Harbouring an unrequited crush for a man that you would describe as one of your closest friends is one of the most difficult things you’ve had to do in your adult life, and you have not had an easy life. So, it feels a little bit ridiculous how trying this has been for you.

Tomas is someone you hold in high regard, his skills, his generosity, his kindness in spite of his losses, you could ramble on about him and all the reasons you like him forever. Unlucky for his brother Kuai Liang, that means you torture him with your seemingly endless growing affections.

“He brought me back my favourite–”

“–Yes, I know, I was there with him.” Kuai Liang sighs, this is the third time you’ve brought up Tomas in the last ten minutes.

Tomas had brought you back your favourite baked goods on his last trip into town, it made your chest feel full with how kind the action was. He remembered your favourite treat, and he went out of his way to get it. He thinks about you, even when you aren’t with him.

“I’m sorry Kuai, I’m just really happy.” You feel embarrassed about how much you’re gushing, but you can’t help it. There is no one else you can talk to about this, and you need to talk about it with someone.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he smiles apologetically at you, “but you know, you should just tell him how much you like him.”

“I can’t do that! What if he doesn’t like me back? And then I’ve ruined our friendship over my silly feelings.” There’s too much for you to lose if you confess to him.

Kuai Liang refrains from a deep eye roll, he’s about to say something but Tomas walks up to you both.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” He’s just finished some training with Hanzo, he looks tired.

Kuai sits and says nothing, waiting for you to answer him, “We’re just hanging out, drinking tea.” You motion the teacup up at him to see.

He nods his head, smiling at you, “Got enough for me?”

Kuai pours him a cup before getting up, “I’ve got to go meet with Harumi, thanks for the tea.” He nods his head down at you and pats Tomas on the shoulder as he walks away.

“Thank you,” you tell him in reference to the gift he brought back.

He moves to sit down next to you on the bench, “No thanks necessary, I knew it was your favourite, and I was in the area.”

He lied just now, Kuai had told you that they would’ve been home an hour earlier, but he went out of his way to find your favourite bakery.

You take a sip of your tea, smiling into the cup and humming your reply to him.

You ask, “How did training go?”

“Well, Hanzo is improving fast, I am sure it won’t take him long to beat me in a fight,” he chuckles, his pride in Hanzo displayed in it.  

“I am sure he could, though I am sure I could beat you in a fight too.” You’re teasing, you are capable but not on par with Tomas.

He smiles at you, “You probably would win but I think that’s because you would play dirty.”

“Absolutely,” he knows you too well, any way to win.

You both sit and drink tea while talking, until you run out of tea, and then you’re both just talking. It gets late quickly but you both never seem to run out of things to say, and even when you do, you’ll say anything just to be able to talk to him for a little bit longer.  

“I should probably head to bed now, it’s getting late,” you tell Tomas, hours have passed since he sat down.

He looks into your eyes, like he has something pressing to tell you but eventually settles on saying, “Okay, thank you for tea.”

“Thank you for my treats,” you lean into his side, and he holds you there. Both engaged in a side hug.

“You are most welcome, dearest.”

The way he calls you dearest makes your heart rate spike; he makes you feel like you are genuinely dear to him, and it makes you giddy.

You move past it, “I will see you tomorrow?” you ask him, mouth muffled in his shirt.

He replies, “Yes but it might be late, Kuai and I both have to help Lui Kang with something.”

So vague with his missions, trying to shield you from the truth you suppose. You always end up asking Kuai about them anyways, and he tells you, so there isn’t really any point in keeping it from you. It’s sweet that he cares to try though.

“Be safe.” You tell him.

“Always.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

That was the last time you saw Tomas, he left for his mission and Kuai came back alone. It’s something that haunts you, you remember how distraught you were. You were told he was turned by Nitara, which means he’s out there somewhere, you just don’t know where. Don’t know what he’s doing. But your home feels empty and lifeless these days.

All you do is spend the days waiting for the next, an endless, mind-numbing cycle. Kuai and Harumi visit you often, checking in on you, making tea. They’re worried about you, you know that. But you’re worried about Tomas.

Lui Kang and Kuai Liang have been putting a copious amount of effort into finding Tomas, wanting to help him, but Tomas doesn’t want to be found. And he’s making it abundantly clear. Leaving a trail of half dead people, that have messages from him, telling them to stop looking.

This isn’t something you learnt from Kuai; you’ve heard the whispers in the village about it though. Kuai has now picked up Tomas’ old habit of not telling you the extent of things, but you can read between the lines. Tomas is moving closer to the Shirai Ryu’s village, for what reason you don’t know but you feel conflicted about it. You want to see him, but he is not Tomas anymore, not really. Not the man you…

…The bond between yourself and Tomas had always been unbreakable, at least you thought it had been. With the way things are now, you don’t know who will be standing in front of you, if you ever see him again.

Due to Tomas’ movements getting closer to the village people have been assigned to keep tabs on you. Kuai hasn’t said anything, but people roam outside your house now, frequently. All hours, they will stroll by, you think they aren’t meant to be noticed but when you live with ninja’s long enough, you start to notice them. You appreciate the consideration, but it’s not needed, even if he does show, you’ll handle it yourself.

There’s a knock on your door, three polite raps against the solid wood. Right on time, 3pm in the afternoon. Every day, you get visited by Kuai, sometimes with Harumi, sometimes with Hanzo, but more often than not, alone.

Sighing you move from your couch to the door and pull it open, “Afternoon, Kuai.”

You pull it open the whole way, allowing his large frame to move past you. He walks into the kitchen and starts boiling some water.

“Good afternoon,” he replies.

The afternoon with him carries out the same way it has for the past couple months, he talks to you, trying to get you to open up. You turn it on him and try to get him to talk, about how he’s feeling, about Tomas’ last sighting, his plans for if they find him. But just like yourself, he doesn’t disclose anything. So, you both end up drinking tea in silence, mention the weather and then part ways.

Some days he is more stubborn than others, he stays longer, pushing you harder, he’s feeling that way this afternoon.

“I know you must be upset and missing him; you can talk to me about him, it might help.” He presses you; he’d love to hear you talk about Tomas the way you used to.

It makes you sad to talk about him though, “I don’t have anything to say Kuai, you know that.”

“That is a little hard to believe,” there is humour in his voice, it pulls a small smile from you.

It is rather ironic, going from never being able to shut up about him, to never talking about him.

“I appreciate the concern, but I am fine,” you lie.

He knows and he looks at you, eyebrow raised, “You are not.”

“No… I’m not but neither are you.”

“I suppose not.” He sighs and takes a sip of his tea.

You think now is your time to mention, “Could you stop sending people to watch my house, it’s annoying and unnecessary.”

“I think it necessary,” he shoots back, but he caves a little, “I will send less and less frequently, but they will still watch out for you.”

You go to argue further, “I really don’t think it’s–”

“–I am not willing to compromise further on this matter.” He cuts you off.

“Fine.” You concede, too tired to argue with him. Always too tired.

He seems pleased with the progress he’s made with you though, finally getting you to budge the slightest bit. Admitting that you are not fine is enough for him today. He leaves with no argument, and you sit back on your couch, enjoying your solidarity.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

You’re in the shower when you hear someone rummaging around your living room, annoying, you think to yourself. It’s probably someone checking on you, though it’s odd they’re inside your house.

Wrapping yourself in a towel, you move through the ensuite and into your bedroom. Locating the sword you keep hung on the wall, if it’s not someone checking up on you, you may need protection. You pull it down, keeping it sheathed. Slowly you move towards the living area where the noise is coming from.

You sneak through the house as quietly as possible and come up behind the intruder, hands on the sword, ready to unsheathe it and strike if necessary. But then you realise the silhouette of the intruder is very familiar.

He turns around and faces you, a faux shocked look on his face, pretending to be frightened by you holding a sword.

Your voice comes out far more timid than you would’ve liked, “Tomas?”

“Ah, you caught me.” He holds his arms up in surrender, sly grin plastered on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to visit you, dearest.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, as if he’s questioning you questioning his presence.

Your eyes squint at him, “Don’t call me that.”

“You never use to mind it,” his face twists into a fake sad expression.

You’re still in an attack stance, “That was then, I don’t know who you are now.”

“Please put the sword down, it really isn’t frightening, especially since you’re in nothing but a towel.” His eyes look you up and down, appreciating your scantily clad body in a fluffy towel.

Your lip pulls up into a grimace, “Don’t look at me, turn around.”

He waves a hand at you dismissively, “Chill out, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Why are you here?” You’re quick to reply.

His presence is genuinely confusing, he didn’t want to be found by his own brother, but he came back here to break into your house and look at your living room furnishings?

“Like I said, I’m here to see you, I’ve missed you dearly… dearest.” He flashes you a cheeky smile.

He’s different, not right, not… himself. It’s uncanny and off putting to you. He is not the same kind man you called your best friend.

“I don’t believe you.”

His smile drops, “I know, but I’m not lying.”

He moves towards you, but you take a step back, hand pulling on the handle of the sword, ready to unsheathe it. He stops at your reaction; and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I really am not going to hurt you, I wanted to give you that,” his head motions towards your side table, your favourite baked goods sitting atop it.

Your eyes round in shock, why would he go to the effort? You stop your thoughts before they get too hopeful, he could be trying to lure you into a false sense of security, and it might work. He looks mostly the same, not quite right but his likeness is there. He’s pale, bloody, an odd marking on his forehead, and fangs you can spot when he speaks, but the same.

It’s confusing you; you want to be happy to see him, but you don’t want to let yourself feel it if he isn’t quite right. If he’s going to hurt you or worse. You are happy he’s alive though, there might be a way to help him.

“Why did you bring me that?” You ask, also motioning towards the treats on the table.

“Because they’re you’re favourite,” he shrugs, “can you please put the sword down, this is getting a bit ridiculous.”

You have a baffled look on you face, “You’re the one breaking and entering??”

“Hey! I didn’t break anything.” He looks offended, hand on his chest. He sighs and rolls his eyes again, “I don’t know what to offer you here to make you feel better, dear.”

“I don’t really know either.” You consider what would make you feel better about him, other than him leaving. “Getting dressed… would make me feel better.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” He’s flirting with you, brazenly.

“Stay here… or leave… but don’t follow me.”

He has a bored look on his face, but he shrugs in agreeance.

At his reaction you begin backing away slowly, watching him as you leave the room. He tilts his head curiously at you as you do.  When you can no longer see him, you shuffle quickly to your room.

You rustle through drawers to find clothes, settling on pants and a t-shirt. Something you can move around in if you end up having to defend yourself. You pick up your sword and exit your bedroom.

As you come back into the living area you see him sitting on an armchair in the corner, the one facing your larger couch. You move around the furniture to sit on said couch facing him. Your posture a stark contrast to his, you’re sitting up straight and alert. While he is lounging, legs spread wide, spine reclined against the back of the armchair. He’s fully relaxed and you’re… not.

“Still have the sword I see,” he notes.

Your grip tightens on the hilt, “I am not ready to trust you.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you would be.” His head rolls to the side quickly, listening, “are you expecting guests?”

You know what he’s hearing, your friendly watchers must be coming by to check on you.

“Kuai Liang started assigning people to come by my house, I didn’t understand why previously, I do now.” You reply casually with a wave of your hand.

“Mmm, he is taking care of you?” His question seems loaded, like he might be simultaneously pleased and displeased at the same time, no matter your response.

“Yes, he comes by regularly to check on me, he is worried.” You answer honestly, based on his hearing he’d probably be able to tell if you lied to him.

His eyes squint slightly, his reaction telling you nothing about his thoughts or feelings, “You going to alert them of my presence?”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

He seems a little confused, “Why not?”

“I’m not getting any information from Kuai anymore, he tells me nothing. If I let them take you, I doubt I’ll be updated of anything.”

“Very serious like this, you used to be much kinder to me.”

Your eyebrows raise at him, “I could say the same to you.”

“Fair enough,” he smiles at you, still eyeing you even though you are nowhere near as undressed as earlier.

“Stop it,” you tell him.

His gaze climbs up your body and then back onto your eyes, “Stop what?”

“Stop that,” your hand waves in circles around his face, referencing the way he’s been looking at you.

His head leans to the side, “Why?”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “Because I don’t know what it means.”

“I like you, is what it means.” His smile is as sweet as he can muster, it’d be sweeter if he didn’t have fangs.

Huh? Huh? What the hell? He likes you, is that possible? You must have the most bewildered expression on your face because he begins chuckling at you.

“Don’t laugh!” You’re frowning at him now.

“Sorry, sorry…” He waves his hand at you, “I didn’t think you’d look so confused, you’ve just made a very cute face.”

You sigh deeply, he’s making your heart rate pick up, you need to control it, “I don’t believe you.” You say in reference to his declaration.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but it’s the truth. I came back to see you because I miss you and I miss you because I like you. I always have.” His confession is making you feel flushed. He’s saying things you would’ve liked to have heard ages ago.

“Why? Why tell me this now?”

“Was too scared to tell you before, now it doesn’t matter as much, our friendship isn’t exactly in a great place, no?” He gestures to his whole being with his hands, as if to demonstrate the reason for that.

“I don’t see myself trusting you, I hope you know that.” Honestly, mutual trust isn’t something you can foresee in both your futures.

But that’s obviously the opposite for Tomas, “I am pretty confident that I can change your mind, I got your heart rate to rise earlier. My confession bring up some hidden feelings?”

You’re interested, “How do you plan on changing my mind?” You ignore the second part of his sentence.

“I will come by as often as I have to, for as long as I have to, until you trust me again.” He seems earnest at least, but you don’t know if you have rose tinted glasses on when it comes to him.

“Do as you please, I have a feeling you’re going to anyways.” You huff at him, spine becoming less rigid.

He smiles at you, eyes bright, “I appreciate the permission, anyhow.”

His visit ends quickly after that last conversation, having made headway with you made him pleased enough to leave. He did promise he would be back the next night, and the night after that, and so on, and so forth. The promise thrills you, much to your contention.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Tomas stayed true to his promise, he comes by, every night without fail and has been doing so for the last few months. He never stopped flirting with you the whole time, making his affection for you perfectly clear. There are only so many ways you can brush him off and change topics though.

He sniffs the air, “I hate how much Kuai comes around, always smells like him in here, ruins your scent.”

Your eyes roll at him, “Well, he’s about as stubborn as you are about visiting. Must run in the family.”

You stopped holding your sword every time he came round about a month into his visits, believing he probably wasn’t going to bodily harm you. It was never far from you though, now it stays in the lounge, not close but not far. He has succeeded in slowly building some trust between the two of you.

In the kitchen you’re waiting for the kettle to boil, Tomas comes up behind you. Leaning down he inhales your scent, not so close to touch but close enough to have your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Smelling you.”

“Yeah, I can see that, why are you sniffing me?”

“You smell nice,” he’s still standing close to you, chest brushing your back.

You turn around and place a palm on his chest, aiming to push him back but he doesn’t budge. His hand comes up and he places it over top of your own. His eyes looking intently into yours, as you’re looking up at him, you’re struck with the realisation that your feelings for him haven’t left you. He’s changed and so have your feelings, but you still like him.

His eyes flit down to your lips, he begins moving in closer to you. Giving you ample time to pull away if you don’t want him to kiss you. You don’t know if kissing him is a good idea, but it doesn’t matter anyways, the kettle starts squealing, alerting you of its boiled status.

His hand lets go of yours, the moment ruined. You turn quickly, feeling like your face is on fire. Happy to be able to hide your face from him, though you know he can definitely hear your beating heart working overtime.

You take the kettle off the stove and make a cup of tea for both you and Tomas, he never drinks it, but he asks for it every time and holds it for the entirety of his visit.

Later, after tea, as you’re washing up Tomas stands beside you. Ever since your guard dropped enough to let him get this close to you, he stays as close as you’ll allow. Always right by you, flirting, joking, watching.

“Do you want me to wash up?” He offers.

“No, thank you.” You continue, scrubbing at your dishware.

When you’re done you go to wipe your hands off, drying them. Tomas grabs you and spins you abruptly, a shocked gasp pulling from you at his speed and strength.

“I like you.” Is all he says.

Your eyes are wide with shock, “You’ve already said so.”

“I just had to tell you again, so you know.”

“You tell me every day, and you relentlessly flirt with me,” you remind him.

“Just checking you haven’t forgotten.”

“You don’t make that possible,” you raise a brow at him.

“That’s the idea,” he smiles cheekily at you.

His eyes dip to your lips again, the moment from earlier being recreated. You turn your head to the side, feeling shy under his watchful gaze.

“Your heart is racing,” he comments, moving his hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I know, it is my heart.” You feel flush in the face.

He leans a bit closer, “And how does your heart feel about me?”

Ah, he’s fishing today. He has been very patient, not asking you your feelings towards him but he is curious. Especially since he can tell you enjoy his advances, or at least react to them viscerally.

“I reserve the right to not answer that.” You feel as though you’re being interrogated.

He finds your answer entertaining, “I think… you like me too, but you’re still not convinced you can trust me.”

Yep, he’s pretty much hit the nail on the head, and he knows it. You go to answer him, try to cover for yourself but he’s quicker with his words.

Tone growing glib, he taunts, “Mmm, yeah, that was dead on, huh?”

His large hand come up and pulls your face back to his, holding you by your chin, between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your face up, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Look at me and tell me, that you don’t like me.”

“I don’t like you,” you reply simply.

He scoffs, “Liar, I’ve grown on you.”

“Like a tumour, maybe,” you retort back.

He has a small smile on his face, “Now who is being stubborn?”

“Somehow, still you.” Your expression is one of defiance.

He rolls his eyes at you and groans, before grabbing your head on either side and pulling you into a kiss. It’s full and profound, and as he moves his head to the side, he licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. A shocked mewl coming from you, one that he swallows down greedily.

Your heart feels like it might explode in your chest, and as he pulls away, he makes a note of it.

His forehead rests against yours, smiling cockily he asks, “Still don’t like me?”

“No,” you shake your head against him.

He captures your lips in another lustful kiss, devouring you whole, consuming the noises that escape you. Common sense eludes you, his kisses making you dizzy and unable to think properly. He walks you back into the corner of the kitchen bench, still cradling your face. Your hands coming up behind you, resting on the bench top. As a result, your chest presses further into him.

One of his knees slots between your legs, pinning you to the spot. His kisses take your breath away and you have to pull back to breathe. Huffing slightly at his insistent manner of kissing.

“Seems to me, that you like me.” He states.

“You’re mistaken.” You retort.

His head moves to your neck, inhaling the length of it, “it smells like you like me.”

Low blow on his behalf, his observation of your growing arousal for him makes your skin set alight. An embarrassing observation for him to make and he knows it. His thigh slots higher, resting up against your cunt. The contact makes you jump lightly, your teeth biting your lip to stifle your audible reaction.

His hands move to your hips as he leans down and kisses you again. His lips serving as a distraction so he can use the grip he has on your hips to encourage you to grind down on his thigh. You get lost in the feeling, the stimulation sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, the sounds you make spilling from you freely.

He rips his mouth away from you suddenly, before you can complain he pulls your pants down, you step out of them. Standing in front of him in nothing but your shirt and panties. He drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your thighs apart, just enough so his face can fit between your legs. His nose resting up against your pussy over your panties, he inhales deeply.

You gasp out at him, “Tomas!”

“Mmmsorry, you smell so fucken good.” He speaks against your cunt, muffling his words.

This display is mortifying to you and also serving to fuel your arousal. He hums pleasantly at your reaction. His mouth opens, sucking over your underwear, wetting them further. His thumbs pull your pussy lips apart, giving himself more access to your arousal. He’s lapping at your hole over your underwear, nose rubbing up against your clit as he licks at you.

You’re squirming above him, gasping for air at the pleasure he’s giving you. He grows more fervent against you, your cunt leaking from the pleasure. The smell and taste of you sending him into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop making out with your cunt over your underwear. Your legs are borderline shaking with your building orgasm.

“Tomas – ngh,” you’re trying to warn him of your impending orgasm.

One of your hands reaches for his hair, grabbing on, your hips beginning to faintly grind against his face. He doesn’t pull away to acknowledge your words, just continues slurping at your cunt, humming at you in confirmation.

The noises spilling from you reach a higher pitch, coming closer together. Your eyes are wet as they close tight against the intensity of your orgasm. When you cum it’s with a bite of his name followed by a large inhale of breath. Legs shaking, if he had not been gripping your thighs, you would’ve fallen to the floor in front of him.

He doesn’t stop as you cum, or even after, continuing to lick at you enthusiastically, aftershocks running through your veins. You twitch at the continued stimulation he provides. He growls against you, an inhuman sound that spikes your heart rate, and your excitement.

The sight of him between your legs, gripping your thighs open and feasting on your wet cunt could have you passing out. He huffs frustrated against you, and he rips your underwear off, actually tearing them off your body. You can’t even complain because he’s put his mouth back on your bare cunt. Drinking up all of the slick and cum from your cunt, he’s licking you clean, you might actually faint.

Tugging at his hair harsher, you push him back, “mm sensitive, stop.” You gasp out at him, words slurred together slightly.

Thankfully, he pulls away but stays on his knees, watching you quiver in front of him. His mouth finished eating you, but his eyes haven’t. He inhales one last time before standing up in front of you.

Cocky smile plastered on his face, “Divine, let me continue?”

You shake your head at him, “No, I will actually faint.”

He preens at that, delighted by your answer, “Are you ready to admit you like me?”

“No,” stubborn for no reason at this point. It’s clear to the both of you, you definitely like him.

He chuckles dryly at you, and then he’s spinning you around and pushing your upper half against the bench top. His hands run over your body, down your back and over your ass cheeks, he pulls them back to stare at your cunt, he whistles at the sight of it. And you struggle against him, humiliated by his actions.

“Will you let me fuck your tight pussy?”

You feel red and raw, his direct question mortifying you, mortifying you because, “yes.” You will let him.

He lets out an amused sound that turns into a growl at the sight of you bent over and waiting for him. Rustling can be heard from behind you as he pulls out his cock. He runs it through your folds, using your cunts prior orgasm to lube it. You rock back against him, rutting down on his dick. It sends shudders down your spine, the pleasure already plenty and he’s not inside you.

“Hold still,” he holds his hand on your back firmly, keeping you in place.

His other hand on his cock, running his tip through your folds before notching it at your hole. Slowly splitting you in two.

All he lets out is, “fffff–”

You clench at the stretch, clamping down on his cock.

“–UCK!” He lets out at your tightening pussy, “gotta relax, or I’ll never – nghf – make it inside.”

You’re mewling and barely the tip is inside you, his hand reaches down and around to rub at your clit, trying to get you to relax.

“Thasss it, dear, fucken perfect… jus. like. that,” he sighs as you relax a bit.

He’s able to have his whole tip enter you, and then he starts rocking back and forth slowly, trying to fuck you open on the tip of his dick. Your legs already shaking and he’s not even close to halfway inside you.

He begins fucking his cock into you more, incrementally, it has pleasure wracking your body. Taking his time, rocking in and then out, slightly more in and then out, rinse and repeat. Until he’s finally fully seated inside you. The full feeling overwhelming you, you grind back against him, wanting more of the feeling.

“Tomas–”

“Hold still, and if it’s – hah – too much, tap me, okay?” He asks.

You nod your head at him, but he slaps your ass and says, “Words, dearest.”

“I will tap you if it’s too much – jus please – mmmmove.” You’re wiggling back against him, trying to gain some friction.

Both his hands pull your ass cheeks apart again, gazing down at the way you’re wrapped around him. A deep growl coming from inside his chest at the sight. Pulling back almost all the way out, he slams back into you, jolting your body forward against the counter. You have a feeling you’re going to have all kinds of bruises tomorrow morning.

He’s fucking you in earnest, roughly, inhuman and pleased noises coming from him. A wet slapping filling your kitchen along with your mewls and whines. You brace yourself on the counter and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

His hand moves up your body and grabs at the back of your neck, he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. Your head resting back against his shoulder. He’s fucking up into you, the change in position sliding you further down his dick.

The hand that pulled you up goes to the front of your neck, applying no pressure but holding you steady. His free arm moves from your hip to the front of your body, holding you against him, hand groping at your tit. His fingers pinch and play with your nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him at the sensation.

“Tell me, do you like mmme – ngh – now?” He whispers it against your ear, lips brushing the shell of it. It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

“Mmmmaybe – mmph – a little…” You confess.

He laughs and licks your ear, his thrusts never stopping or slowing. Your cunt starts to rhythmically pulse around his cock, you’re so close to cumming on just his cock, a sensation you’ve not felt before. Previously always cumming with the help of stimulation on your clit.

He taunts you, “Go on, cream all over – mmph – me, can feel you squeezing mmme.”

“Hah – Mm gonna–” You’re cumming, hard, on his dick. Your release creating a white ring around the base of his cock.

His hands move to push you back against the bench top again, he needs to see the way you came all over him. He spreads your cheeks again to watch himself fuck you, to see the way you creamed all over him. Mesmerised by your cunt and the way it takes him; he’s chasing his own high now.

He’s fucking you harshly, aiming to topple headfirst into his own pleasure. You clamp down on him, pulling his own orgasm from him suddenly. He cums with a shout of your name and a string of profanities. Filling your cunt to the brim with his release, he continues thrusting, stuffing all his cum back into your pussy. He groans at the sight, dick twitching inside you.

He pulls out of you slowly; he tugs his pants back on before spinning you around and placing you up on the bench. He wets some napkins from your kitchen with warm water and gently wipes your thighs clean.

His fingers push some of the cum leaking out of your cunt back inside, “Keep that there.” He tells you.

You hold your hand over your pussy, as he runs down the hall and comes back with a fresh pair of underwear. He slides them up your legs and uses them to help keep his cum inside you. Your legs are shaking from the come down, eyes wet and dazed. You’d let him do almost anything to you right now, with the way he’s given you the two best orgasms of your life, you think he might’ve earned it.

You watch him move around your kitchen, he finds your previous pair of underwear and stuffs them inside his pocket. He looks back at you and smiles deviously. Then he moves to get you a glass of water.

He presents it to you, “Drink.”

You accept it gratefully, feeling parched, you drink it all. It dribbles down your chin with how you gulp it down. He smiles at you and wipes your chin clean.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him.

He’s smug, “Need me to carry you to bed, dearest?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

He obliges and carries you to bed, tucking you in. He won’t stay and he shouldn’t stay, though you find yourself hoping he would.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he says, practically reading your mind. He crawls into bed beside you, on top of the covers.

“Thank you, Tomas.”

He smiles kindly at you, “No thanks necessary.”

You fall asleep quickly that night. Fully trusting him and even feeling safe with him beside you. When you wake the next morning, he is gone but he’s left a note.

It reads, “I’ll be back tonight, dearest.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: This is not my best writing, but I find myself a bit fond of it, maybe because it’s a different character, a bit of a change up is nice. I did write almost an extra 3k than what I initially planned lmao. I find the need to add more plot in my stories. Anyways, thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed, my requests are open if you want a story like this one or if you want to share any thoughts, feelings, anything really, I am open for asks!! <333

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 3 (Bukkake)

Kink: Bukkake

Pairing: Male!Orcs x Fem!Reader

Other kinks: Gang Bang, Spit Roasting

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1197 words

Kinktober Masterlist

If someone had told you this morning that your night shift at the tavern would end with you in the bedroom of a traveling adventurer, you wouldn’t have believed them.

If they had told you it would end with you in the bedroom of several adventurers, you would’ve thought they were insulting you.

If they had told you 're relatively boring tavern shift in your fairly boring town would end with you in a bed, surrounded on all sides by sexy orc adventurers, you would’ve slapped them atop the head and told them to stop reading so many dirty novels.

And yet-

“Fuck, you’ve got a good mouth on you, barkeep.” The orc, who you think is named Thrak, mutters.

“A good pussy too. Nice and tight.” The orc behind you, Parod, gives a hard slap to your ass. It makes your throat clench with a whine, something Thrak clearly appreciates. He runs his hand down the side of your cheek, giving you sweet caresses that don’t match his hurried thrusts, his balls smacking against your chin.

“Plus, look at that ass. I could watch that ass walking around this bar all day.”

The bard, Kog, slaps your ass too, his other hand still preoccupied with playing with your clit. Despite already spending himself in your ass his cock is rock hard. His musicians training must come in handy, as he easily navigates circling your clit and stroking himself at the same time.

“Maybe we should take you along with us, darling.” Sitting in the big chair nearby, fat cock in his scarred hands, remarks Hagu, the band's leader. You remember his name the best, despite a brain addled after orgasm and orgasm. He had made you scream it, over and over, when he bent you in half in a mating press to start this whole night off. “Become our personal cum dump.” Hagu stands up, erection bobbing against his stomach as he walks to you. He runs his knuckles along your sweaty face, not even perturbed by his bandmate’s cock thrusting in and out of your mouth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

When you first approached the band to ask for their drink order, you’d have never guessed Hagu had such a filthy mouth. He seemed the perfect, stone-serious leader for the raucous group, left in charge of the coin and easily silencing the boys if they got too rowdy. With his deep voice, that tantalizing half broken tusk and scar across his lips, he seemed the perfect brooding stranger. Even before they had propositioned you for a night in their room, you had considered hopping into Hagu’s bed.

Not that the rest of the boys weren’t gorgeous. Kog was the smallest, with a smile built for charming and long piano fingers. Thrak and Parod made a perfect duo, one barbarian and one rogue, bouncing off each other’s laughter and sly comments with ease. If they hadn’t seemed to love adventuring as much as they did, you’d think they’d thrive as a traveling troupe. Everyone would swoon.

Not to mention their giant cocks. That helps too.

“Still breathing, sweetheart?” Thrak half-jokes, patting your cheek when your eyes roll back. You give an unsteady thumbs up, moaning again as Parod pummels your g-spot. You’d think two cocks would have been enough to stretch you out, but Parod is girthy, and the pleasure burns.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hagu says, rubbing the back of your neck. “Do you love all these dicks ruining you? Don’t you just want to forget about all those silly responsibilities, and just live as our cum slut?” Your addled mind, half wondering if he really means the offer, nods enthusiastically. It gets you a congratulatory pat on the ass, though at this point you can’t tell from who. “That’s a good girl.”

Just those words are enough to send goosebumps down your arms, an urge to prove him right making you throw your hips back and to slather your tongue all around Thrak’s dick. Nails dig into your hips and shoulders, Parod’s grunts humps stumbling just a bit.

“F-fuck, I’m close.”

“Me too.” Thrak pants, squeezing your cheeks. “Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Her face, she wants it on her face.” Hagu commands, languidly stroking his cock. “She wants us all on her face, don’t you?”

Thraks pulls his cock out your mouth, drool dripping down your lips as Hagu grabs your chin again. The emptiness burns as Parod slips out of your pussy, resting his pulsing cock on your ass cheeks.

“Well?” Hagu squeezes your jaw, a slight tinge of pain as he yanks you to look up at him. His cock blocks your view, veins pulsing up his shaft. The other boys are uncharacterisitcally silent, all deferring to their leader's commands.

“Yes, c- cum on my face, please!” Your voice keens, whiny and desperate. Once again you think back to the beginning of your shift and how vastly different you thought this night would go.

“You heard her, boys. Pretty girls who ask nicely-” Hagu tugs on his shaft, moaning in between words, “-get what they want.”

It’s a cacophony of breathes, groans, and the slapping of skin as you're surrounded by 4 orcs, tips leaking with pre cum as they furiously jerk off. Your battered pussy, still a bit sore from being stretched open, grows slick nonetheless. The anticipation is killing you, licking your lips as your stomach grows taut.

Hagu, always the leader, starts everyone off.

“S-shit.” He growls, hands twitching as he aims his cock right at your open mouth. A hot stream of cum shoots across your lips, more and more spurts following to coat your tongue. The other boys are quick to follow, falling in and unloading all over your face. Thrak and Parod aim for your cheeks, giving the courtesy of avoiding your eyes. Kog is a little less controlled, whiny moans leading him to shoot his cum all over, some even reaching your forehead as his cock spasms.

All in all, it's just 15 seconds of pure bliss, hot cum warming your skin. The salt of sweat and semen has your mouth watering. You’re happy you had the wherewithal to tie your hair up when you guys started, or else it’d be coated by now.

Thrak and Parod collapse into the big comfy chair behind them, while Kog sinks into the bed beside you. Their green chests heave, skin dark with a furious blush as they all catch their breath. Even Hagu, ever composed, seems to take a moment. He wipes a palmful of sweat off his brow, before brushing a thumb across your face.

“Let's get you cleaned up, beautiful.”

Hagu easily sweeps you off the bed and into a bridal carry, leading you over to the small bathroom afforded to tavern rooms. The other boys, still in a post-nut haze, follow their leader anyway. Kog gathers up your strewn about clothes from the floor, making sure to keep them away from his sweaty skin.

What a way to end the night.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Chicken

John Egan X Farmer! Reader

Summary: When Meatball kills the farmer's chicken. Bucky flies to the rescue.

Warning: Animal death/ swearing/ mention of boobs/ use of Y/n/ mention of blood.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: I'm alive y'all! And my brain functioned again!

When John Egan came to Thorpe Abbotts, he was aware of the people that already lived there. He knew they were here, but he didn’t know them personally. When he saw her riding her horse, he knew he had to introduce himself. But he didn’t have the courage to go talk to her, she looked so intimidating, riding her horse and handling the goats.

Y/n lived on her family’s farm, but her family was away, they were in Austria, the farm was their summer house, but they wanted Y/n to keep it clean and work there. Usually, she would’ve been back in Austria, but with the war, it wasn’t safe to travel. Her chores were simple, making sure the goats didn’t run away, getting the eggs from the chicken coop and keeping the stables clean. It was easy, especially since she got her horse, Fred. He was a mustang, a beast that she had trouble training, but she kept persevering and was able to ride him. She was riding Fred everywhere; she loved her horse.

‘’Cleven! Good morning’’ she greeted the blonde. They quickly became friends when he came on the base, he went to introduce himself to the people living on the base, already saying he was sorry for the future disturbance that the soldiers were going to cause. When Gale saw Y/n, he thought she was amazing and they talked for hours, quickly becoming friends. They would trade stuff together, for example, if Y/n wanted a bottle of whiskey, she would give Gale a dozen eggs. ‘’Morning Y/n! How are you?’’ he asked. ‘’Good, just counting the chickens’’ she stopped when she heard a dog barking. ‘’Why do you have a dog here?’’ she asked, stepping in front of the chickens. ‘’Brady got him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near the coop’’ he reassured her. ‘’He better, because if he eats any of my chickens…’’ she threatened. Meatball came running towards Buck. ‘’He’s cute, but I meant what I said’’ she looked at the dog, smiling. ‘’I’ll make sure of it’’ he smiled.

John Egan heard a horse neigh; he knew that Y/n was close. And he was right, her (Y/h/c) hair were flying in the wind, she had a cowboy hat on her head. A white tank top that made her boobs look 5 times bigger and jeans that made her legs look amazing. She was beautiful. ‘’Y/n, what’s wrong?’’ Gale asked. She got down her horse, patting him before looking at the boys. ‘’I can’t come here and say hello?’’ she smiled as she looked at Bucky. ‘’Technically, you’re on a private property’’ Murph said. She scoffed. ‘’Technically, you guys invaded our property’’ she replied. ‘’Touché’’ Murph laughed. ‘’Nice ride’’ John Egan said, looking at the horse. ‘’Thanks, that’s Fred.’’ She replied. ‘’Um, do you guys have a minute to spare? We need help moving the hay’’ she asked. ‘’Sure, we can help’’ Bucky quickly replied.

‘’Be careful with that Jeep, don’t run over my animals’’ she smiled at Bucky, before she climbed up her horse. ‘’Wanna race?’’ Bucky proposed. She gave him a challenging smile, Fred was a fast horse, he was originally supposed to be a racehorse, but Y/n bought him at the town auction. ‘’Sure, but don’t cry if you lose’’ she smiled. When Fred started to run, Bucky knew he’d already lost, he didn’t want to go too fast, in case of a loose animal. She looked like a goddess, riding that horse. He thought about her riding him for a second, but his thoughts quickly faded when he heard Meatball bark, his mouth was all bloody and he had feathers on him.

‘’Calm down! It’s only 3 chickens!’’ Gale Cleven tried to calm her down, but she was ready to skin the dog alive, Bucky was holding her so she wouldn’t kill the dog. ‘’IT’S LESS EGGS! LET ME GO! I’m going to kill that dog’’ she tried to get away, but Bucky’s grip was too hard on her waist. Meatball didn’t have any regret; he was looking around like his life wasn’t on the line. John Brady, the owner, arrived at the scene in a Jeep, with Harry Crosby and Rosie Rosenthal. The 3 bodies were lying on the ground, headless. Y/n took deep breaths and calmed down a little. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Brady asked. ‘’You’re the owner?’’ she asked, angrily. Brady nodded. ‘’Your stupid dog ate 3 of my chickens!’’ she spat, showing the corpse with her hand. Brady swallowed a nervous laugh. ‘’I told you to watch him and I’m leaving the farm for an hour, I come back, and Dave, Danny and Darrel are dead!’’ she said, looking at her chickens. Bucky had to refrain a laugh at the names of the deceased animals. ‘’I’m sorry miss, I don’t know what else to say’’ Brady explained, scratching the back of his head. She took a deep breath, realizing how crazy she looked. She touched Bucky’s hand, to show him that he could let go. She replaced her hair as she sighed. ‘’I’m sorry, I kinda overreacted. You guys can go, I’ll, uh, clean up. Sorry for the disturbance.’’ She said, with an embarrassed tone.

He felt bad for her, sure it was only 3 chickens, but still. So, that night, he decided to find the courage and go talk to her for more than four words. He rode his Jeep to her house; he nervously taped the wheel with his thumb as he shut the engine down. Seeing lights outside, Y/n got out of the house, standing on her porch, seeing it was a soldier, she wiped her hands on her pants before going down the short stairs. ‘’Major Egan, to what do I owe this visit?’’ she asked, trying to hide her joy. She found him attractive, he was a gentleman during the day and a manwhore during the night, or at least that was his reputation. ‘’Hello, please call me Bucky, and I’m here to pay you back’’ he smiled. She tilted her head. ‘’Pay me back? You owe me money?’’ she questioned. He shook his head, chuckling. ‘’No, it’s for the deceased chickens’’ he explained.

Y/n fought the urge to smirk. ‘’You want to pay me for the chickens I lost?’’ she asked. ‘’Yeah, I mean you said it yourself, it’s less eggs’’ he blurted out. Now she couldn’t fight it anymore, a smile creeped on her face as she looked at the flustered Bucky. ‘’Come inside’’ she invited. He nodded as they waled inside the small home. The smell of burnt candle filling his nose as he looked around the kitchen. ‘’Does Brady know you’re doing this?’’ she asked as they sat in the kitchen. ‘’No, it’s my idea’’ he looked on the ground, not daring to look at her in the eyes. ‘’That’s very sweet, Bucky, but I can’t accept this, you must have family that this money belongs too, what about Mrs. Egan. It’s very thoughtful but keep it’’ she politely said. He started to laugh at the mention of a Mrs. Egan. ‘’There’s no Mrs. Egan, never set that part right, and my family doesn’t need the money. Please, Y/n, take it’’ this time, their eyes were locked into each other.

‘’You know, I didn’t think you would be the one offering me money. I thought Cleven would do it’’ she said, taking a sip of her homemade alcohol. It’s been an hour since Bucky came into her home they’ve been talking ever since. ‘’He felt bad, but he has to keep it for the phones, his girlfriend wants to hear from him twice a week’’ he chucked. She smiled as she looked at him. ‘’It’s getting late, I should get back to the base’’ he said as he looked at his watch. She got an idea. ‘’Are you free for dinner tomorrow?’’ she blurted out. He looked at her, smiling. ‘’Uh, yes, why?’’ he asked. ‘’Because I enjoy your company. And I have some extra money to buy good meat.’’ She smiled. ‘’Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’’ He leaned to kiss the top of her hand. ‘’Good night, Y/n’’ he said. ‘’Good night, Bucky, see you tomorrow’’

[chososcamgirl]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 - y/n’s cattery!

—

—

m.list

background !

you and maki’s first ever interaction was at the age of 5 when maki pushed you off the playground slide in kindergarten. the stunt of hers left you both in tears as you had a grazed knee and she had a scolding in which after she ended up apologising to you. since then you guys have been bestfriends ever since. you and mai were also close but nothing could compare to the friendship you and maki shared. when you both turned 15, maki moved into the town over so you both went to different high schools. you both still kept in touch by calling every night - discussing the different gossip and one another’s school. alongside this you both met up frequently - every sunday to be accurate because you both could not stand to be physically distant with eachother.

the little rendezvous both of you held still continued until after you both graduated from high school. you both ended up attending eachothers because the ceremonies were a day apart - maki’s being first. after the ceremony, maki introduced you to yuta, panda & toge in which you called out toge as to why he was wearing what looked like his pyjamas under his robe (it was in fact his pyjamas.) after a bit of back and forth banter and laughter, maki invited you to join them for dinner together to which on you agreed to. after 5 courses of pure goodness, 32 dirty plates, 2 attempts of a food fight (toge being the prime suspect for both), some underage drinking - mostly from panda getting crunk after 4 bottles of soju - and many many embarrassing stories shared later, you guys all headed home, full of food and joy. you didn’t realise how fun maki’s other friends were. sure you heard stories here and there but experiencing a night out with them was for sure in your top 10 most cherishable memories.

you would’ve never imagined being hungover at your graduation. even you took 3 ibuprofen in the morning, your head was still banging and it was your turn next up to claim your certificate. suddenly your name was called and an eruption of screams came from the crowd. not only did the front row consist of your parents and family, but also maki, toge, yuta and panda in which the loudest of screams and cheers came from them. later on maki told you that the three guys were also planning on attending the same college as you and maki. maki who is studying law, yuta who is studying occupational therapy, panda & toge who are both studying finance and commerce, and you who is studying veterinary science.

during summer of that year, the 5 of you became inseparable, doing anything and everything together. you realised that everyone had a part in your friendgroup. maki whilst keeping the role of your bestfriend is also the “mom friend” and always keeping everyone in line - in another words from being arrested. yuta is the empath, you could always go to him whenever you needed an unbias opinion or just to rant - he always reassures you that if you need to let go he’s always there and his advice is always understanding. panda is the party animal, you always know it’s gonna be a good time if panda is there. the most memorable moments are always with him and he is the literal embodiment of gaf. and finally toge. toge is your partner in crime, you grew closest to him over the summer. you want to go egg your ex’s house? he’s there with shopping bags full of eggs. you want to bully some kids on roblox? he’s there with two headsets. you want to get drunk and forget about everything? he’s there with panda and three fake id’s. needless to say that summer was unforgettable.

after summer, you guys found an apartment complex that were currently looking out for people to rent the two rooms available. of course you guys immediately jumped onto it. what’s the next best thing living with your best friends? living 4 doors down! you guys were going to make these next couple years the best ever.

fun facts !

ᨘ໑▸ the characters included in this post are all aged 19-20

ᨘ໑▸ on the third day of college toge and panda got banned from the campus library after playing penis.

ᨘ໑▸ you, toge and panda always have a big going on and it used to concern poor yuta at the start because he thought it was actually serious.

ᨘ໑▸ panda, yuta and toge live together in one room and you and maki live together, along with your tabby cat called ‘beck’.

ᨘ໑▸ you guys all do grocery shopping together, but panda always comes to your apartment to steal food because theirs is always gone halfway through the week.

ᨘ໑▸ there once was a big ass spider in your apartment so you called toge to come and kill it but as soon as he walked in it jumped on his face and he scream was so high it was comparable to a dog whistle. you also recorded the whole thing and mention it atleast twice a week.

a/n: there is a love interest in each group :3

#𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐄

synopsis ; the season of sun-kissed oceans and golden-hued moments is before you! however being a broke college student is not an ideal look to have, especially at your age. desperately seeking solace from financial woes, you and your bestfriend stumble upon an unexpected opportunity - a cat cafe. crafting lattes and pampering purring patrons seems easy enough, right? that fantasy lasts about one day before reality claws in.

🏷️taglist: @coquetteslvt @aliventboo @izakyun @luvvmae @tuihiatus @soonajeeme @ascybous @rotten1angel @catobsessedlady @myguumi @enhleui @viviennevianna @spacebaby1 @iheartlinds @haikyuu-tothetop @mua-for-now @waytootiredforthisss @j2upiters

[vicsnook]

Tis the Damn Season | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

word count: 1318

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+

notes: Hey y’all! I know its been a while, I’ve been dealing with a huge writers block but had this little idea while on the plane. Please forgive any errors, I didn’t read it back before posting it. Happy Holidays!

With your dad sick this Christmas it’s not surprising your mom would asked you to come home. So here you were, pulling into the familiar driveway taking notice of the Bronco parked in your neighbors yard, one you knew all too well.

A note taped to the refrigerator reminded you your parents would be back from the hospital tomorrow. Maybe a drink could make the night better you thought but the liquor cabinet was of course empty and the town doesn’t sell alcohol on Sundays. So that’s how you ended up walking through the doors of the only bar in town.

“Is that who I think it is?” Bradley Bradshaw hollered from behind the bar as you made your way to him. His hair was definitely a little longer and he sported the mustache he joked about growing all through high school. The years had been if anything, very kind to him.

“Hey Rooster, I didn’t know you worked here.” You said, taking a seat across from him, truth is if you’d known, you would’ve never come here. “I’m just helping Ronnie out ‘til my leave is over. Want your usual?” He asked, offering you a half-smile while his dark brown eyes burned into yours. “Sur- Sure,” you managed to stammer out. Memories of the last time you were here flooding back in as you watched him prepare your drink.

“So, you here for long?” He asked between customers and while you know he’s just trying to not make things awkward, you can’t help the knot forming in your throat. “Just for the week.”

“Bradley! Over here honey! More shots!” shouted a blonde from the other side of the bar before he could reply and you sighed gratefully for the distraction. Setting down the cash for your tab and booking it out the bar while he went to her table.

Your hands were shaky as you pried open the car handle and tried to start the car. This was a bad idea you muttered to yourself over as you turned the key. The radio announced a snowstorm tonight and as if on cue your mother called to say they wouldn’t be able to come home ‘til the roads cleared.

—

Waking up freezing in your childhood bedroom was definitely not great. Power had gone out due to the storm and you had no wood for the fireplace. Dreadfully, you made your way to your neighbors to see if they had any to spare. Regretting not putting on another jacket and better shoes. You eyed the bronco that was almost fully covered by snow while waiting on someone to open the door.

“Y/N?” Murmured a confused looking Bradley. You wondered how he could be shirtless and just in sweats in this cold weather.

“Hey, sorry to bother, power’s out and we have no wood for the fireplace.” You said through your chattering teeth. “Let’s talk inside,” he replied, ushering you inside the candle lit living room.

The room looked just as it did 3 years ago when you broke off your engagement to Bradley. He was dead set on joining the Navy and refused to hear yours and Carole’s pleas to not follow in his fathers footsteps. “Mom doesn’t have any extra wood. You can stay, though, not sure when power will be back.” Said Bradley as he came back from the back porch where Maverick stocked wood for Carole every winter.

“Thank you, so how’s everything?” You said, taking a seat on the couch. Silently praying the power would come back on. “Great, just working all the time. I graduated from Top Gun a few months ago.” His eyes bore deep into your as he mentioned Top Gun. You’d had nightmares about him being in the Academy since Carole told you.

“Oh um, that's great. I’m sure your dad would be really proud.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Bradley’s face reddened with what you could only assume was anger.

“Don’t you dare say that Y/N, not after you and mom tried to use what happened to him to change my mind.” He hissed, sending shivers down your spine. Bradley was never quick to anger unless his dad was brought up. “I’m -I’m so sorry Bradley, I didn’t mean to upset you. I should go.” You stammered, getting up and rushing for the front door.

“Wait,” He grabbed hold of your hand before you made it into the foyer, Spinning you around and onto his chest. Being this close to him again had your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Mav tried to pull my papers and I almost didn’t even get to go to the Academy.” He muttered, you could smell the mint in his breath from how close his face was to yours. He placed a lock of your hair behind your ear, making the words catch in your throat. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes that you’ve missed for 3 years now were staring intently into yours, waiting for an answer. Before you knew it, you were pulling his face down to yours and kissing the warmest lips you’ve ever known.

Your hands explored his unclothed torso as the kiss intensified and he pulled off your jacket. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered in between kisses.

He pulled your pajama shirt off and slowly guided you back into the living room. Setting you down carefully on the couch. Your hands tugged his sweatpants down and you were grateful for his lack of underwear. Taking his hard cock into your hands and pumping it. “S-Slow down honey,” he moaned into your ear. He pulled your pajama shirt off as you shimmied off your pants. “Red? Merry Christmas to me.” He muttered, pulling down your red panties that you had a hunch you would not get to keep.

“I need you,” You moaned in his ear as he toyed with your clit. He slid the head of his cock between your folds, slowly pushing it in. You threw your head back in pleasure, no one else felt as good as him.

Your nails dug into his back as he picked up the pace and kissed your neck. Leaving a trail of hickeys that you’d definitely have to cover up tomorrow. “You feel so good baby,” he moaned, playing with your clit and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Feeling your orgasm getting closer you grabbed on to his biceps, trying to help increase his pace. He knew so well what you wanted as he thrusted harder and faster into you now. You moved his thumb from your clit and took over, trying to reach that high you desperately needed. “Cum for me babygirl,” He whispered, watching as you came undone under him. Your legs trembling as his thrusts became sloppier and his release followed soon after inside you.

Bradley stood up once he had caught his breath, offering you a hand to help you clean up. His cum running down your legs as you hurried behind him in the candle lit house. He ran a bath and climbed in, motioning for you to get in with him.

He kissed your back as he scrubbed you gently with the sponge. You loved the comfortable silence that had fallen between you both as he finished scrubbing you. Regret was starting to seep into your mind about leaving him, knowing the heart you broke was your own.

“I miss you Y/N, I know I can’t ask you to wait and you can’t ask me to stay but can we at least have this week?” He asked quietly, your heart aching at his request. “Of course,” you whispered back in response, knowing how hard it’d be at the end of the week to leave the warmest bed you’d ever known.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

How about Smut prompt 2 with #3. Tony, please. I can't help but want to imagine Tony doing his thing over the phone. Oooo or starting dirty talk just to be able to surprise the reader when shes close after being away for a while.

Forgive me but I had to say it.

.

What started as a regular checking in phone call had quickly escalated to something better and naughtier. As most conversations with Tony did. You were out of town on business, leaving your boyfriend and his horny but cute ass back in Malibu.

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.” You murmured, fingers idly teasing your breasts as you held the phone in front of your face, watching your man flash you his patent smirk.

“Well well..look who’s coming around to phone sex. Show me what you’re wearing.” You could swear you heard Tony’s breath hitch when your hot rod red lace underwear set was revealed to camera, you even heard the man cuss under his breath.

If only he’d known you would plan on torturing him this way, he would’ve made provisions to fly over to you the next minute. His cock stiffened at the sight of your pretty little lace covered cunt soaked just for him.

“I’d begin with spanking that defying ass until it turns nice and red, my naughty girl. Play with yourself for me, go on.” Letting out a grunt, Tony watched with lust-blown eyes as you obeyed.

He lived for the soft moans and whines that left your lips, fingers eagerly stroking your folds before he saw you push one inside your tight heat.

“How does it feel, baby?” He breathed, his free hand now fisting his cock as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, picturing him doing it to you.

“They feel nothing like your fingers, Tony!” You cried, increasing the pace as your felt your legs twitch, your screen now filled with the image of him stroking his length, uttering your name in the most neediest of ways.

“Will you come for me, sweetheart? I promise to make you feel good soon. I need to see that pussy dripping all over those fingers, go on Y/N..”

Your orgasm evidently triggered his, spurts of cum spilling over his hand as you let out an explicit moan and came hard, your soaked heat missing the steely length of your man.

“Good girl. You did so well. Do me a favour and sit tight. I’m coming for you.”

.

[loveswrites]

Pumpkins Please Billy Loomis x Stu Marcher x reader

Pumpkins Please Billy x Reader x Stu

Word count: 1397

Time it Took me: 1 hours 30 mins

To my loves: It was so obvious that stu and billy would win for our celebration of 300 followers! I wrote it that same night so I've had it in my drafts for 6 days now. I was thinking if I should wait till the poll ended but we reached over 300 followers before it even did, So here you go loves! Enjoy! Thank you for the support. It makes me so happy you guys enjoy my writing as it is all I want to do in life.

Love <3

“I wanna carve a pumpkin.” You pouted.

“Why don’t we just crave someone up instead.” Billy smirked playing with the tip of his knife. 

“I already have the pumpkins at my house. You wanna carve em here or there?” Stu said dropping himself on the bed making you and Billy shake with the bed. 

“You didn’t tell me you bought pumpkins.” Billy said, narrowing his eyes at Stu.

“Do I have to tell you everything?” Stu laughed out.

“Yes.” You and Billy said in unison. 

Stu started to laugh but slowly stopped when he realized you and Billy were not joking. 

“I just thought I should have them at the house since you know it is halloween. You know our favorite holiday.” Stu said, looking in between you and Billy.

“It’s not my favorite holiday mine is-”

“Christmas.” The two boys groaned, making you smile.

“The moment September 1st came along you were running around here yelling out ‘It’s christmas!’” Billy mocked you but you could see the slight smile in his cheeks as he recalled the memory. 

“It’s a lovely holiday, what can I say?” You smiled rubbing your socks together. 

Billy stroked the sides of your waist with his knife sending a shiver down your spine. He did this often. To both you and Stu. Still would often get cut most of the time cause he'd always laugh or move too much. But you trusted Billy to never leave a mark on you and he never did. Never has. 

Billy had three favorite things. His knives. His girl. And his best friend.

“Do we have to go to school tomorrow?” You questioned as Stu rubbed your legs while he stared up at the ceiling.

“You wanna skip again? Something on your mind, pretty girl?” Stu questioned. 

“Is someone bothering you? I can handle that, you know.” Billy said with stern eyes as he watched you respond.

“No no none of that I’m fine and no ones bothering me. I just don’t want to go and talk to people you know?” You said, stressed by the thought of even being in that building. 

“When do your parents get back in town?” Billy asked, putting his knife on your nightstand after taking one last long drag against your skin that sent tingles throughout your body.

Your parents had left for a business trip so you invited your two boyfriends to keep you company because why not? They weren’t doing anything before you called anyways.

“Sometime next week. It might get extended depending on some things. They told me I could go with them as always but I wanted to stay.” You said snuggling into Billy’s side.

“I would’ve left. No school and a free trip as a replacement sounds fun right about now.” Stu said, making you smile knowing that he wouldn’t just leave. He’d make sure that you and Billy were able to come as well. No matter if he wanted to admit it or not Stu couldn’t live without Billy nor you. 

Looking up at Billy who had his eyes closed you know he couldn’t live without you or Stu also. He wouldn’t admit it but he shows his love in crazy ways. Rather that’s spray painting the sides of buildings to pulling pranks on literally anybody to actual crimes. Billy has killed for you and Stu. If someone hurt one of you two you either never saw them again or saw them in the news the next day. Same if it was reversed with Stu but Stu doesn’t really clean his tracks very well so it’s mostly just Billy. 

You wondered if loving them made you a bad person. You wondered if keeping their victims a secret made you a murder. You wondered if not feeling a drop of remorse made it seem like you have the knife in your hand. 

But at the end of the day you didn’t really care because at the end of these dark sad thoughts all you saw was Billy and Stu. The two crazy boys who were in love with you. The two boys who showed you the world and would kill anyone who got in the way of your happy fairytale. You just prayed that they wouldn’t be the one to ruin your love story. 

You woke up the next morning feeling relaxed and refreshed. This made you just up and check the time. 1:24 pm. Shit you thought I missed damn near all of school. Rubbing your eyes you noticed that your bed was empty. Where did they go? Getting out of your bed you walked downstairs. Hearing voices, you followed them to the kitchen.

“Dumbass! the butter goes first, did you not read the box?” Billy snapped hitting Stu in the back of his head with said box. 

“You didn’t say that!” Stu said, trying to defend himself as he wiped his cheek leaving some flour in its place making you smile. 

“Maybe if you looked at the box I wouldn’t have to say it!” Billy fussed back. Stu opened his mouth to say something but that's when you decided to make yourself known.

“So are you two gonna bicker all day or tell me what you're doing?” You questioned walking fully into the kitchen.

“Baking you some cookies. Again..” Stu said, making you frown your eyebrows.

“Again?” You questioned.

“Stu burned the first batch.” Billy said, rolling his eyes.

“I did not! They just cooked a little bit longer than the rest.” Stu finished.

“Burnt.” You and Billy said in unison. That was happening a lot more often than usual. 

“We just wanted to do something nice for you before you woke up.” Stu said sneezing all over the batter when he rubbed flour on his face.

“What the fuck Stu!” Billy yelled while you just turned your nose up at the fact that he just sneezed on the batter.

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry. Like at all. I just wanna carve pumpkins okay? That’s it.” You said shifting your eyes between Billy and Stu.

“I’ll go get the pumpkins then.” Stu said starting to move, making you and Billy scream out ‘No!’.

“No! I’ll do it,  just stay here.” Billy said, shaking his head as he walked past you but not before giving you your ‘morning kiss’.

“You keep touching me I’m gonna throw pumpkin guts all over you.” You yelled out. Stu’s elbow kept touching yours as he attempted to show you how to carve your pumpkin.

“I’m trying to help you! You're doing it all wrong, trust me I do pumpkins.” Stu stated as if he was some kind of Pumpkin master.

“You do pumpkins?” You laughed out, tightening the grip on the knife in your hand.

“Shut up if I did you’d be jealous of the pumpkin.” Stu said, rolling his eyes. 

“As if, Who wants to sleep with you?” You questioned going back to cutting your pumpkin.

“You!” Stu said laughing as if that was the funniest thing in the world.

“Only on holidays.. Billy gets Monday through friday.” You said poking your tongue out at Stu to which he leaned in and bit your tongue making you jump back squealing in surprise. 

“Good thing Halloween is coming up.” Stu grinned. 

“Billy, he bit me!” You pointed at Stu with the knife in your hand. Billy pointed down to your pumpkin that was hanging on for dear life. 

“You need help, you keep cutting it like that there's not gonna be any pumpkin left.” Billy said, smirking, making Stu laugh.

“Shut up, it's perfectly fine.” You said going back to cutting pieces of the pumpkin.

“As if.” Stu snickered, earning a handful of pumpkin guts to the face.

“Hey!” Stu yelled out. 

“That’s what you get your lucky I didn’t throw the whole pumpkin!” You yelled.

“What pumpkin?!” Stu yelled back making you gasp.

“Billy!” You yelled.

“God.” Billy said, holding his head in his hands still with the knife in his hand. All he could hear was you two fighting with each other

He was in for a long bumpy ride if he wanted to be with you two forever. But watching the two of the most important people in his life bicker made him realize that he would kill any bump in that road to make them happy.  

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - chapter nine

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

ring around the moon, trouble coming soon.

warnings | 18+ smut, ANGST - i'm not going to spoil anything but fr shit gets real and very sad here so please take care

wordcount: 5K ish

a/n | i am so nervous to share this chapter. listen, this was a very difficult chapter for me to write. i have to thank @beskarandblasters for holding my hand and keeping my secret through it. all i can say is, it hurt me as much as i imagine it might hurt you and i am truly sorry. this is where the progression of the plot dictated me to go. as mentioned, this is the last chapter for a while, but there is much much more to come once i return in august. my inbox is always open, come tell me what you think <3

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

“I think Ellie was disappointed.”

“Why d’you think that?” “I don’t know, I think she was expecting a little more razzle-dazzle.” Joel chuckles at that, pulling her closer into his side on the couch and landing a kiss to the top of her head. The fire crackles and pops, the glow of the fireplace crawling up the walls of the living room, hazy and golden. 

“Should’ve done that little candle trick, darlin. Kid’s eyes would’ve popped out of her head.” 

“Pfft, I’m pretty sure your eyes almost popped out of your head when I showed it to you.” They share a quiet laugh, settling down into each other, the warmth from the fireplace melting muscle and bone into an easy tangle. It’s the last night of Samhain, a time, she had explained to Joel, to burn away the passing year before the darkness of winter settles in. While Ellie had been excited for the late night fire, she had seemed a bit unsatisfied with how simple and quiet the whole thing had been, excusing herself with a dramatic yawn to her room in the outfitted garage. But Joel doesn’t mind if it means that he gets a little more time with his woman just to himself.

“So, was this a good, um– is holiday the right word?” Though he feels a bit foolish asking it, she just smiles, tilting her chin up at him from where she’s resting against his chest. 

“Holiday works, yeah. And this was the best one I’ve had in a while.”

“Really?” Her smile broadens, nodding at his question.

“Mmhmm, because I got to share it with you and Ellie.” He may not understand all of it, the traditions and history, how any of it can even be real, but what he does know is that it means something for her to share this with him, with them. 

“I’m glad that you did, darlin, and I know Ellie is too. I– thank you.” Her brow quirks at that, leaning back to fully look at him.

“What’re you saying thank you for?” 

“I don’t know– everything. Just, thank you.” He does know, his mind rolling through memories. He could thank her for taking Ellie under her wing, keeping her out of trouble and getting her excited about something. He could thank her for being patient with him, being honest with him, giving him a second chance and then some when he first tried to figure her out. He could thank her for moving in with him, for waking up next to him every morning, for taking his hand in hers whenever they walk through town. He could thank her for that first time they met, how she whirled around him, all warmth and no pretense, so easily letting herself into the small pinprick of light that was his world. He could thank her for a lot of things, but the language fails him, so he settles for everything, sealing his words with a slanted kiss as she twists in his hold to deepen it. 

He feels like a teenager again with how bad he wants her all the time, pushing and pulling to get her splayed out on the living room rug, the fire casting a radiant waltz over every new inch of skin he reveals. When he tugs her jeans down her hips, hands a greedy drag, she huffs out a laugh that draws his attention back up to her face.

“You’re very insistent tonight.” She says it with a quirked grin, head tilted to look at him where he’s kneeling between her legs. His heart catches at the sight of her, shirt discarded, bare from the waist up, her jeans still halfway down her legs, hair wild and lips darkened by his kisses. And suddenly his insistence turns a little quicker, a little headier, a little darker, not giving her any answer but pulling her pants off the rest of the way before settling back between her thighs, his open mouth dragging up soft skin before hovering over the faded cotton of her panties, her hips jolting with each of his hot exhales. 

He can’t tear his eyes away from her, propped up on her elbows to look at him, brows pinched at the way he ghosts his lips over her, nosing at her clit through thin fabric. He’s never wanted anyone like this, so unconditionally, however he can, in whatever way he can, a surrender so complete it scares him. But getting her like this, sighing for him, whispering his name, it’s enough for him to give it all up to her, more than willingly. 

When he finally stops teasing her, getting her completely bare for him, giving her his mouth in the way he knows she wants it, it’s like the sweetest prayer, every sigh a sacrament, her fingers threading through his hair to guide him a holy hail. The woman he worships and the pleasure he provides. He indulges in her, a delicate devouring of her, licking into her before nosing up until his lips drag over her clit, tongue finding that spot, a persistent press. He knows every moan, every jolting muscle, every crumbling exhale, another piece of her he gets to hold.  

Her heel digs into his shoulder blade, knee bent and askew as she tenses all at once, hips canting up into his mouth, before going slack with a ragged breath of his name, a brilliant vision of release. A kiss to her hip bone, one to her heaving stomach, the valley of her breasts, the curve of her chin before he stops at her lips, both of them insistent in their shared tangle. 

Where he worships, she wills, hands moving with certainty, working him out of his clothes until his skin can press against hers. The heat from the still-blazing fire sets sweat beading, cheeks flushed in warmth as they move together.

“So good like this, darlin. My woman, mine.” Her back arches up, the peaks of her breasts drawn taut against his skin where they’re pressed together, humid and hazy, all heat, all need. She’s perfect around him, cunt swollen and dripping as his hips spear into hers, her heel an insistent press into his ass. Stay here, be mine, stay here, I’m yours. 

He ducks his head down, skin pulling away with a smarting stick they’ve started to sweat so much, his teeth catching on the curve of her breast, her cry washing over him when he bites down.

“Joel.” There it is, long and raspy, the only way he likes to hear his name, dripping with need, slipping down her throat. The slap of skin, the salacious sound of her cunt taking him again and again and again. And it’s greedy when he brings his fingers down to smear over her clit, groaning at the way she clenches around him, desperate to pull that pleasure from her one more time.

“Please.” Oh how closely pain and pleasure dance in the crumbling of her brow, the way her lips part around a frown that hinges into a cry when she unravels around him, wet and aching, the tendons in her throat jumping, inviting his mouth to press against them as he goes spiraling after her, his warmth smearing in the crux of her thighs. 

They fall asleep to the slow, whimpering embers of the fire, a faint smolder of shadows cast over their still embrace, the night pulling them into the pagan new year.

…

“Have you seen Stevie today?”

“Not since this morning, why?” She shrugs at Ellie’s question, checking over her shoulder at the pot of herbs steeping on the stove before focusing back on her.

“I don’t know, I just– she’s usually around the shop at this time of day, I swear it’s like she’s figured out exactly what time you come over from school.” Ellie hums in agreement, swiveling a bit side to side on her stool next to the butcher block.

“Sometimes she likes to follow Joel, y’know, maybe she wandered outside the gate with him this morning.” That thought seems to distress Ellie, her eyebrows jilting up in a worried pinch that she’s quick to calm.

“Don’t worry about that, kid. Little miss may like to follow him, but she knows better than to wander outside. Anyways, she’s probably just found a little trouble to get into.” She’s a bit too distracted to worry much more about Stevie, she knows she can handle herself and her mind is stuck on the fact that Joel’s patrol shifts are ramping up again. It still nags her thoughts whenever he’s outside the walls, that maybe this is the time that he ends up like all the others, a constant eye on the clock until he’s back. 

“You know he’s gonna come back, right? He always comes back.” Ellie’s quiet words snap her back out of her head, grateful for the easy comfort she offers. 

“I know. Just, still gotta worry a bit. But I know. I bet we’ll see him and Stevie both waltzing toward us when we head down to the dining hall for the community dinner.” Ellie lets out a groan at the mention of their obligation to join in at the once-a-month shared meal, something Maria recommended as a way to keep the rumor mill quiet. She had never thought about it that way, that her keeping to herself made all the talk worse, and all the talk then made her want to shutter herself away even more. But being around the other folks of Jackson more, and not just when she’s treating them, has seemed to further quell all the swirling rumors. Hence, community dinner night. 

“Kid, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m pretty sure Dina is gonna be there.” Even though she’s certain they’ve been dating for a few months now, any mention of Dina is a surefire way to set Ellie blushing, which she tries to hide behind a scrunched up expression. 

“I mean, yeah, I guess, it’s whatever. But I’m swiping an extra piece of pie for my troubles.” She has to laugh at Ellie’s huffy claim, shaking her head before turning back to the stove.

“I won’t tell if you come help me pour this stuff into these bottles.” 

…

It’s not that he minds it exactly, he understands that it’s a good sign that people are seeking out her help. But he’d rather not hear about some man’s rash in the middle of his dinner. Ellie shoots him a grossed-out expression around her spoon, and Joel is inclined to agree with the sentiment, though his woman seems to have no trouble talking with the man about a salve she can give him for his particular ailment. The dining hall is close and warm, folks sharing tables with each other, conversation easy and echoing in the high-ceilinged room, and Joel can’t wait until it’s socially acceptable for them to leave.

“If you stop by the shop in the morning I’ll have that all whipped up for you, ok?” The man thanks her quietly, nodding to Joel as well before he walks back over to his own table. Joel, meanwhile, is trying and failing to remember the guy’s name.

“Artie Peterson, he works on the council with Maria and Tommy.” Once again, she seems to know what he’s thinking before he even opens his mouth, giving his thigh a quick squeeze before tucking back into her meal. But it isn’t long after that Maura Nichols is coming over with her plate. 

“Hey y’all, is it ok if I sit with you?” She’s quick to welcome Maura over, pulling out the empty seat next to her for the woman and starting up an easy conversation with her. Joel can’t help but notice the worry lining Maura’s eyes, the quick glances away, and he reckons that she’s probably looking out for Matthew, guarding against another scene like the one he made at the town meeting. The thought is enough for him to try a little harder, leaning his elbows on the table to at least look like he’s intently listening to the conversation, nodding along to what Maura says. 

“So are you two thinking about having a ceremony?” Ellie chokes on her sip of water when Maura asks that, snapping Joel back into attention, his woman letting out a nervous laugh beside him.

“Um, a ceremony for what?” She asks it on a breathy chuckle to Maura who’s still looking expectantly between them. 

“Well I just assumed, two people in love and all, you’d be wanting to get married.” At that, Ellie starts coughing around a bite of pie, something between a laugh and a wheeze as Joel thumps her on the back until she settles back down. 

“Oh, uh, I mean, we haven’t really talked about it. I don’t think that’s really our speed, right, Joel?” She turns her head to look at him, eyebrows creased in a clear plea for back-up.

“Yeah, I– we– that’s not, not really on the radar right now.” Maura nods, looking a bit chastened at their reaction to her questions.

“I’m sorry, me and my big mouth didn’t mean to pry, I just meant to say that you seem so good together, that’s all.” His woman graciously accepts Maura’s comment while Joel sinks back into his thoughts, Ellie muttering something about Dina and slinking off in the periphery. He was certainly surprised by Maura’s words, but even more surprised that the idea of a ceremony didn’t feel so ridiculous to him. He knows it’s silly, frivolous, something like marriage not meaning a damn thing in this world, but he doesn’t mind the idea of something official, something permanent.

He spends the rest of dinner somewhere between his seat next to his woman and a vague vision of a ring and a vow. But he shakes that thought clear of his mind when they step out into the cool night air, Ellie a few strides ahead of them, calling out for Stevie as they walk home. 

“Sorry about Maura’s whole ceremony question. I didn’t mean to speak for you, I just sort of panicked.” She squeezes his hand, a nervous glance his way as they continue walking. He finds that he has to clear his throat before responding.

“No, no, that’s fine, darlin. Kind of a useless question to be asking anyways.” Part of him hopes that the quick flash across her face is something other than acquiescence, something closer to disappointment, but he doesn’t have much time to consider it before his attention is pulled away by the sound of Ellie letting out a clipped gasp.

Everything happens slow, as if underwater, Ellie kneeling down on the porch, curled over in a shuddering heave, Joel’s mind going blank with fear. And everything happens slow until it doesn’t anymore, her hand breaking from his as she makes a stilted jog up the porch steps, body going rigid as she sees whatever Ellie is hunched over. 

What? It’s more of a shriek than a word, high and jagged in her throat as she sinks to her knees next to Ellie, letting out a string of staccato yelps. It’s despair distilled, the sounds she makes, Joel’s heart a tight fist as he tentatively steps onto the porch.

She could be sleeping, if you didn’t look closely. Laying on her side, having dozed off after catching the last rays of sun. But there is no rise and fall of her sleek, black fur, no stirring when Ellie lays a shaking palm over her belly. 

Stevie’s not sleeping. 

She’s trembling, reaching for the lifeless animal before jerking her hands away as if she might get burned, Ellie pulling her into a tight hug as she all but dissolves into sobs. And Joel feels helpless, standing over them, unable to figure out how to fucking fix this. But when his brain catches on the one thing that makes sense, that feels like an explanation and a solution all at once, he finds himself stumbling down the porch and back toward the main drag of Jackson, toward the Tispy Bison where he knows he can find who he’s looking for. 

In another life, when he and Tommy lived on the road together, his brother had described what Joel did as like flipping a switch. Something would fall over his eyes and his mind, his body moving with a violent knowledge, purpose in the pain he inflicted. It’s how he moves now, cutting through the crowd in the bar and finding Mason in the back of the room, the grin on his face expectant, like he’s been waiting for him. And though the man opens his mouth to speak, Joel doesn’t give him the chance to get any words out before he’s grabbing him by the back of his neck and dragging him out of the bar on unsteady feet, slamming him hard against the alley wall. 

“Tell me right now that you didn’t do it and I’ll think about not killing you.” Mason’s smirk splits into a slippery grin, not even struggling in Joel’s grip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miller. But if you ask me, people oughta keep a closer eye on their pets.” It’s all he needs to hear, enough for him to pull his fist back before letting it swing scare into Mason’s jaw. 

This time, he doesn’t stop swinging.

…

At some point, she must have worn herself out enough to fall asleep, sitting slumped on the couch, her neck tipped back in a painful crunch. Her eyes are so heavy, so swollen, that she can barely open them when a light squeeze is pressed into her shoulder. 

“Joel?” Her voice is hoarse, barely cracking a whisper, too quiet for Ellie to stir, tucked close into her side and asleep. He’s kneeling in front of her legs, both his hands coming to rest on her knees, eyes searching her face, and suddenly she feels like she’s going to fall apart all over again. 

“Where– where have you been?” It had been a blur, an awful haze, wrapping Stevie’s body in a thick blanket and tucking her into a box, both of them unsure what to do next except for cry. At some point, it had registered somewhere in the periphery of her mind that Joel wasn’t there, but it had been a fleeting thought, a deeper and darker wave of emotion washing it away in the night. And though she tries to be concerned about it now, any worry, any questioning is swept away with a fresh flood of tears.

“I’m so sorry, darlin. I’m here now, I’ve got you.” He shifts to sit on the couch next to her, pulling her into his side as she starts to shudder, her sob breaking into the fabric of his flannel. Her mind can’t stretch much further than the span of this grief, stop-starting itself to a jagged rhythm of disbelief followed by realizing over and over again that this is real, that her girl has left her. It feels like a horrible, lurching ride that she can’t figure out how to get off of. 

“W-we need to bury her.” 

“I know, darlin. We will. Just rest right now, ok? I’ll take care of everything.” They speak in a quiet hush, Ellie still sound asleep on her other side.

“I always knew it’d be time for her to g-go eventually. But it just– it feels too soon, feels too fucking soon.” Believing what she does, knowing what she does, it doesn’t make the agony any less complete, any less brutal. And once again, all she can do is cry as Joel pulls her a little closer. 

…

They bury her in the backyard, beneath the towering cottonwood she had a proclivity for climbing. He knew that Ellie had grown attached to Stevie, but he’s still taken aback by just how torn apart she is, saying a few words over the freshly-covered grave before tears take over her voice again. But it’s the sight of his woman that keeps breaking his heart, a silent sadness taking over her slackened features, eyes and cheeks red with salt, her voice faint and uneven as she says goodbye. 

He moves them both through the rest of the day, making sure they eat, coaxing glasses of water into their hands, keeping a fire burning in the living room where they’ve curled up on the couch. Joel knows grief. He knows that it comes in strange waves, reality stretching thin and frail in the beginning. But it still frustrates him that he can’t do more, that he can’t take their pain into his own hands and make it go away. Whatever he can control, he does. Whatever he can fix, he does.

When both of them have managed to fall asleep in the still of the night, he quietly slips out the front door, half-expecting Stevie to fall into step beside him, a twinge of pain shooting through his chest, a particular loss he didn’t know he’d feel. 

Tommy is waiting for him at the stables, pressing up off the wall of the barn as Joel approaches.

“Let’s take care of this.”

The body has already gone stiff, wrapped up in an old sheet, both of them having to work to get it slung over the back of one of the horses, a heavy blanket draped over top of it to ward off prying eyes. Luckily, no one on patrol bats an eye when Tommy Miller asks for the gate to be opened for him and his brother.

They ride out toward the plains, the moon casting the hills in purple shadows. And, after deciding that they’ve gotten far enough away, together, they dig. 

He had gone to his brother the night before and told him everything. And Tommy had made a few things clear. He would help him, but no one could ever find out, they would never speak of this again, and they would get it done as soon as possible.

They work through the night, the sun curling golden fingers over their shifting backs, stripped down to their undershirts, sweat sticking cool in the crisp morning air. When they finish, a fresh plot of overturned dirt lays before them, what rests below something only they will ever know, with any luck. Joel opens his mouth to speak, but Tommy stops him with a palm held out.

“Don’t, Joel. I’m not gonna judge you for what you did, but I ain’t gonna talk about it either. Blood helps blood, but I don’t wanna hear another thing about this. It’s done. Let’s get back to town before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

…

She wakes up the same way she did the morning before, curled on the couch with Ellie tucked into her side. It was a deep but restless sleep, nothing could have woken her from it, but now opening her eyes, she feels like she could fall back into it all over again. She hears what she assumes is Joel puttering around in the kitchen, the soft clink of dishes, the click of the stove coming on and the hiss of the kettle. 

She knows she can’t stay on the couch again today, knows that people need her, so she presses her grief down until she can just barely swallow it, quietly getting up without waking Ellie and padding into the kitchen.

“You must think me really pitiful to be brewing actual coffee.” He doesn’t say anything, simply taking the few strides to reach her and pull her into a tight hug, her face pressing into his shirt, inhaling him so deep she can’t cry.

“I’m fine, really. I am.” 

“No one’s expecting you to be fine, darlin. Stevie was, well, she was different, wasn’t she?” She finds herself letting out a weak laugh at that, nodding meekly against his chest.

“Yeah, she was.” Silence, and suddenly she feels like it’s a really good idea to stay exactly like this, swaying lightly in his hold, her nose buried into the fabric of his shirt, for the rest of the day, a sign in and of itself for her to disentangle herself with a shaky sigh.

“I’m not gonna miss any more appointments. Don’t wanna let people down.” Joel nods, holding onto one of her hands between them.

“I think people would understand if you needed another day, honey. But I also think it could be good for you, get out, take your mind off it for a little while.” He pours her a cup of coffee and gets started on breakfast, Ellie shuffling in and slumping down at the dining table next to her. She curves what could be a smile across her face, resting one of her hands over Ellie’s.

“Hey, kid, I’m gonna go into the shop today. Would you– would you wanna come help out after school?” She shrugs, a quietly murmured yeah, I guess as Joel sets down plates for all of them. 

There’s no two ways about it, the morning is hard, making her house visits, half expecting Stevie to be trailing her heels, half expecting to catch a glimpse of her girl as she moves through town. People are surprisingly kind about it, offering quiet apologies that she thinks might be more painful than if they just didn’t say anything, though she knows they mean well. 

It’s both a relief and a reminder, getting back to the shop, and she’s desperate for Ellie to show up so it doesn’t seem so quiet. But soon after she does come over from school, Maura comes in as well, carrying a small bundle of flowers, some of the last of the season.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Some folks don’t understand how hard it is, losing a pet. But they’re as much family as anyone else, aren’t they?” She accepts the flowers from Maura with a small smile and a nod, still surprised by how easily this woman extends her kindness. 

“I also wanted to see if you heard the news.” Her brow furrows at that, looking over to Ellie who seems equally unsure of what Maura’s talking about. 

“Oh, you haven’t. Well, apparently Mason skipped town. Folks hadn’t seen him in a day or so, and Tommy finally let people know that he decided to leave last night. Why anyone in their right mind would want to go out there on their own is beyond me, but I say good riddance.”

It doesn’t feel right, though she can’t place exactly why. She looks to Ellie, whose face is set in a strange, steely expression, something hidden, working through something in her mind. Her thoughts flicker, moving her before it’s even fully formed in her mind, an instinctive knowing, like when you go to reach for something but find it missing. 

“Maura, could you stay here with Ellie for a moment? I need to go check on something real quick.” Ellie calls after her, though she’s already out the door and heading for the stables. 

Joel looks taken aback when he sees her walking a straight line toward him, but before he can get a word in edgewise she’s grabbing him by his wrist and tugging him into the stables, into the darkest corner behind a large stack of hay, her words coming out in a hushed torrent.

“Tell me right now that you had nothing to do with it.” His mouth is slack, brow furrowed, a picture of perfect surprise as she points her finger into his chest.

“What– nothing to do with what? What’re you talking about?” 

“Mason is gone, and I swear to whatever powers there are, if you had anything to do with it I need to know now.” She can see the bob of his throat, eyes still wide at her outburst.

“Mason made his choice and he’s gone, that’s all.” She nearly laughs at his response, how dizzyingly vague it is. She knows him well enough to see that he’s keeping something from her, something in the set of his jaw, the huff he lets out as he speaks, and she wants more than anything not to see it, not to know it.

“That isn’t– that’s not good enough. Joel, I need you to promise me you didn’t have anything to do with this, please.” The tears start falling before she can stop them, and he’s quick to close the space between them, taking her face in his hands, his eyes steady on hers. 

“I promise. That man made a decision and he left, end of story.” She lets him tuck her into his arms, lets him quiet her sobs, lets his palms run warm currents up and down her back. 

He lies to her, and she lets him.

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

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